Pathway to Japanese Literature

I The fourteen-year-old maiden Kuta Hime was reading an old story. (...It was a most terrible sin indeed committed by a young woman with a betrothal...) “Princess, please do not read it.” “I do not wish to hear it.” “No, Elder Sister, do listen.” “For it is just now becoming interesting, you see.” “Princess Sakuragi, betrothed as she is, without finding that betrothal frightening at all, steals away to the side of her beloved, beloved paramour—it is just at this part, you see.” “Princess, please do not read it.” “I do not wish to hear it.”

“Elder Sister, let us stop then...” The princess quietly closed the book. “Ah, daylight fades already today too. The room grows so dark... Elder Sister, shall I light the lamp?” “This twilight pleases me best... Let it linger a while longer... You never did share this fondness.” “Elder Sister, I dislike it.” “What I love is sunlight itself.”

“You’ve been that way since you were little. “You have always liked nothing but bright and splendid things.” “Like Lord Natsuhiko’s temperament, you know.” “I dislike gloomy things, I tell you.” “I dislike this room as well, I tell you.” “It’s always so gloomy in here, I tell you.” “Elder Sister, shall I light the lamp?”

Sister Saku did not respond. And the room fell silent. Saku was past thirty. Yet her voluptuous features made her appear no older than twenty-four or twenty-five. Though terribly emaciated, this beauty’s gauntness resembled rain upon a lotus—doubling her loveliness. Her figure—modestly seated behind a screen, neck bowed within the faint twilight streaming through open windows—evoked Xi Gong’s Jieyu, of whom Wang Changling once wrote: “Not even lotus blooms rival her adorned beauty; wind sweeps the water palace, jewels and emeralds fragrant.”

It was only natural that her young sister Kuta Hime had complained to her elder sister that she disliked this room as well. A chamber in an old manor-style castle—it must have been splendid once. Now it lay terribly decayed—furniture and furnishings reduced to crumbling antiquity, blinds and sliding doors torn away—its sole incongruous ornament a lacquered shrine niche where two statues of Christ and Mary stood enshrined, glowing intermittently with breath-like vitality, while across from them in the alcove hung two samurai portraits so lifelike they might step from their scrolls; these alone remained as decoration, if such they could be called.

Kuta Hime stood up. Quietly going before the portraits, she compared the two samurai, “Elder Sister, why do these two gentlemen have such terrifying expressions as they face each other? Are they not glaring at each other as though spewing poison from their eyes, trying to gouge out one another’s eyes? And yet their mouths are tightly locked like the last two gates left standing in an old castle ruin…… They seem to be suffering, holding deep secrets they refuse to reveal to anyone.”

Saku pushed aside the screen and made a motion to rise abruptly, but— “Truly, just as you say—those two gentlemen in the portraits do have such peculiar expressions indeed.” “Elder Sister,” said Kuta Hime as she abruptly drew near and placed her hand on Saku’s knee, “might one of these two gentlemen in the portraits resemble my father?” “That is precisely what we call a delusion.” Though Saku said this, her voice was markedly trembling.

“You said something similar before when looking at the portraits…… Ah, how your delusions torment me…… No, your father resembles neither of them.” Gazing intently at her younger sister’s face, she let out a heavy sigh. “...When you were born into this world—fourteen years ago now—your father and mother departed from this castle and vanished into obscurity, parting the waves of Lake Suwa.”

“No, I cannot believe it.” Kuta Hime interrupted. “I cannot believe it, I tell you.” “For why do I say this? Is it not that whenever you speak thus, tears always well up in your eyes, Elder Sister?” “It is false evidence, I tell you.”

Having said this, Kuta Hime covered her eyes. A single tear trickled out through the gaps between her fingers. She was crying. Even the faint twilight light that had been streaming through the window now completely vanished, and the room at last became enveloped in darkness. In that darkness, the only thing that could be heard was her younger sister’s weeping.

At that moment, the sliding door opened quietly, and a nun entered. Clad in a black clerical robe and white veil. She who served Lord Christ and Lady Mary was an elderly nun. “My, how dark this room is.” “You have not lit the lamps…… The time for prayer has come.” “Please light the lamps.”

II

“Yes.”

And Kuta Hime stood up. Slowly and carefully, she went before the shrine, made the clicking sound of striking a flint, and modestly transferred the flame to the fire tray. The golden cross shone brilliantly, and the faces of both Christ and Mary, bathed in light, appeared to smile.

With the elderly nun at the center, Kuta Hime and Saku knelt before the shrine.

The nun reverently offered a prayer—"Grant respite to anguished souls. Bestow time for purification to cleanse sins committed. Though God’s wrath blaze as fire to consume our flesh, we shall never repent throughout eternity. Amen." "Amen." "Amen."

And thus, the two sisters followed suit, reverently uttering these words. "The prayers are already concluded. "Please take your rest, please take your rest."

The nun declared dismissively and left. The room became quiet once more. And then, from afar, voices of prayer came resounding like a hymn. The nuns must have been chanting in unison. Kuta Hime stood up and casually approached the window, but—

“……Oh, the lake was pitch dark. It seemed a storm had arisen. The roar of waves grew louder... Ah—there was a light upon the lake. Perhaps there was a boat yonder. It kept drawing nearer. A guiding lantern perhaps......”

Elder Sister Saku remained kneeling modestly before the shrine. She was praying fervently. A stifled sob suddenly escaped her. “Elder Sister.” While saying this, Kuta Hime left the window and drew near behind her elder sister. “Why are you crying? Is it because I persistently asked such questions? ...I will ask nothing more about Father. Please forgive me.”

While walking to the adjacent room, “I shall resolve to think alone from now on.” “Please rest, Elder Sister.” “Though night has not yet fully fallen, as I have grown sorrowful, I shall read a book upon my night bed as is my custom.” “Please rest, Elder Sister.”

After her departure, only the distant sound of prayers pervaded the already lonely room, growing lonelier still and ever more dreary. Saku suddenly raised her face, but tears were overflowing in her eyes.

“Poor Kuta Hime, you have nothing to apologize to me for. “I am the one who must apologize to you. “Poor you, for your very existence has been tainted and made ugly by my lewd, impure blood.” She unsteadily stood up and, no sooner had she reached the portraits than she began gazing alternately at the two hanging images. “Just as Younger Sister said—how terribly sad these two people’s faces look. If spoken, it becomes shame; if unspoken, it breeds resentment. It seemed as though they were silently clinging to such a profound secret. But I know exactly what kind of secret that is. Because I know this—my voice trembles in prayer, my eyes are wet with tears... and thus my life—”

At that moment, a single old man entered the room like a shadow. Disheveled white hair; a soiled hemp robe; deep wrinkles that spoke of long hardship and weak eyes; even his gait lacked strength.

“My Lady,” the old man called out. It was a deep, hoarse voice.

“Oh, you are Shimadaibu… Do you have some business with me?” “Have you already retired for the night, My Lady?” “The prayers are done, confession made, and today’s devotions completed, so I think I shall retire for the night.”

“That would be most proper.” “On an ominous night such as this, it is best for My Lady to retire as early as possible.” “What do you mean by ‘an ominous night’?” The old man pointed at the window, but—

“My Lady, behold the single red light kindled upon the dark lake...”

Urged thus, Saku slid smoothly toward the window. The old man followed close behind her, “Fourteen years ago on a certain night, a red light just like that crossed over the lake—surely My Lady has not forgotten?” “At that time, My Lady, just as tonight, you were gazing at the lake from that very window in just that manner.” "...Your face and body had turned as pale as tonight’s, trembling, and from your eyes too, tears flowed just as they do now." “The only difference from tonight was that instead of the nuns’ prayers, one could hear the clamorous, violent shouts of samurai clashing in their fury.”

Saku covered her face with both hands as if assailed by some invisible force. “I remember everything—ah, how dreadful that night was…” “...On that night, two warships clad in full military regalia set forth from the castle,” continued the voice through the shadows. “Aboard them rode two young samurai—blades half-drawn, glaring at one another—as must needs have been. ...None other than those two gentlemen.” “They are the gentlemen in the portraits.”

“That too, I remember.” “One is Lord Tachibana Sousuke!” “Oh, my betrothed!”

“Yes, and that gentleman was indeed the master of this castle.” “And the other gentleman was indeed Lord Sousuke’s honorable younger brother, Lord Natsuhiko.” “Lord Natsuhiko! “Lord Natsuhiko!”

III

Suddenly, as though unable to bear her longing, Saku cried out like this—then immediately whirled around to face the window. And then, extending both hands, she waved them vigorously as if beckoning toward where her lover stood in the distant reaches of the lake. “It is an ominous night”—the aged retainer spoke again. “For you see, My Lady, it is because the old memories of fourteen years past have revived, and this ancient wound—as though bitten by a viper—has throbbed anew with a pulsing ache. Behold now—does not the red light of that ship draw ever nearer to this castle? …In stark contrast to the two warships that departed step by step from this castle fourteen years ago.” “…You must take your rest, My Lady.” “...for it is indeed an ominous night.”

The old man, who had appeared like a shadow, tried to leave the room like a shadow but suddenly turned back at the doorway.

“I have just recalled something.” “What I mean to say is none other than this—” “It concerns the three bells.” The old man spoke as if lost in reminiscence: “When two ships departed across the lake fourteen years ago, did not Lord Sousuke and Lord Natsuhiko make this pact with you and swear this oath—that regardless of when or under what circumstances, should a ship bearing crimson lamplight row across the dark lake and strike three bells…”

“The proof that my betrothed has returned!” “And when two bells should strike again…” “Lord Natsuhiko’s signal of return!” “That is indeed correct. On an ominous night such as this, it would not be strange for that bell to suddenly toll from upon the lake. Take great care, My Lady.”

Silencing his footsteps, the old man went out toward the corridor.

All that remained was a profound silence. With that, Saku shuddered as if terrified by something and looked around the room fearfully, but then went up to the paired portraits and threw her hands upon Natsuhiko’s image, crying out deliriously.

“Lord Natsuhiko! Lord Natsuhiko! Please prevail in the duel! “And I beseech you to return to the castle with all haste!” “May the three bells not ring! May the two bells sound forth! O God, grant us Your divine protection!”

At that very moment, the sound of a bell came through the window from upon the lake. It was undoubtedly the bell being rung on the warship bearing crimson lamplight.

Boom—the first bell rang out with vivid clarity. Then, the second bell’s toll resounded deeply. “Two bells!” Saku muttered, listening intently. However, before long, the third bell rang out vividly, its resonance trailing off. And then it ceased just like that. Three bells tolled. Her beloved Natsuhiko did not return; instead, Sousuke, her betrothed in name only, came back victorious from the duel. Saku’s face turned deathly pale, her eyes blazing fiercely as she stared at Natsuhiko’s portrait and cried out madly like this:

“Lord Natsuhiko! Lord Natsuhiko!” “You will never return to this castle again, will you?” “For fourteen years, I have lived through love and sorrow—and now you will never return to my heart.”

She suddenly gazed intently at Sousuke’s portrait with cold eyes, but—

“What awaits you here even if you return to this castle? Praying nuns, the child of your enemy, and the cold corpse of your betrothed… Your hopes have thus vanished into nothingness.”—So saying, she went to the altar and blew out the lit lamp.

Then she walked slowly to the princess’s bedroom.

“Poor Kuta Hime… The father you long for is no longer in this world.” “You must now bloom in loneliness, like a flower in the sun’s shadow, for all your days.” “Oh, poor Kuta Hime!” “And your mother… and your mother…” She slipped quietly into the shadow of the standing screen. Then—a gasp echoed from behind the screen for but an instant, before all dissolved into profound silence.

With hurried footsteps resounding, it was not long before Shimadaibu rushed into the room.

“My Lady!” “Lady Saku!”

And he looked around the vicinity, but “Oh! The lamp is out.” “And it appears she has taken her rest…… My Lady!” “My Lady!” “You must rouse yourself at once!” “Three Bells have tolled!”

But no reply came from anywhere. The shadow of the standing screen was hushed.

IV “What is this? Not a sound of breathing can be heard.” “You appear to be soundly asleep.” “But I must wake you no matter what,” he said, placing his hand on the standing screen. “Forgive me, My Lady... Ah!” “What is this?!” “Hail the Three Treasures!” The instant he involuntarily dropped to his knees, the clattering of sturdy footsteps ascending the stairs reached his ears—and then, a tall warrior clad in armor discernible even in the darkness appeared before the old man’s eyes as swiftly as a bat swooping in.

“Who are you?” Shimadaibu called out. “What business brings you here?! Reveal your status and state your name!” Then, the mysterious intruder spoke in a deep, ominous voice like a funeral drum— “This is an order! Light the lamp!” He took a step forward— “Though I’ve grown accustomed to darkness over the years, seeing this room so dim after so long displeases me. Now light the lamp at once!” “Such a voice…? …And you are…?”

“I am the master of this castle! “I am Tachibana Sousuke!”

“Was it you, My Lord?”

“Light the lamp first.—You must be that old man called Shimadaibu who served as lookout in this castle.” “I dimly recognize that voice.” “If you are indeed Shimadaibu, you should be a man of unwavering loyalty.” “Your master commands it—make haste to light the lamp!” Shimadaibu bowed respectfully, then shuffled to the altar where he kindled a faint light in the candlestick. The room grew hazily bright.

Sousuke looked around the room, but

“...So this is my castle of old. “Is this supposed to be that once-lavish room? “Where has the blackwood settee draped with bear fur gone? “The silver incense burner that burned ceaselessly day and night is gone as well, is it not? “...Ah, there’s a cross here! “Who placed this here? “For what purpose have you adorned Mary?! “I have never paid any respect to the Heavenly Emperor from the very beginning. “Much less have I ever once bowed my head to Mary or Christ. “It was not I who believed in the Heavenly Emperor’s teachings—it was Natsuhiko. “...Shimadaibu—you should remember. “Fourteen years ago on a certain night, I and Natsuhiko gathered our subordinates, boarded three warships, parted the lake waters, descended the Tenryu River, and fought like Ashura to win the love of one woman! “Ah, there were times when the two ships brought their gunwales together and clashed white blade against white blade. “And there were times when the two ships kept their distance and engaged in an exchange of arrows. “On nights of darkness we lit bonfires; under starlight we blew signal whistles; on moonlit nights we raised white waves; and drifted through the currents of the Tenryu River and the waters of Enshu Nada, drenched in blood. “In the long years of battle, both Natsuhiko’s men and my own perished to the last man. “My bow and arrows rotted and broke, and Natsuhiko’s bow and arrows rotted and broke as well. “And yet, it is precisely the grudge between us two that flows on without end.”

“During all that time, a number of events took place here at this castle as well.”

The aged retainer Shimadaibu said while blinking his eyes. “The samurai who remained in the castle split clearly into two factions—My Lord’s and Lord Natsuhiko’s—and as they slashed and assailed one another, their numbers gradually dwindled until at last they perished entirely.” “Unable to endure that loneliness, Lady Saku sought to find solace by clinging to the Heavenly Emperor’s grace.” “Somehow learning of this, nuns who believed in the Heavenly Emperor stealthily made their way here from Amakusa in Kyushu and southern lands. Together with Lady Saku, they transformed this war-torn castle into a religious order now radiant with prayers, crosses, and holy lamps illuminating every shadowed corner.” “In other words, the castle perished over those fourteen years.”

“Even if the castle perishes and the samurai die—is my betrothed Saku still alive and dwelling here?” “Yes, she remains unharmed.”

“I loved that woman.” “That woman was my betrothed.” “I loved her unto death.” “Yet Saku did not love me even as much as a frayed thread.” “That woman’s lover was Natsuhiko.” “She loved my own brother.” “Vile curs of this world!” “How long did you imagine such rainbow-flecked joy would endure?!” He thrust forward the round bundle tucked beneath his arm. “Shimadaibu! To the cross—open this bundle and behold!”

“…………”—The old man silently accepted the bundle, approached the altar, and slowly began to unwrap it. A man’s severed head appeared. He had anticipated this. Shimadaibu did not even show surprise.

“Did you see it?” “The neck.” “Natsuhiko’s severed head!”

That night, phosphorescent lights drifted across the surface of the Tenryu River. A starless vast sky knew only raging storms. Surging waves crashed down like white steeds with manes in disarray, tossing the boat from side to side. Natsuhiko and I stood alone at the ship’s prow—just us two—crossing gleaming blades freely drawn from their sheaths as we fought with abandon. Divine favor seemed mine—with one swift spear thrust piercing Natsuhiko’s very heart, he collapsed beneath the mast and breathed his last. Thus after fourteen long years of mutual hatred, our grudge found its final reckoning. And so I returned bearing Natsuhiko’s severed head. Here now I stand. ...Here I stand thus, awaiting a woman. Awaiting my betrothed Saku to appear. “Now then, Shimadaibu—I command you. Bring Saku here at once!”

“…………”

Five

“There is nothing to fear.” “There is nothing to hold back.” “After fourteen years, the lord of the castle has returned as promised—a bloodstained sword at his waist, an enemy’s severed head in hand—to show that head to the woman.” “Now bring Saku here!” “Shimadaibu, tell her this:… That Sousuke—weary of battle, sated with fresh blood—this I who stands before you has returned to meet his beautiful betrothed and drown himself in love’s sweet brew.” “And tell her this too: that I have brought her beloved Natsuhiko with great care—this Natsuhiko who now sits in serene silence, neither smiling nor speaking, merely gazing sorrowful and resentful.” “Hurry, Shimadaibu! Go!” “Now bring Saku here!” “I want to see the woman.” “I want to see how she writhes in agony upon beholding her slain lover’s severed head.” “I want to see that Saku—hiding her grief and torment from me, forcing a hollow smile as she reaches toward me.” “Bring Saku here quickly!”

“Even without being brought, Her Highness will soon come before Your Lordship’s very eyes.”

Shimadaibu trembled as he raised his hand and pointed behind the screen. “A tranquil sleep… an eternal sleep… Her Highness now rests behind the screen.”

Upon hearing this, Sousuke strode briskly to the front of the screen.

“Saku, Saku—wake your eyes open.” “Your betrothed Sousuke has now returned here.” “Come out swiftly from there and behold my gift.” “Gah…!”

Startled, Sousuke swept aside the screen and collapsed heavily to his knees. There in the dim lamplight’s faint glow—hazily illuminated—lay Saku’s blood-drenched corpse. The instant Sousuke instinctively reached out both hands and lifted her body, the sliding door whispered open and a girl came running out. “Elder Sister!”

While crying out, she clung to Saku’s corpse. “Who are you?!”

Sousuke’s eyes widened as he stared at the girl, but then—startled by something—he abruptly dropped Saku’s body onto the floor. And Shimadaibu said this with solemn gravity rather than grief.

“This is Her Highness. “This is Princess Kuta Hime, whom Lady Saku deigned to bear fourteen years ago.”

“Gave birth fourteen years ago, you say?” “Hmm… So it was indeed fourteen years ago?” “……You there, girl! Lift your face!” “Oh! The resemblance is uncanny!” “Your features bear an uncanny resemblance to Natsuhiko’s!” “Unfortunate girl! Mass of impurity! Stand and go before the cross!” “That severed head there is your father.” “And Saku, who has killed herself here, is none other than your mother.”

Sousuke drew the tachi at his waist, leaping up again and again as he brandished it, “The castle that flourished beyond flourishing has perished! Both foe and lover lie equally dead!” “I was betrayed by them.” “My resentment shall never be extinguished through all eternity.” “I have lost everything.” “Not one shred of hope remains to me!” “What in this world should I do?! Ah, I curse love!” “I curse all happiness!” “I curse humanity!” “I shall become a demon while yet living!” “To the mountains, to the mountains—to Yatsugatake we go!” “I’ve grown weary of dwelling upon water.” “I’ll become a mountain-dwelling demon god and curse all humankind below!”

The screaming, raging, cursing voice seemed to pass through the window, cross the lake, and echo all the way to the lofty summit of Yatsugatake—its eight peaks towering in the vast dark sky.

Having narrated up to this point, Sugi Uemon stood still atop a rock and quietly surveyed his surroundings.

In the autumn of Bunsei 1, the midday sun poured its ruddy light in full force into the great sunlit valley here at Yatsugatake’s mid-slope—a place called Sasanodaira. Already, the first snow could be seen faintly white on the eight peaks, but it would likely take over a month for it to descend this far. As far as the eye could see, across mountains and valleys, myriad autumn leaves dyed in gold and crimson blazed like woven brocade. Far below lay the great lake with its deep azure waters—Lake Suwa—and on its distant shore soared Takashima Castle of Inaba-no-kami of Suwa, its white stone walls towering high: the keep of a 30,000-koku domain.

The sky was clear, the air crisp, birds sang incessantly—a tranquil autumn day.

“Now then,” Sugi Uemon continued, “since our ancestral lord Lord Sousuke became a tengu of the demon realm while alive during Emperor Ōgimachi’s Tenshō era and ascended to this Yatsugatake, he has brought calamities upon all humans of the lower world. He established a distinction in his way of life from theirs—not dwelling in houses but residing in caves. In time, many came from all directions to revere Lord Sousuke—all unfortunate souls who had their wives stolen, children slain, and treasures plundered in the human world—people harboring resentment against all lower-world humanity. Thus did Demon God Lord Sousuke gather numerous clan members and inflict ever greater calamities upon humans—even as the world gradually stabilized through the eras of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi until finally reaching Tokugawa’s reign. Though Lord Sousuke’s physical body long departed this world, his soul remains here in this valley as a deity. And so we descendants of the clan came to be called Cave Dwellers for living in caves—feared by those of the human world—and have dwelled here until this day. However...”

And Sugi Uemon, leader of the Cave Dwellers, glared fiercely, his eyes scanning from end to end the crowd of over five hundred Cave Dwellers lined up before him, "However, recently—from who knows where—a strange monk who calls himself the White Monk has come to this mountain and has begun fervently preaching things like 'Love your enemies.'" “Indeed, this too is utterly outrageous—but what is even more unforgivable is that there are Cave Dwellers who, despite their station, secretly believe in that White Monk’s sermons! Night after night, they hold gatherings in the grounds of Tengu Shrine where Sousuke Tengu is enshrined, inviting that monk to preach and listening to his words!” “This is an unforgivable sin against our religion!” “We must find them and drive them out from this mountain.” “Wouldn’t you agree, my fellow Cave Dwellers?”

“Yes, yes!”

The shouting voices roared like thunder from the mouths of the gathered Cave Dwellers.

“Now then,” Sugi Uemon raised his voice a notch further as if to continue, but suddenly stood rigid like a rod and fixed his gaze upon the mountain peaks. The clustered Cave Dwellers followed his stare suspiciously toward the peaks. In unison they cried “Whoa!” and scattered in all directions as though forgetting their crucial assembly.

The peak was now ablaze with wildfire. The fire had ignited on the parched leaves. From within the billowing black smoke, tongues of flame flickered into view, and fanned by the storm, the flames gradually surged toward the foothills.

The Cave Dwellers’ settlement was now on the very brink of being burned to the ground.

Six

Yamabuki, the nineteen-year-old daughter of Sugi Uemon, leader of the Cave Dwellers, was crying in a room of the house.

Father had gone out to the gathering, and her younger brother Ushimaru was nowhere to be found inside the house. She was crying and babbling. "That person got angry and left." What should I do? What should I do? What should I do! Before I could even say anything, he got angry and left. Well, I admit I was wrong, but he went too far. ...But why on earth did I say such things to him?—When I said I wanted to see the city, he suddenly made a strange face and asked, “Why do you want to go?” So I blurted out without thinking, “I’m so sick of this mountain village up here...” Then he made a terrifying face and said, “Yamabuki, I suppose you’re sick of my face too—me living here in the mountains. Even if I tried to explain myself, you wouldn’t listen. I hear that from Takashima Castle town—present-day Kami-Suwa Town—a pale-faced man called Tashirou is coming to pursue you. Listen here—you’d better watch out. If you, as a woman of the Cave Dwellers tribe, ever form a bond with someone from the lower world, you’ll be thrown from Tengu Shrine’s rock into the deep valley and lose your life without fail!”—no sooner had he said this, his voice taking on a terrifying tone, than he began clawing at his own hair and cried, “Ah! I’ve been deceived by you! I’m a spineless man. I was abandoned by you! I’ll never see you again! Go ahead and leave the village hand in hand with that lower-world scum Tashirou. Go ahead and become a proper person of the lower world and make a grand name for yourself! But Yamabuki, you’d better remember this well! While you’re making your name in the lower world, I’ll still be here in Sasanodaira on Yatsugatake’s mid-slope—in this Cave Dwellers’ settlement—pining after you while scraping by with boars, bears, and monkeys for company!” …With that, he shook me off and stomped away. Who’s saying I deceived him? "I would never do something like deceive him!"

In front of her was someone, and she kept crying and rambling endlessly as though pleading with them.

It was an autumn midday, and sunlight tinged with yellow streamed into the house. The dwelling’s structure followed Cave Dweller customs—hollowed from massive boulders and erected with pillars, identical to what might be called ordinary homes of ancient cave-dwelling tribes. However, as Sugi Uemon was the clan’s leader, his residence had been specially constructed to be far more spacious, with over half jutting outward from the rock cavern.

Yamabuki was a beauty without equal among the maidens of the Cave Dwellers’ clan. As might be expected of the leader’s only daughter, she wore more splendid garments than the other girls, which naturally made her stand out; yet her appearance was such that she could easily pass for the refined daughter of a distinguished samurai in Takashima Castle town of the lower world. The beautiful Yamabuki, her face half-illuminated by the autumn sun as she sobbed quietly, looked indescribably adorable.

At that moment, the sound of a pheasant whistle came from a nearby grove, and out from the parted grass emerged her younger brother Ushimaru—likely around fourteen years old—who nimbly approached the front of the house and peered in at his sister’s state. “Whoa, Sis, you’re crying! This is really funny!” He had been carrying a pheasant—likely caught in the woods—and after tossing it toward the dirt-floored area, he plopped down onto the veranda.

“Sis, right now, Mr. Tashirou is coming here to see you.”

“Oh my, really?! Mr. Tashirou?” “When I looked toward the slope road from the woods, there was Mr. Tashirou, all splendidly dressed up, coming this way, you see.” “So we hurriedly ran over and talked with him about all sorts of things, you see…” “Oh, so it’s really true then.”

Yamabuki reflexively raised her hand and brushed up her disheveled hair.

Ushimaru saw this and grinned slyly, “Hmm, that’s weird. Whenever it’s about Mr. Tashirou, Sis gets all fidgety.” “You shouldn’t say things like that.” “You’re still a child yourself! …So what did Mr. Tashirou say?” “Oh, he asked about you.” “‘How old is your sister?’ he said.” “In this annoyingly fancy way.” “And what did you tell him?” She pressed anxiously.

“I told him twenty-two,” Ushimaru said, grinning slyly once more. “In other words, I tripled it for him.”

“Oh my,” Yamabuki exclaimed in dismay, reflexively clapping her hands together, “What do I do? What do I do? You mischievous rascal! “I had told that person I was eighteen!” The two siblings doubled over in laughter, their cheerful voices echoing through the woods and groves before returning to their ears.

Seven

Ushimaru looked around the room and, upon finding a mountain of autumn chestnuts piled high on a tray, “Sis, did you have a visitor?” “Oh, there was Mr. Iwataro…” “Ah right, he’s a good person. We’re really fond of him. He’s not all stylish like Mr. Tashirou, and he’s one of our tribal people, after all… Why did Mr. Iwa go back so soon?” “He left in a huff.”

The two of them exchanged glances but remained silent for a while.

Flocks of small birds passed repeatedly before the two as they moved from grove to grove. Though there was no wind, autumn leaves fluttered down into the garden in continuous whispers. From the grass thicket leapt a chestnut-colored rabbit that darted swiftly toward the mountain peak. The sharp *keen-keen* cries of pheasants echoed from the forest depths. At intervals came sounds like hailstones from within the grove—the rolling descent of large chestnuts split open by the sun’s heat.

The scene of the tribal settlement in uneventful times was truly peaceful. “Oh, he’s here. “I hear footsteps.” “Mr. Tashirou has come.”

Ushimaru said this and craned his neck to peer up the slope, but—

“Those outsiders from below are such cowards—panting like that just to climb a slope! Well then, we’ll head into the woods and catch some mountain birds this time.”

Ushimaru started running off as he was but soon disappeared into the woods. At the same moment, the very man in question—Tashirou—abruptly appeared at the slope’s entrance in his handsome form. He was a man of about twenty-four or twenty-five, with his hair styled in the metropolitan fashion and dressed in modern attire—a fair-skinned, oblong-faced man who was popular with women. Yet there was something sword-like in his eyes, and his overly red lips marked him as a lecher not to be trusted. Slung over his shoulders were various rare tools and foodstuffs brought from the castle town at the foot of the mountain—in other words, he was an itinerant merchant who traveled between the mountain and the town.

“Oh, Lady Yamabuki! Are you here all alone?” “Where might your father have gone?” “Ah, he’s attending the clan meeting?” Tashirou came to Yamabuki’s side while smiling sociably and sat down on the entrance frame.

Yamabuki found herself flustered for some reason and reflexively blushed, but— “Yes, my father has gone to Tengu Shrine for the clan meeting. They must be discussing how to capture the Revered White Monk, I suppose.” “Go over there, and it’s the White Monk; come here, and it’s the White Monk. It seems the mountain is being ravaged by the White Monk.” He smiled obsequiously— “In the end, it’s a blessing for me. Well, is that not so?” He slowly extended his hand and began moving closer to Yamabuki.

“But why would that be?” “But isn’t that precisely the case? The very fact that we can sit facing each other here alone like this is also thanks to that Revered White Monk.”

As he spoke, he swiftly grabbed Yamabuki’s hand and squeezed it tight—but she was an inexperienced maiden. “Ah!” she cried out in an exaggerated, piercing shriek and shook off the hand that had seized hers. “Ehehehehe.”

Though Tashirou laughed, he was not a little embarrassed; perhaps to hide his embarrassment, he plucked a chestnut from the tray. "My, my! What a large chestnut this is!" He widened his eyes in exaggerated fashion.

“Please have some, if you’d like.” With a touch of ridicule, Yamabuki spoke thus. “Though they are merely leftovers.” “Huh? You call these leftovers?” “Well, there was a guest.” “To your place when you were alone, hmm?” He now pressed further, driven by jealousy. “Why, he is a kind-hearted person, you see. “He is someone called Mr. Iwataro.”

She said innocently. “He is my cousin, you see.” “So he’s one of your clan people then.” With a thoroughly mocking expression, “Hah! So he’s one of your wild boar comrades!” “Now then, shall I continue the story from the other day today?”

“Please do.”

Yamabuki leaned forward, but her eyes had already become entranced, and her chest seemed to be fluttering with anticipation. “That crept steadily closer now,” “These tales of Great Edo alone are what you might call capital that costs no capital.” “Nothing beats this for tricking country girls.”

Tashirou licked his upper lip slowly as he thought such thoughts, “...When it comes to beauty, I tell you, there’s nothing else that can rival Edo’s festivals.” “Matching attire.” “Festival floats.” “Geisha’s ceremonial dances.” “Flutes and drums.” “Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!” they chant as they parade the Taru Tenjin around.” “It’s a grand spectacle, I tell you.” “…you can witness daimyo processions in abundance, and at the river opening ceremonies, thousands of fireworks go popping up into the sky.” “But more than anything else, what’s truly fascinating are the Kabuki and Kyogen parodies, you know.” “Female roles, true villains, half-roles—each has their designated position in the troupe. Making folks weep or laugh comes as easy as breathing.” “—Spring flower viewing!” “And this one’s another spectacle!”

Eight “What do you mean by ‘spectacular’?”

Yamabuki had been listening with a flushed face and teary eyes but spoke as if startled. “What? When I said ‘incredible,’ I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” “I merely meant it was wonderful.” “Why, that’s simply marvelous!” “The mountain cherries blooming around here are nothing compared to those.” “Large pink Yoshino cherry blossoms—thousands upon thousands of them—bloom like clouds of white across Sumida’s embankments and Ueno’s hills.” “In flower-viewing robes and red kerchiefs, thousands of Edo’s men and women spend their days reveling beneath the blossoms.” “Those who drink sake.” “Those who dance.” “Those who burn aloeswood and savor its fragrance.……”

“Oh my,” Yamabuki inadvertently let slip a sigh of admiration, “I suppose such an Edo must be home to many beautiful people.” “There are indeed many of them. And their costumes are so lavish! They wear fine garments. The obi are Nishijin brocade. The undergarments are Kyoto yuzen-shibori crepe. The ladies apply makeup. White powder, rouge, and scented oils…” “Oh my”

Once more marveling, Yamabuki let out a sigh, but “Ah, I want to go and see it. “Ah, I want to go and see it!” she said in a dreamlike voice.

It was a voice that gushed forth from a young girl’s curiosity and a young girl’s vanity. “Perfect!” Tashirou thought, but gave no hint of such thoughts, maintaining an utterly earnest expression. “Is it that you wish to go to Edo? Please come—I will guide you. Haven’t I been telling you every time we meet? Why would someone as beautiful as you remain forever in this mountain-bound Cave Dwellers’ village?”

“But…” Yamabuki trailed off. “Wouldn’t it be better for a clueless country bumpkin to stay here living with rabbits and monkeys than venture out into such bustling places and make a fool of themselves everywhere?” “You needn’t worry about that. This Tashirou will be right by your side!” He thumped his chest—such showy antics likely seemed all the more reassuring to a mountain girl unfamiliar with worldly ways. And she smiled gently.

“Um, then your house must also be in Edo, I suppose?”

“Edo? “Yes yes, it’s in Edo.”

Though Tashirou had said this, he felt a sudden pang in his heart. He was from the castle town and had no residence in Edo whatsoever.

“Is it a large house, I suppose?”

Yamabuki asked again, entranced. “Oh, my house, you mean? Oh well, it’s quite spacious, I suppose…”—though in truth, Tashirou’s so-called house was a single-room tenement in a back alley. “And you must have quite a large family, I suppose?” “Family… let’s see, t-two… twenty people”—he involuntarily wiped his brow. Because sweat had begun to seep out. That’s only natural. His family consisted of just him and his mother. “Ah, I can’t do this! Someone like me…!”

Suddenly letting out a cry of despair, Yamabuki covered her eyes, causing Tashirou to jolt and rise halfway from his seat, though he couldn’t comprehend what had gone wrong. “Ah, someone like me could never compare!”

Once again, she cried out. “Not good enough?” “What do you mean?” “Why is that, I wonder?”

While saying this and thinking he mustn’t let the opportunity slip away, he took Yamabuki’s hand. Then he quietly settled himself down.

Yamabuki did not try to shake free her taken hand this time. She kept still and let him hold it.

“But still… I want to go…”

Muttering this like a delirious whisper, she looked at Tashirou’s face, but—

“What manner of noble person are you? You aren’t a samurai, are you?” “Not at all. Not at all.” “Then—a farmer? Ah, a merchant! A big, big merchant! But why would someone like you engage in peddling and such?” “Ah, well, you see—”

With that, Tashirou wiped his brow again, but—

“In other words, it’s because I’m still an apprentice…” “Ah, right! Now I understand.”

Yamabuki fell silent there and began indulging in some fantasy. With that, Tashirou brought her hand to his mouth and tried to plant a kiss on it. Yamabuki slightly pulled back her hand, but this was an unthinking act. Rather than that, she was now envisioning the time when she would go to Edo and make her way in the world.

And so, Tashirou—undeterred—took Yamabuki’s hand again, yet she remained as she was.

With that, Yamabuki once again cried out such things as if muttering deliriously.

“Ah, I hate this! This mountain life!” “Then shall we not depart? To the glorious heart of Edo, right?” Tashirou pulled Yamabuki’s hand. She buried her face in his chest as he pulled her along.

“Please take me with you!” “Please take me with you!” “I will go to Edo no matter what!”

Nine A ferocious smile flickered across Tashirou’s cheek for an instant as he tried to tilt Yamabuki’s face upward with deliberate pressure. When their faces aligned, Tashirou abruptly attempted to bring his own face down toward hers.

At that very moment, laughter rang out. When the two looked up in surprise, Ushimaru was standing at the entrance.

“Hey! What’s all this blabbering about!” “I’ll tell Mr. Iwa!” Ushimaru glared with eyes brimming with hatred. “Oi! Iwataro’s coming!” “Don’t get cozy with this weirdo!”

“You idiot!” “You brat!” “You disgusting brat!”

She was a woman of the tribe. Releasing a surge of violent emotions all at once, Yamabuki scolded her younger brother. “What’s Iwa-san supposed to do?! What does Iwataro matter?! If he comes, I’ll just drive him out!” “Hmph!” Ushimaru also adopted a confrontational stance. “Even though you made such a fuss over Iwa-san before Tashirou showed up!” He whirled around toward the forest. “Oh, he’s already almost here! …That weirdo’s tagging along…” Yamabuki and Tashirou both craned their necks and looked toward the forest upon hearing that.

“Oh! Iwa-san really is coming,” Yamabuki cried out in a fluster. “If he comes, I’ll just drive him out!” “Ah, so that ungainly fellow over there must be the man called Iwa,” Tashirou said, snorting. “He’s not even fit to be the gardener at my house.”

Ushimaru said with evident delight, “Let’s go meet Iwa-san!” and ran out to the entrance.

“Oh?”

Suddenly, Tashirou showed signs of unease.

“What a terrifying face! That weirdo’s face!” He grabbed his travel bag and fled clattering through the side sliding door toward the slope. “Oh, Mr. Tashirou! What’s happened?!” Yamabuki shouted in surprise, “I too—I too—I too want to come with you!”

In a panic, she rushed out through the sliding door.

Behind them, there was no one left in the room. The yellow autumn sun shone faintly upon the spread mat. A small bird flew into the Tsuto room in confusion, only to dart back out as if startled. All fell silent around them.

And then, voices could be heard outside.

“Mr. Ushimaru, good day.”

“Ah, Mr. Iwa, good day.” “Is your sister at home?” “Yes, she’s inside the house.”

“Do you have any guests?” “…………” “Anyway, shall we go in and see?”

The ones who immediately entered the earthen floor were Ushimaru, Iwataro, and the one wearing white robes—that is to say, the "strange person."

Iwataro was the same age as Tashirou. Their personalities were complete opposites. Serious, passionate, and steadfast—truly emblematic of a tribal youth. He wore a striped straight-sleeved kimono and mountain hakama, with a beast-leather belt fastened around him.

In contrast to that, the figure in white was truly divine, like a god. His skin was so white it seemed translucent. His hair, cut to shoulder-length, instead added a certain dignity. The white robe hung long enough to conceal his feet beneath its hem, but those feet wore nothing at all. He had a prominent forehead and a high nose. His well-formed mouth was filled with a smile—one that at first glance might even endear him to an infant. His eyes were utterly mysterious. In other words, they were the very symbol of dignity—at times appearing like crystal-clear jewels, and at others, like terrifying eyes that could make even wild beasts reel back. Moreover, they changed ceaselessly and unrestrainedly without a moment’s pause.

Iwataro looked around his surroundings, but—

“Oh? There’s no one in the house.”

"Hmm, where did Sis go?" Ushimaru searched through room after room but— "She’s not here—not here—nowhere to be found. Ah—so she ran away. Because she was too ashamed to face Iwa-san. Alright—let’s go search for her!"

It was the strange man in white who restrained him as he tried to rush out.

“There’s no need to search—she’ll return on her own in time. A bird with a nest will find its way home. ...So you’re Ushimaru, then?”

The peculiar man asked in a friendly manner, but his voice was as clear as spring water flowing over rocks. Ushimaru the mischief-maker suddenly changed his attitude, but—

“The mischief-maker Ushimaru refers to none other than myself.”

he said with utmost politeness.

“Ha ha ha.” “A mischief-maker, you say? That’s amusing.” “It’s honest and good that you say it yourself.” “By the way, just now, someone fled from here toward the slope.” “What kind of person was that?” “Is that not a young man?” “If that’s the case, then it’s that Tashirou fellow.”

10

“What? Tashirou?”

When he heard this, Iwataro’s expression changed abruptly, but he was restrained by the strange person.

“I thought so too,” the strange person intoned with dignity. “That man is no good. He built a wooden hut beneath Tengu Shrine’s cliff for some purpose and dwells there. He goes down to the castle town to procure sundry goods. Then peddles them here. Not coming from town to mountain—no, he stays in that hut, ceaselessly watching our clan’s movements, biding his chance to strike…”

“Hmm, is that so?” “What a bad fellow he is.” Iwataro was greatly surprised but pressed on: “Even so, how could Your Excellency possibly know that?”

“Ah, that is nothing,” “I am one who patrols these mountains without sparing even a moment’s respite.” “And so, one day, I discovered that wooden hut.” “...Oh, there’s someone at the entrance.” “They are eavesdropping on my conversation.” Sure enough, the moment he said that, Yamabuki entered through the doorway. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, and her breath came in ragged gasps—no doubt because she had chased after her lover Tashirou but failed to catch up.

“Ah, Sis!”

“Oh, Yamabuki!”

Two voices called out simultaneously. It was Iwataro who called out "Yamabuki."

Iwataro stepped forward abruptly, but—

“Yamabuki, I won’t say anything. I’ve brought an eminent person. Please give your thanks to this eminent person.” When told this, Yamabuki raised her eyes and gazed at the strange person—but suddenly her eyes brightened. A reverent feeling welled up within her. And so she silently bowed her head in deference.

The strange person wore a serene smile on his divine countenance, but—

“Ah—so you are Yamabuki-san? I am delighted to have met you.” “I am also delighted.”

“Yamabuki!” Iwataro declared passionately, “Yamabuki, I am relieved. This eminent person here will surely reconcile the two of us.—We did have a quarrel earlier, didn’t we? And then I said I wouldn’t see you anymore and stormed out from your place.…But I came again! There’s no other reason for that. It was because I wanted to introduce this eminent person to you. Yamabuki! This person is an eminent one!”

Yamabuki raised her bowed face and looked at that person once more. And that person smiled once more, as if overwhelmed by modesty,

“No no, I am neither a great person nor an outstanding human. “I am an ordinary person.” “However, I speak the truth and act upon the truth.” “Perhaps this is where I differ from ordinary people.” “...Be that as it may, earlier today I met this person.” “That’s right—I met Mr. Iwataro in the forest over there.” “And then I had some idle chatter with this person for a while, you know.”

“That’s right.”

Iwataro raised his grateful eyes, “……In the bitter frustration of lost love, I was running through the forest while tearing at my hair.” “At that moment, I was able to meet Your Excellency when you suddenly appeared.” “The moment I laid eyes on Your Excellency, I immediately felt a sense of nostalgia.” “And so I told Your Excellency everything—about my love with Yamabuki and how that love was shattered today.” “Yes, yes—the you back then was exactly like a madman.”

The strange person mused anxiously, “But as you engaged me in idle chatter for a while, your heart gradually softened.... Now then, changing the subject—I think I shall tell Yamabuki-san a story.” “It is by no means a disadvantageous story for you.” “How about it—would you care to listen?” “Please do tell me.” Obediently, Yamabuki said. “First and foremost—I want to state that I am a traveler.—I have been to Hizen Nagasaki and also to Osaka.” “I have also been to Kyoto, Nagoya—every other place.” “Of course—I have also been to Edo.” “Now then—Yamabuki-san—which place shall I tell you about?”

“Yes,” Yamabuki responded with renewed vigor, “Then please do tell me the story of Edo.” “Very well, then I shall proceed to tell you the story of Edo.” The strange person closed his eyes and pondered something intently, but— “Edo is indeed a den of demons!”

He incisively declared. “No, that’s wrong! That’s wrong!”

The one who scoffingly cried out was none other than her, Yamabuki—thoroughly instilled with Edo’s glamour by Tashirou’s sweet talk. “No! Edo is indeed a paradise where beautiful people live in splendor and pleasure!”

“Listen!” A sharp voice shot forth again from the strange person’s lips—and the group, cowed by that voice, fell silent all at once.

Now, what exactly did this strange person intend to speak of? However, at least one thing seemed certain—the strange person was attempting to return Yamabuki—the mountain maiden whose heart yearned for vanity and ostentation—to her original simple-hearted self; but would Yamabuki truly heed his words and revert to her former maidenly self, or would she succumb to Tashirou’s temptations?

This very question was the focal point that the author intended to address next.

一一

Seating Iwataro and Yamabuki before him, the strange white-robed long-haired man began speaking of Edo. “...Edo—where the shogun’s house resides—is truly a place of utmost extravagance and bustle.” “From daimyo and hatamoto above to artisans and merchants below—all bedeck themselves in finery beyond their station. In spring they view blossoms; in autumn they admire maples; by day they enjoy music; by night they banquet... All vie to indulge in pleasure.” “Delicacies from mountain and sea, brocade garments—you may purchase them at will. Golden hairpins and tortoiseshell combs become yours if you but stack enough koban coins.” “That’s right.” “Truly, if one merely produces koban coins, all matters fall under one’s control—such are Edo’s customs.” “Thus there exists neither ‘Tranquility’ nor virtues like ‘Humility’—only ‘Falsehood’ and ‘Hypocrisy.’...In truth, no birds sing there; no beautiful green forests exist; no scent of grain drifts through air—nothing but jealousy, suspicion, factional strife, mad obsession with coin, and murderous acts born thereof.” “Moreover, its surface appearance—how exquisitely crafted it is to tempt simple honest country folk!” “...And what a splendid place this Sasa no Taira stands in contrast!”

As he spoke, he quietly turned around and pointed to the scenery outside, “A man tills the fields; a woman pushes a cart. Children and dogs shout joyfully. …How tranquil it is!... The maple grove blazes beneath midday light. Wild chrysanthemums mingle among weeds. Kudzu flowers sway in the wind. White and yellow butterflies flit from bloom to bloom seeking nectar; migratory birds flock from peak to hillcrest, hillcrest to valley, valley to foothill. …How serene it is!—The valley stream’s murmur beats nature’s drum; the pine-swept wind strums heaven’s harp; do not let worms gnaw at love’s buds conceived within this wondrous realm. Happiness shatters easily and never returns.”

As he said this, the strange man reached out his hand toward the two. And both Yamabuki and Iwataro instinctively clung to that hand. Connecting their hands, the strange man then spoke. “Beautiful garments are made by tailors; ranks and titles are created by the Ministry of Ceremonial.” “In short, they’re all trivial things.” “The most precious thing is human love!” “You must love and be loved forevermore.” “If either of you two should break this love, that person will likely sink into an abyss of unfathomable misfortune.”

“Yes.” Iwataro shed tears and bowed his head modestly and respectfully, but “Even if I were told to kill, I’ll never go against what you taught us today.” “…Yamabuki!” “What’re you plannin’ to do then?” “Iwasan, I was wrong. I ain’t gonna go anywhere now—please don’t hold it against me.” “Won’t go nowhere else—so forgive me.”

“Oh, I see. That’s mighty kind of ya. “Ain’t nothin’ to forgive or not forgive.” “I’ll be the one to say thanks.” The two clung tightly to each other. A muffled sob could be heard—the one burying her face in Iwataro’s chest was Yamabuki, her weeping voice. That is to say—the mingled joy and sorrow of having narrowly been saved from teetering on the brink of sweet temptation now gushed forth as a weeping cry.

Everyone remained completely silent.

The autumn midday was serene. Ushimaru, who had been standing at the entrance watching the situation, now strode in and addressed the strange man with evident admiration. "You are such an impressive person—what manner of person are you?" Then the strange man in white, wearing a gentle smile on his cheeks, approached Ushimaru and lightly stroked his head. "As for me—I am a monk... All people, love one another!" "I'm a monk who came to this village to spread these teachings."

“A monk?” “No, you’re not a monk.” “But you’ve got hair on your head!” “That’s why I’m a monk who keeps his hair.” “Therefore, my sermons are slightly different from those of ordinary monks.” “What is your name?” “I originally have no name… I am clad in white robes.” “That is why the people of the village call me White Monk.” “What?” Ushimaru was surprised, but it wasn’t just him—Yamabuki and Iwataro were equally astonished as they scrutinized the strange man.

“You have no reason to be surprised.”

The White Monk began to preach calmly. “The White Monk whom the villagers hate and despise—that is me.” “Yet I am no demon.” “I should rather be an angel… This village is a good village.” “The people here are good people, but there is one ill.” “To abhor those from the outer world—all who are not Cave Dwellers—can never be right.” “I have come to break such thinking.”

The White Monk’s eyes blazed like flames as he spoke these words. The White Monk soon bowed once and, stepping over the threshold, went outside. He entered the forest. Before long, his figure was hidden by the trees, but the divine sight of his white robes lingered in the three’s eyes. And thus, the compassionate words that preached the "religion of love" still remained vividly clear in the three’s ears.

The two lovers remained embracing each other as they watched the White Monk depart.

12

About a month had passed since these events occurred.

The brocade of autumn leaves that had adorned countless mountains and blazed with color withered away; the bamboo grass plains were buried under snow. The season of winter seclusion arrived.

For the Cave Dwellers, winter was a season of hunting and revelry. They would go out hunting bears and wild boars with bow and arrows. They would hold raucous banquets where men and women mingled together, using the discarded parts of their prey. It was a season of love, a season of carnal desire, and also a season of peace. And it was also a season of idleness.

Snow fell day after day.

They would light fires to warm themselves, gather together, and engage in idle chatter. There was nothing else to do. The sole topic of their conversations was always "Sousuke Tengu"—for them, "Sousuke Tengu" was a guardian deity more revered than any other. Of course, rumors about the White Monk also surfaced. "He’s destroying our village’s peace!" Thus they spoke with hatred. ——Yet through winter’s span, their village remained largely peaceful.

The night deepened in the mountains.

A faint moon hung in the sky. As far as the eye could see, everything was blanketed in snow—both the forests and groves were pure white.

Then, a single black shadow emerged on the snow. A bear? No, no—it resembled a human. Moreover, it seemed to be carrying a heavy object on its back. It approached slowly and sluggishly, wriggling as it came.

This was the mid-slope of Yatsugatake. A valley called Tsuzumigatani lay directly beneath the Cave Dwellers’ village. Before them rose a sheer cliff. When the black human figure reached the base of that cliff, it halted.

“Oi.”

Suddenly, he called out.

“It’s me, it’s me! Open the door quick!”—a voice like a whisper.

Who in the world could he possibly be calling? There was no one around here at all. And even if he told someone to open the door, there was no house anywhere to begin with.

The surroundings were solemnly silent.

And then, strangely, a responding voice was heard coming from nowhere. “Hey, who’s there? Gonkuro?” Then, the black human figure, shivering from the cold with a trembling voice, “You should’ve recognized my voice by now. Who else’d come to this godforsaken spot at this hour?” “You got the special order?” “Heh, quit your frettin’. I’m tellin’ ya—all the merchandise’s here. Now open up ’fore I freeze solid!” “You came alone, right?”

“This here’s finally the checkpoint, I tell ya. If it were Ataka Checkpoint, it’d be Togashi, but since this is Tsuzumigatani, it’s Tashirou. Nah, this checkpoint ain’t got no bite. …Heh. Just yours truly here, all alone.” “Alright. Then I’ll open the door.” Along with the voice came the clank of a lock being undone, but immediately after, there was the faint creak of a door grating open, and in the snow-blanketed grove, a single firelight flickered dimly. Though hidden by trees and blanketed in snow, making it nearly invisible from the outside, there appeared to be a small wooden cabin nestled within the thicket of bushes at the base of the sheer cliff. The firelight also seemed to come from there.

The creaking sound of the door echoed again and the firelight vanished in an instant—this was because the cabin door had been closed—while Gonkuro’s figure disappeared from view, likely since he had entered inside the cabin.

After that, all was desolate and still. The snow, white as a bridal gown, and the clear blue moonlight reflected each other, unfolding a mystical scene that could only be witnessed on a winter’s night in the deep mountains. A loud rustling sound rang out. The bamboo thicket had shed its snow. After that, it grew even quieter.

At that moment, a sudden war cry echoed from the direction of the peak. The barking of dogs, the laughter of women. —It seemed to be coming from the Cave Dwellers’ village.

Within the wooden cabin surrounded by shrubs, a bonfire blazed crimson.

With a bonfire at the center, two men were drinking sake from bowls. They were Gomi Tashirou and Gonkuro. The beautiful face of Tashirou—resembling that of a libertine—flushed crimson from alcohol and the fire’s heat as he chattered ceaselessly, appearing in remarkably high spirits. As for Gonkuro, he seemed over forty years old; his round face, thick with a bushy beard, had also turned red—yet he too chattered away without yielding.

The cabin’s interior was lively.

13 “Huh? What in the world’s goin’ on? The village’s makin’ one helluva racket, ain’t it?”

Gonkuro tilted his ear slightly. “That’s right. “It’s damn lively out there. “They must be holding some banquet or other.” Tashirou said with a smirk. “The plan’s finally coming together, wouldn’t you say?” “Huh? What’s that? “Plan? You’re still on about that plan?” “I’m just sayin’—your plan’s been brewin’ forever, ain’t it?” “Now now Gonkuro, don’t be like that. “Grand schemes need long preparations, you know.” “I get that much, but this whole plan business—I can’t make heads nor tails of it. “Even if they got us middlemanning miso and rice from the castle town to sell those villagers at markup—that ain’t what you’d call easy money.”

“Look here, Gonkuro, I’m beggin’ ya, I’m beggin’ ya.” “Do you think I’d build this cabin just for some measly profit that ain’t even worth a mosquito’s tear?” “My ambition is far grander.”

“You’re actin’ all high an’ mighty now.” “You sure talk big there.” “Then quit yappin’ an’ spill it already.” “That plan o’ yours.” “Heh. Finally surrendered? Pitiful thing—a witless fool like you deserves no less… Fine—I’ll tell ya.” “My marks are first gold an’ second women.” “What? That’s all? Such triflin’ nonsense.” “What else d’ya think there’d be worth takin’?” “Ain’t it been said since olden days—the world’s ’bout lust an’ coin?”

“So what’re you tryin’ to say, huh?” “Ain’t nothin’ special about that.”

“That’s ’cause you ain’t seen the jewels!”

“Even the finest beauty couldn’t fetch a thousand ryo!” “What’s this about wanting money? If it’s gold you’re after, I’ve got another avenue lined up… Are we putting women on hold?” “Nah—let’s hear things in order.” Gonkuro smirked with a wry smile. “Well, well—you’re being awfully composed. “Now, as for the woman—she’s one of the tribe members.” “That’s worth askin’.” “And she’s Sugi Uemon’s only daughter.” “The tribe’s leader, Sugi Uemon, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tashirou nodded emphatically. “She’s nineteen—and a real beauty.” “Heh, that’s another thing worth askin’ about, I suppose.” “That’s a matter of order.” “Shut up and listen.” “Alright then.” “A splendid beauty.” “And she’s fallen head over heels for me.” “You’re such a nasty bastard.” He let out a strange noise. “……Hmm. Then what happened?” “The elopement to Edo and the council’s resolution are settled.……” “Well now, that’s quite the bold move.”

“But things aren’t going smoothly afterward.” “...Knew this was coming,” “Just like the script said—interference came in.” “Impressive! “Your usual play! “While you’re at it, check the face too...” “Don’t even wanna see that mug of yours.” “Your woman troubles go without saying, don’t they?” “Ugh—rotten luck.” “By the way—where’d we leave off again?” “You’re one forgetful bastard.” “Up to where the interference came in.” “Yeah.” “No mistake—it’s that interference. But of all people to clash with, a damn monk?”

“BWAHAHAHA! BWAHAHAHA!” “Hey, laughing’s too cruel—you could at least say somethin’.” “But you—the monk’s cleanin’ up here.” “You don’t stand a snowball’s chance against ’im!” “That’s why we’re all mopin’ around.” “Huh? Mopin’ around?” “About that?” “Any bright ideas for winnin’ her back?” “Ain’t sayin’ I can’t lend ya some smarts—how’s the woman doin’?” “She’s givin’ us the slip.”

“Hmm, that’s a real problem.” “What now?! And you think you’re so clever?! You’re downright stingy about sharing wisdom... But I’ve got it all figured out here—right at the heart of things.” “Then just say it already.” “I was just testing you a bit. Hey—unwrap that bundle. I want to see the custom goods first.” “Understood.”

While saying this, Gonkuro unwrapped the bundle he had carried from the castle town up to this place.

Beautiful lacquered geta sandals, Hakata obi sashes, crepe silk garments, figured satin underrobes, silver flat ornaments, coral front decorations—countless expensive items spilled out. “Ain’t even bad for men to look at.” “Show these to young women, and they’d come leapin’ at ’em without a second thought.” “Ah—so we’re usin’ that bait to lure ’em into the trap.” Gonkuro licked his lips. “Testin’ whether the monk’s preachin’ or my tricks work better on girls ain’t half bad—what d’you say, Gonku?”

14

The bonfire blazed heartily; inside the cabin was warm.

The single-room cabin—its floor spacious enough to lay ten tatami mats—was crammed to the rafters with miso barrels, rice bales, sake bottles, salted salmon cuts, soy sauce tubs, brooms, dustpans, oil jars, cotton scraps, cloth bolts, threads, and needles. Even weapons like bows, matchlock guns, and daggers lay hidden among the chaos. Yet all these were goods for sale—luxury wares to be peddled at exorbitant prices to the Yatsugatake cave-dwelling clan atop the mountain. “Now then,”

Gonkuro licked his lips and gulped down the sake in his bowl,

“Is that the end of the women talk? What about the money talk?” “This ain’t some chit-chat matter.” “Let’s just say we’re halfway through the plan.” “Heh—quit your bullshittin’! That scheme reeks to high heaven.” “My my, how quick you are to doubt.” “Suspect away if you like.” “Just wait—I’ll make you gasp soon enough.”

“Now now, don’t be like that—let me in on it. Hogging the plan’s just plain greedy.” “Heh, another one of your half-baked routines?” “Hmm… If I’m accused of hogging everything, even I start feeling unsettled somehow.” “Alright then, in that case I’ll spill it. Let’s start with the money—how much d’you think we’re talking?” “A thousand ryo?” “Two thousand ryo?”

“What’s all this fuss over a paltry thousand or two thousand ryo?” “Whoa, you’ve really come out swinging!”

“If my estimate isn’t off—counted in koban—it’s ten thousand ryo.”

“What—ten thousand?!” “Are you out of your mind?!” “How’s that for a shocker?”

“And where exactly is that?”

“On the cliff of Tsutsumigadou.” “Hmm… So it’s the Cave Dwellers’ village?” “In the inner sanctuary of Tengu Shrine. …There’s a large wooden statue there.” “It stands six meters tall and holds a spear.” “…The wooden statue of Sousuke the Tengu.” “…In other words—it’s their guardian deity.” “So what on earth does that matter?” “The wooden statue is wearing armor.” “That’s quite valiant.” “That armor is worth ten thousand ryo!” “I just don’t get it.”

“Both the cuirass and helmet are goldwork. If we recast them into koban coins, it’ll easily fetch ten thousand ryo.” “But how d’you plan to steal it? You can’t possibly go through the village either.”

Then Tashirou nimbly stood up, took the torch placed there, and lit it from the bonfire. “Hey Gonku—come here. I’ll show you something that’ll shrivel your guts.” He led the way out of the cabin. And Gonkuro followed him out.

The snow outside, illuminated by the torchlight, flared into a pink glow there alone—tragically beautiful.

Tashirou walked toward the cliff, crushing the snow underfoot, but suddenly stopped and turned around. “Hey Gonku, look here!” As he said this, he thrust the torch forward. On the cliff face shrouded in ice and snow—though not clearly visible as such—there appeared to be a single path, as if chiseled out by some tool. It was carved diagonally upward along the cliff in a stepped pattern.

“Hmm”

Gonkuro let out a low grunt. He was thoroughly impressed by this painstaking, meticulous work.

“How’s this?” Tashirou declared in a boastful voice. “Still think I’m some fool? …This here’s the path I carved out.” “Must’ve taken me a good half year.” The cliff path continued all the way to the very back of Tengu Shrine. “No—I’ve really put myself through hell.” “Now that we’ve come this far, all that’s left is to steal the goods.”

“Not a word—color me impressed.” “Right—with this much progress made, all that’s left is snatching the prize.” “That thing’s as heavy as its reputation suggests.” “That’s what makes it worth ten thousand ryo.” “But I’m a delicate willow, you see.” “What a silver-tongued trickster you are!” “Exactly why I picked you.” “This might as well be a banquet spread—ready for the taking.” “In?”

“What of it?” “So you’re in?” “By all means—let’s shoulder the same pole together.” Once again, a boisterous burst of laughter echoed down from the mountaintop. “That’s it, that’s it! That laughter—it’s our gospel!” “Hmm, I don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get? It’s just that whenever there’s snow, the village is in constant festival.” “We’ll do the job during that window.”

XV

Several months passed after these events occurred.

January turned to February, and though in warm Edo the plum blossoms were scattering and cherry blossoms about to bloom, Sasano-daira of the cave-dweller tribe remained buried deep in snow.

And so, great peace prevailed. Singing and laughter could always be heard coming from the houses that stood scattered here and there. They were indulging in revelry.

However, even in such a peaceful tribe, there came a time when disaster struck.

One day, a figure came running through the snow-covered tribe, shouting at the top of his lungs. That was none other than Iwataro.

The people, surprised, stopped him and asked what was wrong. “Sugi Uemon’s daughter—my betrothed—that beautiful Yamabuki has abandoned the tribe, cast me aside, and eloped with that Tashirou fellow, yearning for worldly vanity!” This was Iwataro’s reply.

“You damned fool!” Upon hearing that, the people first said,

“To abandon this splendid dwelling and join with those lowland outsiders our ancestors have long despised—what a fool of a woman, unafraid of divine punishment! She’ll likely find no good fortune in the future; she’ll surely come to regret this.”

Having said this, they either hated or pitied the woman who had left the tribe.

However, it was now early spring, and the tribe lay buried in snow. For them, this was a season of revelry. And so they surprisingly overlooked this grave betrayal—the sort that under ordinary circumstances would have provoked far greater uproar and condemnation. They likely reasoned it happier to indulge in their own pleasures and fully savor what they called the year's month of revelry than waste precious time on others' affairs.

That said, betrothed Iwataro and Yamabuki’s father Sugi Uemon could not simply overlook it as strangers would. To begin with Iwataro’s state of mind—jealousy, rage, and sorrow—these three emotions wrestled within his breast, leaving no room for even a moment’s peace. And so, resolved to exhaust his body and thereby numb his heart’s anguish, he climbed ever higher up Yatsugatake’s glistening white slopes: fighting boars when he found them, battling bears when he encountered them, killing foxes and capturing monkeys—embarking on every manner of perilous venture.

Sugi Uemon’s state of mind was equally tragic. He, being the tribal leader, felt deeply responsible. As one would expect of a leader, his reverence for Sousuke Tengu and love for the tribe were twice as strong as anyone else’s. "For the daughter of the tribal leader to not only commit the unforgivable transgression of betraying Sousuke Tengu’s will by forming a bond with some lowlander youth, but to abandon the tribe and vanish without a trace—what a reckless woman she is!" However, even as he thought this, from the fringes of his heart—

Even if a tribal woman of lower status forms a bond with some lowlander man, it’s only a matter of time before she’s cast aside. Once she descends the mountain, she can never return again. Unable to live among human settlements nor return to the mountains—what would she do then? Would she hang herself? Or perish abandoned in the wilds? Either way, she’s a pitiful thing. A pang of compassion stirred within him. From that day forth, Sugi Uemon had become melancholy. He scarcely moved from his hearthside perch. He did nothing but feed logs to the fire, stare into the flames, and brood—forsaking both festive gatherings and even his cherished hunts.

Ten years ago he had lost his wife; the only feminine presence had been his daughter, and now that she too had fled, Sugi Uemon sat alone in the house. Only Iwataro, who shared the same sorrow, would occasionally visit. Today too was a fierce blizzard. It seemed a bear had been caught, or something of the sort. It was the so-called fearsome "bear blizzard." Sugi Uemon sat thinking intently. On the adjustable hook hung a kettle, and beneath the kettle, a fire burned.

It was nearly dusk. The room was almost dark. However, the lantern was not lit. But Sugi Uemon’s figure was clearly visible in the bonfire’s light. At that moment, the front door opened, and a young man lumbered slowly inward. “Oh, Iwa.”

As soon as he noticed this, Sugi Uemon called out listlessly.

“Ah, that’s right—it’s us.”

While saying this, Iwataro approached the hearth and sat cross-legged facing Sugi Uemon. He was holding a swan in his hand. “I thought I’d have a drink with you, old man, so I brought down about two sho of sake.”

He placed the swan down with a thud beside the hearth.

“What – just some sake? This ain’t cuttin’ it, huh.” Then, after heating the sake over the bonfire, the two of them started gulping it down vigorously.

For a while, the two of them remained silent.

That silence weighed heavily on the two of them.

16

“Iwa.”

Suddenly, Sugi Uemon said. “You ain’t gettin’ drunk at all, are ya?” “An old man like you ain’t gettin’ drunk either, huh.” “What’s wrong? I ain’t gettin’ drunk at all.” “I’m the same; I ain’t gettin’ drunk at all.” At that, the two fell silent. The silence was long. And thus, it was a suffocating silence. Seeming to blow in from the gaps in the door, snow settled on the shoulders of both men. Perhaps remnants of the storm had strayed in—the bonfire flared sideways but righted itself again in an instant.

The two were still silent.

And then, suddenly, Iwataro said. "I just don't get it!" "No matter how I think about it, I don't get it!" "What?!"

Sugi Uemon pressed further. "What do you mean 'what'?! It's a woman's heart!" "Don't say 'woman'—say 'Yamabuki'!"

“Oh, I’ll say!” “Oh, I’ll say!” “I just can’t figure it out no matter what.” “That Yamabuki’s feelings!”

“That one was possessed by a demon.” “What else could there be?!” “If that’s all you’ve got to say, fine—but I wanna know more! What tricked Yamabuki?” “What’s the point of askin’ that?” “Ain’t no point—but I still wanna ask.” “Hmph. Useless nosin’ around.” At that, the two fell silent again. The two sho of sake was nearly gone.

“That’s it. That one was no good.”

This time Sugi Uemon groaned out. “If I’d given her a proper scolding back then, this mess wouldn’t have happened…” “Huh?” challenged Iwataro. “Gramps, did somethin’ happen?” “A little before she disappeared—that man came around for once.” “That man? “Tashirou?” “Right—that merchant bastard spread out his wares on the veranda there. Even my eyes near got blinded by those fancy obi sashes and geta clogs. ……Then that Yamabuki—who’d been sittin’ all sullen-like in the back room till then—up and went to the veranda. Must’ve been when I left the house on some errand.” When I came back, there was Yamabuki grinnin’ like a fool. Held geta in her hands. Said Tashirou gave ’em to her. Gave her some lip but didn’t scold proper—spineless bastard I was… Next day she got an obi. Day after that—a hairpin……”

“I’ve got it now.” “Hmm... So that’s how it was.” ...At last everything fell into place for him.

“Gramps!” Iwataro’s voice cracked. “Oi,” said Sugi Uemon, his eyes widening.

“I’m finally gonna make my move.” “Yeah. That way seems better.” “I ain’t got no use for a woman who’d throw over a man she loves—and who loves her back—just to gawk at obi sashes an’ hairpins.” “Yeah. That’s dead right… I cut them parent-child ties in my heart long ago.” “Even the Revered White Monk’d be disgusted.” “…Bet he never dreamed things’d come to this.”

“Huh? What’d you say?” “The White Monk too?” “Nah, this is our own business.”

At that, they fell silent once more. It seemed the sake had been finished; the two sat there idly, staring fixedly at the fire.

“Gramps, well then, I’m heading home.”

Iwataro stood up.

“I see. Then come again when you will.”

Iwataro opened the front door and went out into the blizzard.

Sugi Uemon remained seated by the hearth, showing no sign of moving no matter how much time passed. Before long, as the firewood had apparently run out, the bonfire gradually began to die down. Still Sugi Uemon did not move a muscle.

Night soon arrived. The storm seemed to have intensified, as a terrible roaring sound—whoosh-whoosh, like whips being lashed—could be heard. Sugi Uemon suddenly stood up, staggered toward the front, flung the door open, and rushed outside.

With a thunderous roar of wind, the blizzard stung his eyes and mouth. In the dark void where neither mountain forms nor forest shadows nor a single object could be discerned, only snowflakes—like imps or phantoms—swirled wildly. Sugi Uemon whirled into a somersault and rolled onto the snow. Round and round and round he tumbled through the snow like a madman, heedless of hill or valley. In a manner befitting the leader of the cave dwellers, through such cruel methods he sought to torment his flesh and numb both his longing for his daughter and his hatred toward her.

17 “Heave-ho!” “Yo-ho!” “Heave-ho!” “Yo-ho!”

Such shouts could be heard. It was the voices of two people, and they seemed to be carrying something heavy. However, their figures could not be seen. This was because it was night, and moreover, the location was the cliff directly behind Yatsugatake’s Tengu Shrine, and since it was early spring, ice and snow had piled up thickly. The snow had just ceased, and moonlight filtering through the clouds slanted down to illuminate the cliff.

On that cliff, an artificial path had been constructed diagonally upward at a steep incline. It was a path that Tashirou had painstakingly built over six months, and now two men were descending it from above.

“Heave-ho,” “Yo-ho,” they called out to each other in hushed tones as they descended slowly and cautiously.

It was Tashirou and Gonkuro, carrying a stout and short object wrapped in straw matting that appeared quite heavy. At the spot where they had completely descended the cliff, the two let out a sigh of relief, “Just one more push. Let’s get this done.” “Got it,” Gonkuro struck his mallet in agreement.

Then, shouldering their load once more, they passed by the wooden hut standing nearby without making a sound and walked toward the snow-crowned forest towering ahead. They soon entered the forest, and from the base of a large cedar came the sound of a dog barking. “Hey! Damn it!” they cursed as they headed that way. There was a single dog sled there, waiting for its passengers. “Heave-ho!” they grunted as the two men heaved the heavy load onto the sled with a heavy thud, then immediately leaped aboard themselves. Gonkuro took the reins while Tashirou moved beside the luggage. With a sharp crack of the whip, Gonkuro turned to look back.

“Hey, Tashirou, what’s the matter?” “At least you could’ve said your goodbyes or looked back at the hut.” “—Hee-yah!” He whistled to coax the dogs. Then the three huge dogs yanked their heads down and strained their hind legs with a grunt. In that instant, they smoothly surged forward. A puff of snow burst up, and the sled slid out quietly. “Heh.”

“Heh,” Tashirou snorted through his nose. “We ain’t that soft. …What’s it matter what happens to some Cave Dweller’s daughter?” “Oooh, actin’ all high an’ mighty now—” “Heh, what’s gotten into you? Makes me sick.” “Weren’t you workin’ yourself into a frenzy over that woman just a while back?” “Yeah, that’s right—for a spell. …When it’s the daughter of them Cave Dwellers, the ones the townsfolk fear like devils, well, a man’s bound to get curious.” “And her looks ain’t half bad neither.” “There’s such a thing as a different flavor.” “Perfect for a bit o’ fun on the side.” “You’da thought the same, wouldn’t ya?”

“By the way, was she any good?” “For me, she was a first.” “That initial taste was sweet enough.” “Her pale skin and softness felt more like raw silk floss than satin.” “And as for her passionate fury—heh heh—what can I say?” “You bastard!”

“Heh, you pulled it off nicely,” Gonkuro shouted as he swung his whip through the air with a whoosh and lashed one of the dogs. “In a remote mountain hut, just the two of them—anyone could guess what they did. No doubt they fooled around till they got sick of it.” “Not exactly spot-on, but close enough,” Tashirou replied.

“Why’d you run off again after ditching a woman like that? This makes no damn sense to me.” “I already told you. She’s just some Cave Dweller’s daughter. You think I could shack up with her forever?” “Hmph. So you got bored then.” “Honestly? Yeah, pretty much.” “For all that scheming, you sure ain’t got brains.” Gonkuro sneered. “No brains? Me?”

Tashirou suddenly widened his eyes. "What a waste to abandon her like that. Why don’t you trick her into coming to the castle town and sell her to a procurer?" "Hmph—that’s your grand scheme? Some Kongming-level brilliance there. Had I known it was this simple, I’d have agreed ages ago." "Agreed? What do you mean? …Why wouldn’t you?" "It’s about the gem being different, see." "I’m all ears—how’s it different?" "If she were some village girl, that might’ve worked. But once a Cave Dweller’s daughter gets an idea in her head—mark my words—there’s no facing someone who’ll see it through no matter what."

“Hmph, why don’t you face her then?” “If I were to show even a hint of that intention, I’d end up getting my throat slit in my sleep.”

“Huh, is she really that tough?” “After all, she’s completely obsessed.”

“Hey, damn it!” “Don’t dawdle around!”

Gonkuro shouted in desperation as he reined in a dog veering sideways. “It’s the dead of a snowy winter night. Even if we wanted to dawdle, there’s no grass to eat—mush-mush-mush-mush!” “Run! Run!”

Gonkuro swung his whip recklessly.

一八

The snow-covered forests and woods stood like ghosts, illuminated by the pale moonlight. As the sleigh ran, they gradually drew nearer. As the sleigh passed by, they too gradually grew smaller and smaller, fading into the distance behind. The steep mountains clad in White Robes and valleys gaping like a huge beast’s maw also drew steadily nearer as the sleigh advanced, and flew away behind one after another as it passed by. And the hazy moon in the sky paid no heed to whether the sleigh advanced or raced, continuing to dimly illuminate both the sleigh and its passengers from on high.

The people on the sleigh—Gomi Tashirou and Gonkurou—remained silent for a while. Gonkurou slackened the reins as far as they would go, letting the dogs run freely while envisioning a swift return to the castle town—imagining himself drinking at a warm tavern and claiming the largest possible share of their magnificent plunder. In stark contrast, Tashirou plotted how to claim all this ill-gotten gold for himself alone. Tashirou scanned his surroundings before abruptly thrusting his hand into his coat.

"However wait," he muttered as he quietly withdrew his hand. "If I rush I'll botch this. Too dangerous—way too dangerous!" Crossing his arms，he intently watched Gonkurou’s movements.

Gonkurou kept handling the reins with single-minded focus, his back turned to Tashirou. His posture brimmed with vulnerabilities. Tashirou scanned all directions. In battle, terrain advantage proves decisive. ……This must have been what prompted his thought.

At this moment，the sleigh raced along a narrow rocky path winding between mountain and valley．Before they knew it，the sky had clouded over，and once-stopped large clumps of snow began to fall again，carried by the wind．In the blink of an eye，the moonlight rapidly faded until it vanished completely．The snow’s pale glow cast a dim light．

At that moment, Tashirou once again thrust his right hand into his pocket and seemed to grip something firmly. He fixed his gaze and glared at Gonkurou’s back. As they rounded the rocky path, a vast ice field appeared before their eyes. The blizzard steadily intensified, crashing against them like a roaring beast. The dogs began panting in agony. Again and again they tried to escape by biting at their harness ropes. Each time, Gonkurou’s whip cracked resoundingly against their backs.

"Now’s the time! "Now’s the time!"

Tashirou inched forward while muttering these words to himself. At that moment—whether they had struck a rock or not—the sleigh suddenly tilted. At once, Tashirou yanked his arm from his pocket—but as his hand rose skyward, something glinted and flashed. Gonkurou let out an “Ah!” and released the reins in a flurry—but the next instant, he tumbled headlong into the snow.

“Tashirō! You bastard! You stabbed me!” While firmly pressing his bloodied shoulder with one hand, Gonkurō writhed. Tashirō gripped his dagger in a reverse grip and stepped down from the sleigh with composure, coldly glaring at him. “How does it feel, Gonku? Does it hurt?” “What do you think you’re doing stabbing a comrade?! You’ve gone mad! Ah—it hurts! I can’t breathe!” “What makes you think I’ve lost my mind? This is stone-cold sanity!” “Sanity?! So that’s it... You’re after—” “Now you finally get it? …Every last grain stays with me—see?”

“Did you finally figure it out?…I’m keeping it all for myself—see?” “Like hell you will!” Even as he spoke, Gonkurou wobbled upright, but whether he couldn’t endure his wounded shoulder or not, he fell back down with a heavy thud onto his rear. “If you’re set on this, then so am I! Prepare yourself, you brat!”

He too drew the dagger he had been concealing, gripping it in a reverse hand and poising himself as he closed in on one knee.

The dogs, having lost their driver, began barking fiercely at this moment. All three dogs looked up at the sky, trembling in the ceaselessly falling snow, and howled as if in sorrow.

From the initial wound, Gonkurou gradually weakened. The blood trickling from his shoulder stained the snow crimson, but in the darkness of night, it appeared black. He tried and tried desperately to stand, but his legs simply wouldn’t obey. He scraped his knees raw while circling, barely managing to fend off Tashirou.

“There I go!”

Tashirou darted about tauntingly. With effortless composure, he attacked from the right, lunged from the left, then spun around to strike from behind. Like a cat toying with a captured mouse, he first dealt a crippling blow, waited for his prey to weaken toward death, then moved in for the final thrust. Tashirou began prattling like a madman. "Hey Gonku—no, Gonkurou—ain't I the clever one? Born with willow-frail bones unfit for brute strength. So I used you—after swiping that unimaginable haul, killing my partner here means easy pickings. Not a single grain goes elsewhere... Convert that loot to koban coins? Forty thousand ryo—no, fifty thousand—guaranteed. Heh! For all my ragged looks, Lord Tashirou's rolling in gold now—luxury at my whim. Pretty women? Fine sake? Won't lack for either!"

19 “Oh… Does it hurt? Does it hurt?” “You must be in such pain, such pain!” “Your shoulder’s gushing blood, isn’t it?” “This agony won’t last long—once you’re gone, just chant your Buddhist prayers for rebirth and find peace.” “Ugh… uuugh.”

And Gonkurou could no longer even speak. Even so—with what could be called his final resolve—he channeled all his strength into his legs and abruptly stood upright. Without a moment’s delay, he slashed downward with the dagger. The blade struck Tashirou’s unprepared arm, but though its edge failed to pierce deeply through the thick winter robes, Tashirou’s panic was undeniable. With a sharp “Ah!”, he scrambled backward five or six stumbling steps. Gonkurou first let the dagger slip from his hand, then collapsed onto his back in the snow like a felled dead tree. There he lay stretched out, making no further movement. He had breathed his last. The snow fell relentlessly. Even over Gonkurou’s pitiful corpse, the snow piled without mercy. The body that had appeared blackened in shadow turned white before one’s eyes. Soon it vanished entirely from view— buried within a snowy tomb.

Tashirou nimbly boarded the sleigh. Without uttering a single word or looking back, he drove the sleigh onward. Soon, he and the sleigh’s shadow were lost from sight amidst the blizzard. All that remained was an eerie silence.

A wolf’s howl echoed from the forest just then. Answering calls rang out from all directions—two or three at first. Then, upon the pristine snow-covered plateau, black shapes emerged one by one—two, three, four—and gradually drew closer. They were wolves—several of them.

The wolves that had been scattered in all directions quickly gathered into a pack. Once formed, the pack lowered their snouts to the ground and came plodding steadily toward them as if drawn by the scent of human blood—but upon reaching the spot where the corpse lay buried, they began circling round and round. While circling, they swiftly scraped away the snow. The scraped-up snow was whipped up by the storm, swirling densely as it rose into the sky. What appeared from beneath was the mercilessly exposed corpse of Gonkurou. With a swift motion, the wolves pounced.

The corpse was torn apart by wolves, leaving behind nothing but tatters. However, even that was soon buried under the snow and vanished in an instant.

The inside of the cabin was warm. The bonfire was burning vigorously.

Yamabuki sat motionlessly.

Her eyes were fixed on the bonfire, but her mind was elsewhere. She was waiting for her husband to return. She was waiting for Tashirou to return.

Tashirou would not easily return.—It was only natural that he did not. For he had abandoned her and returned to the castle town.

However, she had never even dreamed of such a thing. And so, she waited eagerly.

Outside, a blizzard seemed to be raging, and the violent sound of branches snapping mingled with the howling wind as it reached her ears.

Suddenly, she raised her face and looked toward the window.

A thudding sound could be heard.

She stood up listlessly and pulled open the window shutter. A bear’s face—with a pointed snout and kind eyes—appeared. It was peering in through the window. Yamabuki smiled a lonely smile,

“Ohhh... It seems the heavy snow today has left the mountains without food.” While saying this, she took up the pot and threw the leftover porridge to it. With that, the bear’s face immediately withdrew, and soon the slurping sounds of it eating the porridge could be heard. When that stopped, the same face appeared at the window again.

“There’s nothing left.” “Go on over there.”

As she said this and waved her hand, the bear nodded two or three times before slipping away from the window. Thereupon, Yamabuki closed the window and returned to her original position. Staring fixedly at the bonfire, she sank back into her brooding thoughts. The night gradually deepened.

She waited endlessly. She did not even stir.

At that moment, footsteps could be heard. However, they were not human footsteps. With a pitter-patter pitter-patter, the footsteps began to circle around the cabin. Moreover, they were numerous. That seemed to be dogs. A whimpering cry—khoo, khoo—could be heard. "Oh, they’ve come—the old ones."

Muttering to herself, Yamabuki wearily rose once more and opened the entrance door. What entered through that doorway were five fearsome wolves. Their entire bodies were white with snow, but their snouts alone were red. Their snouts were smeared with fresh blood. They were the five wolves that had devoured Gonkurou’s corpse. Moreover, one of the wolves was holding a bone with meat still attached in its mouth. That was Gonkurou’s bone. However, of course Yamabuki had no inkling of such a thing. And then, she said:

“Ohhh... You all must be cold.” “Come, come—warm yourselves by the fire without hesitation.”

二〇

The five wolves wagged their tails and playfully pressed against her body. They were immediately pushed away and staggered feebly but gathered together in a corner of the cabin where they knelt quietly. From there, through the bonfire’s glow, they watched over Yamabuki’s face. A woman and five wolves—they shared a single room. ……How utterly terrifying this should be! Yet it held no terror at all. This was because Yamabuki belonged to the cave-dwellers, and cave-dwellers and beasts were kin.

Bears, wolves, foxes, and raccoon dogs were all friends to Yamabuki. Ever since her time in the cave-dweller village, Yamabuki and the beasts had been on good terms, but after coming to this wooden cabin, the two grew even closer, and they would come visiting whenever Tashirou was away.

She waited all through that night, but Tashirou did not return.

The next morning, she left the cabin and searched here and there as if casually, but her husband’s figure was nowhere to be seen. She raised her voice and called out, but only the storm answered. At last night came. In the midnight hours she waited, yet still he did not return. Another desolate night dawned. Morning sunlight came streaming in. And so she left the cabin and wandered the snowy plateau like a madwoman as she searched, but the result matched yesterday’s. And so another lonely night arrived.…

Night followed day and day followed night, as days filled with terror, anxiety, doubt, rage, and jealousy passed by.

Spring arrived, and early summer came. The mountain snow had mostly melted, and a lush green now glowed in the sunlight across peaks and valleys, bursting into life. Kobushi magnolias and deutzia flowers became visible among the trees, and mountain cherry blossoms began to bloom. The songs of bush warblers and robins could be heard from within the thicket. Yamabuki was pregnant around this time. She was carrying Tashirou's seed.

It was only around this time that she clearly came to realize in her heart that Tashirou had abandoned her. “Revenge!” she swore in her heart. I’ll make that heartless man realize just how terrifying the vengeance of a cave-dweller’s daughter—as relentless as obsession itself—can be! She had thus resolved.

"But the child bears no sin. Everything must wait until after it's born."

And so, she waited inside the cabin for the day she would give birth.

At last, midsummer arrived.

The cave-dwellers of Sasanodaira were busy preparing for the festival. It was the festival of Sousuke the Tengu.

This was an annual custom—on the early morning of July 15th, the curtain enshrining the sacred object would be opened. And then, the assembly reverently paid their respects to Lord Sousuke, who was clad in golden armor.

The cave-dwellers were energetically devoting themselves to their respective tasks. Some were making flags, others mending banners, some hanging lanterns, others preparing curtains—laughter, chatter, and singing could be heard throughout the village.

At last, the day of the festival arrived.

The precincts of the Tengu Shrine were decorated with flags and banners. Adorned in their finest attire, the cave-dwellers had begun gathering from the night before, and by the time the Morning Star faded, the shrine grounds were buried under a mass of people. At that moment, a procession solemnly filed into the precincts. They were the ritual officiants, with Sugi Uemon at their head. Barefoot and disheveled-haired in white pilgrimage robes, he held a ceremonial sanpō tray. Following behind was the vice-chief Kirigorō—Iwataro’s father. He carried a torch in his hand.

The precincts, which had been bustling, fell solemnly silent in an instant. The crowd parted to either side and welcomed the procession. The procession proceeded solemnly. The procession came to a halt before the shrine. With a creak, the shrine door opened. Then, Sugi Uemon and Kirigorō steadily ascended the stairs. The torch held by Kirigorō flickered and burned, scattering sparks deep within the inner sanctuary, creating an air of solemn mystery. With a creak, another groaning sound rang out. The crowd suddenly tensed up. It was because the sacred curtain had been opened. The eyes of the crowd were all at once focused deep within the inner sanctuary. A sudden scream resounded. It resounded from the depths of the inner sanctuary. A restless stir—the crowd began to murmur.

Before the eyes of the crowd, Sugi Uemon and Kirigorō came rushing out. “This is terrible! Sacrilege!” Sugi Uemon shouted hoarsely.

It was Sugi Uemon who shouted in a hoarse voice.

“Sousuke the Tengu has been stripped bare!” Kirigorō shouted next. Both men were trembling violently. And their faces were pale. The crowd fell silent for an instant. They could not even speak due to the unforeseen event. But in the next moment, a terrible chaos erupted. They all began to shout at once.

21 Some called this divine punishment. “The god, angered by our unfaithfulness, has bestowed a miracle upon us!” Others also shouted like this: “It must have been a thief who stole it! “Because armor made of gold has immense value! “It was stolen by thieves from the castle town!”

Others spoke as follows:

“It must be the White Monk’s doing! That wretch has been mocking our village and our faith all along! None but him could have defiled our sacred god and trampled upon our holy grounds!” “Yes! Yes!”

And the crowd unanimously echoed this sentiment.

“Arrest the White Monk!” — “Search every blade of grass!” — “Hunt down the White Monk! Hunt down the White Monk!”

The crowd excitedly left the precincts. The festival completely transformed into a hunt for the White Monk.

Around noon that day, the White Monk was sitting atop a large rock. White robes, long hair, bare feet—a gentle smile unchanged from the past.

Before him was Iwataro. He had watched for an opening among his companions and came to warn the White Monk of the impending danger. “I do not speak ill.” “I beg you to flee at once.” “The mob hunting the White Monk will arrive soon.” “Please, I implore you, leave this mountain at once without delay.”

Even as he spoke, Iwataro looked around anxiously, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “No.” The White Monk said calmly. “I fear no one. I will never flee.” “It’s dangerous, Revered White Monk!” “No,” he said again quietly. “No. There is no danger to me. I have deep confidence. ...They have tried countless times before to capture me. But they always failed.”

“Yes, that is indeed so.” “It is precisely as you say.” “But this time—of all times—you must not remain idle.” “I understand this too.” “They seem convinced I’ve defiled their guardian deity.” “But they’re mistaken.” “...The golden armor was stolen not by me, but another.” “There’s no need for you to tell me that.”

Iwataro bowed his head. “So noble, so noble—why would Your Reverence ever do such a thing? Nevertheless, the villagers are convinced it was Your Reverence who stole the armor. Even if they must part every blade of grass and cut through every branch, they’re resolved not to let you escape this time. Every last man, woman, and child from the village has rushed here—numbering over five hundred—and surrounded the mountain to search for you since earlier.”

“I see.”

The monk closed his eyes and pondered silently for a moment before declaring, “I will absolutely not flee. However, I shall leave this mountain.” “That is the safest course of action,” Iwataro replied. “Above all else, it is safe.” “No,” the White Monk countered calmly. “There is no danger to me. Even were I to remain on this mountain, I possess divine grace. The cave people could never capture me. Were I but to raise my hand once, wildfire would erupt without warning. Should I lift my foot again, avalanches would cascade down these slopes.” He paused, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “Once before I disrupted their gathering with flames—though not true conflagration mind you—merely illusions that tricked their senses into fleeing.” His gaze grew distant. “I do not fear them... What I fear dwells within myself.” “When first I came to this mountain one year past,” he continued, “dozens of followers gathered around me. Now only you remain—you alone.” A bitter laugh escaped him. “How pitiful my influence proves! It remains too soon for me to preach wisdom—presumptuous even—to instruct others.” Resolve hardened his features as he concluded: “Thus I shall depart these peaks—to further refine my spirit through absence.”

At that moment, a thunderous battle cry erupted from the forest below. A horde of cave people came charging up the slope, weapons brandished high, their feet churning up great plumes of snow as they ran.

Damn it! Iwataro screamed inwardly,

“It may already be too late, but please hurry and conceal yourself! As quickly as possible, Revered White Monk!” But by the time Iwataro said this, the White Monk was no longer there. When he looked, there was something moving on a distant mountain peak. And then, carried by the wind from there, a voice like this could be heard.

“Farewell, Iwataro! I shall meet you all again. Until that time comes, farewell.” “Ah, there goes the Revered White Monk.” Iwataro murmured these words and bowed his head repeatedly from atop the rock.

22

The desecration of Sousuke Tengu’s sacred object—mercilessly wounded and defiled—came as a true bolt from the blue to the cave people of Sasano Hira, a terror beyond all description. Having even let the White Monk slip through their grasp, they were plunged into utter despair. Despair gave way to chaos. The once-peaceful cave-dwellers’ village crumbled to dust in a single day. Groups of ten or twenty formed and began departing Sasano Hira. “We shall not return here until we reclaim the golden armor—let us go seek it out.” “We shall scour every last corner and crevice of Japan—no matter how many years it takes.” “Search and search and search we shall!”

With these words, they set out. As January and February passed, the number of cave people in Sasano Hira dwindled to a mere two hundred. By the time autumn had passed and winter arrived, Sasano Hira had become a desolate, uninhabited land. For Sugi Uemon himself had led the remaining two hundred people and embarked on a wandering journey.

At the Tengu Shrine, there was no one to perform the rites, and in the cave people’s dwellings, there were no inhabitants; precisely because it had once been so lively, now that it had come to this, it felt all the more desolate, with even an air of chilling desolation hanging over the place.

One day, a wild fox—likely chased by a hunter or some such—dashed headlong into the worship hall of the Tengu Shrine, but even after several days had passed, it did not leave. It made that place its home. Gradually, fellow creatures gathered, and the once-majestic Tengu Shrine was defiled beyond recognition by animal droppings and footprints, while raccoon dogs and badgers formed colonies in the cave people’s dwellings, breeding and raising their young.

Thus, spring came again.

Wild plum trees dotted with blossoms, and small birds began singing cheerfully.

At that moment, a robust infant’s cry rang out from the hut beneath the cliff. Yamabuki had given birth to a child. The child that was born was a boy. He was named Inotarou. Yamabuki, the new mother, lay buried in straw inside the hut. There was no one to care for her. A single small monkey with a bewildered expression sat primly by the pillow of the laid-down infant—this was Yamabuki’s only comfort.

Of all creatures in the universe, those called humans possessed the greatest adaptability. Even amidst such harsh circumstances, Yamabuki mysteriously grew robust. The only provisions remaining were scant rice and miso, along with various fruits she had carefully stored since the previous autumn—yet she produced milk and could even stand and walk. The infant too thrived vigorously.

And so months passed and years went by. Five years had flown by.

Five years of hardship appeared to have eroded Yamabuki’s body, until at last she fell ill. Inotarou, now five years old, desperately nursed her, but her ordained fate seemed clear—day by day her body weakened, until death loomed imminent before them. One day she called Inotarou to her bedside. And then she spoke.

“...Listen well to what I say. Your father is a man from the castle town named Gomi Tashirou. ...I was deceived by that man—I will die soon. Ah, I will die without being able to repay this grudge and curse! I cannot rest even in death! Inotarou... I have a request. In my place, repay this grudge to that hateful Tashirou! That would be the greatest act of filial devotion! ...Come, come... Inotarou, you may come to my side. Please give me your arm—your right arm. Bring it to my mouth. Now, bring it to my mouth—”

Yamabuki sank her teeth firmly into Inotarou’s right arm，leaving a mark. “That tooth mark shall never vanish.” “It’s your mother’s memento.” “Every time you see that tooth mark，remember your mother’s grudge.” “And so，repay your mother’s grudge to that hateful Tashirou.”

Having said this, Yamabuki closed her eyes as if truly relieved and serenely at peace. And then she lived for approximately two more days, but on the morning of the third day, her breath ceased.

From that day onward, five-year-old Inotarou became a complete orphan. However, he was not lonely. For monkeys, wolves, deer, and bears provided him comfort. Thus his life became truly wild in the literal sense; as for food, there were small birds and fruits; as for drink, there was mountain stream water; and during winters when there was no prey, he would raid lonely village houses and skillfully steal chickens, grains, vegetables, and such.

Thus, five more years flew by in the blink of an eye. And so Inotarou turned ten years old, but his body was both larger and sturdier than that of an eighteen- or nineteen-year-old boy, and the agility of his movements and the strength of his arms were truly astonishing. And the sharpness of his intellect! This too was truly astonishing, for he—born of cave-dweller blood and castle-town human blood, raised in the untamed natural world—could truly be called a wondrous creature; yet this Inotarou is none other than the protagonist of this tale, that is to say, “The Yatsugatake Demon God.”

Well now, in the next installment, the author intended to advance the pen’s depiction of Inotarou’s circumstances while simultaneously stirring up entirely different kinds of incidents in wholly separate directions—a cascade of upheavals layered with countless twists—resolved to have our dear readers gripping their seats in suspense.

The story written thus far was but a mere prelude to the whole. The main narrative would commence with the next installment.

The Volume of Takato Castle Town

I

“Doctor, how does it appear? Is there some improvement, perhaps?”

“Indeed, there may be some improvement.” “Is it not favorable, perhaps?”

“Indeed, it may not be favorable.”

“Then, which could it be?”

“Indeed.”

Having said that, he did not offer a reply. Lady Oishi watched the scene intently with anxious eyes. And then she asked again.

“Doctor, how does it appear? “Is there some improvement, perhaps?”

“Indeed, there may be some improvement.” “Is it not favorable, perhaps?” “My lady!” Unable to bear watching any longer, her husband Yuminoshin interjected from the side. “The doctor has his own considerations. Wouldn’t persistently asking him in that manner be rather discourteous?”

“Yes.” “I deeply apologize for my discourtesy.” Oishi gently wiped her tears and modestly drew her knees back.

The room fell utterly silent for a time. "May I have a word..."

As he said this, Dutch Doctor Kitayama stood up, so Yuminoshin rose and followed. The two entered the adjacent room. "I had been reluctant to mention this given My Lady's profound grief, but the patient will not recover."

“Ah, indeed, that may well be the case.” “Since it is fate, there is nothing to be done.”

"In Dutch medicine, we call this illness acute pneumonia." "Tonight will be perilous." "Tonight?" Even Yuminoshin could not help but feel a chill run through him.

“I will come again later for another examination.” After saying this, once Kitayama left, it became as desolate as extinguished flames. The couple’s only child—eleven years old and in the adorable prime of youth—Hanosuke was sleeping deeply while tossing with a high fever. “Could he truly die?” Oishi was nearly half-crazed. “Amano Kitayama is a master of Dutch medicine—a veritable deity when it comes to diagnosis and treatment. If he declares death, death it shall be.” Yuminoshin said sorrowfully.

The two did not leave their beloved child’s bedside even for a moment. “Even so—you—isn’t this Hanosuke our miraculously conceived child?” Oishi spoke up again through her sobs. “For twenty years since we wed, unable to bear even one child—though he is Aragami-sama—we were counseled by others to entreat Sousuke Tengu-sama of Suwa Yatsugatake for a child. From the very month we made our prayers, was it not this Hanosuke whom I miraculously conceived and bore?” “He is a child granted by divine grace.” “How could such a heaven-sent child die at ten or eleven?” “No—no—he will not die! No—no—he will not die!”

Oishi collapsed onto the tatami mats.

Then, suddenly, Hanosuke sat bolt upright on the bed.

“A substitute comes! A substitute comes! The next arrival shall be mightier still!”

No sooner had he shouted than he suddenly collapsed and with that, drew his last breath.

Thus June passed by. "You must keep your spirits up." "My lady, you must keep your spirits up." Thus did husband and wife come to console one another with such exchanges. "I hear a grand kabuki troupe has come from Edo. What do you say—how about going to see it?" "Yes, I am most grateful. Now that autumn has come, please go on your beloved mountain outing." "Hmm, a mountain outing? I suppose I could go."

“You should set out as early as tomorrow.” “Lord Kitayama was also fond of them. I think I’ll try inviting him.” “That would be most agreeable.”

When they sent a messenger, the reply came that he would gladly accompany them.

The next day brought autumn weather—a sky stretched high, persimmons glowing red, insects darting over withered grass—a flawless day indeed.

Amano Kitayama arrived with three disciples in tow even before the sun had risen. "Good morning, Mr. Kagami." "Dr. Kitayama, you're quite early." Both parties exchanged pleasant greetings in good spirits.

The two exchanged pleasant greetings.

Accompanied by five young retainers and servants, leading a dog by leash, with a gourd filled with sake, a food box containing provisions, and a canteen holding fresh water, Yuminoshin set out.

Madam rested her hands at the entrance,

“Take your time,” she said, bowing her head. “My lady, I’ll be off then.”

And so, the party exited the gate.

Before long, they approached a country path. Crunching frost pillars stood tall; they advanced by trampling them underfoot.

Two Matoba, Nozasa, Nagafuji Village—and then their destination, Mount Hachibuse. At the midpoint of Mount Hachibuse, the party decided to open the food box. As far as the eye could see, the mountains were ablaze with autumn foliage. When a gust of wind swept through, it all seemed to rise at once, swaying and shimmering as though scattering countless golden coins—a sight of indescribable beauty. “How splendid.” “No—a peerless view!” And so, both Yuminoshin and Kitayama, satisfied, poured each other sake from the gourd.

At that moment, the attendants suddenly stood up with a collective shout. “A bear! A bear!” they cried out in alarm. “What? A bear?” Yuminoshin looked in the direction the young retainer was pointing and saw a pitch-black object squirming at the bottom of the valley to the side. It was indeed a bear. In the blink of an eye, the large bear came charging up toward them.

“Kingo, the bow!” Yuminoshin called to the young retainer and took up his bow. Kagami Yuminoshin—a man worthy of his renown, one of the senior retainers to Lord Naitō Suruganokami, the 33,000-koku daimyō of Takatō Castle, and a certified master of the Yukigawa-ryū school of archery—firmly nocked his black-and-white-fletched arrow and drew the bowstring taut with a creaking strain when— “Hold it, hold it! Ya can’t shoot!”

A sharp voice could be heard coming.

Halting his releasing hand as he wondered who it could be and fixed his gaze toward the source of the voice, a naked, burly man leaped out from a thickly grown grove. He wore only a pelt wrapped around his waist despite Shinano’s cold autumn, his sun-scorched red muscles exposed beneath the autumn sky, his wild hair left to grow naturally hanging in thick clumps down to his shoulders, a mountain knife gripped in his right hand, aged about seventeen or eighteen, with leather sandals on his feet. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! “I can’t let you get away with shooting it here! “That’s our bear we drove all the way from Yatsugatake! “You think I’ll let strangers steal our prize?… Give it up, bastards! “Enough of your damn tricks! “Try to blind Inotarou-sama’s eyes and sneak off to another domain? That swindle won’t fool the wholesalers!”

Cursing furiously as he chased the bear, he leapt onto its back the instant he thought he’d closed in. “Rrroar!” The bear desperately reared onto its hind legs, trying to shake him off. “Not so fast! You ain’t gettin’ away that easy! Take this and die already!” The mountain knife flashed—then a torrent of crimson blood gushed like a waterfall from the bear’s moon-shaped chest patch.

“Roar!” the bear bellowed once more—perhaps its death throes—before toppling over sideways with a heavy thud. “How about that, Bear? Weren’t you surprised? Once I set my eyes on you, there’s no escaping this final blow! Ahahaha, feels damn good! Alright, let’s get that hide off ya.” He kicked the bear’s corpse onto its back, planted his knee before it, and plunged his mountain knife into its moon-shaped patch with a decisive thrust. And then, at that moment—for some reason—he suddenly looked up at the sky, but

“Mother!” he cried out, then collapsed limply. The group had been left in stunned silence by his spectacular display of combat—Yuminoshin, Kitayama, disciples, young retainers and servants alike—but now they all scrambled over in a flurry. “Lord Kitayama—check his pulse at once!” “Understood,” Kitayama responded, seizing the youth’s wrist with practiced urgency—

“He will be fine—the pulse remains.” “That brings relief. “The balance is proper.” “His spirit was too profoundly stirred—hence the swooning.”

“Is there no need for medical attention?” “It’s fine as he is now; he’s alright. Ah! What’s this?! These scars!”

As he said this, Kitayama pulled the youth’s hand forward with a tug. Indeed, on the right upper arm, twenty tooth marks—clearly distinguishable above and below—were cruelly imprinted. “Are these not human teeth?” “Indeed, they are human teeth.” At this moment, appearing to have regained consciousness from his faint, the youth suddenly began to move. First, he opened his eyes and looked around in bewilderment, but—

“Ah… I had a terrifying dream.” Having said this, he abruptly sat upright. Then he fixed his gaze intently upon Yuminoshin. Just as an expression of joy surfaced on that stalwart face, the youth suddenly thrust out both hands, “Father!” he cried out. Then he lost consciousness once more and slumped against the bear’s carcass.

At this moment, Kagami Yuminoshin suddenly remembered how Hanosuke, who had died earlier, had cried out as he faced his end: "A successor will come! A successor will come! The next one to come will be even greater!"

“Ah, so that’s it!” “This is the one!”

...he slapped his knee with a sharp pop.

In the autumn of the following year, an adopted son came to the Kagami family from the castle town of Iida. He was the third son of Hori Ishimi-no-kami’s kendo instructor Nanjo Ukon, named Uzaburo of the same lineage, but upon entering the Kagami family, he changed his name to Hanosuke in accordance with the house laws.

Three “The Kagami family’s adopted son, Lord Hanosuke, is said to be twelve years old, but at first glance he looks eighteen or nineteen.”

Whenever the household's young retainers gathered, they would gossip about Hanosuke. “Lanky yet stocky—like some hulking udo plant.” There were also those who spoke ill of him in such ways. “The lanky part is accurate, but the stocky part doesn’t quite fit. Why, he’s quite a handsome boy.” Even amidst such talk, there were those who praised him. “By the way, what about his swordsmanship?”

“Of course he’s hopeless. Completely inept.” “And utterly inept.”

“No, no—it’s not entirely like that. Nanjo Ukon of Iida is said to be a master of Ono-ha Ittō-ryū swordsmanship. Considering he’s that man’s third son, we can’t afford to underestimate him.” “Proof lies in crossing blades—you’ll understand once you face him.” “But he’s the Lord’s adopted son! We can’t just drag him to the dojo and thrash him without cause.” “In martial arts, status holds no meaning.” “Yet he’s still a child—they say he’s only twelve.” “But we’re men in our prime.” “Still, doesn’t he look every bit of eighteen or nineteen?” “Appearances aside, age remains age.” “Very well—we’ll handle him with careful gentleness.” “Indeed—that should suffice.”

One day, these young samurai were practicing with clack-clack sounds at the Chūjō-ryū dojo standing in Tatekawa Town. The master, Matsuzaki Seizaemon, was an extremely gentle man, but as he happened to be away on business, Ishiwata Sanzou, the substitute instructor, was stationed in the upper room.

It was Hanosuke who happened to pass by, accompanied by his young retainer Kurahei, and when they abruptly came before the latticed warrior's window, there came the crisp clack of bamboo swords. “Wait a moment, Kurahei.” Having called out this way, he casually peered through the window.

The young samurai who had quickly noticed; one of them whispered “Hm?” and another immediately responded “Mhm.” Two or three of them came scrambling out. “Well, well, Lord Hanosuke, you can’t get a proper view from there. “Please come inside and have a look.” “Come now, inside, come now, inside!”

As if a train conductor were trying to herd passengers into a car, they kept insistently repeating "Inside! Inside!" "This was truly an inexcusable breach of etiquette—my peering was entirely my mistake. I humbly beg your forgiveness." Hanosuke apologized with visible embarrassment. "No no, such matters are of no consequence whatsoever. "When one hears the clack-clack of bamboo swords, one naturally wishes to peek. "You can't properly see from out there. "Do come inside and observe at your leisure."

“Until now, we’ve never properly received your esteemed opinion,” Kondo pressed. “Today we won’t let this chance slip away!” “Hey Kondo—mind your words!” Shirai cautioned. “Regardless, please come inside,” another samurai insisted. “Kurahei—what would you advise here?” Shirai turned to the attendant. “Young Master, we should return at once.” Perceiving the danger, Kurahei moved to guide his master away.

At that moment, two or three young samurai appeared once again.

“Could this be Lord Hanosuke? “Well now! What an unexpected guest—truly unexpected!” “Kondo! Shirai! What are you doing?” “Quickly—escort Lord Hanosuke inside!” “Come now, Lord Hanosuke! Please enter—do come in!” “I shall gratefully accept your kind invitation.”

“Got you!” “Hey!” “Ha ha ha!”

Thereupon, Hanosuke leisurely made his way into the dojo. “Hey, I’m goin’ in! I’m goin’ in!” “Poor thing—he’s gonna get beaten without even knowin’ it.” “Ignorance is bliss, eh?” “Still, he’s damn big though.” “He don’t look twelve.” “Nineteen, twenty—hell, twenty-two even.” “Bet he’s got brute strength too.” “If that power ever got unleashed on someone...” “That’d hurt like hell, I tell ya.”

By now, some were beginning to show fear.

When Hanosuke’s figure leisurely appeared inside the dojo, the gathered disciples again whispered among themselves. Many thought it pitiful—that he should have refrained—but being powerless against the majority, they remained waiting with bitter expressions. “This way, this way,” said the man called Shirai as he guided him to a seat that, with supreme irony, was arranged in the formal kneeling position. In other words, it was positioned beside the practice platform. “Is this the esteemed instructor?” Hanosuke bowed youthfully and respectfully to Ishiwata Sanzou, saying, “I, Kagami Hanosuke, humbly ask that you remember me.” “Moreover, I humbly apologize for intruding upon your practice today.”

“Ah, so you are Kagami’s esteemed adopted son?”

A languid puff of tobacco smoke drifted from his mouth... this was Sanzou’s greeting. Though his skill was indeed superior, befitting one who served as a substitute instructor, he was a man who flaunted that skill and had a twisted nature—such was the greeting he gave.

Snickering laughter could be heard here and there.

IV

However, Hanosuke sat upright without a care, placing his hands on his knees. He then scanned the interior. He was indeed composed.

Almost simultaneously with Hanosuke’s appearance, the practice came to a clattering halt, leaving the dojo devoid of the sound of bamboo swords. The atmosphere hung oddly vacant, but suddenly stepping forward was Kondo Shikita,

“Mr. Kagami, care for a bout?” “No,” Hanosuke replied without hesitation. “Please show me two or three bouts.”

“Heh heh, if you say so.” Kondo Shikita withdrew with a strange expression, but this was precisely as it should be. Having dragged him in under the guise of letting him watch, then demanding he spar before anyone had even begun a proper match—it stood to reason he’d retaliate with a sharp kick.

“Well done! Truly worthy of being the Kagami family’s adopted son!” Hanosuke’s supporters nodded in satisfaction as if to say just that. “Hmph, that runt Kondo got himself humiliated right from the get-go.”

However, on the other hand, the young samurai found Hanosuke’s unhurried and composed attitude irritatingly galling.

"Why doesn't someone come forth and exchange two or three bouts?" "Then I shall." "Then this one shall."

More than five groups scattered forth. "Head!" "Torso!" "I yield!" "Not yet!" They exchanged a rapid volley of thudding strikes before withdrawing in a flash.

“Hey Kondo, go give it a try.” “Righto, righto,” said the irritating oaf as he lumbered forward again. “Mr. Kagami—care for a bout?”

Suddenly, Hanosuke burst into loud laughter—"Ahahahaha!" How could Kondo Shikita not be shocked! His eyes alone blinked wide open.

“This hardly resembles swordsmanship practice,” he laughed again, “More like December chimney sweeping—Ahahahaha!” “I’d prefer to witness training with real blades,” interjected a young samurai. “Heh heh, if you say so,” Kondo Shikita retreated awkwardly, “No good, no good—I’ll stop here. Seems I’m outmatched.”

“Such insolence! If that’s how it stands,” declared the young samurai, and about ten groups of them stomped forward in genuine anger—but an intense practice session ensued. When that was finished, Shirai Seizaburou strode purposefully up to Hanosuke’s front,

“Ah, Mr. Kagami, Lord Hanosuke—though this may trouble you, I have heard you are versed in Ono-ha Ittō-ryū swordsmanship.” “As it is the collective wish of all present, we humbly entreat you to demonstrate a technique—how might this proposal find your favor?” “In truth, I came solely to observe your practice today—thus I must firmly decline any formal match—yet as swordsmanship remains my cherished pursuit, and given your repeated urgings...”

“Would you grant me the honor of a match?” “Though my technique remains unpolished…” “Your humility honors me beyond measure.”

“Perfect,” he grinned smugly. “And the equipment?”

“A short bamboo sword…” “Then please select at your discretion.” A collective gasp escaped everyone present as they heard this. Hanosuke immediately rose to his feet, seized a bamboo sword barely fourteen inches long without any preparatory stance, and stepped forward.

“Ah, Mr. Kagami, please prepare yourself.”

Perhaps unable to bear watching any longer, it was at this moment that Ishiwatari Sanzō first spoke up. “I am perfectly prepared with this.” “You don’t need a mask or torso armor?” “In our school they do exist, but there are differences in style. In matches against other schools and serious duels, I am resolved to proceed with this determination…” “Ah, I see now. How splendid… Well then, Mr. Shirai should also remove his mask and torso armor to face you.” “This is such a bothersome affair.” Though Shirai Seizaburou reluctantly removed his mask and torso armor, he now felt a twinge of fear.

The disciples who had been idling around also exchanged glances when they heard this. "What do you think, Mr. Saeki? What's your take on this match?" "You might be off the mark here." "The opponent's momentum is overwhelming." "We might've poked the bush and let out a snake."

In contrast, Hanosuke’s supporters were overjoyed. “Do watch closely, Shirai Seizaburou—you’ll be done in without a fight.” “Those upstarts are downright impertinent. “Let them get a proper thrashing!”

“Quietly, quietly—they’ve assumed their stances.” “Well now, ah—the Seigan stance... Oh ho! That Shirai’s gone and overcommitted.” “Lord Hanosuke’s positioning is quite splendid, isn’t it? “When that stance shifts fluidly, Shirai Seizaburou will be sent reeling.”

Five

Now, Hanosuke assumed a middle stance and observed his opponent’s demeanor, but it posed no challenge whatsoever. Then Hanosuke thought.

“Who cares? I’ll just smack him down!” He tapped his bamboo sword into the hassō stance. This wasn’t an inviting gap—nor was it any real opening. Nevertheless, Seizaburou shouted “Yah!” and charged. Hanosuke pivoted right, closed distance, and delivered a light diagonal slash to the shoulder. Spinning sharply from the motion, “This is Ono-ha Ittō-ryū’s Five Initial Techniques—from wakigamae stance, sweeping across the enemy’s shoulder in what we call Mystical Sword!” He had meticulously explained his method. It defied description as vivid or otherwise— The smacker explaining his smacking sequence after smacking. There could be nothing more to this.

“I yield.”

Seizaburou called out, but it was an unnecessary exclamation. He furtively retreated to the corner.

A "Whoa!" of surprise arose, but it was a deflated one.

“Yamada Sazen.” “I shall be your opponent!”

“Understood.” “Go easy on me.”

The two stopped dead and glared at each other. Sazen was of mokuroku-level proficiency. However, he was a weak opponent for Hanosuke. "Who cares? Take him down. Let’s see… This time, the Exquisite Sword. Yeah, I’ll finish him off with this one." As his form shifted, he lowered into a lower stance. He revealed a feigned opening at his left shoulder. "Aha! This opening is a feint." This was slightly different from Kirigami’s Shirai. Having seen through it, he didn’t move. Indeed, the opening had vanished. Then, this time, a fleeting gap appeared at his right shoulder.

“Hah!” he shouted. Before the cry had fully left his throat, Hanosuke leaped in, locked blades at the sword guards, reversed the momentum of his opponent’s startled gasp into a counter-slash, and slammed his body forward! As his adversary staggered from the impact, Hanosuke applied a hip wheel throw, parried with a swift flick, and slipped sideways— “The second technique of Ono-ha Ittō-ryū’s Five Principles: from a lower stance, detect the offensive gap toward the shoulder, clash at the sword guards, collapse their posture with a body slam—and thereafter, freedom reigns! This we call the Exquisite Sword!”

Once again, it had been properly explained indeed. “I yield!” This too was formulaic.

This time, no one laughed. The crowd grew rather awestruck. None had exchanged two strikes with him. Truly, Hanosuke’s controlled strength was enough to astonish everyone.

“I must express my admiration for your splendid skill.” “Though unskilled, this humble one shall be your opponent.”

The one who said this was Ishiwata Sanzou. Lightly descending from the upper chamber, he gripped a thick red oak wooden sword with a long clam-shaped blade—said to take lives as effectively as a real sword when wielded by experts—that hung on the wall, then stepped forward. “Since this humble one excels with wooden swords, I shall face you with this.” “You may also take up whatever weapon you please.”

“No, I shall remain with this.” “Oh ho! With that short bamboo sword?” “Yes,” he said with a sly grin. “Indeed!” he snapped resentfully. “This humble one’s combat style is fierce, I warn you!” “Yes, please come at me with all you have.” Sanzou snorted through his nose. “Come!”

With that, he lowered his wooden sword.

With a “Come,” Hanosuke also lowered his bamboo sword. The assembly sat in solemn silence. However, Sanzou was a licensed practitioner in his prime at thirty-eight years old, holding the position of substitute instructor. No matter how skilled Hanosuke might be, he was merely twelve years old—the age difference alone was immense. To face him with a wooden sword? “This is unbecoming of you, Mr. Ishiwata! Cease this at once!”

Two or three people called out, but by that time, he had already risen to his feet. "They gasped, 'It’s too late!'" They stood perfectly matched in the Seigan stance, their eyes locked solely on each other’s.

“Well, it seems you have some skill.” Hanosuke muttered, “But you’re just a minor opponent for me.”

“Hah!” With an uncharacteristic shout, he stepped forward a pace. “Yah!”

Sanzou too called out but abruptly stepped back a pace. The two glared at each other in silence. "Hmm... What should I do now?" Should I commit fully? After all—he’s just a boy! If I let him defeat me... No! As substitute instructor... But I can’t afford defeat either! To hell with restraint—I’ll batter him down! "Hah!" he roared. He lunged forward a step— "Yah!" came Hanosuke’s retort as he retreated— "Hah!" "Yah!"—"Hah!"— "Yah!" Driven relentlessly backward until his spine struck wooden paneling— Sweat streamed from his brow— Vision blurring into haze— Breath rasping harsh—

"Go for broke!" Sanzou thrust out mightily with both hands, but Hanosuke's Ono-ha Ittō-ryū sweeping strike intercepted with a sharp swish from the side, exploiting his compromised stance to deliver a true blade strike to the jaw—clang! "Gah!"

The moment he did, a tremendous battle cry resounded from nowhere.

Six

Startled with a gasp, Hanosuke took a step back. Targeting that opening, Ishiwata Sanzou aimed squarely at his left shoulder from the front……

“Too slow!”

And once more, the same voice resounded from nowhere.

“No contest!”

The voice continued.

At that moment, a small-statured man emerged composedly from the front sliding door—appearing about fifty-five or fifty-six years old, wearing a cotton kimono adorned with family crests and a yellow plain silk hakama, gripping a sword in his left hand as he advanced with short, deliberate steps.

“Mr. Ishiwata, what is the meaning of this! Engaging in a wooden sword match against a child is utterly inappropriate! Desist at once! Ah, Lord Hanosuke, I am Matsuzaki Seizaemon, master of this dojo. Despite your tender years, your swordsmanship is astonishing. I shall now be your opponent—do not retreat; you must not step back.”

He set down his large and small swords, gripped an iron fan, and planted himself at the center of the arena.

The dojo fell utterly silent; not a single cough could be heard. Sunlight streamed in through the warrior window. Even that was strangely clear. Even Hanosuke’s complexion changed at last. Matsuzaki Seizaemon—a name that lived up to its renown—was among Japan’s foremost swordsmen of his time. He fought Asari Matashichirō, the shogunate sword instructor, to a draw; against Otani Shimousa-no-kami, he took two out of three matches; and even in his later years, he pressed Chiba Shūsaku—founder of the Hokushin Ittō-ryū school—against the wooden wall panels. Indifferent to fame and profit and not aspiring to advancement, he has withdrawn to the countryside, yet remains a dormant dragon among swordsmen.

Now that man had taken up his iron fan and urged, “Come on, bring it!” No matter how much of a prodigy Hanosuke was, even he couldn’t help being overwhelmed by this. But there was no escaping now. “Forgive me, Master.” He gripped his bamboo sword and assumed Ono-ha Ittō-ryū’s most impeccable stance—Ryōsha Ichiyō Manji.

“Hah, impressive—you’ve taken a defensive stance.” Seizaemon nodded, assumed Tōgun-ryū’s Munohan stance, thrust his iron fan straight out without lifting it, and observed closely.

“Hah!”

He tried to provoke him with a single feint. Hanosuke did not move.

“Hah, you’ve grown even more resolute… Hmm, but what formidable fighting spirit you possess.” He was trying to break his stance from within. Wait. Hmm, this was unexpected. He had an innate murderous aura. “This guy’s dangerous. Hah!” He tried to provoke him once more, but he still remained motionless.

Seizaemon took a step forward. And Hanosuke took a step back. Interval. He remained perfectly still. And Hanosuke took a step forward. And Seizaemon took a step back.

“Impressive. He’s pushing me back.” Truly fearsome was his fighting spirit—and yet he held firm in defense. If I hesitated, I’d be struck down… Was this truly a twelve-year-old boy? No, this was utterly terrifying. A natural-born warrior. First, I suppose one must say this… Even so, there was too much wildness. He was what you’d call an unpolished gem… Though they said he was the third son of Nanjo Ukon, that seemed a bit fishy. This wasn’t some refined capital-bred swordsmanship… His technique was as rough and terrifying as stone freshly hewn from the mountains… His breathing was growing ragged now—he’d focused his spirit too intensely and seemed about to collapse. “I yield!” he declared, withdrawing his iron fan.

"Ha!" gasped Hanosuke in surprise. He stomped two steps forward. "I have been soundly defeated!" "A bright future lies ahead, a bright future lies ahead! Strive ever harder in the days to come!" "Yes, I am most grateful." Hanosuke wiped away his sweat. "Who did you study under?"

“Yes, I have studied under my father Ukon.” “Ah, and besides that?” "My teacher is solely my father."

“That is strange—is that exactly so?” “What reason would I have to lie?” “Even so, there’s something I can’t fathom.”

Seizaemon tilted his head.

“Though I remain unworthy, I humbly beg you to accept me as your disciple from this day onward.”

“No,” said Matsuzaki Seizaemon coldly—and curiously—upon hearing this. “Should there be even the slightest matter known to us, accepting you into the school would prove impossible.” “...Matters known?” “What do you mean by ‘matters known’?” Hanosuke flushed with anger.

Hanosuke flushed with anger. "Matters of concern mean exactly what the characters suggest."

VII

“Hanosuke, come here… I hear you tested your skills against many at the Matsuzaki Dojo in Tachikawa Town—this can’t possibly be true, can it?”

“It... It is indeed true.”

“Why did you do such a thing?” “It was an unavoidable circumstance that compelled me…” “An unavoidable circumstance? How so?” “It appears they had planned this in advance, for when I approached the dojo, the disciples came pouring out from all directions, forcibly dragged me inside, and insisted on a match…” “Ah, so it was unavoidable... Rumor has it you effortlessly defeated disciples named Kondo, Shirai, Yamada, and others—is that true?”

“Yes, the opponents were too weak…”

“Hmm, so you won—or should I say…” “I merely ended up winning.”

"I hear you also crossed swords with Lord Matsuzaki."

“I received a lesson in a single technique.”

“Lord Matsuzaki must be exceptionally skilled.” “He resembles a demon god in prowess.” “Yet that man wields technique neither surpassing nor falling short of ancient sword saints.” “I found myself utterly awestruck.” “Your own skill shows remarkable promise.” “No, I remain deeply humbled.” “As befits your father Lord Nanjo - a peerless master of Ono-ha Ittō-ryū who need yield to none, not even Lord Matsuzaki. That his third son should display such aptitude in twelve-year-old arms brings me both joy and confidence.”

“I am honored by your praise and most grateful.” “However, there are many masters in this world.”

“Indeed, that is so.”

“You must never become complacent.” “Complacency is foolish; I intend to devote myself even more to study from now on.”

“Refrain from dueling with outsiders.” “I shall bear that in mind.”

“Lose and be shamed; win and be resented. Not testing your skill is safest.” “As you command.” “Your conduct at the Matsuzaki Dojo has become the talk throughout the household.” “I am utterly ashamed.” “At present, you enjoy both a favorable reputation and many sympathizers.”

“Ah, so that is how it stands?” “Just because your reputation is favorable does not mean you can let your guard down.” “Indeed, I must not let my guard down.”

“Good reputations tend to turn bad.” “It shall be exactly as you say.” “A fallen reputation is hard to reclaim.”

"I shall strive not to let it fall."

“That’s it.”

Yuminoshin struck his knee.

“You’ve realized it well. “That is how it must be. “Therefore, from now on, become an idiot.” “Huh?” With that, Hanosuke involuntarily widened his eyes. “From now on, I shall endeavor to become an idiot.” Yuminoshin repeated this and watched Hanosuke intently. “Well, Hanosuke? Do you still not grasp it?” “I understand your words, but…”

“Hmm, it seems you don’t grasp the meaning.” “Then, let me cite an example.” “Ōishi Yoshio, the paragon of samurai, was said to be a fool by day.”

“Father! I finally understand!”

“Ah, you’ve grasped it? That is splendid!” “I shall become a fool by day.” “Hahahaha, become a fool by day!” “I will most certainly become one and show you.” “A fool by day is a ridiculous thing; people may laugh, but they won’t bear resentment.” “As you command.” “Our house is the second chief retainer of the Naitō family; our esteemed lineage makes us easily resented. Your nature is too sharp; this too makes you prone to creating enemies. The only way to avoid that is to be a fool by day.” “It must be a fool by day.”

“Oh—become an idiot! Become an idiot!” At that moment, the sliding door opened quietly, and Lady Oishi, bearing tea, entered the room. “I thought to while away the time and made some tea.” “Mother” No sooner had Hanosuke called out in a cooing voice than he stretched out his legs and lay down. “Sweets! Give me sweets!”

Extending his arm, he suddenly plucked a sweet from the dish and stuffed his cheeks.

“My, this child!” Oishi stared in astonishment. “Such uncharacteristically poor manners—you’ve turned into an idiot, haven’t you?”

“Ahahaha, that’s the rhythm!”

Yuminoshin clapped his hands.

“With this, both our household and Hanosuke are safe for now.” “A joyous occasion! A joyous occasion! Ahahaha!” “Ahahaha!”

**Eight**

Naitō Suruganokami Masakatsu had passed five years beyond middle age; by nature magnanimous and bold, and moreover benevolent—a lord who ought to be counted among wise rulers. However, his flaw lay in heavy drinking. Today it was sake, sake; tomorrow it would be sake… Such was the state of things.

One day, when Yuminoshin paid a formal visit,

“Your adopted son Hanosuke—though at the tender age of twelve—is said to be an extraordinary master of martial arts. He shall be granted 100 koku while remaining a dependent. Present him promptly to the castle to serve as my close attendant.” “This is an exceedingly gracious command beyond our station, I humbly submit, but Hanosuke is of feeble intellect and by nature somewhat of a simpleton, so…” “Enough, Yuminoshin! Don’t spout such nonsense!”

Suruganokami bellowed, his magnanimous nature laid bare.

“How could Hanosuke—a natural-born fool—ever attain the skill to defeat young men who boast of their martial arts like Kondo Shikita, Shirai Seizaburo, and Yamada Sazen?!” “It would likely be a victory through injuries.” “Ishiwatari Tanomo’s third son is said to have the skill of a substitute instructor, but Hanosuke is claimed to be on an entirely different level.” “If he’s an idiot, then an idiot he shall be.” “By all means, have him commence his official duties starting tomorrow!”

There was no refusing this command. Moreover, it was a gracious decree. Yuminoshin accepted. And so, from the next day onward, Hanosuke began serving in His Lordship’s presence. With lustrous bangs framing his forehead—though twelve by age, he appeared eighteen or nineteen at first glance—he stood as a beautiful youth: high-nosed and clear-eyed, his dignified gaze and movements wholly absorbed in martial arts’ essence. “What nonsense—this boy is no idiot!” Suruganokami took an immediate liking to Hanosuke upon seeing him.

However, Hanosuke would often do outrageous things. For example, he would stretch his legs out in His Lordship’s presence, walk while dozing off, suddenly let out a big yawn, and whenever he had nothing to do, he would drowsily close his eyes—putting it kindly, he was free from worldly thoughts; putting it harshly, he was utterly vacant. “Though taken for a martial prodigy, they say Lord Hanosuke is quite the pushover.” “A fraud! A fraud!”

“Absent-minded, sluggish, standing there like a useless oaf—that’s his whole bearing.” “Nothing he does shows any spark. That vacant stare makes him a proper Daytime Lantern!” “Daytime Lantern! Daytime Lantern! Capital—a most capital metaphor!”

“Lord Daytime Lantern!” “Lord Daytime Lantern!”

His peers soon nicknamed Hanosuke "Daytime Lantern."

“Hmm?”

Suruganokami tilted his head. "It’s rather hard to accept that someone as clever as Hanosuke occasionally loses his senses." Was he truly weak-minded—or was this a stratagem of prudent self-preservation? ......I shall put this to the test.

At the lord’s abrupt decree, an archery contest was arranged to commence.

Suruganokami mounted his horse, had his close attendants of young samurai retainers follow behind him, and proceeded to ride toward the archery range.

At the archery range, Sasaki Genbei—a master instructor of the Heki-ryū school with considerable renown—had already stationed himself; however, upon His Lordship’s arrival, he rose and performed a formal bow. “Oh, Genbei! Good work today.” Suruganokami nodded but ordered, “Have the archers commence immediately.” “I humbly comply.” As Genbei withdrew from His Lordship’s presence, a conch shell resounded at once.

Ten archers lined up in a row. Swish, swish—the twang of bowstrings resounded loudly as they loosed their arrows toward the target. The twang of bowstrings rang out crisply, and when they hit, a red flag was raised.

At the sound of the gong they withdrew; at the sound of the conch, the next group emerged. The order of turns proceeded methodically. The last three archers to appear were licensed senior disciples: Watatsuki Monbee, Maya Shōji, and Ishiwatari Sanzō; however, the target was a golden one and extremely small. Each would loose five arrows by themselves.

They withdrew without distinction.

In the end, no one else came forth. Today’s archery had come to an end.

“Hanosuke,” Lord Suruganokami called out to Hanosuke beside him. “I hear you are a master without equal in swordsmanship within our entire clan. However, archery and horsemanship are what we call the foremost among martial arts—a samurai must have mastery of them.” “I trust you have some mastery of these arts as well.” “Step forth and loose one arrow.” “Yes.” Hanosuke said this, but having been told so, he could not refuse. If he were to shrink back, citing inexperience, it would bring disgrace upon his house and dishonor upon himself. He could no longer maintain his pretense of idiocy.

“Though I am unskilled, since it is your command, I shall loose one arrow.”

Having humbly accepted, he left the ranks and briskly proceeded to the prepared seat. He fixed his gaze intently upon the golden target. “Lord Hanosuke, will you attempt it?” “What school did you study under?”

Sasaki Genbei asked with a gentle smile.

"Yes, the Chikurin school—just a bit." While saying this, he casually gripped the bow.

Nine

Seeing this, the young samurai began whispering among themselves in hushed tones. "I hear Lord Daytime Lantern is going to shoot a bow." "I wonder where he'll plunk it?"

“Perhaps he’ll leap over the mound and send it flying clear to the riding ground.” “But even so, if it bounces back and lands in the seats, that’d be quite a hassle.” “Now now, you can’t dismiss him so entirely.” There were even those who showed him favor. “At Matsuzaki Dojo, it’s said he gave Lord Ishiwatari quite a hard time.” “But I hear that was just a fluke win.” “Then perhaps this time too, he might win by another fluke.” “If he keeps winning by flukes like this, it’ll be quite troublesome for those around him.”

“Quiet! Quiet!” “He nocked an arrow.” “Is that the Chikurin school’s technique?” “No no, that’s the Daytime Lantern style.” “Nar, that was quite a remark.” At this moment, Hanosuke took an arrow, snapped it into place with a click, drew the bowstring taut with a creak until it was fully stretched, then released it without even taking aim.

“How about that?”

The samurai opened their eyes wide. It appeared to have missed, for no flag was raised. “Oh dear, he botched it right from the start.” “The second arrow would trouble even Yoichi’s fan… Let’s see how you fare now, Lord Daytime Lantern!” Without hurrying or panicking, Hanosuke promptly released his second arrow, but this too missed—no flag was raised. “Whoa, he’s truly become ‘Daytime Lantern’ now!” “Even after botching his first and second arrows—look how composed he remains! What do you make of that?” “Without shame lies peace of mind. He seems utterly unflustered.” “The lord’s tilting his head too.” “This is entirely the lord’s fault. Not only does he keep such a person in service—he even favors him!” “That’s just the lord’s caprice.”

“He’s going to shoot again! Quiet now—quiet!” “Quiet, quiet!” Yet Hanosuke grew ever more composed, his stance unwavering. Up to the third arrow, fourth arrow, fifth arrow—he loosed them with breathless speed and a loud twang of the bowstring—but still no flag appeared. Having firmly hung his bow on the rack and briskly dusted off both sleeves of his hakama, Hanosuke quietly left the archery range and composedly placed his hands before the lord. “I humbly beg your pardon for having shown you my immature archery skills.” “Hmm.”

Though he had spoken, Lord Suruga remained seated on his camp stool without moving. He seemed to be deep in thought.

“Genbei! Genbei!”

he suddenly called out. The kyudo instructor Sasaki Genbei came running, bending slightly at the waist.

“Bring the target here.” “Hah!” Genbei responded, raising his fan in a beckoning gesture. The young samurai in charge of flags, seeing this, reverently lifted the target, ran straight through the archery range, and respectfully passed it to Genbei. Genbei presented it to the lord.

Lord Suruga, having gazed at the target,

Lord Suruga involuntarily let out a gasp of “Oh!” “Well, Genbei? Look at this!” “Hah!” he said, peering at it, then involuntarily let out a grunt of “Hmm.” None of the five arrows had struck true, yet all five had grazed the target’s edge with identical spacing and depth. “Well, Genbei! What do you make of this!” “I am in awe.” “They are arrows that hit when he intends them to.” “There is no need for me to state the obvious.” “Well? The *Inka* is genuine, wouldn’t you say?”

“No, I’ve already removed the *Inka*.” “Who is more skilled—me or Sanzou?” “This is a difference in level.”

“That must be so,” he nodded, then turned his gaze toward Hanosuke. “Now, I have something to ask you. Was there an established precedent in Chikurin-ryu for grazing the edge without hitting?” “No, I am not aware of that at all.”

Hanosuke looked blankly. “If you claim ignorance, there’s no helping it. You shall recount in detail the history of the Chikurin-ryu you studied.” “Hah!”

Hanosuke had said as much, but this was something he could not claim ignorance of. Thereupon, he adjusted his posture and,

“I shall humbly recount the history of Chikurin-ryu. To begin with, the founder was born in Kōshū, ascended Mount Hiei to take Buddhist vows, and came to be known as Jōsei of Sekidō-ji’s Chikurinbō. He associated closely with Sasaki Nyūdō Shōtei, and during his long tenure as a guest there, he diligently studied a hundred schools of archery, ultimately formulating his own style which came to be called Chikurin-ryu. The eldest son Shinzaburou drowned; the second son Yazou earned acclaim surpassing his master, served Ishida Mitsunari of Sawayama in Kōshū, and after the war took refuge by ascending Mount Kōya, later residing near Yoshino. Lord Tadayoshi, Major General of Kiyosu, upon hearing his name, summoned him. Later, he served Lord Genkei of Owari; among the many disciples he took under his wing, Nagaya Rokuobei and Sugiyama San’emon were said to have most excelled in their craft—he accompanied Lord Owari into battle during both Osaka campaigns, once retired but returned again, and in his later years, having private contemplations, took up Naganuma Moruaki alone and bequeathed to him all his scrolls and techniques. The descendants have succeeded one another, and disciples have received [the teachings], continuing to this day; however, among the three houses and three valiant warriors, Wasaburou stands as one of the most renowned figures in Chikurin-ryu.”

He reported smoothly and clearly.

10 “This is no mere fool’s blunder.” This was an extraordinary wunderkind. It was as if a demon god had possessed him, compelling his speech and actions... Ah, ha! That must be why Yuminoshin—concerned for this boy’s future and fearing the envy of his peers and seniors—had made him feign sudden idiocy. Yuminoshin was cautious... If that was his reasoning, then so be it. “A plan this carefully crafted deserves to reach fruition.”

Lord Suruga nodded.

“Today’s competition ends here. “Men! Continue!” Having said that, Lord Suruga mounted his horse. With a clatter of hooves, he returned to his residence. The young attendant samurai mingled with the others, and Hanosuke followed after them. What deficiency led Matsuzaki Seizaemon to refuse Hanosuke’s request for apprenticeship? That was something no one could understand. However, for Hanosuke himself, this was a matter of profound resentment.

"If that's how it stands, then I'll take no master and forge my own path through solitary refinement! I'll break through Tōgun-ryū's secret 'Mijin stance' and strike that Seizaemon down!"

Before long, Hanosuke came to harbor such grand ambitions within his heart. Upon leaving the lord’s residence, he would head out to the suburban forest—sometimes sitting before Hachiman Shrine to enter a state of no-thought, and at other times brandishing a wooden sword to split standing trees at their forks. They say sumo’s secret lies in pushing first and pushing second. Thrust first and thrust second—this is kendo’s essence. But precisely because it’s an ultimate secret, everyone learns it... Now then—could there be an unbeatable technique beyond thrusting?

Night after night, Hanosuke thought of nothing but this point. However, he could not easily come up with it. If you stop the thrust, you can only slash—but now, where would be easiest to slash? Driven to this point, Hanosuke could not help but cry out, "The shoulder!" There was nothing better to cut than the shoulder. Slash diagonally from the opponent’s right shoulder tip to their left flank. That was the crosswise kesagiri strike. Even if they dodged right, slash their arm. Dodge left and your neck gets slashed—either way, it’s a critical strike. Yeah, this was the one.

After coming up with this idea, he devoted himself to studying nothing but the crosswise kesagiri strike without any hesitation. His skill was already formidable; moreover, he was a rare genius. With such single-minded dedication, his progress accelerated rapidly—within a little over half a year, he could cleanly split even fairly thick standing trees diagonally from the fork through the trunk using just a wooden sword.

"It is said Arima Kihee tried to break Miyamoto Musashi's cross stance by splitting only tree forks, but he likely never cleaved through the trunk itself—no matter how great they call Matsuzaki, he'd still fall short of Musashi." "Another year—no, two more years—of rigorous training, then I'll challenge Matsuzaki and strike down that Seizaemon!" With this imaginary foe driving him, his skills improved daily without cease.

Thus, six years had passed.

Hanosuke turned eighteen and became a full-fledged man.

“Oh, Hanosuke! Come closer.”

One day, in the evening, Lord Suruga called Kagami Hanosuke close to his knee and said this.

“Yes,” he said, sliding closer. “Is there something you require, my lord?” “I have orders to give you.”

Lord Suruga said with gravity. “Yes, what might your business be?” “Go and exterminate the supernatural creatures tonight.” “And these supernatural creatures you speak of—what might they be?” Even Hanosuke had no choice but to ask back with an uneasy look. “You must have heard the rumors. At the residence of Ōtorii Monbee—who has long managed financial affairs for our house—supernatural beings have been frequently appearing lately, plaguing him. Though he is a man of merit to our house, they say his excessive greed and heartless dealings have earned him poor repute among others. Yet abandoning him to his fate seems pitiable. You should go and lend him your strength.”

“Yes.” Though he had said yes, Hanosuke could not help but hesitate. He had indeed heard of the rumors through public gossip. For a long time now, monstrous creatures had been gathering at Monbee’s residence—weeping, threatening, pleading, even uttering curses—until finally, they would unite their voices to cry, “Return it to us! Return it to us!” they would cry out in unison. According to public rumors, these monstrous creatures were none other than the pitiful spirits of debtors who had suffered under Monbee—those whose homes and estates had been seized, who even after death clung to their grudges, and who therefore appeared night after night crying, “Return it to us! Return it to us! Return it to us!” they would cry out in unison.

—— If the foe had been some vicious bandit or murderous criminal, he would have accepted the task without hesitation—but vengeful spirits were another matter entirely. This was Hanosuke's reluctant conclusion.

“I do not mean to refuse your lordship’s command, but surely there must be someone more robust than a mere youth like myself who...”

“No,” Lord Suruga interrupted. “You are the most suitable one. You cannot refuse—you must go... Though newly forged, this Horikawa Kunihiro I lend to you. Upon succeeding in the extermination, I shall grant it as your official sword.” “Since your lordship condescends to speak thus, refusal would mark me disloyal. I shall undertake this mission.” “Oh, you will go? That heartens me.”

“By your leave.” He slid back from his seat.

“Proceed with due caution.” “I humbly acknowledge your thoughtful guidance.”

With Kunihiro’s sword in hand, Hanosuke withdrew from the lord’s presence.

The mansion of the wealthy Ōtorii Monbee stood solitary in cultivated fields near Kohara Village, half a ri from the castle at a place commonly called Nihon'enoki. Surrounded by woods on all sides with a ditch resembling a moat dug around it, the compound measured roughly five chō in circumference when circled. Its grand structure encompassed over ten buildings—the main house, detached rooms, guest halls, pavilions, stables, storehouses, and tenant huts—all accounted for. In one room of this main house, Master Monbee lay bedridden.

“The light is dim. Light more of them!” Monbee popped his face out from under the bedding and spoke deliriously. His exact age was unclear, but with his white hair and wrinkled face, he appeared over sixty; however, it seemed he hadn’t quite reached that age yet. With large eyes and a high nose, he seemed to have been a handsome man in his youth.

“There are as many as ten lamps lit already.” Among the ten attendants were swordsmen, sumo wrestlers, ronin skilled in jujutsu, along with clerks, managers, and tenant overseers. Those various people were packed tightly into a single room. Manager Sazae had been surveying the surroundings when he peered into Monbee’s face after making this remark. “Please look—there are ten lamps in this very room.” “There’s nothing dark about it whatsoever.” “No! It’s dark—pitch dark!” “Hurry and trim those wicks!”

“In that case, Mr. Uhei, trim the wicks.”

“Right away,” said Clerk Uhei as he quietly stood up and trimmed each lamp’s wick one by one. The room brightened somewhat. “By the way, what time is it now?” Monbee asked with a concerned look.

“Yes,” Sazae replied after a brief pause. “It must be about one *koku* (two hours) into the first watch.” “Is it still that early?” “It is still early in the evening.”

“Ah, if only night would break quickly... I detest the night... The night terrifies me.” The rustling spring wind seeped through the storm shutters. Then came a hollow *thud*. “What was that? What was that sound?” “What could it be?” Saeki Monbuta, the swordsman, drew his large sword close to his knee and said, “Perhaps some wretched fox from Hachifukuyama has drifted here on this spring moonlit night.”

“A fox?!” Monbee’s eyes widened in terror. “Chase it away! I hate foxes!”

“Understood.” With an air of exaggerated effort, Monbuta rose abruptly, slid open the fusuma door, and entered the adjacent room. The shoji screens rattled open. Storm shutters creaked apart. “Ahahahaha!” As his laughter rang out, the storm shutters and shoji snapped closed again. Monbuta returned to the room— “Not a fox—’twas a dog! A black one waggin’ its tail, I tell you!”

“Was it a dog?” “What a relief.” Monbee let out a relieved sigh.

For a short while, the room was quiet.

And then, Monbee said in a sorrowful voice,

“Ah, I want to sleep. “I want to sleep... to forget the pain... Dr. Kitayama, give me the medicine!” Amano Kitayama remained silent. Though he had been an esteemed Dutch doctor trained in Nagasaki and served as Suruga no Kami’s retainer physician, he was treated as a guest. Even had he practiced in Edo, he would have ranked among first-rate physicians; disdaining fame’s pursuit, he lingered in obscurity among these mountains—yet remained a man of no inferior standing. However wealthy his patrons might be, he would never degrade himself to serve base characters like Monbee as some common attendant. Yet when entreated with nearly tenfold earnest courtesy, he could not disregard such appeals entirely and occasionally paid visits. He differed fundamentally from hastily hired swordsmen or masterless samurai. When deeming treatment unnecessary, he departed promptly; when judging it improper, he withheld medicine altogether.

“Dr. Kitayama! Give me the medicine!”

“No!”

Kitayama shot back.

One Two “Your illness cannot be cured by medicine. You must repent! You must repent! Then it will heal immediately.” “Confession?!” Monbee said with a terrified look. “There’s nothing! There’s nothing! There’s nothing to confess!” “Do not lie!”

Kitayama shot back mockingly. “Why would someone with nothing to confess be so agitated and fearful? ……Didn’t you do something wicked in your reckless youth?” Snapping his black-lacquered fan—which he had been propping against his knee—open and shut, Kitayama pressed him further. “No, I have done no such thing. I am an honest man. I am an honest man who has given no cause for others to resent me, nor any reason for them to hate me.”

“I simply cannot accept that.” “No matter how you look at it, there seems to be something uneasy in your heart.” “You’re wreaking havoc on your nerves... Now I’ll ask again—where were you born?” “Yes, in Edo.”

“Where in Edo? Which district?” Dr. Kitayama pressed without restraint. “Yes,” Monbee answered in fluster, “Shiba in Edo.” “Ah, Shiba? Where exactly in Shiba?”

“Yes, Shiba is Kinshibori…” “What nonsense!” barked Kitayama with a dry, mocking laugh. “There’s no such place in Shiba—Kinshibori is in Honjo!” “Ah, yes! That Honjo—I was born there!” “Hmm. Then tell me—where exactly in Honjo is Kinshibori located?” “At the very edge of Honjo.” “Ha ha ha! Completely backward!” Kitayama roared. “Kinshibori lies at Honjo’s outskirts... You’re no Edo native, are you? Keep silent if you wish—I’ll administer no more medicine to a wretch who can’t name his birthplace! Now answer this—how did you amass over a hundred thousand in wealth?”

Kitayama stared fixedly at Monbee’s face. However, Monbee did not speak.

“It seems you cannot speak of this either… There must be something shady at play.”

“Shut up!”

Suddenly in a madness-tinged voice, Ōtorii Monbee shouted. He jerked upright.

“Shut up! You quack! What are you trying to make me spew?!”

“What?” Kitayama glared wide-eyed. “I’m an honest man!” Monbee kept shouting. “What shady business?! “I worked honest and earned that money proper! “What’s wrong with that?!” “Hmm, if that’s true, you’re quite the hard worker.” “This Kitayama commends you... If it’s money earned so cleanly, no need to hide anything.” “Then tell me how you made it!” “I ain’t tellin’! No need to tell you!” “Why the hell should I tell you?!” “You say it! You say it first!”

"I'll tell you—I'm a doctor!" "What's that supposed to mean—'I'm a doctor'?!"

“I must investigate the root of your illness.”

“Investigate the root of my illness?” “Ain’t no need for that!”

“You poor thing—you’re utterly deranged.” “How could I be deranged?! I am sane!” “How can one cure an illness without determining its root cause?” “I ain’t gotta be cured! Just leave me the hell alone!”

“Oh, I see. Then that’s fine.”

Smoothly, Kitayama stood up. “Even if you summon me again, I shan’t return!” “...”

“You bear death’s mark upon you. You shan’t endure long ere you’re slain.”

“Agh!” Suddenly, Monbee collapsed onto the tatami mats— “Save me, Dr. Kitayama! I beg you, Dr. Amano! I don’t want to die! I’ll talk! I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!”

“Ah, you’ll talk?” “Then speak.” Amano Kitayama listened. “Then I’ll cure your illness… What did you do to earn that money?” “Well, that…”

Just as he was about to speak, the inner sliding door slid open smoothly, and a young woman appeared. It was Otsuyu, Monbee’s daughter.

Supporting his hand, she said, “Father,” and continued, “A messenger from the lord of the castle has just arrived.”

“The messenger?”

Monbee looked puzzled. “Hmm, what messenger could that be?” “They stated it was a sickbed visit.” “What manner of gentleman is he?” “Yes,” Otsuyu replied bashfully, “a young and beautiful samurai gentleman, and…”

“I see. And his name?”

“He was called Lord Kagami Hanosuke.”

13

Having received orders to subjugate monsters and left the castle，Hanosuke visited Ōtorii Monbee’s grand mansion in Nihon-enoki，Obara Village，without any attendants. The young woman who came to greet him—it was Otsuyu，Monbee’s daughter—but when he saw her figure，his heart stirred.

“She’s beautiful,” he thought. However, even that was but a fleeting impression—it had not yet become what one might call love at first sight. When the girl who had withdrawn earlier reappeared demurely, he thought again, “She’s beautiful.” Otsuyu’s face flushed so visibly that even in darkness one could tell, her fingers twisting bashfully as she said, “Though this place is rather shabby, please do come through.” “Pardon me,” Hanosuke replied, gripping his sword as he stepped up into the entrance.

Passing through room after room, he emerged before an inner chamber, but the state of each lavishly decorated room and the corridors connecting them had achieved such perfection that one might think even a high-ranking samurai’s mansion would not surpass this. Despite this, the mansion’s interior was gloomy and desolate; candlelight flickering at intervals cast faint, hazy rings of illumination, while in corners untouched by light, faceless specters seemed to laugh soundlessly. Though many people appeared present, there was no warmth of human presence.

"As one would expect from a mansion called haunted, it was indeed a strangely lonely abode."

When he muttered this in his heart, Otsuyu smoothly slid open the sliding door.

“This is my father’s sickroom.” “Is that so?” Hanosuke said. Kitayama and his attendants had withdrawn to the adjacent room out of discretion, leaving only Monbee in the chamber. Being a patient, he had not left his sickbed and had been sitting formally upright; upon seeing this, he supported himself with his hands on the tatami.

Although it was called a messenger from the lord, it was not an official envoy but a highly informal visit. “No, remain as you are,” said Hanosuke while taking his seat. “His lordship finds it pitiable that your mansion is haunted by specters. The reason this humble one has come today is precisely to witness these apparitions." “You must not take his lordship’s gracious kindness as neglect.” “Why on earth would I consider it neglect?” “Yes, yes, truly most grateful… Your lordship must be thoroughly exhausted—please deign to rest first.”

Monbee quietly raised his face. Though they had known each other’s names, this marked their first meeting face-to-face—and as their gazes locked perfectly, terror suddenly flashed across Monbee’s face— “Waah, a ghost!” he screamed. “Now now, what’s wrong? What do you mean by ‘ghost’?”

It was Hanosuke who was surprised, staring intently at Monbee’s condition. “Have mercy! “Have mercy! Have mercy!” “I was wrong! I was wrong!” “I was wrong! I was wrong!” “…Yamabuki!” “Yamabuki!” “Have mercy!” It was as though he were a frog charmed by a snake—Monbee kept shouting without taking his eyes off Hanosuke’s face, the sweat streaming from his brow and his entire body trembling violently wordlessly conveying the magnitude of his terror. “Now, now, Lord Monbee—what has come over you? “I am Kagami Hanosuke.” “What could you mean by Yamabuki?” “You must keep your composure.”

As he said this, Hanosuke gave a pitying bitter smile. “Ah, this too must be the specter’s doing. Well then—where should I begin?” “What? Lord Kagami Hanosuke, you say?” With wild eyes fixed on Hanosuke, Monbee did not blink; but at last, he let out a relieved sigh and said, “A case of mistaken identity. You weren’t Yamabuki. Yes—you are Lord Hanosuke... But even so—how can your face bear such a striking resemblance to that Yamabuki? Oh! The resemblance! The resemblance! You are Yamabuki after all! Where did thou come from?!”

Once again, he descended into madness. “By His Lordship’s order, from within the castle.” “No, that’s not it! That cannot be. Did you come from Yatsugatake?”

“By His Lordship’s order, from within the castle.”

“Lies! Lies! It’s a lie without doubt! The Yatsugatake cave-dweller village! Thou came from there, didst thou not?! Curse me if you will! Curse me if you will! Does being abandoned gnaw at you so?! ...Glaring and glaring! Oh, glare all you want! I’ll glare back! I’ll glare back!” With bloodshot eyes snapping open, Monbee glared at Hanosuke.

At that moment, from far outside came a plaintive voice that seemed to choke and weep. It was the voice of a large crowd, and they seemed to be shouting in unison as if in a chorus. However, rather than a shout, it was more of a plea—starting as a thin, thread-like voice that rose into high-pitched cries, trailing off like the mournful note of a flute in an unceasing, endless lament.

“Please return it. “Please return it.” “Please, please return Sousuke the Tengu’s armor.” Thus they were crying out.

14

Monbee, who had jolted upright, let his bloodshot eyes dart about nervously, twisted his convulsing lips as much as he could, clawed frantically at his chest with his hands, and then heaved his shoulders like a great wave. “A-a-a-a,” he first gasped, then shouted “They’re here!” and shakily stood up. “Come here! Come here! Someone, come here! Murder! Someone, come here! …Oh Lord Kagami! Lord Hanosuke! They’ve come! Save me! Save a life—save me! …Return what? The armor? I don’t know about that! Oh, why would I know such a thing! Even if I did, it’s all in the past! No, no, I can’t return it! No, no, I don’t know!” “Come here!” “Someone, come here!” “Murder!” “Someone, come here!” “…Oh Lord Kagami Hanosuke!” “They have come, My Lord!” “Please, I beseech you to save me!” “This is a matter of saving a life—I beseech you to save me!” “What do you mean ‘Return it’?! What am I supposed to return?!” “The armor?” “I don’t know about such a thing!” “Oh, how in the world would I know such a thing!” “Even if I did know, it’s all a matter of the distant past!” “No, no, I can’t return it!” “No, no! I don’t know anything!”

“Mr. Gomi Tashirou! Mr. Gomi Tashirou! Please, we implore you to return it—Sousuke the Tengu’s golden armor! Please, we implore you to return it!” The voices outside continued to shriek. “I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t know! I know nothing at all! …Lord Hanosuke! Lord Kagami! I beseech you to save me! Ah! You’re Yamabuki! Oh, Yamabuki! Yamabuki! Damn you! Have even you come to curse me now?! Oh, dreadful, dreadful! Don’t glare at me! Don’t glare at me! Forgive me! I was wrong! Ah—ah—ah—my chest… it’s crushing me! A cold arm is gripping my chest!”

Suddenly, Monbee grabbed at the air and collapsed like a withered tree. He fainted on the spot.

At that moment, a woman’s laughter abruptly echoed from the corner of the room. It was a peculiar laughter—an eerie repetition of "Hee, hee, hee, hee." Hearing this, Kagami Hanosuke shuddered involuntarily. It was because he recognized that laugh.

"In the distant past, during my childhood, I had indeed heard it somewhere before. I didn't know whose voice that was. I didn't know where I'd heard it either... Where in the world was it laughing?"

Hanosuke sharply turned his gaze toward the corner of the room where the voice was coming from, but the source of the laughter remained unseen. Yet the laughter continued without interruption—hee-hee-hee-hee—persisted relentlessly.

"How strange. What in the world? How should I interpret this? A laugh of utmost cruelty—as if relishing some perverse pleasure, as if delighting in the agony of a hated foe! A malice-filled laugh! Hee, hee, hee, hee—it is still laughing. I found myself wanting to laugh for some reason. My heart is tempted. Hee-hee-hee-hee... It is still laughing... I will laugh too. Hee-hee-hee-hee… Hee-hee-hee-hee"

Hanosuke began to laugh. Tempted by the mysterious laughter, he too finally began to laugh.

And then, even more strangely, the invisible laughter gradually drew closer. What he had thought was coming from the corner of the room now seemed to emanate from the tatami mats. What he had thought was coming from the tatami now seemed to emanate vividly from near Hanosuke’s knees. Eventually, the voice finally came to be heard from his arm.

“How utterly bizarre!” Hanosuke abruptly rolled up his sleeve. A well-fleshed white arm slid smoothly up to the forearm, revealing twenty human teeth marks etched into the skin, top and bottom. There was nothing particularly strange about this. Since childhood, Hanosuke’s arm had borne such teeth marks, so there was no need for surprise—but now, looking at them, the teeth marks had transformed into a woman’s face. With eyebrows raised high, eyes glaring, and lips twitching left and right, its expression contorted into a visage of wrath—the sight resembled nothing so much as the grotesque Human-Faced Carbuncle. The hee-hee-hee laughter was coming from that mouth.

And what was most eerie of all was how the Human-Faced Carbuncle’s eyes were fixed upon Monbee’s unconscious face—those eyes brimming with hatred.

Hanosuke doubted his own vision at the sheer strangeness of it all. "This can’t be! This can’t be!"

When he shouted, he closed his eyes—could this have been an instinctive act to avoid seeing something terrifying? However, at that moment, the eerie laughter ceased abruptly as if severed, and he snapped his eyes open.

The Human-Faced Carbuncle had vanished. Only teeth marks remained. "So it was an illusion after all..." Hanosuke let out a relieved sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow, though the terror and eeriness seemed unlikely to fade easily. At that moment, once again, the pleading voices of many people could be heard from outside the door, as if choking.

“Please return it. Please return it. Sousuke Tengu’s golden armor—please return it.” “What in the world is this?” Hanosuke muttered. “Though they say that’s a monster’s voice, I can’t help feeling nostalgic toward it. If I were to speak of nostalgia, even the face of the Human-Faced Carbuncle felt strangely nostalgic to me... When listening to the monster’s voice, it felt as though I were hearing the voices of people from my hometown. And so, the woman’s face of the Human-Faced Carbuncle came to be thought of dearly and longingly—as though it were the face of my own mother.”

Hanosuke sat dazedly, making no move to stir.

15

Here, the story took a drastic turn.

Even today in Taishō 13, the people of Kōshin firmly believe that Takeda Shingen’s corpse—adorned with his shieldless armor, the Hinomaru flag, and the Suwa Hōshō helmet in utmost solemnity—was placed within a thick stone coffin buried at the bottom of Lake Suwa, and that Suwa Myōjin protects that coffin. This, from a historical perspective as well, seems to be the truth. As evidence, the following historical poem appears in *Kinko Shidan*:

Astonishing—bullets leap in shadowed darkness, Cold flute tones echo from Noda Castle's heights. Who could know of seventy-two decoy tombs? None match the peace of one coffin resting in the lake's depths.

Interpreting the last two lines: long ago in China, there was an evil king who, fearing his tomb would be desecrated after death, created seventy-two decoy tombs—yet they were all eventually discovered. Takeda Shingen did not resort to such measures; instead, he had his corpse buried at the bottom of the lake. One cannot know how much more secure this method was—that is to say, this was its meaning. Undoubtedly, this was indeed more secure than the seventy-two decoy tombs, but it could not be said to be absolutely secure. When the time came that Lake Suwa’s waters dried up, the corpse would have to emerge still entombed within the stone coffin. Even barring that, if curious individuals—without sparing any expense—were to send down divers and discover Shingen’s corpse’s location, then thereafter anything would become possible. Therefore, it could not be said to be absolutely secure.

Sure enough, during the Bunsei era, curious individuals appeared and attempted to raise Shingen’s stone coffin from the depths. Did they succeed or fail? Who were those individuals? That will naturally become clear as the story progresses. And indeed, this incident holds considerable significance for the highly legendary tale known as "The Demon God of Yatsugatake." Therefore, this incident must hold considerable significance for none other than Kagami Hanosuke himself, the protagonist of the story.

The temporary suspension of Kagami Hanosuke's narrative thread and the redirection of events to another front were likewise rooted in this connection.

The castle town of Takashima in Suwa District, Shinshū, was bustling as though it were a festival.

On the shore of the vast, brimming lake, townspeople—men and women of all ages—gazed out across the waters while whispering intently.

“There are so many boats out today.” “Must be over twenty boats out there now.” “They’re quite splendid, different from fishing boats.” “The Suwa family’s canopies have been erected all around.”

“Those aboard are all samurai.” “Even from a distance, samurai and fishermen look quite different, don’t they?”

"But might this current venture be a bit too ambitious?" "Well, that's something to ponder." "No, it's absolutely cause for concern." "Rumor says the shrine maidens of Jingūji are in a terrible rage."

“When they get angry, it’s a bit frightening.” “They’re the Water Fox Clan, true to their name.”

“I wonder if even the young lord will fail this time.” “He is indeed a splendid person, but he seems rather driven by impetuosity.” “All of this stems from his youth.” “His curiosity seems somewhat excessive.” “This current endeavor too springs from curiosity.” “The shrine maidens will surely lay a curse!”

“Those who have been cursed by the Water Fox Clan have never escaped calamity.”

“They’re implacably persistent.” “Stubbornly persistent for generations.” “And they wield sorcery.” “They say it’s some Christian secret art.” “Not Christian—it’s Onmyōdō.” “Could it be Japan’s own Onmyōdō?”

“That’s right—it’s Nakamikado’s Onmyōdō.” “Oh!” one of them pointed. “At last, the young lord’s ship is setting out!”

“Let me see? “Ah, indeed—it does appear to be the lordly ship.”

“The young lord himself is giving the commands now.” “If the Water Fox Clan is to curse anyone, they will surely curse the young lord.” “While the Water Fox Clan is certainly fearsome, to me, the divine punishment of the Myōjin seems even more terrifying.”

“Could this be the divine punishment of Take-Minakata, Japan’s Greatest Martial Deity?” “This is an ancient legend—they say Suwa Myojin’s divine spirit accompanies Suwa Hōshō’s helmet.” “It’s properly recorded in Jōruri too, that tale.” “A paragon of filial piety, our lord?” “...‘To share a bed with such a lord is Her Highness’s blessed fortune,’ goes the tsun-tsun-ten rhythm—that’s the essence of it.”

“This ain’t no joke—there’s no surviving this. That’s some damn meticulous vocal mimicry.” “Then when you get to the inner court, that White Fox bastard’ll work its cursed magic. After all, everyone knows the Myojin’s messenger princess is supposed to be a white fox.”

16 “The lordly ship draws nearer. “The lordly ship draws nearer.” As he spoke, one of them pointed. “The figure standing at the bow must be the young lord.” “Is that a crimson fan he holds aloft in his hand?” “He truly does carry a fan.” “What if he waves it and calls out ‘Hoy! Hoy!’…”

“Which is it? Kumagai?” “Or Kiyomori of Itsukushima?”

"This lack of earnestness won't do. 'Quietly, quietly,' one of them said. And so, the people fell silent and watched the young lord's ship cut swiftly through the lake waters."

Now, the lordly ship came to a stop.

Lord Yorimasa, the twenty-one-year-old heir of Suwa Inaba no Kami Tadayori, was a promising young noble with an adventurous and daring spirit—but now he stood at the ship’s bow holding a crimson fan. Twenty small boats drifted around the lordly ship, but on this day of splendidly clear skies, not a single cloud marred the mirror-like surface of the lake—even the swift arrow-like shadows of small birds flying low and unafraid of humans were vividly reflected in the stillness. The morning sun, still newly risen, shone on the water in a golden hue tinged with crimson, creating a scene more beautiful than any painting.

To the eastern sky stretched the Yatsugatake mountains in an unbroken chain. To the north, Okaya's small hamlet cast shadows of white-walled houses upon the water. Turning southward revealed Takashima Castle's stone walls standing unblemished grey at the water's edge, while Suwa Myojin's forest and the hills and groves of Jingūji Village—where the shrine maidens known as the Water Fox Clan dwelled apart from outsiders—extended from south to west, now clinging to mountainsides, now leaning toward the water, appearing and disappearing within the morning mist. Yet Yorimasa showed no inclination to admire this scenery. He stared fixedly at the water's surface—no, not merely the surface, but through it to scrutinize what lay beneath. But the bluish-black water, unfathomably deep with its tens of fathoms, blocked his vision and kept the lakebed's distant recesses hidden.

Then, Yorimasa raised his eyes and surveyed the twenty attendant boats. Lifting the fan high above his head, he swung it sharply to the side. From the bow of the ship nearest to the lordly vessel, a naked man sprang up and plunged into the lake water. A spray shot upward! The glittering rainbow likely shone because the sun had not yet risen high. From Lord Yorimasa down to the warriors aboard the ship—not to mention the townspeople and peasants crowding the shore—all held their breath and gazed intently at the water's surface.

The man who had jumped in was Nadahee—a renowned diver specially summoned from Awa—but even after some time had passed since his plunge, he showed no sign of resurfacing. But before long, the lake water first bubbled vigorously, and in the blink of an eye split forcefully to the left and right—from which gap Nadahee’s rugged face emerged. With a deep exhale, water gushed forth from his mouth like a silvery serpent. Grasping the ship’s edge firmly with one hand, he rested his body for a time.

The impetuous Lord Yorimasa, undeterred by such concerns, addressed Nadahee directly. "How about it, Nadahee? Was the stone coffin there?" "Quite the challenge." And Nadahee formed a smile on his salt-weathered face,

“The mud lies thick, water plants abound, and plumbing the lake’s depths proves no simple endeavor.” “Aye, that follows reason... But tell me—does it seem plausible?”

“Even if one were to dive for two days, three days, or even five, given the vastness of this boundless lake, there’s no telling whether such a small stone coffin exists or not.” “But by my reckoning, there’s certainly nothing around here.”

“Hmm, seems there’s nothing around here. Then in what area might it be buried?” “If one could figure that out, there’d be no need for concern.” “So you don’t know that either?” Yorimasa’s face began to frown. “I can’t say for certain... Anyway, let’s try diving a bit more to the southwest, near Jingūji.” “I see. Alright, redirect the ships!”

Yorimasa issued a command to the rowers.

With a creak of groaning oars, the fleet turned its bow southwest. With the young lord's ship at the lead, they proceeded toward Jingūji. The crowd on the lakeshore who had been watching began whispering among themselves again here.

“Looks like they’re heading toward Jingūji.” “This is truly perilous—it’s akin to sailing straight into a death trap.”

“Calling it sailing into a death trap is an exaggeration, but this does seem rather reckless.” “Let’s just pray those Water Fox priestesses don’t play some foul trick on them.” “Those women are utterly lawless. Whether it’s our lord or even the shogun himself—they wouldn’t flinch at defying anyone.” “May no ill fortune befall them.” “Aye—something wicked will surely happen.” “How pitiable—that magnanimous young lord suffering hardships over this.”

In that time, the fleet rounded the cape and vanished completely from view.

17 With the young lord’s ship at the lead, twenty vessels advanced swiftly toward Jingūji, cleaving through the lake’s waves to either side. When they finally reached their destination, Yorimasa signaled with his fan. Twenty ships halted abruptly.

This area formed an inlet where reeds and pampas grass grew thick along the water's edge, the land spreading into vast farmland dotted with forests here and there—yet Suwa Myojin's sacred grove alone rose distinct, towering in solitary splendor to create a truly divine vista.

Encircling that sacred grove from afar, thatched-roof huts, pole-built shacks, and russet-colored tents stood scattered here and there in a geometric formation—this was none other than the settlement where the priestesses of the Water Fox Clan resided. Several trails of cooking smoke rose, the peaceful cries of chickens and dogs could be heard, and everything appeared tranquil at a glance—yet with no human figures visible and the usual voices of people conspicuously absent today, this was by no means proof of peace.

From the ship, Yorimasa gazed at the Water Fox Clan’s settlement but immediately turned his eyes back to the lake’s surface and swiftly raised his fan overhead. The moment he did so came a loud splash. Nadahee had plunged into the water. In the blink of an eye, ripples formed on the lake’s surface and gradually spread outward. “Now, how would things turn out this time?” he wondered. “Even if we couldn’t find the stone coffin’s location, I hope there’d be at least some clue.” Yorimasa stood rigidly at the bow, his gaze fixed intently on the water’s surface.

Suddenly, he shouted, “Ah!” Where his gaze fell, the once clear azure water surface began bubbling thickly until—in the blink of an eye—a crimson tide resembling peony petals suddenly surfaced. Then one after another, deep red blood tides surged up across the water’s surface until—within moments—the entire area transformed into tang red as though someone had spread out a crimson felt carpet.

When the warriors on the companion ships saw this, they all turned pale and began raising a commotion,

“Return to shore! Return to shore!” some shouted.

“Nadahee must’ve been killed,” “Likely devoured by monstrous fish!” “No—’tis those priestesses’ vengeance!” “Damn Water Fox Clan’s retribution!”

“Return to shore! Return to shore!” “Turn the ship around!” They hurled accusations at one another. “Wait!” At this moment, Yorimasa suppressed them with solemn authority. “Returning to shore is out of the question! “Someone! Jump into the lake and confirm whether Nadahee lives or dies!” “……” When they heard this, all the warriors aboard the ships gasped sharply, their chests constricting. No one answered. They could only exchange glances with one another.

“Someone! Someone must confirm whether Nadahee lives or dies!”

Yorimasa, standing at the bow, stamped his feet and shouted, yet no one stepped forward.

“You cowards! “You spineless wretches! Are those monstrous fish so terrifying to you?!” “Is the lake itself so fearsome to you?!” “In all the 30,000-koku Suwa household, there’s not one true samurai left!” “It can’t be helped—I’ll go myself!” “I’ll plunge into this lake and confirm Nadahee’s fate with my own eyes!”

With those words, Yorimasa flung his haori off behind him. The samurai retainers were astonished. They scrambled to cling to him from both sides, but—

“What is the meaning of this!” “Your life is invaluable!” “What is the meaning of this!”

“Let go! Let go! “Let go, I said!” “My lord!” At this moment stepped forward an elderly man—Miyagawa Takeemon, sword instructor to the Suwa family. “My lord, I shall go.” “Ah, Takeemon! You would go?” Yorimasa regained his composure for the first time, but

"But you are already advanced in years—can you truly accomplish such a difficult task?" “Ha,” said Takeemon, placing his hands on his knees and bowing respectfully. “Winning or losing depends on fate’s whim. Though I say that, our opponent is either specter or monstrous fish. Moreover, even Nadahee—a seafarer of Awa famed for his strength—was caught unawares by this fearsome foe. Nine times out of ten, this old servant too shall meet defeat.”

“Knowing you’ll be caught off guard, yet you still say you’ll go?” Yorimasa asked sternly. “Yes, I must go.” “You must go? And why is that?” “There is no one else to go.” “So be it…” Yorimasa said indignantly, glancing around.

“No. Even if there were others, this old servant must fulfill his duty—even if it means pushing them aside.” “Hmm, now why would that be?” “I am the sword instructor.” “I am the sword instructor.” “However, these days I am old and decrepit, and I am of no use.” “Nevertheless, His Lordship and the young lord continue to employ me as they always have, and the members of the household do not neglect this old servant.” “All of this is due to the benevolence of your esteemed household—there is no need for me to say so.” “It is precisely in such circumstances that this old servant must repay the benevolence he has received—when else could he ever do so?… Well then.”

With these words, Takeemon suddenly shifted forward onto one knee. "I have a request to make."

18

“So it’s about a request, you say? Go ahead and state it.” “Go ahead and state it,” Yorimasa said gently. “If I should meet with misfortune and fall prey to the monstrous fish, I humbly beg you to immediately abandon this endeavor.” “This is my humble request.” “That cannot be,” Yorimasa said pityingly, shaking his head. “What purpose do you believe this endeavor serves?” “I believe it to be the result of your curiosity.” “That is your first misconception. "It is absolutely not the result of curiosity." “It is to wash away the Suwa family’s disgrace!” “Well now, this is a most perplexing decree—I must confess it does not sit well with me.” “If it does not sit well with you, then hear this explanation: The helmet known as the Suwa Hōshō, hailed as a Takeda heirloom, was originally a treasure of the Suwa family. Shingen, through his tyranny, seized it, and even after death had his corpse clad in it—then entombed it within a stone coffin at the bottom of Lake Suwa, of all places! This was an act of utmost humiliation against the Suwa clan—is it not natural to be enraged?!” “Even if we claim to raise the stone coffin, it is nothing other than wanting to take back the Hōshō helmet and make it our family treasure.” “How can you still consider this endeavor to be the result of mere curiosity?”

“No,” Takeemon said, raising his face. “Having failed to recognize such profound foresight and presumptuously offering counsel, I now feel deeply ashamed.” “So you understand?” “That brings relief.” “By your leave,” said Takeemon, rising smoothly to his feet. He began unwinding his sash with swift motions. “Are you truly resolved to enter the lake now, Takeemon?” “My lord, I harbor no second thoughts.” “Your resolve heartens me. You must succeed.” “Succeed without fail!”

“Ha.”

With that, he took off his garments, tucked a dagger into his loincloth, and fixed his glare upon the water's surface. He raised both hands above his head and dove as if gliding through air. The splash echoed—water sprayed—his form sank into the depths.

Yorimasa and all his retainers gritted their teeth, their eyes wide as they stared fixedly at the water’s surface, but for a time, nothing changed.

And then, what abruptly surfaced was—Namu Sanbō! It was a torrent of blood.

“Ah! Takeemon’s been done in too!”

When Yorimasa leapt up and shouted, the water gurgled and surged, and from the fissure emerged Takeemon, drenched in blood. “Men! Save Takeemon!” “Ah!” someone cried as two or three retainers plunged into the water fully clothed and swiftly hauled Takeemon up.

“His arm! His arm!” Yorimasa shouted. Brutal! Takeemon’s right arm was bitten off from the shoulder joint.

"It appears to be an injury! Attend to him! ...Takeemon! Takeemon! The wound isn't deep! Stay strong! Stay strong!" "My lord, the lake bottom is hell!" Takeemon gasped for breath as he spoke. "An old woman in priestess attire..."

“An old woman in priestess attire?” Yorimasa involuntarily parroted back.

“She sat upon a moss-covered stone coffin.” “She sat upon a moss-covered stone coffin?” “With Nadahee’s severed head clenched between her teeth…”

“Hmm, with Nadahee’s severed head clenched between her teeth…?” “When she saw me, she laughed—a-a-a-and she did laugh… A-a-a-a...”

No sooner had he spoken than he let his head droop limply. Takeemon had lost consciousness. The boat fell utterly silent all at once. No one attempted to make a sound. The lake’s depths! The lake’s depths! The bottom of the lake! A priestess of the Water Fox Clan, a severed head clenched between her teeth, sat perched upon a moss-covered stone coffin! Ah, that this terrifying sight should exist so vividly right beneath the very boat they were aboard!

Yorimasa’s voice shattered the suffocating moment of silence.

“Back to the castle! Back to the castle! Turn the boats around!” Creak, creak, creak, creak—the oars from twenty boats began shrieking with frenzied urgency. Now all order dissolved—the Young Lord’s flagship swallowed within the chaos, rear vessels surging forward and front vessels falling back as they rowed in panicked disarray toward Takashima Castle’s water gate. Thus concluded in failure the first day’s attempt to raise the stone coffin. From that moment, Young Lord Yorimasa’s heart festered with bitter resentment, finding no solace. For even were he to attempt a second retrieval, none would answer his call.

One night, he left the castle alone and wandered toward the lake.

It was a beautiful moonlit night, and the lake shone like silver. Suddenly, at that moment, Yorimasa heard a woman’s weeping voice.

By the shore of the lake stood a willow tree, and at its roots sat a woman, weeping as if choking.

Yorimasa quietly approached. "You seem like such a young maiden—what sorrow brings you to weep here?" he said gently. The woman gasped in surprise and abruptly rose from the roots, but when Yorimasa saw her face, it was now his turn to be astonished. Made up by the moonlight, the woman’s features were far too beautiful, far too noble, and far too majestic.

19

A spring night’s hazy moonlit eve—neither brightly shining nor fully overcast—has no equal.

It was not only the spring moon; throughout the four seasons, moonlight reveals the beauty of all things. With Lake Suwa at her back, the maiden stood tall and slender, her face buried in both sleeves as she sobbed quietly—now made up by the moonlight, her figure appeared increasingly, ever more beautiful. To Young Lord Yorimasa of the Suwa clan, she seemed as nothing less than a spiritual being descended from the heavens.

“What sorrow could make a young maiden weep alone in such a place at this late hour?”

As he spoke these words, Yorimasa drew closer to the maiden’s side.

“I am no suspicious person.” “I hold considerable rank.” “There is no need for concern.” “You may confide your circumstances to me.” “From where have you come?”

The maiden ceased her weeping and slightly raised her face from her sleeve, “I was born in Kyoto.” “What? Kyoto? “Ah, I see.” “Kyoto is the imperial capital, the abode where the Son of Heaven resides—far removed from this Shinano.” “But surely you did not come here all alone from Kyoto?” “I have come from Kyoto.” “Hmm, so you came here all alone?” “I was abducted.”

“You were abducted? That’s terrible. And who was it that abducted you?”

“Yes. About twenty days ago, on my way back from visiting Kiyomizu-dera with my wet nurse, I was abducted by a terrifying, terrifying human trafficker who had disguised himself as a puppeteer.” “Ah, I see. That is all the more pitiful. Your parents must be terribly worried. Our chance meeting must be fate—I will have someone escort you home.” “Thank you ever so much for your kindness, but my mother and I share a strained relationship. Even if I were to return to my parents’ home, it would only bring me hardship.” The maiden once more buried her noble face in her sleeves and wept.

“This is truly a troubling predicament.” Yorimasa furrowed his brows. “Now then—where is this human trafficker now, and what is he doing?” “As for where he might be now—after finally managing to elude that trafficker’s notice at a mountain called Wada Pass or some such place, fleeing here in desperation—I have no acquaintances nor savings. While wandering about aimlessly, I might well fall to becoming a beggar or outcast, nor is it unlikely I’ll be recaptured by that dreadful trafficker. Rather than that, were I to throw myself into these beautiful lake waters and die, perhaps I might even meet my true mother in the netherworld…”

“So that’s why you were weeping here?” “Yes,” she said, trembling. The moon grew ever keener, rendering the maiden’s entire body nearly translucent as it smoldered in a pallid glow. The disheveled cascade of hair clinging to her shoulders, the stark white forehead emerging from sleeves veiling her face, her slender waist and lofty stature—there lingered in this visage, at once alluring and fearsome, something that vexed the soul. Though until this day at twenty-one years of age Yorimasa—attended by countless beauties yet never having loved—had devoted himself solely to martial arts, now for the first time he felt a stifling surge of blood rise hot in his breast.

“So, what is your name?” “Yes, I am called Mizumo.” “Mizumo, Mizumo—what a modest name. What do you intend to do now?” “Yes, I don’t know what to do—I might as well just go to the bottom of the lake… I beg you, let me die! I beg you, let me die!” She thrashed about frantically. “As long as I, Yorimasa, live, I shall never allow you to die. Why do you wish to die like that?”

“Because of my pitiable circumstances…” “As long as I, Yorimasa, live, I shall never let you sink into misfortune." “Or do you dislike me?” As he spoke these words, he laid his hand upon her shoulder. Mizumo made no move to evade it. She only stiffened her frame further.

“Your lack of response seems unwelcome.”

Mizumo silently shook her head. “Or are you embarrassed?”

The maiden silently nodded. “Do you still wish to die?” “I’ve come to loathe dying.” “Let us live happily together, the two of us.” Mizumo raised her face from her sleeve—her tear-drenched, star-like eyes faintly smiling at that moment.

“Oh, you laughed!” “That’s how it should be.” “I too have known loneliness.” Though my station lacked for nothing, I had always led a lonely existence. But from now on, I would find solace. “I exchanged my career for love.” “Let us become intoxicated by love’s nectar.” Truly, men must throw both body and soul into something—otherwise life holds no worth. “I have lived thus far through fierce martial arts and my career.” Just when that path had finally reached an impasse, he unexpectedly obtained a woman’s love. With this, he could live happily. “You are my benefactor.” “And you are my lover.” “I will not let you go.” The melancholy vanished from his face as new hope appeared.

20

A little over ten days had passed since these events occurred.

At that time, a certain rumor spread throughout the Suwa household. ——It was said that the young lord left the castle every night for some unknown destination.——

——Then, before long, another rumor concerning the young lord began to spread. It was said that the young lord had recently taken a secret mistress and was visiting her there.—

And so, the people talked about it. “How amusing that the martially-inclined young lord has taken a lover.”

“Now, what sort of woman could she be?” “Whose daughter might she be?” “Could she belong to someone in the household?” “Or perhaps a courtesan from foreign lands?” “That reckless plan to raise the stone coffin from the lake seems to have been stopped thanks to this.” “For that alone, we should be grateful.” “Let us worship her as our goddess!” “But where could she possibly be kept?” “I’d give anything for just one look.” “She must be a beauty without equal.” “If she’s the woman who effortlessly bewitched Young Lord Ishibe Kinkichi herself, she’s surely peerless in looks.” “Ah, but our lord has peculiar tastes.” “That eccentric young master must be keeping some three-parts-human, seven-parts-monster sea hag.” “Now that you mention it...” “Maybe a stretch-necked specter?” “Lapping up lamp oil night after night?” “A bald cyclops hag?” “What about Shinano’s legendary snow woman?” “But it’s not winter.” “Hmm... Then a summer demoness?”

“I’ve never heard of such a monster!” “Could it be a kappa in disguise?” “Or maybe a tanuki from Eimyōji Mountain.” “It must be a fox from Karasuyama Mountain.” “No—a badger!” “No—an otter!” “No no—it’s definitely a flying squirrel!” Thus rumors begot rumors.

Before long, it began to strike the household members as a mysterious fact that Young Lord Yorimasa himself was wasting away alarmingly with each passing day. ——And so another rumor began to spread.

“This must be possession.” “Clearly, the entity is a supernatural being.” “A badger? A river goblin?” “It must be the Okaya river goblin.” “No, that’s not it.” “No—this is undoubtedly the Water Fox Clan.”

“Ah, I see!”

And the people were struck with terror at this opinion. “Indeed, this must be the Water Fox Clan.” “If it’s the Water Fox Clan, they should be cursing us.”

“That’s right—they should be cursing us.” “After all, we tried to raise the stone coffin from the lake that those bastards have been guarding as their sacred talisman for ages.” “It’s said that among their ranks there’s a stunningly beautiful woman.” “Moreover, they are sorcerers.” “What’s more, they’re terrifyingly tenacious.” “He’s been possessed by something powerful!” “The young lord’s life must be in danger.” “We must rescue him to fulfill our obligation.” “As retainers, this would be disloyal.” “But what on earth should we do?” “The first thing we must do is locate that woman’s residence.”

“But how are we to determine this?”

“Who would be the most suitable candidate?” “I shall ascertain the truth and lay it before your eyes!”

There was someone who declared this boldly. It was Usuda Unhachi Munnensai, spearmanship instructor of the Saburi-ryū school. “Ah, Lord Usuda! He’s the perfect man for this.” “Indeed, he is the perfect man for this.”

The people pressed him in one voice. "We most humbly entreat you to undertake this task."

“Very well, I accept. She’s merely a girl from the Water Fox Clan - with my spear’s point, this servant shall assuredly banish the demon!”

And so, that very night, Unhachi tucked his well-used spear under his arm, slipped into the garden of the inner palace's young lord's chambers, and peered inside to observe the situation.

The late-night wind struck the shrubbery, rustling noisily; the clouded sky bore no starlight, and the people within the castle grounds seemed to have fallen into a deep slumber, leaving behind an eerily profound silence. The storm shutters opened soundlessly, and a figure fluttered down. It was none other than Young Lord Yorimasa. As if pulled by an invisible thread, Yorimasa walked on smoothly, smoothly, paying no heed to his surroundings.

Then the back gate’s small door opened smoothly without a sound, as though someone were there to open it. Passing through it, he exited the castle grounds. He dashed through the desolate residential district—where dogs did not bark and roosters did not crow—like a shooting star. The destination ahead was likely the Jingūji Temple Complex. He ran in that direction. “Just as I thought!” Unhachi mused, maintaining a distance of over two ken as he too ran straight ahead without faltering. Exiting the town led to open fields. Two figures ran soundlessly along the narrow path through the fields. Soon they reached a densely wooded forest. Yorimasa ran into the forest. Unhachi followed suit, but when he emerged from the forest’s far side, Yorimasa’s figure had vanished.

Just as he muttered, “This is bad,” an old woman came from the opposite direction. She appeared to be deep in thought, her head deeply bowed. “Madam, I have a question to ask.”

Unhachi called out urgently. “A splendid young samurai must have just passed this way. Did you not see him?”

21

The old woman did not respond. She was eating something noisily. And then she seemed to be snickering. "How dare you, an old crone, show such insolence!" "Why aren’t you answering me?" Usuda Unhachi grabbed the old woman’s shoulder roughly while shouting. However, the old woman did not respond. She was still looking down and laughing. She was eating something. The chuckling was the sound of laughter, and the squelching was the noise of eating.

Unhachi grew increasingly enraged and tightened his grip on her shoulder. Then his hand suddenly went numb as the old woman abruptly lifted her face. Her visage—crowned with platinum-white hair and crimson as a vermilion basin—loomed in the dark night, fresh blood plastered thick across her mouth, nose, cheeks, and jaw. Clutched firmly in both hands was a half-devoured severed head. Blood dripped from the ragged stump. That was Nadahee’s head.

The moment this thought struck him, Unhachi’s vision spun dizzily. And then he collapsed in a heap and lost consciousness.

Nursed by several villagers, by the time he regained consciousness from his faint, the morning sun of the following day was already high in the sky.

This blunder of Unhachi’s instantly became the talk of the castle town, leaving samurai and townsfolk alike thoroughly cowed; at the signal of sunset, people refused to set foot outdoors. Suddenly, the castle town became desolate, and even the martial prestige of the Suwa family came to be doubted.

However, Young Lord Yorimasa continued to slip out of the castle and wander off to unknown destinations. And so, day after day and night after night, he grew weaker.

A curse! A curse! The Water Fox Clan’s curse! What in the world should one do!

The bizarre rumors surrounding the Suwa family had now reached even the Naitō family of Ina.

One day, Suruga no Kami Masakatsu summoned Kagami Hanosuke to his side, but

"I regret to impose this request, but would you be so kind as to visit the Suwa family and uncover the specter?" he entreated with an air of reluctant necessity.

"Ha," he said, but Hanosuke looked troubled. "The Suwa family and our house are bound by marriage. Surely we cannot turn both deaf ear and blind eye to their plight."

“Are there no others who could go?” “It must be you.” “It must be you.” “The reason is none other than this: that mysterious specter which tormented Ōtorii Monbee has not appeared since you visited him.” “It is precisely because of your esteemed virtue.” “I ask you—go.” “Under what pretext should I go?” “As an envoy from our house.” “As a visit to inquire after Young Lord Yorimasa’s illness.”

“It cannot be helped. I humbly accept your command and shall go regardless.”

“If you succeed, it will bring honor to our house.” “The Suwa family too shall be indebted to us.” “Now—when do you intend to depart?” “The matter demands urgency.” “With your leave granted at first light tomorrow morning, I shall journey to Suwa.” “See that your retinue makes a splendid display.”

And so, the next morning, accompanied by a grand retinue, Kagami Hanosuke set out. With his radiantly handsome features, he skillfully handled the reins as he proceeded along the densely wooded mountain pass from Ina to Suwa. Gift trays, lacquered boxes, grand feathered spear ornaments, and rows of attendants—truly an impressive envoy’s procession. They spent one full day traveling and arrived in Suwa the following day, but the messenger had already come. Knowing about the envoy’s arrival in advance, the Suwa family had specifically dispatched people to welcome him at the domain border; beginning with allowing him rest, they courteously invited Hanosuke to the newly constructed annex within the castle grounds.

The following day was the day of the official audience.

That night, several executives came from Suwa to pay their respects, but it was when Chino Hyogo arrived that Hanosuke abruptly asked: “Your family has been one of literary scholars for generations—you must have a great many books in your collection?” “Indeed, we have a considerable number.”

“I would very much like to see the library.” “It’s a simple matter; I shall gladly show you.”

Hyogo guided Hanosuke to the library. It was truly an impressive library. Ten thousand volumes and more of ancient and modern books were neatly arranged. Bearing his inner turmoil, Hanosuke meticulously combed through the "Su" section until he finally discovered a manuscript titled *Water Fox Clan Chronicles*. Upon returning to his room, he began reading it with fervent intensity.

The origins of what was called the Water Fox Clan and the contours of their religion had come into dim focus.

It was during the Heian period that a solitary castle stood towering on the shore of Lake Suwa in this province. The castle's master was called Sousuke, and his betrothed was called Saku. Yet Saku did not love Sousuke; instead, she staked her very life on loving his younger brother Natsuhiko, ultimately conceiving and bearing a daughter by him named Kuta Hime. This marked the genesis of tragedy, for though brothers by blood, Sousuke and Natsuhiko clashed as mortal rivals in love.

22 For fourteen years, the two brothers waged blood-soaked battles across Lake Suwa and the Tenryu River, while throughout those years Saku and Kuta Hime passed desolate days clinging to their Catholic faith within a crumbling ancient castle. In the fourteenth year Sousuke returned to his own castle bearing his younger brother Natsuhiko's severed head, only to find Saku already dead by her own hand - her throat pierced by a blade.

“I curse all humans. “I curse this floating world!” After shouting these words, Sousuke fled to Yatsugatake, gathered his followers, and committed every manner of evil deed before becoming a tengu of the demon realm while still alive. His followers came to be called the Ketsujin and formed a tribe that shunned interaction with the human world—a tale already recounted in detail at this story’s beginning. Yet it was Kuta Hime alone who remained, the ancestor of what would later be known as the Water Fox Clan. This pitiful orphan, who had inherited her father Natsuhiko’s severed head, later left the castle alone and settled in Jingūji Village. There she lived with the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ as her guardian deities. Gradually, comrades joined her cause; opposing the Ketsujin tribe, they established their own community. In matters of religion, they blended Catholicism with Japan’s ancient Shinto traditions—specifically incorporating the Nakamikado school’s Onmyōdō practices—to create a strange fusion of Eastern and Western faiths. And thus, their leaders would always proclaim the name “Kuta,” and it was decreed that they would be called “Princess Kuta” when young and “Old Woman Kuta” when aged. And thus, it was decreed that their leaders must always be female.

The most distinctive features common to all members of their tribe were these: regardless of gender, they made shrine maidens their trade; they did not associate with anyone outside the tribe; they considered the Ketsujin their sworn enemies for life; and they practiced sorcery. Above all, those who became their leaders were—when explained in modern terms—dreadfully accomplished in such arts as clairvoyance, clairaudience, hypnosis, spirit separation, sleepwalking, and mind-reading techniques.……

“Hmm, so that’s how it is.”

After finishing reading through the manuscript, Hanosuke muttered in surprise.

They were formidable enemies. Moreover، their numbers were too great. When facing an entire tribe of people، no matter how skilled one might be in martial arts، defeating them would likely prove difficult. He had to consider this thoroughly. ……No، wait—that wasn’t necessarily the case. If even their leader were slain، perhaps only the calamities plaguing the Suwa family could be severed. Hmm، that was right—he would focus his mind solely on this point.

In the serene and late night within the castle grounds, seated in the center of the guest room in the annex, Hanosuke sat deep in thought,

"Thinking about it won't help. Knowing your allies and knowing your enemy is the law of certain victory in military strategy. I shall sneak out now and observe the state of the Water Fox Clan's village." He stood up smoothly, went out into the corridor, opened the shutters, and stepped into the garden. When he arrived at the castle's rear gate, a single guard was standing there.

“Who goes there? Where might you be going?” “I am an envoy from the Naitō family, heading to the town below on business. Kindly open the small gate at once.” “Understood,” he said, assuming a formal stance, “but no matter who you may be, as the hour is late, we cannot open the gate.” “Ah, so—no matter who one may be, passage through this small gate after the appointed hour is not permitted, you say?” “It is the decree of the Suwa family.”

“However, given that there is someone who violates that decree every night by going out—how utterly inconvenient that must be!”

“No, no! There is absolutely no such person within the Suwa household!” “No, no—it’s not one of the household’s samurai retainers.” “A distinguished person of the main family branch.” “Well, who could that be?” “Namely, Young Lord Yorimasa.” “Ah!” The guard exclaimed involuntarily, his eyes widening in blank astonishment. “What utter nonsense you speak.” “You have not a word to say.” Hanosuke laughed. “There is not a single one!” “Then kindly open the gate.”

“An unavoidable protocol. Now pass through.”

With a creak, the guard opened the gate. With a pop, Hanosuke slipped through and briskly walked along the narrow country path he had surveyed during the day, heading toward Jingūji Village.

The late moon had just risen, casting a hazy glow over the open fields. As the breeze stirred his sidelocks, he walked without haste or impatience, his mind occupied with strategizing his next move. Before long, the Water Fox Clan's village came into view in the far distance. There were over a hundred houses—perhaps three hundred inhabitants—all now asleep in silence, not a soul visible. Though his night vision couldn't discern them clearly, the houses' construction differed from ordinary dwellings, appearing exceedingly primitive. One particularly conspicuous large structure was likely the tribal chief's residence. Chigi and katsuogi were erected like those of an ancient castle. The roof followed the tsumairi style, while the veranda encircling all four sides of the building evoked shinmei-zukuri architecture.

Then, suddenly, the sound of music could be heard coming from nearby. "Hmm?" Hanosuke muttered, involuntarily coming to a halt. Two Three The sound of music, though faint, possessed an exquisite melodic harmony. The instruments appeared to be hand drums and flutes. The sound of a handbell could also occasionally be heard. Hanosuke listened for a while, then stealthily approached. Hiding in the shade of the trees and looking across, he saw several women seated in the garden of the shinmei-zukuri mansion—all young women of the Water Fox Clan, one playing a flute, another a hand drum, and another striking a handbell. And there was an elderly woman sitting at the center, who appeared to be fervently praying. The handbell's tin-tin-tin rang out; the hand drum's clang-clang-clang answered; and weaving through them all came the flute's piercing hoo-hoo-hoo resounding far and wide. It formed a drowsy harmony and resounded through the moonlit night.

The elderly woman stood up calmly. Then she extended both hands. She moved them up and down. She seemed to be summoning something.

Then, from the direction of the castle town, a single black dot appeared—and it came racing like the wind. The sorceress’s hands must have summoned sacrifices from afar. Tin-tin-tin, clang-clang-clang, hoo-hoo—the music’s tempo gradually quickened, and as it did, the old woman’s hands moving up and down sped up in sync. The black dot steadily drew nearer. The dot became a stick, the stick became a doll-like figure, and soon the form of a young samurai, drenched in moonlight, materialized before their eyes. It was Yorimasa, the young lord of the Suwa family.

The three women and the elderly woman abruptly rose in unison. Then, while playing music, they began ascending the stairs in a leisurely manner. As before, the elderly woman raised and lowered her hands up and down. Before long, they disappeared into the building. Yorimasa’s eyes were wide open. His gaze remained fixed intently ahead. Yet he appeared to be asleep. Only his legs moved mechanically. No sooner had he reached the stairs than he was already climbing them. As if drawn by some force, he tilted his body diagonally and slid soundlessly into the room.

Afterwards, all was oppressively silent. The sound of music could no longer be heard.

From the shadows where he had been watching, Hanosuke shuddered involuntarily.

...So this was the Water Fox Clan’s sorcery. That old woman must be their leader. They lured people with music. Strange things truly existed... What were they doing inside that house? Driven by fierce curiosity, Hanosuke quietly stepped out from the tree shade, gently placed his foot on the stairs, and climbed them floor by floor. The instant he did, a throwing stick came slicing through the air with a whoosh, aiming to sweep his legs. Startled, Hanosuke twisted his body and leapt lightly down from the stairs to the ground. Yet no trace of anyone remained. The pale moonlight flooded the front garden completely, imprinting only jet-black silhouettes of groves and house shadows upon the earth.

Hanosuke shuddered once more. "I should probably head back." He could not help but think this. Thereupon, he concealed himself, slipped out of the Water Fox settlement, and briskly retraced his steps along the narrow country path back to the lakeshore.

A woman stood in the shade of a willow tree on the lakeshore. She seemed to be crying. “Here, maid—what has happened to you?”

Hanosuke warily drew near. When he looked, there stood a beautiful maiden. "What brings you to weep in such a place at this late hour?" "Yes," she replied, yet kept her sleeve pressed to her face. Her pale neck, disheveled hair, and willowy waist seemed fashioned to lure men's hearts toward love and rouse disorderly passions. "And you—from where do you hail, and by what name are you known?"

Hanosuke gently asked again. "I was born in Kyoto, my name is Mizumo... I was abducted by terrible human traffickers..." "No, no—that cannot be," Kagami Hanosuke said quietly. "Born in Jingūji... named Kuta..."

“Huh?” The girl raised her face.

“Fool!” Hanosuke barked, drawing his sword in one fluid motion and slashing downward. As the girl recoiled in panic, she sprang backward and wound her sleeve tightly around her hand, raising it high above her head before whirling it round and round like a swirling vortex. Though fully alert, Hanosuke found her strange movements suspicious and fixed his gaze on her hand. Gradually, his consciousness grew hazy—this was hypnosis at work. He had fallen under its spell. By the time he realized “I’ve been tricked!”, his body had already frozen completely. The moonlit lake vanished. The willow tree disappeared. Even the girl’s form dissolved into darkness as a bizarre spiral swirled before his eyes—round and round and round—soaring endlessly upward into empty sky.

Still gripping his sword, he rolled to the lakeshore. He fell into a deep slumber. And when he was awakened by a farmer the next morning, everything from the swords at his waist to his garments had been stripped off entirely.

24

For Hanosuke as a samurai, this was an indescribable disgrace.

He had shut himself away in the castle’s annex, avoiding all guests since then. And using his illness as a pretext, he even had to postpone meetings with official envoys.

However, in no time at all, this rumor spread throughout the castle grounds and beyond.

"They say the Lord Envoy from the Naitō family, who came to pay a sick visit, has been struck by a mysterious illness."

“Indeed—a most peculiar malady has taken him.” “Some say it’s mere malingering.” “Others call it the Disgrace Sickness.” “The Shame-Baring Disease”—such were the slanders now circulating. No matter what they claimed, Hanosuke found himself powerless to respond. “They say this Hanosuke was already dubbed ‘Daytime Lantern’—a useless fool—even within Lord Naitō’s own household. If that’s truth, then the Naitōs who sent such trash as their envoy are the true offenders against propriety!” Now even voices bold enough to utter this began emerging.

“No, no—that’s slander! Lord Hanosuke is an exceptional martial artist who defeated a monster at Takato Castle and proven his martial prowess, so I’ve heard.” Occasionally, there were those who spoke like this in Hanosuke’s defense. “What’s this? The Takato monster must be spineless compared to Suwa’s,” some sneered.

Meanwhile, no matter who guarded Young Lord Yorimasa or how, when the appointed time came, he would abruptly slip away and vanish from the castle. He grew weaker by the day and night, and his death became only a matter of time. Moreover, Hanosuke remained deeply secluded in the annex, quiet and still, making no attempt to venture out.

One day, Hanosuke was sitting formally in the annex room as usual, deeply engrossed in thought. Before him lay the open Water Fox Clan Chronicles. He had read through this manuscript countless times up until today. From within these pages, he had sought some glimmer of insight, some path forward. Yet unfortunately, until now, he had been unable to find it.

He snapped his eyes open. Then he began reading anew. Then, suddenly, his eyes devoured a line of text. “Our deep enmity toward the cave-dwelling clan of Mount Yatsugatake shall endure without end—this is the enduring precept of the Water Fox Clan.”

Thus it is written here.

“Ah, this is it!” With a *thwack*, Hanosuke slapped his knee. "What a fool I am. To think such an excellent path forward existed all along, yet I never noticed until now... If the Water Fox Clan deems the cave-dwellers of Mount Yatsugatake their sworn enemies, then surely those cave-dwellers must harbor equal enmity toward the Water Fox Clan. Therefore, they must undoubtedly be devising hostile measures against them. What if I were to meet those cave-dwellers and inquire about their methods? Undoubtedly, they would gladly share them. I’ll go to Mount Yatsugatake and meet them!"

Waiting for sunset, Hanosuke stealthily slipped out of the castle.

Along the way, he prepared ample provisions, first walking to Chino Post Town before entering the mountain path from there. Kusazawa, Kaminohara, Yanagisawa. He spent the night in Yanagisawa and departed before dawn the next morning. Having come as far as Yatsude and turned north, he found this area already a plateau with no dwellings beyond. He climbed ever upward along Amida Peak's rocky spine. One night along the way, he camped outdoors.

On the third day around noon, he arrived at the valley of Tsuzumigabuchi, where a hut stood. The roof and wooden walls, weathered by years of wind and rain, had mostly collapsed, leaving it utterly ruined without a trace of its former appearance—yet this very hut was where Yamabuki, a daughter of the cave-dwelling clan, and Tashirou, a merchant from the castle town, had once lived over a dozen years prior. The wild child named Inotarou, born to them both, must have also dwelled here once. Where had those people gone? Yamabuki ought to have been long dead. Yet Tashirou and Inotarou should still be living.

Kagami Hanosuke stood briefly before the hut. Strange—an indescribable nostalgia surged within his heart. Like a flute melody once heard long ago, half-forgotten over time, now abruptly resonating anew in his ears—this ineffable nostalgia! A profound longing welled up. Yet why did he feel this? Yes—why indeed? For Hanosuke, Tsuzumigabuchi held no connection whatsoever—was this not his first visit here? Kagami Hanosuke was Kagami Hanosuke. He could be none other than himself—could he?

Or could there be some connection between Hanosuke and Tsuzumigabuchi?

“This is strange,” Hanosuke muttered aloud. In the far, far distant past… I somehow felt as though I had lived in this hut. …But such a thing was impossible!

Abruptly, at that very moment, a human voice called out from atop the cliff.

“Come! Come! Come!” It was a voice brimming with compassion.

25 “Come! Come! Come!”

Once again, a voice brimming with compassion could be heard from the mountaintop. When Kagami Hanosuke heard this, an indescribable nostalgia welled up spontaneously in his heart.

Someone was calling me. "I'll go see, I'll go see."

He hurriedly looked around his surroundings. Directly ahead was a cliff. There was a path on the cliff. The path led to the mountaintop.

So Hanosuke decided to take that path up the mountain. Though covered in moss and buried under fallen leaves, making it treacherous to walk, for Hanosuke it posed no hardship. So he climbed steadily upward.

The place he finally reached after all this was what was once called Sasa no Taira—namely, the Ketsujin settlement—where their dwellings stood here and there, but not a single human figure could be seen. It was only natural that none could be seen. After all, over a dozen years prior, the cave-dwellers had embarked on their nomadic journey.

But of course, Hanosuke had no knowledge of such circumstances. So, with only the ruins of cave-dwellers remaining and none of the cave-dwellers themselves present, this fact greatly disappointed him.

"But that earlier voice was certainly not just my imagination. It had unmistakably been a human voice. Where could that person possibly be?"

Therefore, he decided first and foremost to search for that person.

One by one, patiently, he carefully searched the cave-like huts that had once been dwellings of cave-dwellers and were now dens for foxes and badgers, but no human figures could be seen.

"Could it have been an auditory hallucination after all?"

Just as he was beginning to doubt, once more the same voice called out from nowhere. “Come! Come! Come!” The voice came from the mountain. So Hanosuke revived his spirits and ran toward the direction of the voice. When he ascended through the wilderness, there was a forest atop a hill, within which stood a shrine, and in the depths of its inner sanctum he found an imposing wooden statue of a warrior holding a spear standing erect—this was indeed the Tengu’s shrine, and that imposing warrior statue was none other than the sacred object of Sousuke Tengu. Yet even this, Hanosuke did not comprehend what it all meant.

Even so, for some reason, the wooden statue felt both precious and nostalgic to him, so Hanosuke pressed his hands together and bowed reverently.

Just then, a human voice sounded.

“Oh Inotarou, you’ve returned!”

Just as Hanosuke, startled, involuntarily widened his eyes, a white-robed, long-haired figure slid smoothly out from behind the wooden statue and appeared before him. The figure was truly divine in appearance. His countenance was brimming with compassion. Closer to a god than a human. The divine figure spoke again.

“Oh Inotarou, you’ve returned!” Utterly shaken by the unexpected appearance of this figure, Hanosuke stood speechless for a moment; then, abruptly, he bowed deeply. “I do not know who you are, but surely there is some mistake. "I am Kagami Hanosuke of the Takato domain; I am not Inotarou."

“Indeed, indeed—your current name is Lord Hanosuke.” “But you remain Inotarou.” “At least in your childhood name.” The divine figure smiled gently and added, “Would that not be so?” “No, that too is mistaken. My childhood name is Uzaburō—that is how I am known.” “Ah yes—there was such a time.” “But ’twas but a fleeting season.” “Moreover, ’twas merely a temporary name.” “A name adopted as expedience—yet this truth shall soon become clear to you.” “From that moment of understanding, you shall become a wretched soul.” “The dreadful visage of karma shall manifest vividly before you.” “The most accursed being in this world is none but yourself.” “You are sacrificed to your birth mother’s malediction.” “Thus you must by all means slay your true father.” “Yet this deed lies beyond possibility.” “For a child to murder his own sire!” “This absolute impossibility—” “—is precisely why you suffer.” “Therein resides your karma... You are a soul damned to misery.”

“To avenge your mother’s grudge, you must by all means kill your father.” “If you attempt to follow the path of filial piety, you will never be able to release your mother’s delusional obsession from her deathbed for all eternity, and must forever leave her unappeased spirit to languish in hell.”

Then Hanosuke began to laugh. “I cannot comprehend a word of what you’re saying. My true father and mother both live healthy lives in Iida’s castle town even now. Yet here you speak of deathbed obsessions and vengeful spirits—such nonsense! Jests have their place, but overstep them and it becomes mere discourtesy. I must ask you to hold your tongue now. I’ll hear no more of this!” By the end, he had even grown somewhat angry. 26 Then the divine figure gazed at Hanosuke with compassionate eyes, as though pitying him,

“What are your parents’ names?”

"My father is Minamijō Ukon, swordsmanship instructor to Hori Iwami-no-kami of Iida in Shinshū." "My mother is called Oshina, the third daughter of Maekawa Tanomo, a senior official in the same domain." “Yes, yes—that’s how it was.” "I am aware of that as well." “However, those are temporary parents.” “What? Temporary parents, you say?” “A strange statement indeed—what do you mean by that?” Hanosuke’s expression darkened.

“No, no—that cannot be revealed. However, in time, it will naturally, naturally become clear. You must await that time.” “All these strange pronouncements you’ve made since earlier baffle me utterly—but first tell me: what is your station? What manner of being are you?” “I dwelled in these mountains ere you were born.”

“Ah, is that so?” “And I am deeply connected to your real parents.” “And especially with your mother who has died.”

“……?” “Goodness, equality, mercy, peace—I am the advocate of these.”

“Ah, is that so?” “I left this mountain a little before you were born.” “Because I felt a lack of virtue.” “Yet this mountain was ever on my mind.” “And I remained by your side at all times.” “Nay, nay—’tis not you alone. I abide ever with all unfortunate humans.” “To some I am tears; to others, light—this is my true nature... Thus do I know every thread of your being from first to last.”

“And what is your name?” “In these mountains, they called me Shirahoushi.” “So you are Lord Shirahoushi, then.”

“The trouble lies in this transient world—there exists a wicked being who stands opposed to me in every way.” “Evil, inequality, curses, heartlessness—he who embodies these clings to all humanity just as I do.” “What manner of being is that?” “Let us name him Kurohoushi for now.” “You may also call him a villain.” “Thus I am the righteous one.” “...The karmic thread spanning three lifetimes is naught but this struggle between righteousness and villainy.” “...Yet this requires no fresh explanation from me. Still know this—the ill fate weighing upon you is Kurohoushi’s handiwork.” “Even with my power, nothing can presently be done.” “We must await the appointed hour... Worse still, you remain ensnared not only by your birth mother’s curse but now seek to hurl yourself into fresh sacrifice for your bloodline.”

“Clan? Clan? Clan? What do you mean by clan?”

“It concerns the clan you belong to.” “I am of the warrior class.” “Indeed, now—now you are a warrior.” “I have been a warrior from the beginning.”

“That is not so, that is not so.” “Then what manner of being are you?” “That I cannot say.” “That I cannot say now.” “The one who will tell you that is none other than Kurohoushi.” “Where does this Kurohoushi dwell?” “He clings to every human.” “Thus he clings to you as well.” “He does not appear before my eyes.” “Soon he will manifest before your sight.” “A clan’s sacrifice?” “Kurohoushi?” “Oh, I cannot comprehend this!”

“Water Fox Clan!” “Water Fox Clan!”

Shirahoushi said abruptly. “Did you come into these mountains intending to destroy them?” “It is exactly as you say.”

“For the Ketsujin, the Water Fox Clan has been their ancestral enemy since time immemorial.”

"That’s what I had heard." "Therefore, they are also your enemy." "Why would that be?" "You will understand in time, you will understand in time... However, you must fight another clan for the sake of the one clan to which you belong." "You must fight those of the Water Fox Clan." "And then you must kill Old Woman Kuta with your own hands." "This is your destiny." "But how can I defeat the hateful sorceress?" Hanosuke asked anxiously.

“Behold that.” “Look at that!”

As he said this, Shirahoushi raised his hand and pointed at the Heian-style long spear held by the wooden statue in the inner sanctum.

“That wooden statue is none other than the guardian deity of the Ketsujin.” “He is their ancestor Sousuke.” “He is the clan leader of those Ketsujin.” “There is no way to defeat the sorceress other than using the weapon held by the clan leader to strike down the other clan leader.” Urged on, Hanosuke leapt up. He swooped into the shrine and wrenched the long spear free from the wooden statue’s hand.

27

..."The moment you kill Old Woman Kuta, you will receive yet another curse. "A dreadful curse! "A dreadful cure! "Unfortunate wretch! "Unfortunate wretch!"

It was not long after this that Kagami Hanosuke, disregarding Shirahoushi's calls from behind, boldly rushed down the mountain toward the village.

He was simply and utterly happy.

"I can defeat the hateful sorceress. I can reclaim my fallen honor. What’s a curse? What’s a curse?!" This was Hanosuke’s state of mind. "What I’m grateful for is this spear. Spear, I implore you—manifest your mystical power for my sake. Let me kill that sorceress Old Woman Kuta with a single thrust!" This was Hanosuke’s wish.

He quickened his pace and thudded down the mountain.

He camped overnight along the way and returned to Takashima's castle town around midday the following day, but deliberately did not enter the castle grounds, instead biding his time at an inn on the outskirts until night fell. Eventually day faded into evening, and as the night wore on, it deepened into late night. Keeping wary inn staff in his peripheral vision, Hanosuke slipped out of the lodging.

He walked along the rice field path skirting the lake waters toward Jingūji Village. Soon he reached the Water Fox Clan's settlement, but just as during his previous visit, every house stood deathly still in solemn silence - not even a dog's bark could be heard.

“Alright.” After muttering this, Hanosuke crept along the shadows of trees and houses, stealthily approaching Old Woman Kuta’s residence.

When he reached the spacious front garden, he stopped in his tracks with a start. Vaguely illuminated by the faint starlight in the sky, four or five shadowy figures were moving furtively. The tapping sound of nails being driven, the scraping sound of planks being shaved—various noises reached his ears. They seemed to be building something.

“Hmm?” Hanosuke wondered suspiciously. So, concealing his footsteps even more, he crept along the dark shadows, trying to catch their conversation as he approached them. They were discussing something.

“What’s the hold-up? Still not done?” “The knots are making it hard to plane.” “Just make do! Just make do!” The shh-shh sound of planing boards. “Nails! Hand me the nails!”

“Ah, there we go! That’s the nail.” The tap-tap sound of nails being driven pierced through the night’s silence, echoing with an eerie gloom. What could they be building?

And once more they began to speak. “Quit dawdling like fools!” “It’s for the final farewell.” “She’s clinging on.” “Yeah—right inside the kicho.” “An old crone over a hundred.” “Nonsense! She’s a dewy maiden of seventeen!” “Ahahaha! Ain’t that the truth!”

They chuckled softly among themselves and worked away with a steady tap-tap. “Come to think of it, she’s a bit pitiful.” Another one spoke up. “A youthful form subjected to a water funeral rite?” “That too is all due to her disposition.” “It’s divine punishment for defying us.” “It’s divine punishment for dredging Lake Suwa.” “If Lord Yorimasa of the Suwa family had just conducted himself with the calm and dignity befitting a young lord, he wouldn’t have met such a fate.” “Serves him right! Serves him right!”

There, they laughed again. "...Well, the coffin's mostly done." "If only the corpse would hurry up and get here." There, they fell silent.

Hearing this, Hanosuke couldn’t help but shudder. They had been building the coffin to hold Yorimasa’s corpse. And so Lord Yorimasa, tonight as well, was being drawn to this house and seemed to be ensnared by the centenarian Old Woman Kuta, who had transformed into a beautiful maiden resembling waterweed. Moreover, Lord Yorimasa’s life seemed to be slipping away with every passing moment. Coffin! A coffin! Water funeral rite! It seemed they planned to hurl Lord Yorimasa’s corpse into the coffin and sink it into the lake. It was looming imminently before them!

"I can’t just stand by like this." Hanosuke shuffled his feet. The moment he did, a clang rang out. He tripped over something. He realized—but too late. The four coffin-making Water Fox Clan members stood up simultaneously and surged toward him.

"Now that it’s come to this, there’s no helping it. I’ll cut every last one of them down." In an instant, Hanosuke made his decision and pressed his body tightly against the astonishingly thick trunk of the old cedar tree standing there. Unaware of this, the four Water Fox Clan members came running in a tight group. When they closed within three shaku before his eyes, Hanosuke's hand shot out. The Heian-style long spear pierced through the center of the chest of the Water Fox Clan member who had advanced first, swift as lightning. With a dull thud, the first one collapsed, and in the same breath, the spear was already pulled back. Before the retraction could even register, the flipped spear butt pierced the second clansman’s throat. Another thud followed as this one fell too. The two remaining enemies, having realized his presence, turned their heels to flee—but he pursued them relentlessly. With a sweeping strike, he knocked one’s legs out from under him, then leaped over the falling body to pierce the last enemy through the back with a Dengaku thrust.

It was a blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow. He didn’t let a single enemy utter a cry. Hanosuke shuddered with a blood-chilling tremor, then cut straight across the front garden and flew into the ancient-style mansion where Old Woman Kuta dwelled—swift as a soaring swallow.

He climbed the stairs to find a corridor, its far end dominated by a massive cedar door. Placing his hand against it and pulling it open revealed a lightless dark room, through which he pressed onward. Then, from beyond another chamber, the faint glow of lamplight filtered through. Hanosuke crept closer and peered through a gap in the hanging cloth of a standing screen to glimpse inside—only to instinctively recoil in horror. A resplendent large-sleeved kimono in lustrous hues, a blazing crimson obi, a brocade belt embroidered with intricate patterns—her figure suggested a bewitching maiden, yet her head bore silver-white hair and her face was a web of wrinkles: an ancient crone over a century old cradling a samurai in her arms. It was none other than Lord Yorimasa himself—his face gaunt with approaching death, forehead tinged indigo-blue like dye-stained cloth, lips bearing an ashen earthen hue—lying in profound comatose slumber.

Old Woman Kuta threw her mouth wide open and began blowing breath—hoo... hoo... hoo... hoo...—repeatedly across Lord Yorimasa’s face. Each time, Yorimasa twisted in agony. After staring intently, Hanosuke swiftly kicked aside the standing screen and nimbly leaped into the room. Hanosuke perfectly poised his spear.

Even Old Woman Kuta was taken aback, but she flung aside the Lord Yorimasa she had been holding and rose smoothly to her feet. Her height appeared to reach the ceiling, though this was of course an illusion. The two locked eyes. “Insolent whelp!” In a hushed voice, Old Woman Kuta spat her curse, then swiftly rolled up her right furisode sleeve and raised it high above her head. This was her habitual method—the hypnotic secret technique to induce sleep—and she began spinning it with a rapid whirring motion. Once more, Hanosuke teetered on the brink of falling into that terrible snare.

And then, a miracle manifested. The Heian-style long spear—the very one borrowed from the wooden statue of Sousuke Tengu, guardian deity of the Ketsujin—began spinning of its own volition, independent of Hanosuke's will. As the crone's upraised hand rotated leftward again and again, the spear whirled rightward—rightward and ever rightward. This was its attempt to dismantle her hypnotic secret technique.

Hanosuke was astonished, but even more astonished was Old Woman Kuta herself. She stared fixedly at the spear. Anguish twisted her face and terror dawned in her eyes, but suddenly a groan escaped her lips. “Sousuke’s spear! “Sousuke’s spear!” “Ah! Since you wield that spear, you must be one of the Ketsujin!”

However, Hanosuke did not even respond. He pressed forward relentlessly. Pressed by this advance, Old Woman Kuta retreated step by step. Still, the two were glaring at each other. Old Woman Kuta's right hand, which had been held high above her head, suddenly dropped to her side. A spear thrust in the nick of time! It viciously pierced her solar plexus. However, Kuta did not collapse. With both hands, she gripped the spear’s shaft firmly. “Be cursed, you Ketsujin scum!” “You shall know no peace!” “You will never be able to die!” “You will never age!” “The Water Fox Clan’s curse and my curse!” “Suffer! Suffer! Suffer!”

The hag screamed thus—and with that, she breathed her last. Hanosuke, relieved for the first time, slung the unconscious Yorimasa over his back with one arm, gripped his bloodied spear in the other, descended the stairs, and stepped out into the garden.

The settlement was fortunately peacefully asleep. They seemed unaware of such a great disturbance.

And then, Hanosuke quietly withdrew from the Water Fox Clan's settlement. He exited the settlement, emerged into the rice fields, and withdrew along the lakeshore.

The hag’s curse meant nothing to him. That he had rescued Lord Yorimasa, severed the root of evil, and restored his fallen honor—all these things brought him joy.

And so it was that in the predawn hours of that night, he appeared at the main gate of Takashima Castle, his form drenched in blood.

The Scroll of Resentment and Vengeance

1

Ever since Old Woman Kuta had been vanquished by Kagami Hanosuke’s spear-tip, Lord Yorimasa of the Suwa family had been rapidly regaining his vigor. Hanosuke, having fulfilled his mission, brought great honor upon himself. His martial prowess was praised by samurai and townspeople throughout Suwa. The gifts bestowed upon him by the Suwa family were such that even five horses could not carry them all.

Finally having bid farewell to the Suwa family, he was to return to Takato. The Suwa family had a first-rate individual escort him all the way to Takato.

Now, upon arriving in Takato, his achievements had already become widely known through reports. Therefore, it was a tremendous welcome. No matter how much he feigned foolishness, not a single person thought of Hanosuke as a fool anymore. He was idolized and held up as a model by the entire Takato domain. “Lord Hanosuke has returned, I hear.” “Oh! I hear Lord Hanosuke has returned!” “I hear Lord Hanosuke has accomplished great deeds.” “That’s the rumor.” “A splendid thing.”

“He is such an esteemed personage, isn’t he?” “Without doubt, he must be Takato’s foremost.” “Ah—and he is our benefactor too.” “Aye, aye—our benefactor indeed!” “Ever since that noble lord came among us, the youkai have ceased their hauntings, have they not?” “Oh yes—a most blessed turn!” “We must show our gratitude.” “I’ve thought so from the first.” “How might we return this kindness?” “Ah—there lies the rub.”

“We couldn’t possibly offer money…” “He is the chief retainer’s esteemed son—such a thing would be utterly impossible!” “Then we cannot present goods either, can we?” “He would never deign to accept such offerings.” “Father—what if we were to invite him instead? How does that sound?” “Aye, let us host him with a feast.” “I believe that would be most appropriate.” “Indeed, this proposal shows promise.”

Ōtorii Monbee and his daughter Otsuyu had finally settled their discussion here. The next day, Monbee, wearing hakama and haori, went out to the Kagami residence himself. Since returning to his domain, Kagami Hanosuke had been invited by various people and was already thoroughly tired of feasts. So even when invited by Monbee, he wasn’t particularly pleased in his heart. If he refused outright, it would cause friction. So he decided to accept in any case. However, toward Otsuyu, the daughter, he had been feeling a calm affection.

"That girl is beautiful." "And she is wonderfully innocent." "She bears no resemblance to her father." "It would be enjoyable to meet and talk." Such feelings were also at work.

After a day’s interval, he went out to the Ōtorii residence.

The heartfelt dishes prepared with care were still pleasing to him. The host’s sincere attitude and the daughter’s charming hospitality made his heart feel joyful. Above all, the loving glances Otsuyu showed him at every opportunity enraptured his heart. As expected of a wealthy household, there were splendid pieces among the calligraphic works, antiques, and swords, and they showed them without reservation. This too pleased him.

Being alone with Otsuyu in an exquisitely designed tea room where she prepared tea for him was particularly pleasing to Hanosuke. When they wandered through the garden crafted in the Sekishū-ryū tradition under Otsuyu’s guidance, the evening moon climbed to the treetops. “What a beautiful moon…” “Ah, this glorious full moon…” They settled into seats at the pavilion. A flock of small birds nestled among the foliage suddenly burst into noisy song. The excessively bright moonlight must have made them think dawn had arrived.

Before they knew it, the two drew close. The warmth of their bodies passed into each other. The hearts of the two became rapturous.

Suddenly, Otsuyu let out a sigh. And then Hanosuke also let out a sigh.

With a plip, a fish leaped in the spring water.

After that, all was hushed and quiet. They both tried to speak, yet found themselves unable to say anything. The more they tried to speak, the tighter their mouths sealed shut. And so the two remained silent. They were both young and beautiful. Both of them had no experience in love. This was their first love. They gradually grew embarrassed. They turned their faces away from each other. Yet their bodies moved in the opposite direction - toward each other. Their hearts surged fiercely. Then their fingertips trembled faintly, and their bodies grew hot as if burning.

Ⅱ

Still, the two remained silent. As if thinking how dreary it would be if some awkward word were spoken and caused this joyful moment to vanish forever, they remained silent for what seemed an eternity. A man like Hanosuke—who combined youth, beauty, courage, and fame in one person—was truly the ultimate object of love for a maiden like Otsuyu. Moreover, he was no trivial benefactor to her family and especially to her dear father. From that very first glance, Otsuyu had been captured by Hanosuke. As time passed, that affection only intensified. The act of persuading her father to invite Hanosuke to their home had been driven by this burgeoning affection.

Now was the perfect, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her to lay bare her heart. The place was a pavilion in the garden. Right beside her sat the one she loved. It was a beautiful evening under the crescent moon. There was no one else but them.

……However, she was a virgin. And her nature was gentle. She had been raised innocently and purely. How could she directly confess her thoughts to the man she loved? For Hanosuke, until now, this beautiful girl called Otsuyu had been nothing more than a faint object of affection. He would occasionally remember her, only to immediately forget. However, on this day when he had been invited and come, and when he met her, and when she showed him candid displays of affection, for the first time he was seized by a burning passion of love. He had been enticed by her. The window of love had been opened for him.

For one of his disposition, once love stirred his heart, he became like a stone rolling down a slope—knowing no stopping point. ...Seething ambition, a strain of wildness, suppressed passions like those of a dormant volcano—these were his true nature. Yet he remained a virgin. How could he possibly confess his feelings directly to the woman he loved? And so the two stayed silent. Yet both understood each other's hearts perfectly. In their dissatisfaction they found satisfaction, remaining wordless together.

“Hanosuke, come here.”

One day, his father Yuminoshin summoned Hanosuke to his room with these words. “Yes, did you require something?” “You’ve been frequenting the Ōtorii household quite often lately—what do you think you’re doing going there?” At this, Hanosuke’s face flushed, “Well, no—it’s not like that—I was merely…” “Of course, I’m not saying it’s wrong for you to go. Moreover, from their perspective, you are essentially their benefactor, so they must have invited and entertained you. If you’re summoned, you can’t very well refuse. So it’s not bad for you to go, but it does seem you’re overdoing it a bit.”

"I shall take care to be more mindful." "Indeed." "It would be wise to exercise a bit more caution." "You’re highly regarded within the household as well."

Even Hanosuke was surprised by this. “Are you referring to the household’s reputation?” “Oh, it’s nothing. There’s no need to worry.” “You’re now the flower of the household—it’s only natural you’d be talked about, whether for good or ill.” “What sort of rumors might they be?” “Well, that part isn’t amusing... The Ōtorii family is wealthy—and they have a beautiful daughter.” “So they say that if you’re visiting so often with those two aims in mind—”

“—”

“Ahahaha! What nonsense. Though unworthy, our Kagami house holds the chief retainer’s position in this domain—by any measure, an esteemed lineage. Even were the Ōtoriis wealthy, they’re mere peasants—would any man of standing be dazzled by such trifles? And Monbee’s reputation stinks to high heaven.” “Yes, precisely so.” “They say he’s a grasping miser.” “Such are the rumors indeed.” “Now this girl Otsuyu—contrarywise, her repute shines bright. Though I’ve never laid eyes on her myself. They say she’s a beauty, eh?”

“Yes, she is a fine young lady.”

Hanosuke's face flushed. “Even if she were the finest girl imaginable, the disparity in our social standings makes it impossible to take her as your bride. All the more so, I cannot send you to the Ōtorii family as their son-in-law.”

“I have no intention of going there with such motives.”

“That must be the case. “It must be so... Now that this matter stands clear, I’ve no wish to have my unaching belly probed.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“So you shouldn’t visit so frequently.” “I shall take care to be mindful.” “To your martial valor and wisdom, I truly bow my head. “On this matter I’ve nothing more to say. “But there’s one thing you must guard against in the future—the allure of women. “Even the sages of old warned of this very pitfall.” “I shall exercise utmost caution regarding those matters henceforth.”

Hanosuke placed his hands and bowed respectfully.

III

What appears calm on the surface yet in truth burns both body and soul like hellfire is the heart of one’s first love. He had suppressed it.

Since that time, Kagami Hanosuke had been sullen and found no joy. Naturally, his heart could not help but grow heavy with melancholy.

When one left a depressed heart to remain depressed indefinitely, most people would turn violent.

That Hanosuke’s heart grew fiercer day by day was an inevitable outcome. At times, he saw hallucinations. He also often heard “strange voices.” “There shall be no eternal peace!” That strange voice called out to him from nowhere in particular. It was an eerie voice. It was a disembodied voice. And it was also a voice filled with resentment—sorrowful and tragic. And then he felt that the voice was somehow familiar.

There was no lie in these words. In truth, he found himself growing more anxious with each passing day. It was as though an imp lurked in some corner of his mind, scratching at his heart with the tips of its sharp claws—a strange restlessness that left him unable to sit still or stand still. In truth, peace had long since been stripped from his heart.

"What's happening? How strange." Even he had to call this fact strange. He tried to suppress this inexplicable anxiety through sheer willpower. But it proved futile. "Something's cursing me."

At last, he could not help but arrive at this realization. *Certainly, I’ve heard that voice before.* *...Oh! That’s right—it’s Kuta’s voice!* It was indeed unmistakably so. It was unmistakably the voice of Old Woman Kuta’s grudge—she who had led the Water Fox Clan. Old Woman Kuta’s grudge did not end with just this.

Soon, a terrifying incident occurred. And that plunged Hanosuke into the abyss of ruin.

One night, he was engrossed in reading. Then came that voice again. Suddenly, his heart was thrown into turmoil, and he could no longer remain seated. And, opening the door, he went outside. It was a night of the harvest moon at the end of autumn and beginning of winter, but he staggered along. It was when he passed through Mondo-machi and Kataba-dori and arrived at Otsu-machi that a black-robed giant monk walked by in front of him.

When Hanosuke saw the giant monk, he shuddered with a chill. "So you’ve finally shown yourself, you black-robed monk! This one’s undoubtedly the villain!" This was because he had thought this. A murderous intent welled up within him. And so he muffled his footsteps and stealthily approached the giant monk. The next instant, without uttering a word, he delivered a blindside strike—slashing down from behind with a brutal cut. With a "Waa!" a scream erupted, shaking the still night air, and when he looked, there on the ground lay an old man, cleaved clean from his left shoulder to his right flank, now stained crimson and fallen.

“Ah—this isn’t the Black Monk. This is a townsman of the castle town.” Hanosuke gasped in shock, but now there was nothing he could do. Yet here arose a strange phenomenon within his heart... The moment he cut down the old man, the anxiety and restlessness that had coiled like serpents within his breast vanished... His mind became crystal clear, and at the same time, an inexpressible pleasure welled up within him. A tamed wild beast that learns the taste of blood becomes dangerous. For Hanosuke—a man of primal nature—to have discovered the taste of murder was more perilous still.

Not only that, but here another strange phenomenon had occurred. It was the morning after he had committed murder that, upon seeing him rise from bed, his mother Oishi exclaimed—

“Your face looks different from usual.” “Is that true?” “What’s wrong?”

So, Hanosuke looked in the mirror. Indeed, his face was slightly different. His pale complexion grew paler still, his black pupils became ever blacker, his crimson lips turned yet more vivid—a single slender and graceful beautiful boy, more radiant and noble than ever before, was reflected deep within the mirror.

Involuntarily, Hanosuke let out a groan. Then he muttered.

"Strange, strange—what in the world is this?"

...but there was nothing strange about it at all. What was so strange about this? If one feeds meat to a beautiful dog, it becomes even more beautiful. The flowers that bloomed from corpses were more beautiful than other flowers.

Having killed a person and bathed in blood, it was only natural that he had become more beautiful.

IV

The second time he killed a person was in broad daylight, with the sun blazing overhead.

That day, he wandered aimlessly toward Yamate. In the thicket, a bird sang. Wild brambles’ red berries strung like beads, and amidst the grass, insects chirped. It was an exceptionally pleasant day.

Then, on the mountain pass ahead, a lone figure appeared, parting the long susuki grass plumes as they gradually approached. When he looked, it was the Black Monk. Realizing this, Hanosuke had no choice but to deliberate. _A hallucination?_ _The real thing?_ All the while, the Black Monk steadily closed in on him. Before long, they were on the verge of passing one another. At that moment, that voice reached his ears. "You shall know no eternal peace." A chill ran down Hanosuke’s spine, and at the same moment, a seething sense of unease welled up within his heart.

He drew his sword and struck with a diagonal slash. The sun blazed mercilessly. What lay exposed beneath that autumn sun was the corpse of a young woman. "Hmm... So it was just a hallucination after all."

Disillusioned, Hanosuke muttered to himself—yet he felt no regret. Because his spirits had cleared up. For his third victim he killed a courier, for his fourth an old woman, and for his fifth a samurai. Moreover, he was a retainer of the household. Takato Castle Town erupted in chaos. An age of terror had dawned, and the townsfolk were utterly frozen with dread. “Whose deed could this possibly be?”

No one could ascertain the truth.

The clan's samurai formed patrols and began making nightly rounds through the castle town. The consultation to that effect was finalized one month later.

And so, that night as well, the night patrol solemnly made their rounds through the castle town.

It was when they had reached Enjōji’s crossroads that one of the squad members let out a startled cry. When they whirled around at the sound, Shirai Seizaburou lay slain with a diagonal slash across his shoulder, his body drenched in crimson. And right behind him stood Kagami Hanosuke, arms folded in silence. Who had appeared from where, how Seizaburou had been cut down—none among them could discern. Thus, even the painstakingly assembled night patrol had no choice but to disband.

The one who was worried was Suruga no Kami. As was customary, he summoned Hanosuke. “Well now, Hanosuke—another request. “The street killings you’re aware of—they’ve not a single lead on the culprit.” “Therefore, I want you to patrol the city and by all means apprehend the culprit.”

“Ha,” he said, but Hanosuke could not help but give a wry smile. “This case alone may be a bit beyond my capabilities, I fear.”

“Why is that? Why can’t you handle it?” “There’s no particular reason, but I fear the opponent may be a bit too formidable…” “No no, you’ll be just fine.” “However, I beg you… please assign this to someone else…” “No, no—it must be you alone.”

Thus, with no other choice, Hanosuke resolved to obey the lord’s command.

There was a samurai who stood watching intently as he withdrew from the lord’s presence—none other than Matsuzaki Seizaemon, the swordsmanship instructor and guest retainer. “Well now, Seizaemon—Hanosuke is quite the impressive man for his youth, wouldn’t you say?”

Suruga no Kami remarked offhandedly.

“It is precisely as Your Lordship says,” Seizaemon replied listlessly, “However… there are certain aspects I find somewhat… perplexing.” “Unfathomable points?” “What exactly do you mean?” “Lord Hanosuke’s appearance has recently undergone a sudden refinement.”

“Indeed, indeed—that is peculiar.” “It is truly uncanny.” “However, he was a handsome youth to begin with.” “Yes—he was a handsome youth. "And there was a wildness about him. "A terrifying wildness steeped in oppressive bloodlust it was. "A terrifying wildness that could never have been nurtured in Iida or Takato! “And so, though I thought it pitiful, there was an instance where I had refused to take him into my disciples.”

“I’ve caught wind of such rumors myself.”

“However, as of late, something even worse has come to be added on top of that.” “Hmm, you think so? What could that be?” “Yes—it is demonic aura.” Confidently declared Matsuzaki Seizaemon. “What? Demonic aura? This is strange!” “It is truly strange indeed.”

“Yet it does not appear so to my eyes…” “Yet it is most certainly present.” “What aspects strike you as dubious?” “This lies within the realm of intuition. “I cannot give it concrete form through words.” Suruga no Kami tilted his head skeptically. “Still, I find myself unable to credit such claims.”

“You will come to understand in time.”

V

That the lord had ordered Hanosuke—the murderer himself—on how to apprehend the killer was nothing short of laughable irony. Not only did the street killings show no sign of abating, but conversely, their increasing number was so natural as to be almost too natural.

Thus was ushered into Takato Castle Town a true era of terror—a true era without law enforcement.

The moon hung frozen in the winter night sky as the killer who called himself a lawman slipped like a shadow through the midnight town, where even the howling dogs sounded muffled and distant! Beware, people! Take heed! Of his beautiful features! Of his elegant posture! And of his quiet way of walking! For he is not human! For he is a cursed bloodsucking demon!

The snow began falling steadily and silently. The surroundings grew hazy as fog closed in, making even a single ken ahead indistinguishable. Yet people must take heed! For through that hazy fog moves the murderer wrapped in snow-white purity. No no—this is no lie at all! Let doubters leave their homes at dawn’s first light and walk through the castle town. At yonder crossroads, on this thoroughfare, before those gates, along this riverbank—they would see corpses of men and women slashed diagonally, lying scattered. This was proof of the murderer’s passing.

“It seems this particular villain exceeds even Hanosuke’s grasp.”

Yuminoshin, the father, muttered. “Perhaps I should lend a hand.” It was only natural that Yuminoshin, unaware of the circumstances, would think this way.

However, that alone was best avoided. For pursuing it would only lead to the wretched fate of fruitlessly seeking flaws! "This can no longer be ignored."

Someone muttered these words. "If there's no other choice, I'll step in."

That was Matsuzaki Seizaemon. At that time, he was a great swordsman of the realm who—though having no desire for social advancement and staying confined to the small castle town of Takato—remained a master of the Tōgun-ryū school who would not have ranked below third even in Edo. Should this man take action, not even a murderous demon could move freely.

But would he truly act?

That night too, snow was falling.

A single samurai holding up an umbrella walked quietly through the town. Then, from behind, a masked samurai followed after him as if drawn. From Sumi-chō to Mitsusuji-dōri, turning at the intersection into Yabukōji, then passing right through Hanagimachi Midorimachi and beyond Shōten, they walked on until reaching Sakamoto-chō… For over half a period, the two samurai continued their journey, neither closing in nor falling behind.

All the while, the masked samurai made several attempts to draw his sword, but each time he faltered, as though some radiant force emanating from the body of the samurai walking ahead had sapped his resolve, and he could not bring himself to complete the action. Still, the two men continued walking. It was when they had reached the corner of Kiyamachi. Another samurai appeared. He was wearing a woolen cloak.

The samurai in the woolen cloak inserted himself between the umbrella-bearing samurai and the masked samurai. Having perceived this, the masked samurai nonchalantly moved closer. A surge of killing intent seemed to flash forth—yet the masked samurai’s arms already gripped his swords. “Wait!” A flustered shout! The cloaked samurai shouted, but upon hearing this, the masked samurai took a step back. “Oh! You’re Father!” “You damned Hanosuke!” “So it’s you!”

“Forgive me!”

With that cry, the masked samurai—Hanosuke—spun on his heel and fled like a startled hare. The moment a kiai shout of “Hah!” rang out, snow pellets were hurled from the umbrella-bearing samurai’s right hand.

The snow pellets thrown by the expert had the force of a cannonball, and Hanosuke, struck in the back, tumbled and fell—but this was a life-or-death situation. He sprang to his feet and dashed away.

Faced with the utterly unexpected fact，Yuminoshin merely stood like a stick，dumbfounded.

At that moment, someone called out to him.

“Lord Kagami, I can imagine your thoughts.”

Yuminoshin raised his eyes. The umbrella-bearing samurai was standing there. “And what of you? …Oh, Master Matsuzaki!” “When I captured him, it turned out to be my own child... Lord Kagami, you must have been shocked.” “To think Hanosuke would be a traitor… Ah, it’s all but a dream.” Yuminoshin wept tearfully. “I shall absolutely not speak of this to others. When you return home, you should… deal with Lord Hanosuke as you see fit.” The snow grew increasingly fierce. Yuminoshin did not even reply.

Even when he tried to respond, he found himself unable to form the words.

He was the chief retainer of the Naitō family. That a child of such an esteemed lineage could incite such grave events and stir such turmoil was not solely the individual’s fault. The parents of the lineage were equally guilty. In other words, they would have to bear responsibility for the crime of negligent oversight.

Having left a suicide note addressed to Hanosuke, Yuminoshin performed seppuku and perished at the break of dawn that very night.

VI

Yuminoshin’s death was an unnatural death. However, being an esteemed retainer of noble lineage to the Naitō family, they could not permit the household’s extinction. Thus they fabricated his death as illness, and upon concluding the lavish funeral rites, immediately transferred the family headship to Hanosuke.

For a time, there was much discussion within the household regarding Yuminoshin’s death, but as he had been an immensely respected and beloved figure during his lifetime, no voices of criticism were heard. And thus, in the end, not a single soul knew the true cause of his suicide. The only ones who knew of it were Matsuzaki Seizaemon and Hanosuke alone. Hanosuke, upon seeing the suicide note addressed to himself after his father’s death, felt ashamed and could not help but weep.

“...Knowing you are the Street Killer, I cannot continue living. To atone for my child’s sin, this father shall commit seppuku with resolve. Thus your transgression is erased. You must not follow your father’s path. You must never die. Now at death’s threshold, I shall reveal a fragment of the secret concerning your origins. Though your registered father is Minamijō Ukon of Iida’s household—this is false. Your true parents lie elsewhere. Yet even I know not their identities. Still, there exists reason for your adoption into the Kagami family as Minamijō’s child. A proper lineage exists. The sole keeper of this knowledge is my dear friend Amano Kitayama, guest retainer to our lord. You may question him. I hasten to death; I cannot speak further. [...]”

This was the gist of the suicide note.

And then, one day Hanosuke visited Kitayama.

After silently reading through the suicide note, Kitayama quietly closed his eyes. “Lord Yuminoshin wrote something he shouldn’t have.” Before long, Kitayama said. “And why might that be?” Hanosuke asked suspiciously. “If you ask why—it’s simply not so.” “However…”

Having said that, Kitayama once again fell into deep thought, “That might be where that man’s virtue lies.” “Keeping you deceived forever must have been painful for that man.” “Whose child am I?”

“As it says here, even I don’t understand it.” “If forced to say—a mountain child.” “What? You mean... a mountain child?” “A mountain child is precisely that—there’s no other way to phrase it.” “But let me explain in sequence.” “...Lord Yuminoshin had a child named Hanosuke during that era.”

“Ah, is that so?” “However, he passed away young due to illness. At the moment of his death, it is said that he shouted, ‘A replacement will come! A replacement will come! The next one to come will be even greater!’” “What mysterious words those are.” “One day, Lord Yuminoshin and I went to Mount Hachibuse for a mountain excursion. It was the height of autumn, with the entire mountain’s foliage ablaze in crimson—a truly magnificent sight—when suddenly a large bear came charging up from the valley. Then, from immediately behind that bear, a single child came running. Despite Shinano’s autumn chill, the child wore nothing but a pelt wrapped around his waist. However, on his feet he wore leather tabi, and in his hand he gripped a mountain knife. The child and the large bear grappled with tremendous force. And then the child finished off the bear. Upon finishing it off, he collapsed unconscious.”

“He didn’t die, did he?” Hanosuke asked anxiously. “He didn’t die—he fainted. Strangely enough, when he regained consciousness, he stared intently at Lord Yuminoshin and cried out, ‘Father!’ Then he fainted again. And when he awoke from that faint, the child had forgotten his past.” “How mysterious.” “If you call it mysterious, then it is mysterious—but if you say it isn’t, then you could also say it isn’t. In Western medicine, this state is called mental conversion. That is, he completely forgot his past, and from the moment he awoke from his faint, a new life began... Recognizing this, Lord Yuminoshin said to me thus: ‘This must indeed be the replacement that Hanosuke prophesied. As proof, when he saw me, he called me “Father.” Therefore, I shall take this child in and adopt him.’ At that point, I said this: ‘That is a splendid idea. However, taking him in and raising him immediately as things stand would bring great misfortune in the future both for the Kagami family and for this child himself. Given that he was a mountain child of unknown parentage, how could this align with your lordship’s intentions? It would be far better to entrust him to an acquaintance and have them formally adopt him as their own child.’... As a result, Lord Yuminoshin explained the circumstances to Lord Nanjo Ukon and decided to place the child in his care. Having told you this much up to now, you must have guessed—that mountain child is none other than you yourself, Lord Hanosuke.”

Seven

This explanation from Kitayama was an astonishment to Hanosuke. He neither doubted nor grieved. Yet ultimately, he had no choice but to believe Kitayama’s words. But even so, the adoptive father’s kindness—having raised a mountain child like him, of unknown parentage, with such affection—was truly profound. Yet he had caused that adoptive father to meet a violent death. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry"—he regretted this from the depths of his heart. There was no other way to make amends. I will simply become an admirable person. That would be the greatest repayment of your kindness.

From that day forth, he diligently honed both martial and scholarly arts, astonishing all who witnessed him with each endeavor. Perhaps because there were no vulnerabilities to exploit in his great courageous heart, the Black Monk did not appear, nor did that strange voice proclaiming “Permanent peace and tranquility shall not exist!” come to be heard. And so his life thereafter flowed peacefully. However, just once, a mystery had assailed him.

It was a day in late spring when he was invited to a cherry-blossom viewing banquet by Ōtorii Monbee. He set out. After a long absence, he reunited with Otsuyu, Monbee’s daughter, received heartfelt hospitality, felt his gloomy spirits suddenly lift, and spent a pleasant day—but as most guests had dispersed, he prepared to leave. Lingering reluctantly over the evening cherry blossoms, he strolled alone into the garden and made his way toward the pavilion.

Then someone—a young woman—was weeping inside the pavilion. When he approached and looked, it was Otsuyu. Though he had avoided romance with Otsuyu due to his late father’s admonitions, this was merely superficial. In his heart, he remained as filled with longing for her as ever. Before his very eyes appeared the tear-drenched figure of his lover—not as a dream but in reality, with no one to hinder them—standing alone. It must be said it was only natural that his heart blazed up in that instant, that he rushed forward heedless of consequence, and clasped Otsuyu’s shoulders.

“What sorrow makes you weep?” His voice trembled.

Otsuyu said nothing. She simply remained still, being held.

In such moments, nothing is more powerful than silence. In such moments, silence—that is indeed eloquent. "Otsuyu loves me. She’s crying because of that love."

Hanosuke thought this. And that was indeed true.

Ever since Hanosuke, who used to visit frequently, had stopped appearing altogether, Otsuyu’s love had turned to sorrow. As days and months passed, that sorrow deepened. For a certain type of woman, the absence of her lover’s visage serves to make her forget that love. At the very least, it causes that love to fade. But for a certain type of woman, it brings about the opposite result.

Otsuyu was unfortunately the latter. After Hanosuke disappeared from sight, true love had begun.

That lover had appeared before her today after a long absence. The longing she had endured—the sorrow she had borne—it was only natural for them to burst forth all at once. Yet she was a virgin. She could not bring herself to confess that longing and sorrow directly to the man she loved. And so, she had come to the pavilion to weep, avoiding prying eyes. Hanosuke’s hand firmly held Otsuyu’s shoulder. For her, this was an entirely unexpected happiness. It seemed as though all the happiness in the world had descended upon her at once. The shadow of sorrow vanished from her heart in an instant. Her body and soul began to go numb.

"The feeling of 'I could die here content' that arises in a person’s heart occurs precisely in moments such as this."

And then, one of Hanosuke’s hands gently came to rest on Otsuyu’s chin. Her face, attempting to rise quietly, was gently lifted upward by the guiding hand, and four eyes burning with passion hungrily devoured each other. Hanosuke’s face gradually lowered toward Otsuyu’s. Otsuyu trembled with ecstasy. She parted her lips softly and waited in readiness for her lover’s lips that should naturally meet them there.

Voices could be heard from the main house, but there was no sign of anyone coming this way. The two were literally alone. The promise of love is coming soon!

At that moment, a hoarse woman’s voice was heard from right beside them. “Animal Realm!” “Animal Realm!” It was such a voice.

Startled, Hanosuke released the hands he had been mercilessly holding.

He swiftly scanned his surroundings but saw no trace of anyone fitting that description. "Hmm?" he muttered, then abruptly rolled up his sleeve. On this arm where tooth marks should have been, not a single one remained—instead appeared an even more dreadful woman's face, eyes wide open and lips contorted in a sneer. "Human-Faced Carbuncle!" As he shouted, Hanosuke drew his kozuka dagger and plunged it forcefully into the face. Blood sprayed out with searing pain—and in that instant, the human visage vanished as twenty tooth marks reappeared.

Eight

Then, not long afterward, strange occurrences began happening one after another. This, too, was related to the twenty tooth marks on his upper arm—and the target was none other than Monbee.

In other words, each time he encountered Monbee, the twenty tooth marks would transform into the Human-Faced Carbuncle and cry out in this manner.

“Kill that man!”

Then, strangely enough, Hanosuke found himself hating Monbee, a surge of murderous intent welling up within him. However, even he did not go so far as to draw his sword and cut him down.

"What with these tooth marks and this Human-Faced Carbuncle—nothing but terrifying things cling to me." "I am a cursed human." And yet he continued to think.

"The Ōtorii family and I might have some connection. What on earth could that relationship be? It is undoubtedly a bad relationship. If I could know the self that existed before my spiritual transformation, I might understand that relationship too." However, he could not know the self that existed before his spiritual transformation.

"In any case, I will absolutely never set foot in the Ōtorii family’s home. "I’ll forget my love for Otsuyu as well."

And so, he carried out this resolution with a strong will.

Spring departed completely, and early summer arrived.

And thus, midsummer was approaching.

Due to the sankin-kōtai system, Suruga no Kami had to depart for Edo.

Along the Kōshū Kaidō’s fifty-three ri, the daimyō procession departed splendidly for Edo in mid-May. The upper residence in Edo was located in Shikokuchō, Shiba Mita, and the entire group arrived successfully without deviating from the scheduled date in the slightest.

Hanosuke was among the procession. For him, Edo was entirely new—everything he saw and heard seemed novel—and whenever he found time, he would leave the tenement to roam around observing the city’s sights. Summer departed, and early autumn arrived.

Around that time, Monbee and Otsuyu came to Edo for sightseeing. In Shiba, they had rented a suitable house in Mita’s Teramachi, where even there they found themselves without a single peaceful day due to sightseeing around the city. However, there were truly two reasons why the two had come to Edo.

After Hanosuke had withdrawn once more, Otsuyu’s anguish became something Monbee found too pitiful to witness. After Hanosuke had left for Edo accompanying the lord, she took to her sickbed. And it had reached the point where it seemed she would surely die if left untreated. "If I take her to Edo, where Lord Hanosuke resides, perhaps her spirits might lift," "And if she could meet him occasionally, her illness would surely be cured."

With this thought, Monbee brought Otsuyu and came to the great city of Edo. Moreover, Monbee had another reason for coming to the capital: he had secretly received a messenger from Mori Tatewaki—a 5,000-koku hatamoto who was Suruga no Kami’s biological younger brother and had been adopted into the Mori family—compelling him to make the journey.

For Hanosuke, their coming to Edo was both torment and temptation. He still harbored strong feelings of love toward Otsuyu. Meeting and conversing with her was undeniably pleasurable. Yet simultaneously agonizing. What should I do about these cursed words? “Beast realm! “Beast realm!” “Kill that man!”

What was he to do about this Human-Faced Carbuncle on his upper arm that sneeringly whispered?

It was his day off, but Hanosuke wandered the city streets and only began his journey home once night had fallen.

It was when Hanosuke had come to the rear gate of Dutch physician Ōtsuki Genkei’s residence in Atagoshita 3-chome—a man highly regarded in society at the time—that a palanquin had been set down. Then, the back gate creaked open, and an elderly man appeared. When he looked, it was Ōtorii Monbee. While thinking, "This is strange," Hanosuke quickly hid in the shadow of a tree and intently observed the situation. Unaware of this, Monbee, holding a small long box in his hand, swiftly stepped into the palanquin. Then the palanquin floated into the air and immediately began moving forward with a soft rustling sound.

"What business could Monbee possibly have had visiting a Dutch physician through the rear gate at such a late hour?" After thinking this, Hanosuke felt unable to make sense of it. Therefore, he resolved to follow the palanquin.

The palanquin proceeded east and ever eastward through Edo’s city center in the depths of night. In terms of today’s route, it would be said that the palanquin went from Atagochō to Sakurada Hongō, then from Uchisaiwaichō to Hibiya Park, exited Sukiyabashi into Owari-chō, continued southeastward, turned northeast from Nihonbashi, and pressed steadily onward through Sudachō to Ueno Park. Furthermore, from there, Monbee’s palanquin proceeded toward Negishi, and around what seemed like dawn, it arrived at a splendid mansion.

“What in the world is this? Isn’t this Lord Tatewaki’s villa?” Hanosuke, who had been following behind, muttered in surprise.

Nine

Though dawn had broken, it being an autumn night meant the light was slow to brighten completely. Suruga no Kami’s lower villa stood in Inari Lane of Negishi—a mere half-chō from Mori Tatewaki’s lower villa—where his beloved concubine Lady Oishi resided with their two sons. The eldest, Lord Kinichirō, being child of the legal wife who bore no heirs himself, was destined to inherit the Naitō family line. At fourteen years of age that year, though unremarkable in martial skill, he possessed keen scholarly inclinations.

They passed through the hallway and headed toward the rear courtyard. In the exquisitely appointed bedroom, a silk-shaded lamp glowed faintly. Illuminated by that light, the resplendent bedding was visible, yet peeking out from its edge was Lord Kinichirō’s refined sleeping face.

And then, at that moment, an extremely faint flute-like sound could be heard. No—it didn't seem to be a flute. It was the sound of something resembling a flute. When one strained to listen, it seemed present; when attention wavered, it vanished. That faint noise gradually drew nearer. Yet where it originated or which direction it approached from remained unknowable. Still, bit by bit, the sound appeared to creep toward the bedroom.

Lord Kinichirō was sleeping. The attendants in the next room were also indulging in dreams at dawn. And so, not a single soul heard the faint, flute-like sound.

Then, was there truly not a single person who could hear that flute-like mysterious sound?

There was no one inside the lower villa.

However, there was one person outside the lower villa who had chanced to hear it.

It was none other than Hanosuke. Hanosuke had followed the palanquin to this Negishi area, but when he saw that the palanquin carrying Monbee was entering the Mori family’s lower villa, he stood there in a daze for some time. Eventually regaining his senses, he turned on his heel and walked off absentmindedly toward his lord Suruga no Kami’s lower villa. It was when he had reached the exact midpoint between Suruga no Kami’s lower villa and the Mori Tatewaki family’s lower villa that he heard a faint, faint flute-like sound cross the ground before his eyes and dart toward Suruga no Kami’s villa.

"What could that be?" he wondered suspiciously, straining his ears and listening intently to the sound. The sound gradually faded into the distance. Then, before long, it vanished completely.

While feeling a vague sense of dread, he remained standing there for some time. "Oh, what's this?" he muttered, then deliberately moved forward and pressed his face close to the ground. There lay something white and glowing. Like a silken thread, it stretched out in a single long line, linking the Tatewaki family's lower villa with Suruga no Kami's lower villa in a straight path.

“Lime, perhaps?” he muttered, putting some on his finger and sniffing it, then let out a startled “Ah!” A powerful stench pierced his nose and seeped deep into his brain—this foul odor that induced nausea was indescribably unpleasant.

With a nod, Hanosuke took out a tissue from his pocket, pinched the white powder between his fingers, and meticulously deposited it inside. Then he quietly began his return journey.

That night ended, and morning came. Lord Kinichirō, who was always an early riser, did not wake that particular morning. The attendant, finding this suspicious, quietly slid open the fusuma screen to look. Lord Kinichirō had emerged halfway from his bedding’s collar, both hands clutching at empty air, lying dead with eyes rolled back white.

This was truly no small blow to the Naitō family. With the heir apparent having met an unnatural death, it was a disgrace even to their superiors.

“Whose doing is this?!” “How was he killed?” “No stab wounds or slash wounds.”

“Not a single drop of blood had been spilled.” “There were no signs suggestive of poisoning.” “There was no evidence suggestive of strangulation.” “A bizarre murder—a death shrouded in doubt.” In both the upper villa and lower villa, people exchanged uneasy whispers. Hanosuke was in a room of his home, glaring at the white powder inside the tissue as he stared. “The great secret of the young lord’s assassination must lie within this powder.” He muttered this under his breath.

"A flute-like exquisite sound! How strange—utterly strange! Whose sound could that have been?"

10

In the middle of Sannomaru-machi in the castle town of Takato, Ina District of Shinano Province stood Amano Kitayama's residence. One day, Kitayama and his disciple Maeda Ichigaku were discussing matters. "Doctor, isn't this strange?" Ichigaku said. "I hear there are neither stab nor slash wounds." "Hmm," Kitayama crossed his arms. "They say there's no sign of poisoning either." "And they say it wasn't heart failure." "No evidence of strangulation either." "Then how did he pass away?"

“I don’t know.” “I don’t know.”

“How truly mysterious this matter is.”

“If you call it mysterious, then mysterious it is—but fundamentally, there are no such things as mysteries in this world. If I shine the light of science upon it, I ought to be able to understand anything.”

“Then why could Lord Kinichirō have passed away?” “Well, that I don’t know yet.” “But just now, Doctor, you said that if we shine the light of science on it, we could understand anything…” “Yeah, that’s right—I did say that… If I could closely examine Lord Kinichirō’s body, I’d surely determine the cause of death using the Dutch medicine I practice. But I have not seen it. The incident occurred at the Edo mansion—I’ve only heard rumors about it. Even with clairvoyance, one wouldn’t know—the Edo incident can’t be understood from Takato.”

"That is most reasonable." Ichigaku gave an embarrassed, wry smile. "But," Kitayama suddenly lowered his voice as if wary of being overheard, "But there are things I do understand." "Ah, what might that be?" "The purpose behind this incident—"

“The purpose behind Lord Kinichirō’s killing?”

“Ichigaku! “This is a clan dispute!” “Well, I don’t quite understand, but...” “Who was the heir to our clan again?” "That would be Lord Kinichirō, who had passed away." “Now that Lord Kinichirō has passed away, who is next?” “Would it be Lord Kinjirō, the second son?”

“If Lord Kinjirō were to pass away?” “Doctor! What are you saying?! That’s an extremely ill-omened thing to say!” “Now, this is a hypothetical scenario.… After Lord Kinjirō’s passing, who would succeed the Naitō family?” “There is no one left to succeed.” “In other words, it’s because Lord Suruga no Kami has only two children, I suppose?” “That is indeed what it means.”

“However, if there is no heir, the Naitō family will be extinguished.”

“This is a grave matter indeed.” “It’s a grave matter. An unthinkable one. Therefore, by any means necessary, they must urgently bring in an heir from another branch.” “Ah, would it be through adoption?” “Yeah, that’s right—from close relatives. From the closest relatives.” “This is entirely reasonable.”

“But who would be the Naitō family’s closest relative?” “Well,” he said after pondering, “it would be Lord Mori Tatewaki.” “That’s right—Lord Mori Tatewaki.”

Having said this, Kitayama smiled subtly, but—

“Well?” he said, urging him on. “Do you understand now? “Do you grasp the meaning of this clan conflict?”

“Yes... However, I still—” “My, my—you still don’t understand?” “I’m afraid it makes no sense to me at all.”

“You’re slow-witted. Huh, Ichigaku?” “My foolishness has been with me since long ago...”

“Your mind’s especially dull today.” “My, my… You do have such a sharp tongue.”

“You’re constipated today, aren’t you?” “No, that is not the case at all.” “Oh, come on—that’s right, you’re definitely constipated.” “And why might that be?” “Constipation makes you stupid.”

“Oh, so we’re back to that after all.” “Drink the castor oil.” “Castor oil.” “Very well, I shall drink it.”

“Ahahaha! That’s more like it!”

He had been laughing amusedly, but suddenly Kitayama turned serious, "This is somewhat confidential, but I'll share it only with you." "During the previous sankin-kōtai period, I accompanied our lord to Edo." "Then one day, a messenger came from Lord Tatewaki and summoned me." "Ah, is that so?"

“So I promptly attended upon him.”

“Was that an amusing story, perhaps?”

“However, there was one fellow guest.” “Ah, who might that have been?” “A famous Dutch-studies physician in Edo—you must at least know the name—a man named Ōtsuki Genkei.” 一一

“Yes, I am well acquainted with the name.” “Judging by Lord Tatewaki’s demeanor, he appears quite intimate with Genkei.” “But let us set that aside. Now, regarding that occasion... matters veered into dangerous territory. To put it plainly, our discussion blossomed into talk of poison.” “What manner of poison could kill someone without leaving traces afterward—such was our topic.” “I see—this is most alarming.” “So I made my excuses, took my leave, and returned home—though it left an ill feeling in my heart.” Kitayama fell silent for a moment before continuing— “What say you now? Do you still fail to grasp the meaning of this clan strife I speak of?”

"Yes, it seems I've vaguely comprehended it now." Ichigaku nodded for the first time. "So I'm concerned—please make certain nothing befalls Lord Second Son Kinjirō." "This is truly worrisome." "I've been anxiously awaiting whether anyone might relay more detailed information about this recent Edo incident..."

At that moment, the sliding door opened quietly, and the maid appeared. “A courier from Edo has arrived.” “A courier from Edo? Ah—most welcome! I’ve been waiting for this! Have him shown to the rear garden immediately.” “Understood.” After the maid had left, Amano Kitayama stood up. When he came to the rear garden and looked around Yamagishi Sahei—a familiar young retainer of the Kagami family—was waiting respectfully.

“Ah, if it isn’t Sahei! Well done indeed.” “Well done indeed.” “Hah!” With that utterance, he stepped forward and drew a document from his pocket, “This document was entrusted to me by my master Hanosuke to deliver to you in secret. Kindly take a look.” “Ah, I see. Let me examine it.” “Next,” said Yamagishi Sahei as he once again reached into his pocket and produced a small package. “This too was entrusted to me by my master. Kindly inspect both items together.”

“Ah, I see. Well done, well done. You must be exhausted—go and rest.”

Having left those words behind, Kitayama abruptly entered his own room.

When he opened the document and read through it, it contained the following message. “*[Omitted preamble]* I write in haste. Regarding Lord Kin’ichirō’s unexpected passing—the entire household finds itself plunged into profound grief, yet no words suffice to express it. That very night, though by chance occurrence, I encountered two or three strange incidents of such perplexing nature that I humbly seek your esteemed opinion. I have listed them below.”

On that day, being off duty, I left home and wandered through the city. As midnight approached and I began my return journey, having reached Atagoshita, I observed a single palanquin being discreetly lowered at the rear gate of Dutch physician Ōtsuki Genkei's residence. When I glanced casually, I saw an elderly man about to board it. Yet most unexpectedly, this elderly man proved to be none other than Ōtorii Monbee—whom you yourself know well. Deeming this suspicious, I followed after him, only to witness Monbee's palanquin enter Negishi and disappear within the estate of Lord Tatewaki—our lord's own blood brother. Though this struck me as profoundly strange, having no alternative course of action, I resolved to turn back. But just as I began retracing my steps, an eerie melody resembling flute music suddenly welled up from the grassland ahead—vanishing instantaneously—an incomprehensible mystery. Upon examining the grassland, I discovered a trail of pure white powder resembling cosmetic powder, stretching in an unbroken line from Lord Tatewaki's estate all the way to our lord's secondary residence.

Growing increasingly suspicious, I plucked some of that white powder and brought it back to my residence; however, the item I presented to you in a separate packet is none other than that very white powder. Thus, when the next day arrived, Lord Kin’ichirō met with an unnatural death. Being struck by an eerie sensation and finding myself utterly unable to comprehend this matter, I now seek your esteemed opinion. Regarding the white powder resembling face powder, I humbly request that you conduct a most rigorous investigation. "[...]" “Hmm... Extraordinary. This is suspicious.”

After finishing reading, Kitayama tilted his head in deep thought. Then he slowly stood up and entered the laboratory. First he firmly closed the room’s door, then lit a fire in the hearth. Then he cut the string of the oil-paper package sent by Hanosuke, took out the white powder, and held it to his nose to sniff quietly. "There’s an odor. It’s a strange smell." He pondered for a while but muttered, “I can’t determine what kind of smell this is.”

Then he stood up, went to the shelf, and pulled out a test tube. He put in the white powder and poured in water, then added to it a purple-colored liquid.

Then, he applied the test tube to the fire.

However, there was no reaction at all. “This won’t do.” "Then let's try this one." Having said this, he poured another chemical into the test tube once again. Then, he applied it to the fire again. As expected, there was still no reaction at all. An indescribable look of bewilderment appeared on Kitayama’s face, but even a Dutch-trained physician of his caliber apparently could not determine the nature of the white powder. 一二 However, for Amano Kitayama, simply declaring it beyond his comprehension and abandoning the matter was utterly unthinkable at this juncture.

"If we assume Lord Morita Tatewaki to be the instigator of this clan dispute, then those implicated—Ōtorii Monbee and Ōtsuki Genkei—would include one of Japan’s foremost Dutch-style physicians, referred to as either Amano of Shinano or Ōtsuki of Edo, who stands as my equal. Undoubtedly, this white powder here must have been provided by that Ōtsuki and used in the mysterious incident of Lord Kin’ichirō’s murder. Whether it’s poison or something else—in any case, it’s no ordinary substance. Yet if I cannot determine what this is, I, Kitayama, will lose face. No matter what, I have to identify this by any means necessary."

However, the more he rushed, the less he could ascertain about the white powder.

"This can't go on like this." "I must go to Edo. I must go to Edo." "I must either meet Ōtsuki directly or devise some other means—but by all costs, I must identify the nature of this white powder as soon as possible."

“Ichigaku! Ichigaku! Come here at once!” “Hah!” With that brisk acknowledgment, Maeda Ichigaku entered wearing an utterly blank expression.

“We’re off to Edo. Get everything ready!” “A trip to Edo? What’s this about?” “You’re coming too. Hurry! Hurry!” Ichigaku was well aware of his master’s impetuous nature. Without even attempting to inquire about the reason, they set about preparing for the journey—not waiting until the next day—and the two departed Takato that very day.

Meanwhile, even after sending a courier to Kitayama, Kagami Hanosuke could not banish from his thoughts the secondary residence of his lord located in Negishi. On days when he was off duty, he would spend nearly the entire day aimlessly wandering around the vicinity of the secondary residence, keeping watch.

Since that day was also his day off, he left the house aimlessly and headed toward Negishi. He came to check the secondary residence but found nothing unusual. Then he proceeded directly to Asakusa. Asakusa, always bustling, was exceptionally lively that day as well, and the area around Okuzama was so crowded with jostling shoulders and clattering carts that it was difficult to walk. Small plays, magic tricks, spectacles, acrobatics—from the performance booths came the lively clamor of musical instruments, while from the applauding spectators rose the sound of clapping hands.

“Not bad.” *Lively.* Muttering such things to himself, he made his way through the crowd.

Then, one performance booth caught his curiosity. “Yatsugatake Mountain Man” The sign bore those words, and the three characters “Yatsugatake” filled him with irrepressible nostalgia. He paid the entrance fee and stepped inside. The sparse crowd suggested poor attendance. Ill-timed for intermission, the stage lay curtained. Restless, he half-listened to spectators’ murmurs. “So what’s this? Call him Mountain Man all you like—ain’t no supernatural beast after all.” A burly man who looked like a craftsman addressed his companion.

“That’s why we were so let down, I tell ya. He’s just a regular human, ain’t he? See, when they say ‘Mountain Man,’ we figured he’d have hair draggin’ down to his feet, stand eight feet tall with a cry like a nue’s wail—that kinda freakshow. But this’s just plain stupid—ain’t nothin’ but a regular human!”

“Even so, it ain’t half bad,” another companion chimed in. “Jumpin’ from one end of this five-ken-wide stage to th’other in a single bound—that kinda agility ain’t no human feat, I tell ya!” “Well, that one sure flabbergasted us too,” the craftsman conceded. “Moved exactly like a monkey, he did.”

“Now that you mention it—the way he handled that terrifying serpent measurin’ three ken long like some trinket—that arm of his was somethin’ else.” “And seems he knows martial arts too—the way he swung that staff ain’t no ordinary man’s work.” “But look—eyes, ears, nose, mouth—just a regular human, ain’t he? Not a monster—where’s the fun in that?”

At that moment, a clack-clack of wooden clappers could be heard from behind the curtain. Soon, the curtain swished open, revealing the entire stage—where at its center stood a large iron cage, inside which loomed an enormous bear. “Whoa! It’s a wild bear! A wild bear!” “They’re gonna wrestle the bear!” “Don’t let it outta sight! Don’t let it outta sight!” The spectators all cheered at once.

Then appeared an old man of bizarre countenance. "That's bad! It's Gramps!" "No—is that elderly man truly going to wrestle a bear?" "Stop it, Gramps! Dangerous! Dangerous!" Once more the spectators raised their voices in clamorous shouts.

13 Yet the old man did not flinch in the slightest, standing composedly at center stage. His appearance—clad in a sleeveless boar-skin vest, kuzu-fiber mountain trousers, a short sword about one shaku long at his waist, and leather tabi socks—was rough yet dignified, radiating an air that defied mockery. And so, the spectators gradually quieted down, and the inside of the booth took on a solemn air.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the audience—before the bear sumo begins, there is something I wish to say.” When the old man suddenly declared this in a loud, gravelly voice, the spectators started in surprise. “It concerns nothing else.”

The old man immediately continued afterward. “I wish to speak about the status of us Mountain Men." "My name is Sugi Uemon, and I am the leader of this troupe." “Though we call ourselves Mountain Men in a word, to state it correctly, we are Ketsujin.” “And our dwelling is in Shinshū Suwa, in the Yatsugatake mountains.” “Furthermore, our ancestor was named Sousuke—a castle lord during the Heian period—and even now, he should still exist somewhere as a tengu of the demon realm.” “By nature, we Ketsujin have a code that forbids us from associating with you general surface dwellers—and why? Because surface dwellers are villains, liars, swindlers, unkind, shallow, fools, frauds, thieves… lowly beings…”

“Shut up!”

Suddenly, a shouting voice welled up from the stands. “What nonsense are you spewing, you damn beast! Don’t you dare spout such drivel! If you keep hurling these vile insults, we’ll tear this booth to splinters!” “That’s right! That’s right!” Voices rose in agreement from all sides. “If you despise the surface world so much, why’d you come down here?!”

“There is a reason for that.” “This arose from the hateful, terrifying deceptions of surface dwellers—to speak plainly, my daughter was abducted by a surface dweller named Tashirou.” “Moreover, that man stole the golden armor from the sacred object of Sousuke Tengu, whom we revere, thereby causing us to incur divine wrath.” “Thus have we been forced to descend the mountains, wander this detested surface world, stoop even to carnival tricks to appease these loathsome surface dwellers, and live reduced to this pitiful, wretched state.”

“Serves you right!” “Good riddance!” The crowd surged again. “However,” Sugi Uemon raised his hand to quell them, “the time has come at last for that vile Tashirou’s flourishing fortune to meet its end.” “Moreover, his life shall be severed by my own child.” “Karmic retribution! Divine punishment made manifest—how dreadful!” “How dreadful indeed!” “Once our vengeance is fulfilled, we shall forsake this surface world and return to the demon realm upon Mount Yatsugatake’s peaks, there to live in peace and freedom.” “Naturally, this means bidding farewell to you people of the surface.” “This parting draws nigh—within mere days.” “Oh joyous day! Oh joyous day!” “Thus today, we shall specially demonstrate the Ketsujin’s valor and savagery.” “To us, bears and boars are cherished comrades.” “The sight of these comrades wrestling and sporting shall surely entertain even you foolish surface-dwellers.” “Truly, your surface-dweller idiocy defies all remedy…”

“Get lost, old man!”

And now, the spectators were about to rise en masse.

Then suddenly, Sugi Uemon called out toward the backstage. “Come on out, Iwataro!”

“Yes, sir!”

A voice responded in acknowledgment, but suddenly, a single burly man leapt swiftly onto the stage. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, with only a pelt wrapped around his waist and his bulging muscles unabashedly exposed. His broad chest and towering shoulders suggested a height of roughly five feet eight inches, while his peach-hued skin evoked a youth’s complexion rather than a man’s. “Hah!”

With a shout, he wrenched the cage door open with both hands.

Scroll of Edo City’s Frenzy

I

From the sideshow tent in Asakusa Okuyama, Hanosuke returned to his mansion.

An unexpected person was waiting. The Dutch-trained physician Amano Kitayama and his disciple Maeda Ichigaku were waiting in the parlor.

“Oh! Dr. Kitayama!”

Hanosuke happily bowed politely.

“I see you’ve come as well, Mr. Maeda.” “Lord Hanosuke—we’ve examined it.” Kitayama spoke with uncharacteristic urgency. “Let me come directly to the point—you were kind enough to send that letter and mysterious white powder recently.” “First, allow me to express my gratitude.” “However—regarding that white powder you sent—I’ve been utterly unable to determine its nature.” “Ah,” Hanosuke responded with feigned surprise, “how extraordinary that even a physician of your stature cannot comprehend it.”

“Well, I was quite disappointed myself,” said Kitayama. “And grew deeply pessimistic. But I couldn’t just leave it at that. That’s why I brought Ichigaku and rushed here.” He leaned forward intently. “...Which brings me to my plan—I intend to have Ichigaku infiltrate Genkyō’s residence.” “Ah,” Hanosuke interjected, his eyes narrowing slightly. “So you suspect Ōtsuki Genkyō then, Doctor?” “Precisely—he reeks of suspicion.” Kitayama stroked his chin before continuing bluntly: “To speak plainly—Lord Kin’ichirou’s death was no accident. It was sacrificial fodder for the Naitō family’s internal power struggle.” He held up two fingers. “And though it pains me to say—your own younger brother Lord Tatewaki stands at this turmoil’s epicenter.” Seeing Hanosuke’s startled expression, he quickly added: “Now hear me out—there’s sound reasoning here. But let me unravel this thread properly.” “Two collaborators enable this scheme—Genkyō and Ōtorii Monbee.” Kitayama’s voice turned icy. “Monbee’s involvement I deduced from your letter—a conjecture matching his vile character. The man’s entire lineage stinks of deceit! How he amassed such wealth? That alone warrants investigation.” “Consider this—” He slammed his palm on the tatami. “The night Monbee visited Genkyō’s mansion alone in a closed palanquin? When he stopped at Lord Tatewaki’s estate afterward? That very night Young Lord Kin’ichirou met his unnatural end! Partner or accomplice matters not—their connection is undeniable.” Leaning closer, he lowered his voice: “As for the white powder—it’s poison, no doubt. Yet here’s the rub—” His finger traced an invisible line between floor mats. “The Mori and Naitō mansions lie far apart, yet this powder formed a straight path between them? For poison? That defies reason.”

“Hmm, this does seem a bit odd.” “Even if someone scatters poison on the ground, people’s lives aren’t taken that way.” “But in any case, there’s no doubt this white powder is suspicious.” “According to your letter, along the path of this white powder, there was an exquisite flute-like sound heard—but I still don’t understand that part yet.” “But once we understand the nature of this white powder, even those matters will naturally become clear.” “In any case, the only person capable of producing such a mysterious white powder—at least in Edo—should be none other than Ōtsuki Genkyo.” “Given that, above all else, it is necessary to send someone into Genkyo’s house to investigate the situation and examine the pharmacy.” “Now, Genkyo and I are in the same profession and are acquainted.” “Therefore, it is absolutely impossible for me to move in.” “Fortunately, Ichigaku has never had even a single acquaintance with Genkyo.” “Therefore, I intend to have Ichigaku move in and urgently investigate the situation.” “We can’t afford to dawdle—if we remain carelessly complacent, the second young lord will be targeted again.”

“Huh?” Hanosuke widened his eyes. “When you speak of the second son, you mean Lord Kinjirō—are you saying he will be targeted?” “He’ll be targeted—of course he’ll be targeted! If we let our guard down tonight, he’ll be struck!” Kitayama fixed his gaze intently. “Their aim is a plot to seize control of the Naitō family. Should both the eldest and second young lords perish, there would be no heir.” “Then Lord Tatewaki would come charging in.” “Well? Does this clarify matters?”

Being told this, Hanosuke groaned, “Muu.” “No—I never even dreamed of a conspiracy of such magnitude. We cannot afford a moment’s carelessness. It’s truly dreadful...” “The human world is utterly terrifying! Now it’s my turn—but I don’t intend to appear before you. The reason is none other than this: If word spreads that I’ve come to the capital, that Genkyō will be first to grow wary. Monbee and Lord Tatewaki will surely restrain themselves too. Then it’s over. We’ll never grasp tangible proof of the conspiracy.”

“That is most reasonable indeed.” “In that case—though it be cramped—might you deign to stay secretly at my residence?”

“No, no—that’s hardly a sound plan.” “With people coming and going, there’s no keeping it secret.” “I’d rather take lodgings in the merchant quarter and move freely.” “Now—I’ve a favor to ask of you.” “Troublesome though it may be, start patrolling the lower mansion tonight.” “If you find that white powder scattered on the ground, kick it apart without mercy.” “This is of utmost importance.”

“Understood.” “I shall make it my duty to go every night.”

Hanosuke accepted with fervent resolve.

II

Kitayama and Ichigaku discreetly returned by palanquin, avoiding prying eyes. As for where they went afterward—their whereabouts remained unknown for some time.

Now then, at this point, the story had to shift slightly to another direction.

Here in the desolate Udagawa district, the night had deepened silently.

A palanquin bearer named Genkichi—having likely drunk some doburoku, for though it was autumn, he wore only a loincloth—was walking in high spirits.

“Money circulates through the world—if you don’t have it today, it will come tomorrow. “Aaaah, hey-ya hey-ya!” “Hey-ya hey-ya!”

He walked on, muttering such things. Then, from the nearby path ahead, a woman’s scream was heard. “Heh heh, some bastard’s up to no good.” “There! Now it’s my turn!” There’s no way I’m letting this one slip away! “Let me see,” he said, and staggered on unsteady feet toward the direction of the voice. Sure enough, in a small vacant lot, two men had surrounded a woman and were struggling with her. “Hey, you bastard!” “You vile bastards!”

Genkichi barked in a gravelly voice. "What's this—molesting a woman right in the heart of Edo? Whale Genkichi ain't having this!" "You damn brutes, trampling over my turf! Quit it now, I said quit it!"

Perhaps startled by this ferocity, with a panicked cry, the two men bolted across the vacant lot and fled. “Take a good look, you spineless bastards! Looks like they got scared and ran the hell away!” He muttered to himself as he approached the woman.

Then, the young woman who had been lying there sat up abruptly in a fluster and clung to Genkichi’s chest. Her hair lay disheveled against her cheeks. Her obi had come loose, her garments were in disarray, and even in the darkness, the crimson hem of her underrobe blazed against her pale shins. She appeared eighteen or nineteen years old—her face pallid with terror—yet she was a strikingly beautiful young woman of noble bearing. For a time, she seemed incapable of speech, trembling uncontrollably as she clung to Genkichi’s chest.

Genkichi's soul leapt into the air. And he planted a reckless kiss on her lips. “Th-this ain’t bad at all.” “Hmm—a real prize has fallen into my lap.” “First I’ll make her mine—take her down to Shinagawa and that’s fifty ryō right there.” The moment he thought this, the woman nimbly pulled away from his chest, first adjusted her disheveled garments, then bowed deeply. “You saved me from such peril—I hardly know how to express my gratitude. Truly, I am deeply thankful.”

She expressed her gratitude in a formal address. “Huh? What’s this? What can I do for ya? Well, seems you’re unharmed—what’s the story here?” Faced with her earnest demeanor, Genkichi found himself responding in kind. “Yes, I had some business for my master and went to Shinza, when a villain followed me from behind, and…” “So you got caught in the vacant lot, huh? Where’s your home anyway?” “Yes, right there at Atagoshita… I truly hesitate to ask this, but since you’ve already helped me, might you be so kind as to escort me home?”

“It ain’t like those bastards from before won’t come chasing after us again. Alright, I’ll escort ya.”

Though he spoke these words, Genkichi clicked his tongue inwardly. “This one ain’t gonna work out. If this were some downtown girl, I could sweet-talk her into a lodging, but with her uptown mansion airs and that prim-and-proper way of speaking—ain’t no way I can lay a hand on her. Guess I’ll give up on making her mine and settle for a hefty reward instead.” “Well then, sis, shall we go?” Having said this, Genkichi began to walk. “In that case, since you will kindly escort me, why, I am truly grateful.” As she spoke, the woman walked alongside him.

It was when they came from Shibai-chō to Tsukimi-chō and Hikage-chō, "My, what a fine physique you have." Suddenly, the woman said this.

“Huh?” Genkichi looked at the woman but couldn’t immediately grasp her meaning. “What d’ya mean by ‘physique’?” “It’s your physique.” “The hell? You’re talkin’ ’bout my body, idiot?” Genkichi forced an odd, wry smile,

"In the palanquin bearer trade, your body's your capital—so it's gotta be at least somewhat decent, right?" "You must weigh quite a lot, don't you?"

“Huh,” Genkichi replied, feeling strangely betrayed. “What on earth is this woman doing?! "After nearly suffering such a terrible ordeal, here she is acting all carefree like this. She even goes so far as to weigh people—I’d say you’re about seventeen kan.” “My, you’re quite big-boned, aren’t you?” “What—she says something like that.” This woman’s really grating on my nerves— “Sure, sure! Big-boned I am indeed!” “Ho, ho, ho, ho, how splendid.”

“What— Now she’s laughing at me. What a strangely unpleasant woman,” Genkichi thought with growing irritation. Then the woman spoke again. “I clung desperately to your chest earlier, didn’t I? I measured you quite thoroughly then. Yes—your very body.” Genkichi stopped dead in his tracks. He stared fixedly at her. A dull thud reverberated through his skull—as if something had pierced clean through his crown. The woman raised her hand and knocked twice on the black-lacquered fence of the sprawling estate beside them. As if responding to a signal, the side gate slid open without a sound.

“This is my master’s estate. I wish to express my gratitude.” “Please do come in.” With those words, the woman entered. An indescribable fragrance wafted from the sliding door. For Genkichi, it was a temptation. He was drawn in by the fragrance and ambled inside.

Soon his scream rang out. “Ah! What a beautiful garden!” Then everything fell into utter silence.

And then, Genkichi vanished from this earth, never to be seen again after that night. His figure was never seen by human eyes again for all eternity.

“Ah, what a beautiful garden!” What in the world could this cry of his have meant?

III

Here, the story once again returned to Kagami Hanosuke’s circumstances.

One day, Hanosuke left his residence in Shikoku-machi as he always did and walked toward Negishi to guard the lord’s secondary estate. He had just come near Zojo-ji Temple when a woman’s shrill scream—“Hiii!”—pierced the air. At the same time, from the dark shadow of the temple gate, a young woman with her hem disheveled came running toward him. Then, from behind them came two men running while shouting something, but upon catching sight of Hanosuke, they turned back the way they had come. “Ah, so they’re ruffians.”

The moment he muttered this, the young woman clung to Hanosuke with a flurry. Her clothes and hair were disheveled, but when glimpsed in the pale moonlight, the woman possessed an extraordinary beauty.

“Please save me! Please save me!” Panting as she spoke, the woman began stroking Hanosuke all over. “Steady yourself. You’re safe.” Hanosuke comforted the woman. “You weren’t subjected to any outrage, were you?” “That was a perilously close call. Just as I caught sight of your figure, I managed to break free and escape—but had that not been the case, by now… Oh, how terrible, how terrible!” The woman trembled violently but pleaded, “Please escort me!” “Please escort me!” “Those villains might turn back and come to attack us.” “It’s very close by.” “Please do escort me!” She did not try to release her clinging hand.

“Very well, I shall escort you.” Hanosuke brushed the woman away. “So, whereabouts is your house?” “It is Atagoshita, sir.” The woman tidied her hair. “If it’s Atagoshita, it’s just a stone’s throw away. Now, you should proceed there at once.” As he spoke these words, Hanosuke took the lead and set off in that direction.

“Well now, that’s most kind of you, but I’m quite alright.” “For a young woman to walk alone at such a late hour shows both recklessness and audacity. You would do well to exercise more caution hereafter.” Escorting a young woman home while assisting her was something Hanosuke had grown rather adept at. Moreover, she was beautiful. And she clung to him desperately. He even felt a certain thrill.

However, when the woman stopped and said, “This is the mansion,” then added, “My master will have his thanks conveyed,” while pointing to a residence and urging, “Please do come in,” Hanosuke could not help being astonished. For this was the mansion of Genkei, the Dutch-style physician they considered their enemy. “Ah! This is Lord Genkei’s residence—then you belong to this mansion’s…” “Yes, I serve here as a housemaid,” she replied. “Please, I beg you to come inside.” The woman kept her grip on his sleeve.

At that moment, Hanosuke thought.

"Entering this mansion would be akin to entering a tiger’s den," he thought, "but without undertaking such an adventure, obtaining the tiger cub would prove difficult." Though we here regard that bastard Genkei as an enemy, those on his side should not yet be aware of this fact. If I were to take this opportunity to infiltrate enemy territory and scout their situation, there might yet be some advantage. Moreover, I had never laid eyes on Genkei before. Taking this chance to meet him and discern his true nature would be an intriguing venture.

So Hanosuke did as he was told and decided to pass through the gate.

IV

The woman knocked rhythmically on the door, and with a smooth swish, the sliding panel opened inward. A rich fragrance came billowing out, instantly seizing hold of Hanosuke’s senses.

While thinking "What’s this?" he entered—and at that very moment let out an involuntary cry.

Surrounded by tall black walls, it could not be seen from the street, but the garden was a riot of flowers blooming in profusion across its entire expanse.

“This is a beautiful flower garden!” He stopped in admiration.

At that moment, what appeared to be a gardener—a large man shouldering a hoe—emerged through the flowers, but upon catching a glimpse of the two figures, he hid away as if fleeing. The scent was so rich it nearly choked him. Hanosuke took several deep breaths and said, “What kind of flower is this?”

“It is fennel, sir.”

“Oh, so this is fennel. “Hmm, it’s truly splendid.” “Speaking of fennel—a costly medicinal herb—it’s only fitting that Lord Ōtsuki Genkei, a renowned physician of our time, maintains such an impressive herb garden.” Even Hanosuke was impressed and walked along the garden. Then he came upon a section about one ken square where the fennel flower garden had withered and wilted.

“What a terrible waste,” Hanosuke remarked. “The fennel here has withered.” He stopped walking. “Yes,” the woman replied while straining to listen, “my master worries over it too and has tried remedies to restore it, but once fennel begins to wilt, it doesn’t revive easily. We’re quite at a loss.” Somewhere in the darkness, a hoe was striking earth. The clinking sound of metal hitting pebbles carried through the night air.

When they passed through the herb garden, they came out before the mansion’s rear sitting room. Bright lamplight glowed against the shoji screens, and human voices could be heard. “Now then, please do come in.”

As she spoke, the woman stepped up first and smoothly slid open the shoji. Somehow feeling a tightening sensation, Hanosuke hesitated for an instant; but having come prepared and being by nature a man of unparalleled boldness, he stepped up into the sitting room as instructed.

“Pardon me for a moment,” she said with a greeting and pulled him further inside.

Seated properly on the mat, Hanosuke looked around the room. A single scroll was hanging in the alcove. It was a depiction of Shennong. A round paper lantern was lit. The sharp blue hue of the flame suggested it differed from conventional oil lamps.

Before long appeared a corpulent man with a freshly shaven head, wrapped in a priestly robe. He seemed to be over fifty years old, his large, coppery face gleaming greasily.

“This humble old man is Ōtsuki Genkei.” Having said this, he sat and bowed, though his manner—sitting with his back to the alcove—revealed him to be an arrogant and presumptuous man. “I hear you saved one of my household members—though she’s called a maid, she’s connected through my wife’s lineage, a blood relative of proper standing. You did well to help her.” “Genkei offers his gratitude.” Even so, he merely performed the motions of formal courtesy. “I am Kagami Hanosuke, retainer to Lord Naitō Suruga no Kami.” “As for this talk of ‘saving’ someone—I merely chanced to pass by. Your courtesy overwhelms me.” Hanosuke declared haughtily. “I won’t be beaten by this bald-headed fool!” For this was the resolve burning within him.

“Ah, the Kagami of the Naitō family—no, that is a house of great renown indeed.” “I have long been acquainted with your distinguished reputation.” “In truth, this humble servant has had the privilege of attending upon Lord Naitō’s esteemed younger brother, Lord Mori Tatewaki, and receiving his gracious patronage—ah, so this explains our connection.” Upon learning his visitor was Hanosuke, Genkei abruptly assumed an obsequious manner.

At that moment, a maid appeared—but this was a different maid. In one hand she held a tin kettle, and in the other she carried a tray upon which were placed two tea bowls and a small tea strainer. And a sugar jar was placed there.

“Hmm, fine. Put it there.” Having said this, Genkei jerked his chin. “Oh, it’s nothing, Lord Kagami Hanosuke. This is what we call Southern Barbarian tea—a rarity scarcely found in Japan. It’s not particularly delicious, but its novelty is its chief virtue.” As he said this, Genkei personally took up the kettle and poured a crimson liquid from above the tea strainer into the tea bowl. Then he added sugar with a spoon. “First, I shall taste for poison.”

Having said this, he picked up one of the tea bowls and gulped down about half of it.

“The temperature is excellent indeed. Now, I pray you will test it.” “Ah, so it would seem. This is a rare delicacy.”

Hanosuke picked up the tea bowl but hesitated slightly there.

Five

That Hanosuke, having picked up the tea bowl, suddenly hesitated to drink it was only natural—it had to be said. "Ōtsuki Genkei—a man of ill repute. Who knows what he might give me?" In other words, this was what he had thought.

Genkei smirked.

“No, Lord Kagami Hanosuke, this old man would not offer you poison. Please do try it with peace of mind.”

He had been hit right on the mark.

“Not at all, it’s nothing to speak of.” Hanosuke gave a wry smile, but he could no longer retreat now. And in one gulp, he guzzled it down. It was a drink quite different in character from Japanese green tea—a rather splendid beverage with a strong aroma and a bittersweet flavor. “A delicacy! A true delicacy!” Hanosuke praised—not as empty flattery, but with genuine appreciation. “For this tongue’s first revelry with Southern Barbarian tea since my birth.” “It brings me profound satisfaction that it has pleased you.” “How about another cup?”

“No, I’ve already had quite enough.”

Hanosuke declined. "Is that so? I shall not insist." Genkei put away the tea utensils. Then there were a few exchanges.

Then, Hanosuke gradually grew drowsy, as if being pulled into sleep. By the time he thought, "This isn't right," paralysis had already spread throughout his entire body. “Ugh, so it was poison after all!” Hanosuke ground his teeth. Then he tried to draw his sword. His mind raced frantically, but his hands refused to obey. “Damn it!” he shouted. But no words came out. He thought he had just said it, but in reality, not a single word had passed beyond the tip of his tongue.

He collapsed face-forward.

Yet even then, he remained conscious. He dimly remembered the events that had occurred afterward. ……First, the hands of two or three men lifted him into the air.……He seemed to be lowered from the veranda into the garden.……There came a sound like digging a hole. ……Then, the light of a lantern came into view. ……a fennel field came into view. ……Flowers were turned toward the sky.……A man was digging a hole.……The mouth of a large hole came into view. ……He was placed inside it.……Clumps of earth came raining down.……Ah, he was being buried. ……He could no longer see anything. The soil came raining down with a rush.……It piled up on his face, his chest, his hands, his feet.……Gradually, he felt its weight.……And gradually, breathing grew difficult.……“I’m going to die! “I’m going to die!” In the hole, Hanosuke muttered as he resigned himself to his fate. And then, just like that, he lost consciousness.

……………………

……………………

Fresh air came flowing in.

Hanosuke regained consciousness. Then he could breathe freely. But he couldn’t move.

He was still in the hole. The soil was heaped over him. However, he had awakened from the paralysis. The poison’s effects must have worn off. Why can I breathe? Had a hole opened up somewhere? That’s right—a hole had opened.

Exactly above his mouth, a hole had opened. However, it was no ordinary hole. A bamboo tube had been inserted there. Who had done such a thing? Of course, he had no idea who it was. In any case, this had allowed Hanosuke to temporarily escape death. He drew a full breath. He desperately tried to climb out of the hole. Yet it proved hopeless.

So, he decided to stay still and wait. Then, at that moment, through the bamboo tube, a human voice could be heard.

It was calling out to him. “Lord Kagami, Lord Hanosuke.”

That was a man’s voice.

And indeed, it was familiar.

There, Hanosuke responded. "Who might you be? "Eh... who are you?"

“It is Ichigaku.” “Maeda Ichigaku.”

“Oh!” When Hanosuke heard this, he felt as though he had been spared. “So it is... Mr. Maeda, is it? “Even so... what is the meaning of this?”

“You have been buried alive, you see.” “Buried alive? Buried alive? For what purpose?”

“To revive withering fennel.” “What? Fennel? Withering fennel?” “Indeed,” said Ichigaku’s voice. “You were turned into fertilizer… You are not the only one. Over a dozen people… It seems more are coming. …Please wait a little longer.”

Six

There, their conversation ceased for a while, and afterwards fell into complete silence. Then, voices could be heard once more.

“Lord Hanosuke, are you suffering?” “I am suffering. Please hurry and get me out.” “Unfortunately, that cannot be done.” “What do you mean you can’t? Why might that be?” “The people are still awake.” “Then when can I get out of here?” Hanosuke burned with impatience. “They will likely fall asleep soon. Please wait a little longer.” “Even so, Mr. Maeda, why are you in such a place?”

“To uncover Genkyou’s secret, I became a cook and moved in.”

“So, did you uncover the secret?” “Indeed—I have largely ascertained it.” “Then what of the white powder’s properties?” “That too I have mostly determined.”

“Indeed? That’s commendable. And what exactly is it?” “It is a medicinal compound made from fennel.”

“Hmm, I see. Fennel, then. So it is poison after all, I suppose?”

“Indeed, indeed. It is poison.”

“Oh! Then Lord Kinichirou was poisoned, I suppose?”

“However, that is not the case.” “So it’s not that? This is strange?” “Though called poison, the fennel-based drug leaves traces afterward. ...Yet they say no traces whatsoever were found on the young lord’s corpse.” “Indeed—no traces. But if it wasn’t poisoning...” “It is utterly mysterious.” “Even if we understand the nature of the white powder, this gets us nowhere.” “Yet considering all circumstances, the fennel-based white powder is undoubtedly connected to Lord Kinichirou’s murder.”

“And the properties of the white powder?” “It is a stimulant. First, please wait a moment. It appears there is a visitor. …Someone is knocking at the back gate. …A male servant has opened the small door. …Ah, it’s Monbee. Ōtorii Monbee has arrived. …This can’t be ignored. …I’ll go check on the situation....” Maeda Ichigaku seemed to have left.

Afterward, it became quiet again.

Hanosuke gradually became distressed.

The humidity seeped into his body. His breathing gradually became labored. He began to feel severely weakened. He gradually grew drowsy.

Ichigaku did not return. "I mustn’t sleep; I mustn’t sleep."

With this thought, he drifted in and out of consciousness.

This was a terrifying sleep. It was a sleep from which he would not wake again. Once he fell asleep, that would be the end—Hanosuke would not return to life.

What, then, was to become of him?

It was on that very same night.

In a secluded room at the Shonin Lodging in Kanda, Amano Kitayama sat. A medicine box had been placed there. An alcohol lamp had been placed there. Test tubes had been placed there. He was reading a Dutch medical text with a stern expression.

The following was written there. “...Fennel has three varieties: wild fennel, star anise, and common fennel. Moreover, the medicinal part of fennel is not the branches and leaves but rather the fruit.” “Approximately two bu in size, forming a greenish-brown oblong shape.” “It possesses an intensely strong aroma and serves as an anthelmintic, expectorant, and stomachic.” “Furthermore, as it possesses fragrance, it serves as fragrant sachets and flavoring agents; alternatively, when one soaks its seeds in alcohol and drinks it, this proves effective for treating abdominal colic.” “Fennel essence, fennel oil, and fennel water are recorded.”

Kitayama clicked his tongue here. "This was no good at all," he thought. Though Maeda Ichigaku had informed him there could be no mistake—that this white powder was indeed fennel-based—something still felt deeply suspicious.

He crossed his arms and pondered deeply. He was unbearably agitated.

So he decided to leave the inn and go for a walk.

Since there was nowhere else to go, he headed in the direction of Asakusa.

He made a pilgrimage to the Kannon Hall.

The night had grown quite late, so there were no other worshippers.

Seven

On the hill behind Kannon Hall, over a dozen men and women were present. They were sprawled out, sitting, standing, lying down—a disorderly gathering—but as it was a dark starlit night, their faces and forms remained indistinct. “A shooting star streaked by.” “A shooting star streaked by,” someone said.

“Hmph, tomorrow’ll be clear too.”

Immediately, someone answered thus.

And then came a brief stillness. A faint breeze slipped through the grove. A baby’s fretful cry rose. Then drifted the sound of a lullaby. Likely sung by the child’s mother. A voice delicate and beautiful.

Insects chirped in the grass. A gentle breeze glided away once more.

“Ah... How wonderful... I can’t even tell how good it was... The smell of earth wafted through... and that humid scent of withered grass too...”

The old man’s voice spoke thus.

“Yatsugatake! Yatsugatake! Oh, beloved Yatsugatake! I remember Yatsugatake.” A lone voice answered him. It too belonged to an old man. “It’s been so long since we were cast out. I’m nearly forgetting Yatsugatake now.” “I see it even in my dreams,” the first old man persisted. “Sasanodaira! Sousuke Shrine! Tengu’s Rock! The Cave Dwellings! Autumn brought ripened nuts, winter let us trap boars. Then spring came with mountain cherries blooming, summer with our labors... That age of peace and freedom! I see it even in my dreams.”

“Twenty years of wandering!” “How dearly I wish to return home.”

“A shooting star streaked by!” And again, someone said.

The insects’ chirping continued. Night crows clamored in the treetops for a time. They must have been dreaming.

The cave-dwellers tried to sleep. Yet they seemed unable to sleep.

Thereupon, they began to talk. They were the troupe leaders of the sideshow huts in Asakusa Okuyama. "The Mountain Men of Yatsugatake"

They were the troupe leaders of those sideshow huts that displayed such a signboard. Yet they were cave-dwellers. They loved sleeping outdoors rather than inside the hut. This was because they were children of nature; rather than sheltering from rain and dew under an artificial roof or bundling up in warm futons, sleeping on the ground beneath heaven’s natural sky, enveloped in the humidity and scent of grass, was healthier for them. Thus, unless there was a storm, they always slept on the ground.

Nearly twenty years had now passed. At that time, they left Yatsugatake and descended to the dusty realm of the world below. It was to reclaim their stolen treasure—the gold-crafted armor that had been placed upon the sacred object of Sousuke Tengu.

Their nomadic journey had been long.

They were persecuted everywhere.

Mountain men! They were subjected to such abusive insults. During their long wandering, there were those who died and those who fled. However, there were also women who gave birth. And so, they were in constant flux.

However, their purpose remained one.

It was to take revenge.

Near the hill was a pond. From it came the flapping sound of waterfowl wings. “Waterfowl, huh,” someone said—a youthful voice. “Birds are nice,” another young voice remarked. “They’ve got wings.”

Another youthful voice said.

“I want to fly away.” “To the high mountains!” “I want to fly away to the deep forest!” “To Shinano’s mountains!” “To Yatsugatake!” “That’s right—to our old nest!”

Three or four voices chimed in like this. A cheerful-sounding laughter could be heard. The scent of withered grass drifted hazily.

And then, it became quiet once more for a time.

From the direction of the city came the sound of a flute. It was being played by a blind masseur. The Kannon Hall pierced through the darkness, its form reaching up to the starry sky. Then came the clang of a temple bell. There must have been worshippers visiting.

“It seems the white snake was stolen again.”

Suddenly, such a voice rang out.

“So two were stolen then.”

Another voice spoke thus. “Even though it’s a poisonous snake, I wonder who stole it.” “It’s a snake that only lives in Yatsugatake.” “Even though it’s a poisonous snake, I wonder who stole it.” “Some fool must have stolen them.”

Here, laughter rang out once more.

When that faded, it became quiet. The wooden clogs clattered. They turned sideways and soon disappeared.

Again, a gentle breeze came.

A performance booth stood in the darkness. A night crow screeched harshly and excessively.

“I want to return before winter comes.”

An old man’s voice spoke thus.

“We can return. We definitely can return,” said another elderly voice. “There’s no way bad luck can last this long.” “Tashirou, you...! “May you come to know suffering!”

“But Hanosuke is pitiable.” Suddenly, someone said.

“It can’t be helped—it’s atonement!” Another voice spoke thus. “He must atone for his mother’s sins.” “Yamabuki—that one’s mother—was the fairest in our settlement.” “She was Leader Sugi Uemon’s daughter.” “Betrothed to Young Leader Iwataro... Truly, she was a kind-hearted girl.”

“But she was deceived by that bastard Tashirou.” “And so she died, consumed by resentment.” “What a pitiable, pitiable woman she was.” “…The child of Yamabuki and Tashirou!” “Poor, poor Hanosuke!”

VIII

Having completed his pilgrimage to Kannon Hall and happening upon this place by chance, Kitayama could not help but think "Oh?" when he overheard the cave-dwellers' conversation.

"They keep saying 'Hanosuke' over and over—could they mean Kagami Hanosuke?" He found it only natural to doubt this.

And, hiding himself in the shade of a tree, he awaited the next part of the conversation.

“But Hanosuke is a hell of a man,” an old man’s voice declared. “He utterly destroyed the village of our enemies, the Water Fox Clan for us.” “That’s right—that feat cannot be overlooked,” came voices of agreement. “Through that single act, his mother’s sins have been fully atoned for.” “By rumor’s telling, even those Water Fox Clan curs have now embarked on a wandering journey.”

“It’s said they’ve come to Edo.” “We’re bound to cross paths somewhere.” “Once we clash, it’ll be war.” “Damn right—war! My arms ache for it!” “A war between clans through and through.” “Clan grudges ain’t meant to be settled—not now, not ever.” “But with that Water Fox hag Kuta dead now, victory’s ours once we fight.” “Hanosuke’s the one who gutted the old crone.”

“Hanosuke is our benefactor.”

“But he’s pitifully cursed.” “There will be no eternal peace.”

“Sleepy.” A woman’s voice spoke. Then everyone fell silent. They began to sleep. Soon came the sound of snoring. Emerging from the tree’s shadow, Kitayama turned his steps toward town.

“Hmm, so Hanosuke carries mountain men’s blood in his veins?” He muttered inwardly. “The only one who could have killed Old Woman Kuta was Kagami Hanosuke... The Hanosuke they spoke of must indeed be Kagami Hanosuke... What would Hanosuke feel if he learned this... Should I tell him? Should I keep silent? ...But who exactly is this Tashirou?”

He turned his steps toward Ueno. Given Hanosuke’s bold and fearless nature, even if he were to learn he descends from the lowly lineage of mountain men, he would surely not be terribly disappointed. After all, it would be better to reveal this... Yes, tonight too Hanosuke must be keeping watch near the Negishi lord’s detached residence. I should go meet him and assess the situation.

He turned his steps toward Negishi.

Negishi was a quiet and serene area. At night, not a single soul would pass through.

Soon, he came to the side of the detached residence. Hanosuke was nowhere to be seen.

And, he went around to the back.

Then he emerged into a wide open space. Piercing through the darkness of this vacant lot, a single long white line had been drawn straight across the ground.

When he realized what it was, Kitayama involuntarily let out a gasp of “Ah!” “White Powder! White Powder! It’s that White Powder!”

The moment he did so, the sound of a flute could be heard.

It was a sound like a silver flute. It traveled along the White Powder. The White Powder stretched starkly white in a straight line all the way to the detached residence of the Mori Tatewaki family. The sound of the flute drew near. It was now only a few meters away.

Kitayama let out another gasp of "Ah!" Then, like a madman, he kicked and scattered the White Powder with his foot.

And then, he strained to hear the flute’s sound. The flute’s sound closed in right to his feet. However, from there, it turned back and retreated.

The sound gradually grew distant, and eventually vanished completely.

Kitayama was drenched in cold sweat all over his body. Then, stretching his hand toward the ground, he picked up a pinch of White Powder. "I've got it!" he cried out as if groaning.

Nine

Hanosuke, buried underground—what became of him after that?

Bizarre and uncanny events continued to unfold one after another.

After saying "Wait a moment" and leaving，Ichigaku did not return. And so Hanosuke waited. Waiting was all well and good，but the difficulty of breathing was unbearable. He was in a place that truly lived up to the name "underground." The eeriness was indescribable. The dampness tried to melt his body. It was as if maggots were crawling within him. He couldn’t move even an inch. If I moved my body，the bamboo tube’s position would shift. If that happened，I would no longer be able to breathe. If that happened，I’d be done for. I would have to die.

"I might die! I might die! But even so, what on earth happened to Mr. Ichigaku? Why hasn’t he come to save me? Could it be that he has fled? No, no—he’s not that kind of man. Then could it be that some danger has befallen him? ...In any case, I can't stay like this. For a living person to be buried alive underground—no matter how you think about it, it’s a terrifying thing! I must get out! I must get out! Oh, my body is completely covered in soil! Fennel flowers are blooming. And if I were to die, I would become fertilizer for that fennel... Death! Fertilizer! How terrifying! I have to get out of here no matter what. But how am I supposed to escape? That's right—I just need to push the soil away! But how could I possibly push it away? Isn’t it blanketed over me like a massive, heavy stone?

"No good! No good!" "There’s no surviving this." "...Mr.Maeda!" "Mr.Ichigaku!" "Please save me! Please save me!" However,the surroundings remained silent and still—nothing but darkness and cold. "Can’t I even move my hand?"

He tried to move his right hand. The soil lay heavily upon him. He could not move it easily. However, after tremendous effort, he became able to move little by little.

"Good. Thank goodness. I'm okay!"

He tried to scrape away the soil. Then his fingertips touched something. It was hard - not stone. There he grabbed it. The sensation felt like iron. And it was shaped like a ring. "An iron ring? What in blazes is this?" To Hanosuke, it defied understanding. A drowning man clutches at straws. So Hanosuke gripped the ring and pulled with all his might.

What occurred in that moment was something even more astonishing than a miracle to him.

Suddenly, a square hole opened beneath his body. With a rush of falling soil, his body plummeted downward. A wolf pit? Or something else? In any case, there had been an artificial hole dug there long before.

Having fallen there, Hanosuke was utterly bewildered by the sheer unexpectedness of it all. But fortunately, he was not injured. The hole did not seem very deep either. So he began groping around.

“Ah! There’s a horizontal tunnel here.” He cried out involuntarily. Indeed, there was a horizontal tunnel there. He couldn’t help but think.

If I crawl out of this vertical shaft, I can reach Genkyō’s residence. Fortunately, I had both swords. I can even kill that detestable Genkyō. However, I am exhausted. A bastard who devises such a cunning scheme—there’s no telling what preparations he might have made. If I were to be killed instead, it would be tragic... Now, as for this horizontal tunnel here—it somehow seems deep. Might as well follow this tunnel and hide my body for a while. However—perhaps this horizontal tunnel too was something that bastard had prepared. As for why he had prepared it—investigating that wouldn’t be futile. If this wasn’t his doing—if someone else had dug it or if it had formed naturally—it might lead aboveground. Then I might actually survive. In any case—following the horizontal tunnel rather than climbing up the vertical shaft seemed safer.

So, groping his way, he proceeded along the horizontal tunnel deeper into its depths.

As he had thought, the horizontal tunnel continued deep into its depths. Even after advancing one ken or two ken, it showed no sign of reaching a dead end. The ceiling was low and the sides narrow—an extremely cramped tunnel—yet the air remained relatively fresh with no dripping water. Before long, after proceeding five ken, ten ken, and over half a chō, the horizontal tunnel still stretched onward. Little by little, anxiety grew within Hanosuke. "How far does this tunnel go?" He stopped to ponder. Yet turning back now seemed more perilous. There truly remained no choice but to advance.

10

So, he proceeded forward. He had traveled a little over one chō (about 109 meters) when he tripped over something. There, he groped around to investigate. It seemed to be a stone staircase. “Will I finally be able to get outside?” At this thought, he felt happy. He climbed the stone steps one by one. When he had climbed nearly twenty steps, he struck a wooden door. “This must lead to a house.” He couldn’t help but find it unexpected.

He pushed on the door. Then, to his surprise, it opened right away. It was indeed a house. A room in a house. Yes—that was a room. But no ordinary room. An extremely large space—one that could have fit a hundred tatami mats—with dim paper lanterns casting faint light. Bound men and women lay scattered everywhere. Those who groaned, those who wept, those who screamed, those writhing in their bonds, those hurling curses... The chamber echoed with these voices until it resembled Avīci Hell itself.

The kinds of people were just as varied. Starting with the women: townspeople's daughters, ladies-in-waiting, young wives with their hair in traditional married women's chignons, beggar women, innocent young girls, elderly women withered with age, women who appeared to be courtesans, women resembling geishas, women who seemed to be leading performers—women of every conceivable station were writhing in torment.

The men were no different. Merchant clerks, merchant apprentices, actors, samurai, craftsmen, street performers, farmers, magicians, Shinto priests, Buddhist monks… men of every class were going wild.

And above all these people, the dim light of andon lanterns cast its glow.

Low ceiling. Sturdy walls. The entrance door was shut tight. Upon seeing this, Hanosuke felt not so much surprise as he did sheer terror. He stood rigid as a pole.

"What in the world is this place? What kind of house is this?" "Who are these people? What in the world are they doing?" However, his surprise—no, his terror—only grew twofold as time passed. He grew even more astonished.

He had grown even more terrified. For it was soon revealed that these people were not suffering at all—nor were they imprisoned by someone, cursing and grieving—but rather, quite the opposite: they were rejoicing and singing, offering praises—that is to say, devoutly worshipping some entity and dancing joyfully. What he had thought were voices of curses were in fact voices of praise. “Light Illuminates All! “Light Illuminates All!” “God of Joy!” “God of Good Fortune!” “God of Men and Women!” “God of Fertility!” “Ooooooh God! O God of Fertility!” “Please grant us children!” Such were the voices of praise.

This was the headquarters of the heretical cult. This was the altar of an illicit shrine.

Oh, to think such a heretical cult existed right in the heart of great Edo!

And then, suddenly, the sound of music resounded. First came the shrill tone of a hichiriki—a double-reed flute. Next followed the resonant chords of a shō mouth organ. Interwoven came the plaintive cry of a bamboo flute. Then the sharp crack of a small drum pierced through. ……It was music of an unsettling quality. Unbecoming of a heretical cult. A sacred and sublime harmony. The training hall transformed instantaneously. Men recoiled from women; women drew back from men. All dropped to their knees as one. With palms pressed together in reverence.

“O Descend! “O Descend!” they shouted in one voice. “The Honorable Cult Leader makes their appearance!” “The Honorable Cult Leader makes their appearance!”

They spoke these words in unison. Gradually, the music swelled. It gradually drew closer. Before long, it reached the doorway.

Silently, silently, the door opened. The crimson light of torches shone through that doorway. Abruptly two boys appeared, followed by a procession entering. The boys held up torches. Light flooded every corner of the room. The cult leaders were a man and a woman. Both were young and beautiful. Their beauty surpassed mere words like 'beautiful'. The woman appeared eighteen or nineteen years old, clad in scarlet hakama trousers. Her outer robe was a jūnihitoe—twelve layered ceremonial silks. Around her neck hung strands of beads, while her hand clasped a hiōgi fan of cypress wood.

The man appeared to be twenty-one or twenty-two years old and seemed to be the woman’s elder brother. Their faces bore a resemblance. Around his chest hung an identical string of beads, and on his legs he wore wide-legged trousers. But what he held in his hand was Mimoro Mountain’s sacred object. ——

An old woman followed behind the cult leaders, and behind her came several beautiful men and women.

The inside of the room gleamed brightly. Various things that had been unseen until now—murals, sacred statues, shrines, and altars—were revealed in the torchlight. All of them were nothing but unmentionably strange objects.

The procession circled around the room.

The crowd of followers competed to be first, striving to touch the two Cult Leaders. Male followers pressed toward the female Cult Leader; female followers pressed toward the male Cult Leader, all especially eager to touch them.

The male Cult Leader’s strange sacred object and the female Cult Leader’s ceremonial cypress fan lightly touched each of these believers one by one as they proceeded.

In this manner, the procession quietly circled around the wide room.

And then, they approached Hanosuke.

Hanosuke stood in a daze. He didn't know what to do. Of course, he was not a cultist. Yet his conscience would not permit him to worship the Cult Leader. If he kept standing there blankly, he would undoubtedly draw suspicion. Should that happen, an incident would surely erupt. For an utter stranger - not even a believer - to have infiltrated their dojo would deal a severe blow to the cult. They would surely rage. They might very well turn violent. There was no telling whether every last follower in that hall wouldn't come at him with blades drawn.

“What on earth should I do?” He couldn’t help but feel anxious; he couldn’t help but panic. Meanwhile, the procession kept advancing. And soon enough, the two Cult Leaders came to a halt before Hanosuke.

Hanosuke found himself in dire straits. And then, he raised his face defiantly and glared at the Cult Leader's face.

Around the chests of the two Cult Leaders was embroidered a strange design. Hanosuke, who had noticed this, could not help but let out an "Ah!" It was a terrifying embroidery. It was an embroidery connected to him. Through that, he was able to understand what this cult truly was. And because he had learned that, he could now clearly and distinctly recognize that his current position was far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

The situation abruptly shifted entirely. And then it took a turn for the worse.

Startled by the "Ah!" sound, the two Cult Leaders opened their eyes wide.

And so their gaze was inevitably drawn to the source of the voice.

The four eyes of the two Cult Leaders and Hanosuke's eyes clashed. It was a fiery staring match.

But it was brief.

The male Cult Leader was the first to shout.

“Enemy of the Teachings!” “Enemy of the Teachings!”

The Female Cult Leader shouted next.

“It’s Kagami Hanosuke!” “It’s Kagami Hanosuke!” “Seize this man!”

―What followed was chaos.

It was carried out in this order.

All at once, the cult followers stood up. They completely surrounded Hanosuke. The procession swiftly pulled back. The samurai among the cult followers all drew their swords in unison. Female cult followers fled in confusion. Shouts! Yells! Cries and screams! “Enemy of the Teachings!” “Seize him!” “Cut him down and throw him away! Cut him down and throw him away!” The torch flames multiplied. The unsheathed blades glittered. The entrance was secured. The crowd pressed in relentlessly. Killing intent filled every inch of the space.

Though he had anticipated this, Hanosuke’s heart wavered. No strategy surfaced in that fleeting moment. Yet he couldn’t stay composed. He needed to protect himself. If he failed, they would seize him. If seized, death would surely follow.

In all the world, there was nothing more terrifying than fanatics. They had absolutely no capacity for self-reflection. What filled them was nothing but superstition. Oh—was not such superstition the very root of all evil! "Superstition" killed people while laughing! Those who slaughtered with laughter were naught but fanatics throughout creation! These superstitious ones filled every inch of space. They all turned against him and came attacking. Now that it had come to this—do or die! Slash and slash and keep slashing through them all! "I'll escape as much as humanly possible!" There, Hanosuke drew his sword.

Ono-ha Ittō-ryū’s authentic stance! He assumed a middle position and glared.

One Two He couldn’t afford to let them get behind him. He pressed his back against the wooden planks. The number of opponents was overwhelming. He inverted the principle of maintaining vigilance in all directions. With single-minded focus through one eye and one heart, he stared unwaveringly straight ahead. He prepared to cut down any enemies that charged in. "Matters of Horizontal and Vertical, Above and Below, Far and Near" This was the sixth secret technique among the twelve articles of the Ittō-ryū school of swordsmanship. If one simply stared straight ahead, enemies to the sides, above, below, near and far would naturally appear within the mind’s eye. That being said—of course for beginners—no, even those who became highly skilled—it was not something easily attained. Only those who held the secret techniques could reach that realm. And thus, Kagami Hanosuke was the holder of those secret techniques. When it came to the sword, he was a genius. But he was exhausted. He had been forced to drink poison and then buried underground. However, in extreme situations, he was capable of summoning superhuman courage.

The long sword held at the ready had no openings. Then, a man came charging in. He was a hulking, obese samurai. Of course, he was one of the cult followers. Kagami Hanosuke was a beautiful boy, his graceful figure like that of a woman. Moreover, seeing that he was alone, they completely underestimated him and came rushing in with a sideways strike without taking any stance. There, with his self-mastered diagonal slash—the green-wood splitting technique he had honed night after night at the Hachiman Shrine in Ina Takato—! He slashed from the right shoulder down to the chest, unable to hold back his blade.

The samurai let out a sharp cry—"Agh!" And then he rolled onto the tatami mats. The bloody foam that spurted out appeared rainbow-like in the torchlight. And by that time, Hanosuke had already snapped back into a perfect middle stance.

He gave no battle cry—neither an “Eei!” nor a “Yah!” He was as still as water. He had not been splashed by a single drop of blood. For an instant, he shuddered with a warrior’s tremble. It was proof that courage filled his entire body. With a roar, the cultist mob scattered backward in disarray. However, they quickly rallied. Fanatics feared nothing at all. Two came attacking from both sides.

“Hah! Hah! Hah!” “Hah! Hah! Hah!” They were principled samurai. The two exchanged battle cries. They tried to scatter his focus to both sides. But it was useless. Hanosuke did not move. He stared fixedly straight ahead. Do not think of merely striking the enemy—protect yourself. The moon inevitably seeps through even the humblest abode. The secret waka poem from Chapter 3: "Zanshin" in the Kana-gaki no Kuden oral tradition—its meaning was exactly as the characters suggested: to guard one's entire being steadfastly, and when the enemy naturally reveals an opening, to strike and claim victory.

That was Hanosuke’s frame of mind.

Vajra Immovable! He did not even twitch. “Hah! Hah! Hah!” “Hah! Hah! Hah!” The two samurai pressed forward aggressively. Still, Hanosuke did not move. The hall was deathly silent. The torch flames increased in number. The torch flames were as red as a blazing inferno. From behind, from behind, countless cult followers entered through the exits. Everyone was holding weapons.

They were waiting for their turn to come. They were as countless as rice stalks and bamboo reeds. “Hanosuke!” “What do you intend to do⁉” At that moment came the metallic clang of blades. As one warrior aimed for his head and another targeted his torso—both striking at Hanosuke simultaneously—he twisted his body in the split second between life and death, felling one with his signature diagonal slash while parrying the other’s sword. By the time he blocked it, he had already cut through.

What other schools called the "Swallow Return," in Ittō-ryū was termed the "Golden Roc King Sword Stance"—it was with that technique he cut them down. The Golden Roc—whose single feather spans 98,000 *ri*, who emerges over seas to devour dragons—in accordance with that grand spirit, they had named it the "Five-Point Protocol." To elaborate further: one would knock the enemy’s sword skyward and, from the *seme* position of one’s own blade, slice clean through the opponent’s torso. He had slain three enemies. With a roar, the crowd of believers retreated uneasily backward. However, they quickly rallied. Fanatics feared nothing at all. Swinging their weapons again and again, over a dozen came charging in.

13

Kagami Hanosuke cut down three men. For most people, this alone would have been enough to drain their vitality. Hanosuke’s vitality was naturally exhausted. However, he saw something terrifying. No—it was not so much terrifying as it was something to be hated. He saw the "evil fate" that had been constantly tormenting him. He saw the symbol of his archenemy. The strange patterns embroidered on the chests of the two Cult Leaders’ robes! He saw that. Hateful, hateful, hateful patterns!

His courage multiplied a hundredfold. He steeled his resolve. "It's kill or be killed! These aren't opponents who'll show mercy! Trying to survive won't save me! If they take me alive, they'll torture me to death... But slaughtering them would strip away this curse coiled around my body. Letting them slaughter me means letting the curse consume me... I can't fight with survival in mind! I'll destroy them with death in my heart! Then I'll become living ammunition! I'll throw away my life to cut them down! ......They've all swarmed here now. ......No chance of winning fair and square. No holding back anymore. 'I'll unleash every dirty trick there is!'"

Ten samurai pressed forward aggressively.

Suddenly rushing in, Hanosuke cleanly cut down one samurai on his left with a diagonal slash. The moment he did so, he slipped smoothly and collapsed face-down onto the floor. With a roar, the remaining nine shouted and rained a flurry of blades down upon Hanosuke. In the nick of time, Hanosuke swept at their legs with his sword while lying down. Ittō-ryū’s Barracks Sweep! The essence of feigning defeat to rally back and slaughter multitudes in one stroke—yet under ordinary circumstances, this was deemed cowardly and thus not employed. When he comprehended life and death as one, it became an unavoidable subterfuge to use.

Sure enough, all nine men fell down at once, their legs swept out from under them. Hanosuke leaped up, chased after the surging believers, and charged toward the entrance. And then, with the "Face-Cutting Strike"—he cut them down. The "Face-Cutting Strike" that chilled one’s very soul—it was a combat tactic not meant to take lives, but rather to charge into a crowd like a lion driving a flock of sheep, wielding a short-handled sword single-handedly to slice swiftly through enemy faces as they presented themselves. Ito Ittosai Kagehisa had devised this technique in his later years—depending on the situation, one would reverse the sword to strike the enemy’s nasal bridge with its pommel, then deliver a fist strike to their philtrum with the free left hand! However, this technique had its limitations—it wasn’t something just anyone could perform. In other words, it was stipulated that only those with the physical strength to freely wield a large sword in one hand and exceptional agility could perform it.

And of course, as a forbidden technique, it was revered above official approval and was to be permitted only after assessing the person.

It was also called by another name: “Wooden Leaf Return.” Like dead leaves scattered by the wind—splitting one’s body into eight directions and hiding across ten! Concealing oneself in ten directions to appear and vanish! This was meant to exhaust the enemy through relentless pursuit, forcing them to turn on each other.

Sure enough, the cult followers erupted into chaos. Like leaves fluttering in the wind, they fled in panic, rushing right and left through the vast hundred-mat hall.

“There’s a traitor!” “There’s a traitor!” “There’s not just one!” “The enemy are countless!”

“There’s a traitor!” “There’s a traitor!”

The cult followers grappled with each other. Some even began cutting each other down. The torch flames were blown out. The women let out shrill screams. Thudding sounds of collapse rang out. Containers rolled. The image was ripped apart with a rending sound. “Help me—egh!” A voice cried out. Over the bodies of fallen cult followers, countless people trampled and ran. They began to flee from the entrance in a surging mass. Hanosuke’s strategy succeeded. Chaos followed chaos, and it became impossible to regain control.

“Calm down, calm down! The enemy is just one person!” He must have been a well-intentioned follower. One cult member shouted at the top of his voice. In a flash, Hanosuke ran up and cut down the shouter. “Light the lamps! Light the lamps!” Another follower cried out. But immediately, that man clutched at empty air and collapsed. He had been savagely slashed from the shoulder. Still, two or three torches dimly illuminated the great hall. One of them thudded down; its owner groaned “Mmmgh…” and collapsed onto the floor, thrashing about. A glance revealed his hand had been severed.

And then, another torch went out. Then yet another torch went out. The room became dark. In that pitch-black darkness, the cult followers scrambled with each other. They suspected one another. They grappled with anyone they touched. Then, in a mad rush to be first, they scrambled out through the entrance.

Among them, Hanosuke too had blended in. Outside the room was a wide corridor, with rooms lined up on both sides. Into those rooms, the cult followers flew like locusts.

14

Hanosuke ran straight down the corridor.

The corridor ended and became stairs, and below the stairs was a courtyard. Having descended there, Hanosuke plopped down onto the ground. Then, focusing his strength into his dantian, he held his breath for a while. Then, gradually, he began to breathe. And then, a profound stillness purified the divine energy, and vitality surged back into his body. It was the Ittō-ryū recuperation method—the "Aka-jutsu" employed on the battlefield. Had Hanosuke collapsed onto the ground at that moment or sat cross-legged and let out a deep sigh, he would undoubtedly have lost consciousness on the spot. He had thoroughly overexerted himself. Both his breath and muscles were utterly exhausted. A single moment of slackness would have meant total bodily collapse; fatigue would have surged forth all at once, and he would have surely fallen dead then and there.

The seated meditation methods popular today all originate from "Aka-jutsu," making Itō Ittōsai Kagehisa truly remarkable in that regard as well. When vigor had filled his entire body, he attempted to adjust his grip on the sword. Yet his arm had grown rigid, making it impossible to open his fingers. So with his left hand, he began methodically loosening each finger of his right. From tip to pommel, the blade was drenched in fresh blood. "I must have silenced about eight. "And wounded around twenty."

He tried to inspect the blade for nicks. He forcefully pulled the blade’s tip before his eyes, inched it forward bit by bit, and peered intently along its edge. The sky held neither stars nor moon, and from the buildings encircling the courtyard, not a single shred of light leaked. And all around was true darkness. Yet despite this, dimly, the sword’s aura made itself known to his mind’s eye.

“Hmm, thankfully, no nicks.”

There should indeed be no nicks on this blade. He had cut down so many people, but there had only been two or three exchanges where blades clanged against each other. “Alright,” he thought, then tightly wound his left sleeve around the hilt. Then he wiped away the blood with a swift motion.

He strained his ears, but there was no sound. There, he swayed to his feet.

“In any case, I have to survey the layout.”

And then, he began walking slowly and cautiously. He moved along the wall of a building and proceeded eastward. Ahead, a solitary figure came into view. And then, he quickly approached. The figure rounded the corner of the house. “Ah, I see. They’re hiding at the corner entrance, planning to ambush me when I approach.”

Hanosuke was cautious. He muffled his footsteps and went to the corner. He listened intently for any sound. The window opened with a clack. He gasped and leaped back. At the same time, something came falling down from overhead with terrifying force. It was a gigantic iron hammer. It was an object that had been thrown from the upper window. If his retreat had been a step slower, he might have been crushed to pieces.

He glared sharply up at the window. However, the window had already been shut. There, he turned the corner. Nowhere could any figures be seen. And then, the path ahead was a stone wall.

There, he turned back.

And then he returned to his previous location. The doorway was now closed. He climbed the stone steps and tested the door. The latch appeared fastened. It wouldn’t budge no matter how he pulled or pushed. And then he gave up.

He followed along the same building’s wall and walked westward. Eventually, he came to the building’s corner. He swiftly thrust out his sword to test the area. It seemed no one was on the other side. And then, he took a detour around it at a distance. Immediately before his eyes was a pavilion. Sitting on the edge of the pavilion, their backs turned toward Hanosuke, a man and a woman were nestled close together. A single snow lantern was lit. The figures of the two were clearly visible. They seemed to be engaged in lovers’ talk, revealing their true nature as heretical cultists through their lewd behavior.

“A perfect stance for cutting. “I’ll cut them down!” Hanosuke stealthily approached. Without a battle cry, he delivered a horizontal slash toward the man’s shoulder. But in the very instant he thought this had struck true, the woman whirled around toward him and hurled something that whistled through the air. In the brief moment he barely avoided it, their figures vanished. The thing that had been thrown was a cord. The cord flew at him. It was a venomous snake. And then, he sliced it into three.

Ahead stood an impregnable stone wall. He could neither scale it nor flee beyond. Once again he retraced his steps, returning to his former position. A building stood on the opposite side. Five or six tiers of stone steps rose from the ground, leading up to a doorway. Naturally, the door was barred. He ascended the stone steps and yanked at the door with all his might. To his astonishment, it swung open. The instant it gave way, he went sprawling downward. This fall proved an act of divine mercy. As the door opened, a horrific entity came lunging straight for him. Had he taken that blow full-on, he would have been pulverized.

15 A gigantic conical stone—what in modern terms would be called a jigunrokuro (land-leveling pulley)—came plummeting down with tremendous force.

With a thunderous crash, the doorway slammed shut. Afterwards, complete silence reigned. Yet there could be no doubt—countless cultists were encircling him from all directions, relentlessly attempting to strike him down.

The absence of human voices doubled its terror. The absence of commotion doubled its terror.

Now, Hanosuke was at a loss.

"What should I do? What am I to do? Where should I escape from? What should I do?"

He could not help but be thrown into disarray. However, he couldn’t remain still. He circled the building eastward. And then, he came to the building’s corner.

Before his eyes as he turned the corner stood a giant monk statue towering high enough to pierce the clouds. "Hah!" He slashed with a shout. A metallic clang rang out. His sword broke at the base of its hilt. The giant monk was an evil deity statue. "Damn it!" he blurted out, glaring resentfully at his sword. The broken blade was useless. So he discarded it. Then he drew his short sword. Once again, Hanosuke had no choice but to retreat. Now back at his starting point, he found no new options. He could only stand there blankly. His courage kept dwindling. Yet staying put would only narrow his escape routes further.

Knowing full well it was futile, he circled around to the west. As usual, he arrived at the corner. He turned the corner slowly and cautiously. Before him stood a stone wall, and an imposing gate was erected.

"Aha! Where there's a gate, there must be a thoroughfare on the other side." "Alright, alright! I'll climb over that gate!" He placed his hands on the gate's pillar. He nimbly leaped up onto the roof. He peered through a gap to look at the other side. Involuntarily, he let out an "Ah!" For there, visible even in the darkness, numerous silhouettes stood lined up in archer stances, loosely spread out. They had their bows drawn taut and aimed. He glanced back over his shoulder. At that moment, he let out another startled cry. More than a dozen shadowy figures were pointing the muzzles of their firearms.

He had been completely outmaneuvered. He had been caught between enemies to his front and rear. There was no way he could survive now. He was no match for ranged weapons. However, at that moment, a single beam of insight flashed through his mind. "This is Edo. Moreover, it's late at night—they wouldn't dare fire their firearms. If they fired even once, word would spread and draw suspicion from the authorities. The heretics' church would be exposed immediately. They'd be rounded up in one sweep...... They absolutely wouldn't fire...... As long as I watch out for the archers, I should manage somehow."

And so, he lay down on the roof ridge.

A single arrow came flying. With a flash, he deflected it with his sword. Two more arrows came flying. Fortunately, they missed their target.

Lying there, Hanosuke thought.

"Climbing to high ground just to expose myself to arrows. It’s as if I’m just waiting to be killed. Only by discarding my life can I find deliverance. This is the song of Ittō-ryū’s ultimate secret. I'll jump right into the middle of the archers!"

The fourth arrow came flying. He cut it into two pieces and, with a yell, jumped down. The strategy worked perfectly, and the archers scattered in all directions. However, Hanosuke's expectations were thwarted in another quarter. That was no thoroughfare. It was an even more spacious courtyard. Peering through gaps, he saw several cages standing here and there. "Huh?" Hanosuke wondered in puzzlement. He approached one of the cages and peered inside. Three bears in the darkness had their eyes blazing furiously.

Even Hanosuke shuddered at this. He went to another cage and looked. Over a dozen wolves were pacing restlessly around the cage, circling endlessly. Here too, Hanosuke shuddered. Next, he went to another cage. A wild boar bared its fangs and was crushing some kind of bone. Just then, a single flicker of firelight appeared on the gate’s roof ridge. It was the flame of a torch. Then one after another, torch flames appeared.

A large number of people were standing in a line on the roof.

And among them was the Cult Leader. There were two Cult Leaders—a man and a woman. Something seemed about to begin. They seemed to be trying to start something.

What were they trying to do? Then, there was a clang. A bear growled with a “Grooowl.” It seemed someone had opened the cage. Three bears slowly emerged from the cage. That was visible in the torchlight. Then, there was another clang. Countless wolves jostled to be first as they burst out from the cage.

16

The cult followers' intentions had been proven. They were cruelly attempting to have Hanosuke devoured by wild beasts. It was typical of heretical cultists' methods. Not only Hanosuke—several people before him had been devoured by wild beasts. Once they identified someone as a traitor, they would mercilessly capture that person and secretly throw them into a cage. The bone that the boar had been gnawing on! It was a human bone. However, Hanosuke was formidable. They couldn't capture him. So they opened the beast cages and attempted to have him devoured in the wide, enclosed open space.

And so, starting with the Cult Leader, a large crowd of cult followers were trying to watch this from the rooftops. The arena said to have existed in Rome! The bullfighting arenas that still exist in Spain! To think such a thing existed in Great Edo! It was unbelievable. It was unbelievable.

But it was an undeniable fact. There were wild beasts right here! Weren't they inexorably closing in?!

That's right—the wild beasts were closing in.

The wolf pack formed a circular ring and began circling around Hanosuke. However, they never howled. They had been trained. If they howled, word would spread. If word got out to the world, it would lead to exposure... So they only let out faint growls. Of course, the bears didn’t howl either. They merely let out low groans. Even Kagami Hanosuke felt his hair stand on end. “It’s over... I’m done for.” He miserably resigned himself. If it had been a battle between humans, there would still have been ways to escape. The opponents were a pack of wolves and bears. There was no escape. Hanosuke threw down his short sword. Then he sat squarely on the ground. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms. He left himself to the wild beasts’ attack.

Round and round, the pack of wolves ran around him. The circle gradually tightened around him. The three bears pressed forward inexorably, their snouts aligned in unison. However, neither the bears nor the wolves made any move to leap at him.

At that moment, a miracle suddenly occurred. First, a large bear rolled over and lay down in front of Hanosuke. Then it licked Hanosuke’s foot. It licked him with apparent affection. Next, two bears lay down. This one too affectionately slurped at Hanosuke’s hand. Then the wolves stopped running and gathered around Hanosuke. In unison, they sat on their hind legs, thrust their snouts between their front paws, and looked up at Hanosuke. It was a friendly display. What in the world was happening? What kind of sorcery had been used? It was not sorcery. Nor was it a miracle. There was a reason for this.

Although Hanosuke himself was unaware of it, he had inherited the blood of the Wakudo. His mother was Yamabuki. Yamabuki was Sugi Uemon’s daughter. Sugi Uemon was the leader of the Wakudo. The village merchant Tashirou and Yamabuki, daughter of the Wakudo, had conceived and given birth to Hanosuke while living a life of love in Tsubogatadō Cave on Mount Yatsugatake. In other words, the childhood name Inotarou was none other than he, Hanosuke himself. Now, the Wakudo and the mountain beasts were practically on friendly terms. The two groups were never enemies.

And so, this miracle-like occurrence unfolded between the two groups in their desperate predicament. Hanosuke, his foot having been licked, shuddered and opened his eyes. Thereupon, he beheld a strange spectacle.

Of course, he could not comprehend why the beasts were showing him friendliness. However, it was evident that these beasts harbored no ill intent. He indignantly leaped up. In that instant, he intuited within himself the presence of divine power. The great power capable of performing miracles! He intuited its presence. And he shouted out: “Bears! Wolves! You’re my allies! Now, take them out! I command this! Destroy them completely!”

“Roooar!” The bear roared for the first time. And then it charged toward the gate.

With a roar, the pack of wolves also raised their howls. And then they charged toward the gate.

Hanosuke opened the boar's cage. The boar gnashed its tusks and charged.

Furthermore, there were several cages. There were cages for Tosa dogs and fierce bulls, and in one cage—how they had acquired it—was a leopard. Moreover, there were two of them—a male and a female. Hanosuke opened that cage. A scream erupted from the gate’s roof.

The bear rattled the gate. The wolves leaped onto the roof. Screams! Shouts! Sobs! Roars! Thus unfolded within the estate grounds a great battlefield of humans and beasts locked in combat. The tide turned completely.

Dear readers, you would be mistaken to think this battle was unfolding solely within the heretical cult’s church. It had spread a horrific commotion throughout the entire city of Edo.

How blood-soaked the next installment would be, and how splendidly one great battlefield after another would unfold and be enacted?

At last, the story reached its climax.

17

Hanosuke came to believe that he himself possessed the power to perform miracles.

He incited the wild beasts. “Now, bravely wreak havoc!” “For a long time, you were locked in cages and tormented—now go torment those who tormented you!” “This is revenge!” “Vent your wrath!” The wild beasts roared.

The leopard jumped onto the gate's roof.

A scream erupted from the roof.

The sound of people tumbling down could be heard. The male and female cult leaders must have tumbled down as well.

The torchlight vanished in an instant.

There was no one to be seen anywhere.

Another leopard crossed over the roof.

On the other side of the gate, a scream rang out. Shouts, curses, cries, and shrill wails rang out.

The sound of people fleeing in confusion could be heard. A leopard let out a fierce roar. Three bears shook the gate’s pillars with their formidable strength. The gate began to shake violently. Then, the roof tiles came crashing down, and the doors shattered open to both sides. From there, a bear burst forth. Over a dozen wolves came rushing out from the gate next. Following them charged five massive bulls. Finally, thirty Tosa dogs surged out as a rear guard, encircling Hanosuke as they ran.

The place they entered was a courtyard—specifically, the first courtyard.

A fierce struggle was underway there. That was a clash between man and beast.

Human corpses lay scattered about. They were people who had been devoured. There were also those who were half-dead and half-alive; some clasped their hands together, some knelt down, shrieking for help. Hanosuke showed no mercy. Wild beasts had no reason to show mercy. Impulsively, the Tosa dogs charged forward. A struggle broke out. The humans were torn apart before one's eyes. One dog clamped its jaws around an arm, another around a neck, another around a leg—all wagging their tails gleefully.

Over there was a group, here was another group—figures locked in combat. They were humans wrestling with bears, leopards, and wolves. Corpses piled up rapidly. The discarded torch blazed fiercely with flames.

A group of over a hundred people were running toward the building. The followers who had protected the cult leaders were attempting to flee into the building through the open doorway there. Two leopards pounced. Several people were pulled down. However, the group did not collapse. They desperately ran toward the doorway. Three bears pounced. They joined forces with two leopards and pulled down the believers from behind. Those who were killed did not move. The injured managed to rise. And then they rejoined the group.

The formidable strength of religious faith could be observed even in such circumstances. “Protect the cult leaders!” “Protect the cult leaders!” Even if bitten or knocked down, they did not try to leave the group. The pack of wild beasts attacked. Ten wolves leaped. In an instant, ten people were bitten and knocked down. However, everyone sprang up. “Protect the cult leaders!” “Protect the cult leaders!” The group that protected the cult leaders gradually drew closer to the doorway. The assault by the pack of wild beasts grew increasingly brutal. Twelve or thirteen people became corpses.

But they finally reached the stone steps. At that moment, the bull charged. It thrust its horns into the midst of the group. The cult followers collapsed in disarray. However, in the next instant, they impetuously gathered again. And again the bull charged and broke through. In disarray, the cult followers collapsed. However, in the next instant, they impetuously gathered again. “Protect the cult leaders!” “Protect the cult leaders!” The wolves whooshed through the air again and again. The leopards bit human heads. The ferocious dogs clamped onto legs.

“Protect the cult leaders!” “Protect the cult leaders!” The group climbed up the stone steps. They finally reached the doorway. They stumbled into the house. Bears, leopards, and wolves all followed, rushing into the house. The Tosa dogs followed, rushing in. Next, Hanosuke also leaped in. Thus, the brawl was transferred from the courtyard into the house.

In various places along the spiderweb-like corridors, struggles between humans and beasts occurred.

The wild beasts poured into the room. A struggle ensued there as well. Kagami Hanosuke cut through. He picked up the fallen sword. In his right hand a sword, in his left a short sword, he slashed through with both blades. Around him, there were always around a dozen wolves and dogs in attendance.

18

“Where are the cult leaders? Take them down!”

Hanosuke searched frantically.

Suddenly, the corridor turned left. And then, the group of cult leaders came into view. They were running, clumped together into a pitch-black mass.

Hanosuke cornered them.

He cut down the nearest one. A scream erupted, and a spray of blood flew left and right.

A few among them suddenly and valiantly turned back to counterattack.

Hanosuke swung his right sword diagonally. One man collapsed onto the floorboards with a thud. At that moment, another charged in. With his left blade, Hanosuke swept sideways. A severed head struck the floor with a sickening thud. The last two turned to flee. Wolves lunged instantly. Jaws clamped down on throats. Fingers clawed wildly at nothingness before going limp.

The group of cult leaders retreated. Hanosuke chased after them. The wolves and dogs followed.

He tried to catch up to them again.

Suddenly, they stopped. Their faces were laughing. They stared intently at Hanosuke running toward them. It was a malicious sneer. Suddenly, one person stepped forward and touched the corridor wall. The moment he did, the corridor's floorboards gave way, and Hanosuke plunged into the space beneath the floor. They burst into raucous laughter and thundered away. Then, several wolves went whooshing into the space beneath the floor. Soon, they came flying out one after another. On the back of a massive wolf, Hanosuke clung. He sprained his left hand. He couldn't move it. He couldn't endure the intense pain. And so, he thrashed about. The Tosa dogs howled mournfully.

However, the wolves did not howl. They gathered around Hanosuke. They licked around the base of his sprained left arm with their warm tongues. Beasts had their own way of healing. It was their distinctive method of treatment. Their saliva was medicine. The act of licking around with warm tongues served as a warm compress. Kagami Hanosuke’s body was mixed with Wakudo blood. The Wakudo and beasts were friends. The beasts’ distinctive treatment method was also the Wakudo’s treatment method.

Hanosuke's pain stopped instantly. The movement of his arm also became free. His courage was restored. He stood up ferociously. Then he gave chase.

The cult leaders' figures were nowhere to be seen. They must have turned down a corridor. Hanosuke, the wolves, and the Tosa dogs kept running straight through the passageway. Then the corridor bent sharply right. Hanosuke followed the turn. Still no sign of them. They pounded onward through the hallway. Abruptly, the path terminated. An unyielding stone wall blocked their way. Now what? Hanosuke stood paralyzed with indecision.

"It was a dead end. There was no path. 'Where did those guys go?'"

Suddenly, a single Tosa dog let out a loud roar. The dog lunged at the wall. Sure enough, a hole had opened in the wall. There was a swinging door there.

The dog nimbly leaped in. At the same moment, a shriek rang out. The corpse of the decapitated dog sprang back into the corridor. There seemed to be someone on the other side. They seemed to be lying in wait.

The dogs made a commotion. Two or three more tried to leap in. “Shh!”

And Hanosuke stopped them with his hand.

He picked up the dog’s corpse. He threw it into the doorway. Then he himself leaped in.

Two samurai were standing. The two charged in swiftly. With a clang, Hanosuke blocked with both swords. He snapped off one man’s blade and twisted the other’s from his grasp. Leaning in, he swept sideways. One screamed—the disarmed samurai— his face split from forehead to nose. The samurai collapsed with a thud. Wolves and dogs swarmed, tearing him apart in moments.

"Hah!" Hanosuke shouted. A sharp cry rang out at once. Another samurai was cut down. The dogs and wolves tore him apart.

19

Hanosuke surveyed the room.

It was indeed a bridal chamber. It had been partitioned into several rooms with hanging cloths. In every room there were nude statues. All were statues of men and women. Many male and female cult followers had likely received divine favor in this room. Here and there discarded garments lay scattered. The cult followers seemed to have fled naked.

Each room had an incense burner. Smoke rose from the incense burners. There was a smell of aphrodisiac.

On the opposite side, there was a doorway.

Hanosuke left through there.

There was a long, straight corridor. He crossed over to the other side of it. The wolves and dogs followed. And then, he emerged at a detached tower.

The cult leaders seemed to have fled into it. A clamorous noise erupted.

Hanosuke entered.

The stairs led upward. From above came the sound of voices. And Hanosuke ran up. The dogs and wolves followed. At the top of the stairs was a room. But there was no one there. The stairs led upward. Voices could be heard coming from that direction. And Hanosuke proceeded to go up.

At the top of the stairs was a room. Yet no one was there. The stairs continued upward. Voices drifted from that direction. And Hanosuke climbed further. The outcome remained unchanged. At the stair's summit lay another room. Still empty. The steps stretched ever upward. Faint voices beckoned from above. There, Hanosuke steeled himself and ascended once more.

But the result was the same. At the top of the stairs, there was a room, and in the room, there was no one. The stairs led upward. Voices could be heard coming from that direction. And Hanosuke decided to go up.

At the top of the stairs, there was a room. Just as before, there was no one there. The stairs led upward. Voices could be heard coming from that direction. And once again, Hanosuke had to go up.

At the top of the stairs, there was a room. That appeared to be the topmost room. There was no staircase leading upward, and above his head was an attic space.

However, they were not there. Then where could they have escaped from?

There was a staircase entrance leading down to the back exit. It seemed there had been two staircases installed—one at the front and one at the back. They must have fled up the front staircase and escaped down the back one.

"This is absurd. What in the world? I've only pointlessly exhausted myself."

Muttering to himself, Hanosuke went to check the back staircase entrance.

He involuntarily exclaimed, “Ah!” The crucial staircase had been removed. He went to check the front staircase entrance. Once again, he shouted “Ah!” The staircase he had just climbed up had already been removed without his notice.

“Ugh, so I’ve been tricked!”

He had no choice but to grit his teeth.

He could not jump down. The staircase entrance was a straight vertical shaft bored from beneath the foundation up to the topmost floor. If he were to jump down, he would plummet from the top floor all the way down beneath the foundation in a single fall. No matter how sturdy his body was, he would be crushed without a moment's resistance.

He felt a chill run down his spine.

He hurriedly opened the window and looked out.

The ground was shut in darkness. There was no means to descend downward. "I've been tricked! I've been tricked! I've been tricked!"

He involuntarily stamped his foot on the ground.

He had indeed been tricked. Lured upward step by step, upon reaching the top floor, he found all the stairs had been removed.

This was a terrifying fate.

What in the world should I do?

The dogs and wolves began clamoring. They had followed Hanosuke and come up here together. They too seemed to have sensed the terrifying fate awaiting them through their animal intuition. They peered at the staircase entrance and looked up at Hanosuke's face. Before long, they began growling sorrowfully as if pleading for mercy. Hanosuke panicked.

At that moment, something even more terrifying threatened him and the beasts. For from the staircase entrance, thick black smoke came swirling up in billows.

20

It's burning! It's burning! They were torching it! The cultists had set fire to the tower. There was no escape. "How regrettable!" Hanosuke groaned. He looked out from the window. The world outside blazed crimson. Flames illuminated the surroundings. The pitch-black earth that had been shrouded in night's darkness now lay exposed and bright. Countless human figures came into view.

They looked up at the top of the tower, pointed their fingers, and shouted. There were also human figures dancing around.

“How regrettable!” Hanosuke groaned again. The smoke came billowing up thick and fast. There was the sound of something collapsing. There was a creaking sound. Sparks scattered down. The tower was burning from its foundation.

The tower would soon collapse. If that happened, all would be lost. And then, at that moment, the wolves began making strange movements.

They rushed one after another to the windowsill, thrust their snouts out from the window, and began howling "Ooooo, ooooo, ooooo, ooooo" in drawn-out tones. This was the wolves' summoning call—a hair-raising sound one might hear in the deep mountains and secluded valleys.

“This is strange,” Hanosuke said, looking down from the window. A strange thing occurred. No, perhaps it was only natural. As if lured by the summoning howl, wolves came running from all directions—no, bears and Tosa Dogs too, and even leopards dashed forth. The crowd of people scattered in all directions in an instant. The pack of beasts looked up at the tower and roared “Grrroar! Grrroar!”

And then they pressed their bodies together. Suddenly, a wolf grazed past Hanosuke’s profile at an angle and leaped down from the window.

Hanosuke gasped. “Poor thing—it will be smashed to pieces.” No, it wasn’t smashed to pieces. Onto the beasts that had pressed their bodies together, the wolf’s body fell. As if it had fallen onto a futon, the wolf’s body was safe.

Immediately, the wolf jumped up. And then pressed itself tightly against its fellow wolves. And then it called to the companions on the tower. It howled, howled, and called its companions.

And then, grazing past Hanosuke’s profile, the wolves leaped from the window one after another.

All of them were safe. As soon as they landed, they righted themselves and pressed against their companions' bodies. Then they let out a deep howl as if beckoning. Every last wolf within the tower leapt from the window to the ground below. Only Hanosuke and the Tosa Dogs remained in the tower. "Good." Hanosuke nodded.

He grabbed one of the Tosa Dogs and threw it down from the window. Midway through its fall, it flipped once and let out a yelp, but the dog wasn’t even slightly injured. It landed safely atop the gathered companions and stood up. He threw down the dogs one after another.

They were all safe. Finally, Hanosuke was left alone. Smoke enveloped the tower. The tower began to sway unsteadily.

The tower would collapse any moment now. The beasts called to him. They called to him, "Jump down! Jump down!"

Hanosuke resolved himself. He placed his foot on the windowsill, raised both swords high overhead, and glared down sharply. “Yah!” he shouted, and leaped out through the window. The bear’s back caught him. He sprang up. It was as if he had landed on a bed of cotton.

The instant he landed, the tower tilted. Sparks scattered in a flurry in all directions. The fire spread to several buildings. Flames erupted here and there. The sound of the main gate opening rang out.

The sound of people rushing out rang out. At the town’s fire watchtower, the alarm bell rang. The surroundings were as bright as day. Male and female cult followers ran about in disarray within the flames. The wild beasts chased after them. Once again, a struggle between humans and beasts took place within the flames. Hanosuke brandished both swords in all directions, cutting down all who came within reach. The wild beasts guarded him. He reached the front of the main gate. Outside the gate was a thoroughfare. That was the great city of Edo.

A group of figures ran away. It was surmised to be the cult leader’s group.

“There!” Hanosuke called out. The pack of wild beasts gave chase. Hanosuke ran straight ahead. Firefighters came running toward the scene. Townspeople rushed to gather. They raised thunderous war cries. It was because the wild beasts were running.

It was because Hanosuke, drenched in splattered blood, ran clutching a bloodied sword.

The pack of beasts stampeded. Just then, the sky was a storm.

The fire spread to the neighboring house. 21 The cult leaders' group ran off. The wild beasts chased after them. And then from behind them, Hanosuke ran.

Midnight Edo seethed. The heretical cult’s dojo burned down. The fire spread in all directions. Town firefighters, onlookers, and officials came rushing in from all directions.

Screams, shrieks, roars, curses... This area of Shiba transformed into a hellscape of carnage.

It was on that same night. Far removed from the chaos, Asakusa had few people in an uproar. But of course, people climbed up to second floors and roofs, whispering anxiously about the distant fire in Shiba that they could see.

“Shiba and Asakusa are too far apart. “It’s what they call a fire on the opposite shore. “As long as Edo doesn’t burn down completely, we’re safe enough. “No sense catching cold - better lock up and get to bed.”

There were also those who said such things and retreated. It was only the nervous types who continued gazing toward Shiba indefinitely.

From the hill behind Kannon Hall, a whispering voice could be heard. “Hey, I hear Shiba’s on fire.” “Let all of Edo burn!”

“And may every last one of those worldly humans burn to death!” “And may only we Wakudo survive in this world!” The darkness of night reigned over all directions. The figures of the Wakudo were hazy. Those standing, those sitting, those walking, those climbing trees—all appeared jet-black, like shadows.

At the far edge of the temple grounds stood a mat-covered hut. It was a performance hut. It was the performance hut where the Wakudo were appearing. Near the entrance of that performance hut, a single bean-sized light popped into view. It came rushing closer as if running. The fireball seemed to stitch through the darkness. It came to where the Wakudo clan members stood. It was the light of a shrine lantern. The owner of the shrine lantern was an elderly man. It was Sugi Uemon, leader of the Wakudo clan, and behind Sugi Uemon stood Iwataro.

“The time has come!” proclaimed Sugi Uemon. “It’s time to fight the Water Fox Clan bastards!” The Wakudo clan members all stood up in unison and surrounded Sugi Uemon. “Hey Iwataro, tell them.” Sugi Uemon commanded Iwataro. At once, Iwataro stepped forward.

“Listen up, everyone. Here’s what happened.” “I heard about the fire and went to investigate.” “When I reached Karasumori no Tsuji, a tightly clustered group came running toward us from the opposite direction.” “They seemed to be fleeing from someone.” “There were samurai among them, and townspeople too.” “Men and women both.” “That’s when I saw something strange.” “A young woman and a young man.” “They were being carried on someone’s back.” “Their robes had embroidery on the chest.” “When I saw it, I nearly lost my breath.” “A spiral pattern stitched in blue thread.” “A white fox embroidered in white thread.” “That’s the damned Water Fox Clan’s emblem!” “Those two were her grandchildren.” “The Water Fox Clan’s leader—Old Woman Kuta!” “Now rise up!” “Crush them!” “They’ll be here any moment.” “The enemy numbers at least two hundred.”

"But we have fifty allies!" "We won't lose!" "Destroy them!" "...I turned back instead." "Charging in alone was impossible—it would've been suicide!" "They're our clan's sworn enemies!" "That's why we must destroy them together!" "Get back to the hut and arm yourselves!" "Then we push forward as one!" The Wakudo scattered toward the hut.

When they reappeared, they were armed. Forming a group with their leader Sugi Uemon at the center and vice-commander Iwataro at the front, they began running. They made no sound. They tried not to make even a footstep sound. For they feared being interfered with. When they exited the shrine precincts, there was a horse path. They cut through it and emerged into Nakamachi. They charged toward Tawaramachi. Passing through Kiyoshimachō, Inarichō, and Kurumazaka, they emerged at Yamashita; from Kuromonchō to Hirokōji—thus they reached Kanda’s main avenue.

The area around Kanda was somewhat restless, with townspeople emerging to their gates and gazing at the great fire in Shiba.

A large group of fifty burly men, clustered into a tight mass, passed through right before them. They were holding swords and spears. The townspeople were astonished. But they made no attempt to block them. It was because they were intimidated by their imposing force. The fire in Shiba appeared to have grown larger; the flames, rising over the town's rooftops, seemed to scorch the heavens with their crimson glow. The group of Wakudo ran off. They passed through Muromachi, went through Nihonbashi, and emerged at Kyōbashi.

Thus, the group emerged into Ginza.

Just then, from up ahead, a pitch-black mass of figures came running toward them.

It was the Water Fox Clan and their cult followers. Thus, the two clans clashed.

For the first time, a battle cry was raised.

二二

What became of Kagami Hanosuke?

At this time, Kagami Hanosuke was heading toward Negishi through the backstreets and running near Minaechō.

He was completely alone. The figures of the beasts were nowhere to be seen. The leopards, wolves, and Tosa dogs had all been subdued by firefighters, officials, and townspeople along the way. The beasts that had narrowly escaped death longed for the mountains and fled. But why wasn't Hanosuke pursuing the Water Fox Clan's group and trying to attack and defeat them? He remembered along the way.

"My duty was supposed to be guarding His Lordship’s Negishi villa." He changed course and ran toward Negishi. He passed through Kijichō and Awajichō, emerged at Surugadai, went through Ochanomizu Hongō and came out at Ueno, then approached Uguisudani. From both sides, groves of trees closed in overhead, giving this era's Uguisudani the appearance of deep mountains. Then from the path ahead came someone. They appeared to be in tremendous haste.

There was neither moon nor stars in the sky, and the grove of trees covered overhead so thickly that even that sky could not be seen. And all around was darkness.

In the darkness，the two passed each other． "Hmm... That seemed like someone familiar．"

Hanosuke looked back over his shoulder. Then, the person he had just passed also seemed to look back in his direction. But while that person was hurrying, Hanosuke’s mind raced with equal urgency. And just like that, the two of them parted ways.

Hanosuke came to Negishi.

He went to the rear of the lord’s villa.

"Ah!" he gasped in astonishment. There was a single streak of glistening white drawn across the ground!

“Damn it!” he said again. However, when he soon saw that the trail had been kicked apart in a single motion and the White Powder scattered everywhere, he finally heaved a sigh of relief.

At the same time, he felt a sense of wonder. "Whose handiwork could this be?"

He could not help but tilt his head in puzzlement.

"The grave significance of this White Powder could only be known to me and Dr. Kitayama. I had no memory of scattering it. Then could Dr. Kitayama have come here tonight and kicked it away?... Wait! Now that I think of it - back at Uguisudani, I passed by someone familiar - yes! That must have been Dr. Kitayama!"

Finally, Hanosuke hit upon the answer. "It couldn't be said that the danger had passed. "I'll spend tonight awake here."

Hanosuke made his decision. His body was exhausted like cotton. He lay down on the grass. He was overcome by an irresistible drowsiness.

“I mustn’t sleep… I mustn’t sleep.”

Even as he thought this, he found himself nodding off and was about to fall asleep.

A night wind swept across the sky. It swept through the grove of trees with a rustling murmur. To him, that sounded like a lullaby.

He finally fell asleep. In the darkness of Uguisudani, the man who had passed Hanosuke ran toward Yanaka. In the direction of Shiba, flames had become visible.

"Ah! This is a huge fire!" He muttered in astonishment. That was Amano Kitayama. I wonder if the lord's mansion is safe?

Running and running through these thoughts... What had become of Lord Hanosuke? Though I had explicitly instructed him to guard the lord's villa—for him not to appear during such perilous circumstances tonight was utterly unconscionable! Yet perhaps illness had struck him... The blaze grew fiercer by the moment—how desperately I wanted to assess its spread! Yet having disclosed neither my arrival at court nor presence within these city walls... To reveal myself now would invite suspicion beyond measure.

He emerged from Yanaka into Shitaya.

“Now, what should I do next? I must meet Lord Hanosuke urgently. It seems I need to inform him about his lineage as one of the cave-dwelling clan.” The fire gradually intensified. The Shitaya area was abuzz. People stood at their gates watching. “In any case, I should secretly take a palanquin and visit Lord Hanosuke’s residence. After all, there’s something I need to ask of him.”