Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The fourteen-year-old maiden Kudahime was reading an old tale. (...That was indeed the most dreadful sin of a betrothed maiden...) “My lady, please do not read it. “I do not wish to hear it, I tell you.” “No, Elder sister, do listen.” “The good part is just beginning, you see.” “—It is where Princess Sakuragahime, though betrothed, thinks nothing of her betrothed’s terror and steals away to her so very dearly beloved paramour, you see.” “My lady, please do not read it. “I do not wish to hear it, I tell you.”

“Elder sister, in that case, let us stop then.……”

The princess quietly closed the book. “Ah, another day is already ending. The room has grown so dark… Elder sister, shall I light a lamp?” “I find this twilight most to my liking… Let it remain thus a while longer… You never did share that sentiment, did you?” “Elder sister, I detest this. What I love is the sun, you know.” “You’ve been that way since you were little. You have always favored only bright and splendid things— Just like Lord Natsuhiko’s noble disposition, I suppose.”

“I detest gloomy things, you know.” “I detest this room as well, you know.” “It is always so gloomy in here, you know.” “Elder sister, shall I light a lamp?”

Her elder sister Saku did not respond. And so the room fell silent.

Saku was past thirty. Yet her alluring appearance made her seem no older than twenty-four or twenty-five. Though terribly emaciated, her beauty—for a beautiful person’s wasting was like rain upon a lotus—served only to double its allure. Modestly seated behind the screen, her figure with bowed head in the faint twilight shining through the open window evoked Wang Changling's description of Jieyu of Xigong: "Not even lotus could match the beauty's adornment; when wind enters the water palace, pearls and jade emit fragrance."

It was only natural that her young sister Kudahime had complained to her elder sister about disliking this room too. A chamber in an old manor-style castle—it must have been splendid once. Now it lay utterly ruined: furnishings decayed into disarray, blinds and sliding doors torn away—while incongruously standing there was a lacquered shrine housing two figures, Christ and Mary, whose breath-like aura flickered intermittently. Facing them in the alcove hung two samurai portraits so vivid they seemed alive; these alone remained as what might be called adornment.

Kudahime stood up. She quietly went before the portraits and compared the two samurai, but— “Elder sister, why do these two people face each other with such terrifying expressions?” “Is it not as if they are glaring at each other, spewing poison from their eyes and trying to destroy each other’s eyes?” “And yet their mouths are tightly shut, 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 as if to suddenly stand up, but—

“Truly, just as you say, the two people in those portraits do have such peculiar faces.” “Elder sister,” said Kudahime as she suddenly drew near and placed her hand on Saku’s knee, “could it be that one of these two people resembles my father?” “That is precisely what a delusion is.” Though Saku said this, her voice trembled violently. “You spoke similarly before when looking at the portraits... Ah, how that delusion of yours torments me... No—your father resembles neither of them.” Gazing intently at her 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 this castle, parted the waves of Lake Suwa, and vanished into obscurity.”

“No, I cannot believe it.” Kudahime interrupted. “I simply cannot believe it. Why do I say that? Because whenever you speak thus, Elder sister, do not tears always pool in your eyes? That is proof of falsehood, you know.”

Having said this, Kudahime pressed her hands to her eyes. A single tear streamed out through the gaps between her fingers. She was crying.

Even the faint twilight light that was streaming through the window now completely vanished, and the room at last descended into darkness. In that darkness, the only thing audible was the sound of the younger sister’s weeping.

At that moment, the sliding door opened quietly, and a nun entered. A black robe and a 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 arrived.” “Please light the lamps.”

II “Yes.”

And Kudahime stood up. Slowly she went before the shrine, struck flint with a clattering sound, and humbly transferred the flame to the fire tray. The golden cross blazed brilliantly while Christ's visage and Mary's face seemed to smile as they caught the light. With the elderly nun at their center, Kudahime and Saku knelt before the shrine. The nun reverently prayed—"Grant unto anguished souls a season of peace, O Lord. Bestow upon us a time of purification to cleanse our transgressions. Though God's wrath become fire to consume our mortal forms, through all eternity we shall not repent. Amen."

“Amen.” “Amen.”

And the two sisters also followed suit, reverently saying thus. “The prayer has already been concluded. Please rest, please rest.” The nun stated curtly and walked away. The room fell silent once more. And then, from afar, voices of prayer came echoing like hymns. The nuns must be chanting in unison.

Kudahime stood up and casually approached the window. Oh... The lake was pitch black. It seemed a storm had arisen. The roar of waves grew louder... Ah—a light was visible on the lake. There might be a ship over there. It was gradually moving closer. It must be a guiding light for the path... Elder sister Saku remained humbly kneeling before the shrine. She was praying fervently. A stifled sob suddenly escaped.

“Elder sister.”

As she said this, Kudahime left the window and drew close behind her sister. “Why do you weep? “Is it because I persistently asked such questions of you?” “…I shall ask nothing more about Father.” “I beg your forgiveness.”

As she walked to the adjacent room,

“I shall now think on these matters alone. “Please rest, Elder sister. “Though night has yet to grow late, as I have grown sad, I shall retire to read a book upon my bed at night as is my custom. “Please rest, Elder sister.” After she had left, only the distant sound of prayers now reigned over the desolate room, rendering it ever more lonely and ever more dreary.

Abruptly, Saku raised her face, but tears were overflowing in her eyes.

"My poor Kudahime, you have nothing to apologize to me for." "It is I who must apologize to you." "Poor you—your circumstances have been hideously colored by my impure, defiled blood." She staggered to her feet and, no sooner had she reached the portraits than she began gazing alternately at the two images, "Truly, just as my lady said—oh, how sorrowful these two look." "To speak it would bring shame; to leave it unspoken would breed resentment." They seemed to be silently clenching some profound secret of the sort she had described. But I know full well what that secret entails. Because I know it, my voice trembles in prayer, my eyes are drenched in tears… and so my life…

At that moment, an old man entered the room like a shadow. Disheveled white hair, a soiled hemp robe, deep wrinkles that spoke of prolonged hardship, feeble eyes—even his gait was utterly devoid of strength. “My lady,” called out the old man. It was a deep, gravelly voice. “Oh, you are Shimadayu… Do you have some business with me?” “My lady, are you retiring for the night already?” “The prayers are done, confessions made, and today’s observances have been fulfilled—so I think I shall retire now.”

“That would be most proper.” “On an ominous night such as this, it would be wisest for you to retire early.” “What? What do you mean by ‘ominous night’?” The old man pointed at the window— “Behold the single red light burning upon the dark lake…” At his words, Saku slid smoothly toward the window. The old man followed close behind as he continued: “Fourteen years ago on a certain night, a red light just like that crossed over the lake—surely you have not forgotten?” “At that time, My lady gazed at the lake from that window in precisely the same manner as tonight.” “…Your face and body were as pale and trembling as they are now, and tears flowed from your eyes just like this evening.” “The sole difference from tonight was that instead of the nuns’ prayers, one heard warriors roaring in furious clamor.”

Saku covered her face with both hands as if assaulted by some unseen force. "I remember everything—every last thing." "Ah, that night’s terrors…" "...That night, two warships in full military array launched from the castle—aboard them must have been two young samurai with swords drawn, glaring at one another. ...None other than those very two." "They are the ones in the portraits."

“That too I remember. “One is Lord Tachibana Sousuke! “Oh, my betrothed!” “Yes, and that lord was indeed the master of this castle.” “And the other lord was indeed Lord Sousuke’s younger brother, Lord Natsuhiko.”

“Lord Natsuhiko!” “Lord Natsuhiko!”

Three

Suddenly, as if unable to endure her longing, Saku cried out like this, then turned fully toward the window. Then, extending both hands, she waved them as if beckoning the lover standing far across the lake.

“It is an ominous night”—the aged retainer spoke again. “Why, you ask? Because fourteen-year-old memories have revived, and an old wound from when I was bitten by a mamushi has begun to throb as if freshly inflicted. —Behold—do you not see how the red lanterns of that boat draw ever nearer to this castle? …In stark contrast to the two warships that departed ever farther from this castle fourteen years ago.” “…You must rest, my lady.” “For it is 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.

“There is something I have just recalled.” “It refers to none other than—” “It concerns the three strikes of the bell.” The old man spoke as if lost in reminiscence: “Fourteen years ago, when two ships crossed the lake and departed, did not Lord Sousuke and Lord Natsuhiko make such a promise with Your Grace and swear an oath—that whenever a boat bearing crimson lanterns should row across the dark lake, regardless of when or under what circumstances, should it strike three bells…”

“Proof that my betrothed has returned!” “And when two strikes of the bell sound…”

“A signal that Lord Natsuhiko has returned!” “That is correct. “On an ominous night such as this, there is no instance when that bell does not suddenly sound from upon the lake. “My lady, please take thorough care.” Silencing his footsteps, the old man went out toward the corridor.

Afterwards, all was utterly still and silent. With that, Saku shuddered as if frightened by something, looked around the room fearfully, went up to the portraits, flung both hands toward Natsuhiko’s image, and shouted as if delirious: “Lord Natsuhiko! Lord Natsuhiko! Please emerge victorious in the duel!” “And so I beseech you—return to the castle with all haste!” “O God, grant Your protection—let the three bells not ring, let the two bells sound!”

At that very moment, the sound of a bell could be heard from the lake through the window. It was undoubtedly the bell being tolled by the warship bearing red lanterns. Bong—the first bell tolled clearly and distinctly. Next, the sound of the second bell resounded deeply and resonantly.

“Two strikes of the bell!” Saku whispered, listening intently. However, before long, the third bell tolled clearly and lingeringly. And then it ceased just like that. The three strikes of the bell rang. The beloved Natsuhiko did not return; instead, her nominal betrothed Sousuke came back victorious from their duel. Saku’s face turned deathly pale, her eyes alone blazing fiercely as she fixed them on Natsuhiko’s portrait and cried out madly like this.

“Lord Natsuhiko! Lord Natsuhiko! You will never return to this castle. For fourteen years I have lived through days of love and lament—yet never shall you return again to my heart.” She suddenly fixed cold eyes upon Sousuke’s portrait— “What could await you were you to return to this castle? Praying nuns, the child who stands as your enemy, and the cold corpse of your betrothed—this alone remains! Your hopes have perished thus!”—so saying, she went to the altar and extinguished the lit lamp.

Then she walked slowly and came before the princess’s bedroom. “Poor dear Princess Kudahime, your beloved father no longer dwells in this world.” “From now on, you must spend your entire life blooming lonely as a flower in the shade.” “Ah, poor Princess Kudahime!” “And your mother... and your mother...”

She quietly slipped into the shadow of the byobu screen standing there. Then, for an instant, a voice cried “Ah!” from behind the byobu screen—but after that single cry, all fell utterly silent.

It was not long after that Shimadayu came rushing into the room，his hurried footsteps echoing． “Princess！” “Lady Saku！”

And he looked around his surroundings, but— “Oh—the light is out.” “And it seems they have retired... —Princess!” “Princess!” “You must wake up, Princess!” “The three strikes of the bell have rung!” However, there was no reply from anywhere. The shadow of the byobu screen was hushed.

IV

“What is this? I cannot hear any breathing.” “It appears you are in a deep slumber, Princess.” “But I simply must wake you.” He reached for the byobu screen— “Forgive me, Princess... Ah!” “What is this?!” “Hail the Three Treasures!” The instant he involuntarily dropped to his knees, the clattering sound of sturdy footsteps ascending the stairs reached his ears—and then a tall samurai clad in armor discernible even in the darkness appeared before the old man as swiftly as a bat swooping in.

“Who goes there?” Shimadayu called out. “What business brings you here?! Declare your rank and name!”

Then, the mysterious intruder spoke in a deep, eerie, muddy voice like a funeral drum—

“I command you! “Light the lamps!” Thud—he took a step forward. “...Though I’ve grown accustomed to darkness over the years, seeing this room after so long being this dark is hardly amusing. “Now, light the lamps immediately!”

“That voice…?” “……And you are…?” “I am the master of this castle!” “I am Tachibana Sousuke!” “Was it you, my lord?”

“First and foremost, light the lamps. ――You must be that old retainer called Shimadayu who served as the lookout in this castle.” “I faintly recognize this voice.” “If you are indeed that Shimadayu, then you must be a man of single-minded loyalty.” “Your master commands it—light the lamps at once.” Shimadayu respectfully bowed, then slowly walked to the altar and dimly lit the candlestick. The room dimly brightened. Sousuke looked around the room, but

“...So this was my castle of old.” “Is this what you call that once-splendid chamber?” “Where has the ebony stool draped with bear pelts vanished?” “The silver censer that burned ceaselessly through day and night—where is it?” “Ah! Here lies a cross!” “Who placed this here?” “For what purpose have you enshrined Mary?!” “From ancient times I’ve harbored no reverence for the Heavenly Emperor.” “Much less have I ever bowed my head to Mary or Christ.” “It was Natsuhiko—not I—who embraced the Heavenly Emperor’s creed.” “Shimadayu—you remember...” “That fourteen years past, on one fateful night, Natsuhiko and I led our men aboard three warships—parted Lake Suwa’s waters, coursed down Tenryu River—and battled like asuras to claim a single woman’s love!” “Aye, there were moments when hulls scraped hulls—steel clashing against steel!” “Other times we kept distance—exchanging volleys of arrows!” “In moonless dark we kindled watchfires; under starlight sounded conch horns; by lunar glow churned foaming wakes—drifting through Tenryu’s currents and Enshū’s shallows, steeped in gore!” “Through years of strife, every last man under Natsuhiko’s banner—and mine—perished.” “My bow decayed and snapped—Natsuhiko’s bow likewise rotted and broke.” “Yet our mutual hatred alone flows eternal—an unending torrent!”

“During that time, there were various events at this castle as well.” The aged retainer Shimadayu said while blinking his eyes. “The samurai who remained in the castle split clearly into two factions—your lordship’s faction and Lord Natsuhiko’s faction—and as they slashed and attacked each other, their numbers gradually dwindled until they perished completely. Unable to endure that loneliness, the princess Lady Saku sought to find solace by clinging to the grace of the Heavenly Emperor. How they learned of this I know not, but Sisters who believed in the Heavenly Emperor came secretly from Amakusa in Kyushu and southern seas, and joining forces with Princess Saku, transformed this bloodstained castle—through prayers, crosses, and the light of holy lamps—into a religious order that now illuminates every nook and cranny. In other words, the castle has perished over these fourteen years.”

“Even if the castle perishes and the samurai die—does my betrothed Saku still live here?” “Yes, she remains unharmed.” “I loved that woman.” “That woman is my betrothed.” “I loved her unto death.” “Yet Saku did not love me even a thread’s worth.” “That woman’s lover was Natsuhiko.” “She loved my brother.” “Detestable vermin!” “How long did they think such fleeting joy—like a rainbow—would last?!” He thrust the round bundle tucked under his arm toward Shimadayu. “Shimadayu! Go before the cross and open this bundle!”

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

“Did you see?” “The head.” “This is Natsuhiko’s severed head!” That night, phosphorescent light wandered across the surface of the Tenryu River. A storm raged across the starless vast sky. The surging waves—like a white horse with disheveled mane—crashed down and tossed the ship from side to side. “Natsuhiko and I stood alone on the ship’s prow, drew our gleaming blades against each other, and fought as we pleased.” “Fate favored me—with one swift thrust through his chest’s center, Natsuhiko fell beneath the mast and breathed his last. Thus after fourteen years of mutual hatred, our grudge was finally settled!” “And so I returned bearing Natsuhiko’s head.” “Now I stand here.” “…Here I stand awaiting a woman.” “Awaiting my betrothed Saku’s arrival.” “Now Shimadayu—I command you.” “Bring Saku here at once!”

“…………”

V

“There is nothing to fear.” “There is nothing to hesitate about.” “After fourteen years, the lord of the castle has returned as promised—wearing a bloodstained sword at his hip, holding the enemy’s severed head in his hand, and intending to show that head to the woman.” “Now, bring Saku here!” “Shimadayu, tell Saku this: …That Sousuke, wearied of battle—that this I, wearied of fresh blood—have returned desiring to encounter my beautiful betrothed and become drunk on love’s sweet wine.” “And tell her this too: ‘I’ve brought your precious lover Natsuhiko with utmost care.’ Say that this Natsuhiko lies here—not smiling, not speaking, merely silent with sorrow and regret.” “Hurry up and go, Shimadayu!” “And then bring Saku here!” “I want to see the woman.” “I want to see how much the woman will writhe in agony upon seeing her lover’s severed head.” “I want to see that Saku—hiding her grief and torment to keep them from me, wearing an empty smile as she reaches toward me.” “Bring Saku here at once!”

“Even without my bringing her, the princess will soon come before your lordship.” Shimadayu raised his trembling hand and pointed toward the shadow of the screen. “A quiet sleep, an eternal sleep… The princess rests behind the screen.”

Upon hearing this, Sousuke strode resolutely to the screen.

“Saku, Saku, wake up.” “Your betrothed Sousuke has now returned here at last.” “Now come out quickly from there and behold my gift.” “Gah…”

Startled, Sousuke pushed aside the screen but collapsed heavily to his knees on the floor. There, faintly and hazily illuminated by the dim lamplight, lay Saku's bloodstained corpse. The moment Sousuke instinctively reached out both hands and lifted her body, the sliding door opened smoothly and a maiden came running out.

“Elder sister!” As she cried out, she clung to Saku’s corpse. “Who are you!” Sousuke widened his eyes and stared at the maiden—then whether startled by something, dropped Saku’s corpse he had been holding with a thud onto the floor.

Shimadayu said with solemn gravity rather than sorrow. “She is the princess.” “She is the princess whom Lady Saku graciously gave birth to fourteen years ago—Princess Kudahime.”

“Gave birth fourteen years ago, you say?” “Hmm, fourteen years it was indeed!” “…You there! Girl—lift your face!” “Ah! The resemblance is uncanny!” “She mirrors Natsuhiko’s very features!” “You cursed child! Bastard spawn! Rise and stand before the cross!” “That severed head yonder is your sire.” “And this Saku who took her own life here—she is your dam.” Sousuke drew the greatsword from his waist, leaping and slashing wildly through the air— “The glorious castle lies ruined! Both hated foe and cherished lover alike lie dead!” “They betrayed me.” “My hatred shall burn eternal.” “All things I cherished are lost.” “Not one shred of hope remains!” “What course remains for me?! Ah, I curse this love!” “I curse every joy!” “I curse all humankind!” “I shall become a living demon!” “To the peaks—to Mount Yatsugatake’s heights I go!” “This watery existence wearies me.”

“I shall become a demon god atop the mountains and curse all of humanity in the mortal world!”

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

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

In the autumn of Bunsei 1, the midday light poured down in ochre hues, filling to the brim the sunlit great ravine at Mount Yatsugatake’s mid-slope—a place known as Sasano-daira. Already, the first snow lay faintly white upon the eight peaks, though it would likely take over a month before it would descend this far. As far as the eye could see across mountains and valleys, countless crimson and golden leaves had woven themselves into a blazing brocade. Far below lay the great lake—a vast expanse of vivid blue—that was Lake Suwa, while on its distant shore rose Takashima Castle’s keep with white walls and towering stone ramparts, the 30,000-koku stronghold of Lord Inaba of Suwa.

A splendid, crisp day with birds singing incessantly—a peaceful autumn day. "Now then," Sugi Uemon continued his account. “Our revered ancestor Lord Sousuke, who during the Tenshō era of Emperor Ōgimachi’s reign became a demonic tengu of the netherworld while still alive and ascended to this Mount Yatsugatake, has indeed brought calamities upon all humans of the lower world.” “And he distinguished his way of life from that of humans in the lower world, dwelling not in houses but in pits.” Before long, many people who revered Lord Sousuke came climbing from all directions, but they were all unfortunate souls who in the human world had their wives taken, children killed, and treasures stolen—people harboring resentment against all of lower-world humanity. Thus did Demon God Lord Sousuke gather numerous followers, and as he inflicted ever more calamities upon humankind, the world gradually stabilized—transitioning through the Oda Nobunaga era, then the Toyotomi era, until finally entering the Tokugawa era. Lord Sousuke’s physical form had long departed this world, yet his soul remained as a deity in this ravine. And so we descendants of the clan came to be called Wajin for dwelling in pits, feared by those of the human world, and have lived here until this day. “However…”

Then Sugi Uemon, chief of the Wajin, glared fiercely and scanned from one end to the other the crowd of over five hundred Wajin lined up in rows before him— “However, recently, a strange monk who calls himself Shirahoushi has come to these mountains from who knows where and has begun fervently preaching notions like ‘Love your enemies.’” “True enough, this itself is utterly outrageous—but what’s even more unforgivable is that there exist those among our Wajin who, despite their station, secretly adhere to this Shirahoushi’s teachings! Night after night they hold gatherings in the precincts of the Tengu Shrine where Lord Sousuke Tengu was enshrined, summoning him to hear his sermons!” “This constitutes an unforgivable sin against our faith!” “We must root them out and expel them from these mountains!” “Does this not stand as plain truth?”

“That’s right! That’s right!” The shouting voices roared like thunder from the mouths of the gathered Wajin.

"Now then," Sugi Uemon began, raising his voice further as if to continue speaking, but suddenly froze like a rod and stared fixedly toward the mountain peaks. The gathered Wajin tribespeople, with suspicion, followed his gaze and looked toward the peaks. In unison, they let out a “Whoa!” and fled in all directions as if forgetting their crucial council.

The peaks were now ablaze with wildfire. The parched tree leaves caught fire. From within the billowing black smoke, tongues of flame flickered into view, and fanned by the storm, the fire’s force gradually flowed toward the foothills. The Wajin tribe's village was now on the very brink of being consumed by flames.

Six

Yamabuki, the nineteen-year-old daughter of Sugi Uemon, chief of the Wajin, was crying in a room of the house.

Father had gone out to the council meeting, and younger brother Ushimaru was nowhere to be found within the house. She was crying and talking to herself. "That person left in anger." "What should I do, what should I do, what should I do!" "Before I could even say anything properly, that person stormed off angry." "True, I was partly at fault too—but he went too far." "...But why did I ever say those things? When I mentioned wanting to see the city, he suddenly made this strange face and demanded, 'Why would you want that?' So I blurted out without thinking—'I'm sick to death of this mountain-top village!' Then he glared at me like some demon and snapped—'Yamabuki! You must be tired of this face too—this mountain-dwelling face of mine.'" "No excuse would reach him now." "They say some pale man called Tashirou from Takashima Castle Town—Kami-Suwa now—is coming after you. Better watch yourself." "'After all—you being a Wajin woman—if you bind yourself to someone from below, they'll throw you from Tengu Shrine's rock into the chasm! You'll die for sure!' With his voice gone all twisted like that—then he starts clawing at his own hair—'Ah! You've tricked me!'" "'I'm worthless.'" "'You've abandoned me!'" "'Never seeing you again!'" "'Go on then! Take that Tashirou bastard's hand and leave the tribe!'" "'Become some upstanding citizen down there! Climb your way to glory!'" "'But mark this well, Yamabuki.'" "'While you're making it big below—I'll still be here at Sasano-daira on Yatsugatake's slopes! Pining for you! Living pitifully among boars and monkeys!'"—With that he shook me off and stomped away. "Who says I deceived him?" "I never deceived anyone!"

As if someone stood before her—as though pleading her case to an invisible listener—she wept and rambled without end. It was an autumn midday, the sunlight tinged yellow streaming through the house’s interior. The dwellings adhered to the Wajin’s customary style—large rocks hollowed out and pillars erected, identical to what might be called ordinary houses of ancient cave-dwelling tribes—but since Sugi Uemon was the clan’s leader, his residence had been constructed exceptionally spacious, more than half of it jutting outward from the rock cavern.

Yamabuki was a maiden of nearly peerless beauty among the Wajin tribe. Being the chief’s only daughter, she naturally stood out in her splendid attire compared to the other girls, yet her appearance was such that she could easily pass for the noble daughter of a distinguished samurai in Takashima Castle Town below.

The beautiful Yamabuki, with half her face illuminated by the autumn sun as she wept softly, appeared indescribably lovely. At that moment, the sound of a pheasant whistle came from a nearby grove, and lumbering out through the parted grass came 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 is cryin’!” “This’s really amusing!” He had been carrying a pheasant—likely caught in the woods—by one wing, but threw it toward the dirt-floored entryway and plopped down heavily onto the veranda, “Right now, Sis, Mr. Tashirou—you know—he’s coming here to see you.”

“Oh my, really?!” “Mr. Tashirou is?” “When I looked toward the slope path from the woods, there was Mr.ashirou, all dressed up splendidly, coming up this way, you know?” “So we hurriedly ran over and talked about all sorts of things with that person, you know…”

“Oh, so it really is true then.” Yamabuki involuntarily raised her hand and swept back her disheveled hair. Ushimaru grinned slyly upon seeing this, “Hmm, this is something. When it comes to Mr. Tashirou, Sis gets all fidgety.”

“You shouldn’t say such things,” she said. “You’re not a child anymore… So what did Mr. Tashirou say?” “Ah, he asked about you, Sis,” he replied. “‘How old is your sister?’ he said.” “In this annoyingly pretentious way.” “And what did you answer?” she asked anxiously.

Ushimaru grinned slyly again and said, “I told him twenty-two.” “In other words, I haggled it up by three.”

“Oh!” Exasperated, Yamabuki involuntarily clapped her hands together— “What should I do?! You mischievous child! I told that person my age was eighteen!” The siblings doubled over in amused laughter, their pleasant voices echoing through the forests and groves before returning to their own ears.

Seven Ushimaru looked around the room and, upon finding the mountain of autumn chestnuts piled high on the tray,

“Sis, did you have a visitor?”

“Ah, there was Mr. Iwatarou…”

“Ah right, that person is a good one.” “We’re all really fond of that person.” “He isn’t all fancy like Mr. Tashirou, and he’s from the tribe after all… I wonder why Iwa-san left so early?”

“He left in a huff.” The two briefly exchanged glances but then remained silent for a while.

Flocks of small birds flitted from grove to grove, passing before the two of them time and again. Despite there being no wind, maple leaves came rustling down into the garden one after another. From the grassy thicket leapt out a chestnut-colored rabbit that darted off toward the peak. From the depths of the forest came the shrill cries of a pheasant. What occasionally sounded from the grove as if hail were falling was the large chestnuts bursting open and rolling down.

The scene of the mountain community in uneventful times was truly peaceful.

“Oh, seems he’s here.” “There’s the sound of footsteps.” “Mr. Tashirou has come.”

Ushimaru, having said this, craned his neck to look toward the slope, but—

“Those folks from below are such cowards—huffing and puffing just to climb that slope. Well, we’ll head into the woods and catch us some mountain birds this time.”

Ushimaru started running as he was but soon disappeared into the woods.

At the same moment, the very man in question—Tashirou—suddenly appeared in handsome form at the slope’s entrance. He was a man of about twenty-four or twenty-five years, with hair tied in the capital style and dressed in contemporary fashion, possessing a fair-complexioned oblong face that women would favor—yet his eyes somehow held a sword’s edge, and lips that were too crimson made him appear an untrustworthy libertine not to be let down one’s guard around. 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 traveling between the mountains and the castle town.

“Oh, Lady Yamabuki, could it be you’re here all alone?” “Where has your father gone to?” “Ah, he went to attend the meeting?” Tashirou, smiling amiably, came to Yamabuki’s side but sat down on the threshold. Yamabuki, somehow flustered, involuntarily blushed, but— “Yes—Father has gone to attend the meeting at the Tengu Shrine.” “It must be a discussion about capturing Lord Shirahoushi.”

“Go over there and it’s Shirahoushi; come back here and it’s Shirahoushi. It seems our mountain is being troubled by Shirahoushi, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiled ingratiatingly— “In the end, this proves fortunate for me. Wouldn’t you say that’s so?” He slowly extended his hand and drew closer to Yamabuki. “And why might that be?” “But isn’t it obvious? After all, it’s thanks to Lord Shirahoushi that we can sit here alone together like this.”

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

“Heh-heh-heh.” Though he laughed, Tashirou was not a little flustered; perhaps to hide his embarrassment, he plucked a chestnut from the tray. “My, what a large chestnut this is.” He exaggeratedly widened his eyes.

“If you’d like, please have some.” With an air of self-deprecation, Yamabuki spoke thus. “They’re merely leftovers, though.” “Oh? You refer to these as mere leftovers?” “Um, I had a visitor.” “To your place alone, hmm?” He was already making jealous inquiries. “He’s an easygoing person, you know. “He’s a person called Iwa-san.” She said innocently. “He’s my cousin.”

“So he’s a tribesman then,” Tashirou remarked with a thoroughly mocking expression. “Oh? So he runs with wild boars now?!” “Shall we continue our conversation from last time today?” “By all means.”

Yamabuki leaned forward, her eyes now entranced and her chest fluttering faintly. "It worked its way in slow and steady," he thought. "These grand Edo tales alone make for a fund that needs no funding. When it comes to tricking country girls, nothing beats this."

While thinking such things, Tashirou flicked his tongue over his upper lip, “...No matter what you call beautiful, there’s simply nothing else that can rival Edo’s festivals.” “Matching costumes.” “Festival floats and stalls.” “Geisha ceremonial dances.” “Flutes and drums.” “Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! They carry the Taru Tenjin around.” “That’s one hell of a spectacle, I tell you.” “...you can see daimyo processions in abundance, and at river-opening ceremonies, thousands of fireworks shoot up with a pop-pop!” “But more than anything else, what’s truly fascinating is the kabuki and kyogen mimicry, you know.” “Female roles, villains, supporting roles—each has their own assigned positions, making people cry or laugh with ease.” “Spring flower viewing!” “And this one’s another spectacle!”

VIII “Huh? You called it ‘incredible’?” Yamabuki had been listening with flushed cheeks and misty eyes, utterly entranced, but spoke as if startled. “Ah, when I said ‘incredible,’ I meant no ill by it.” “I simply meant it was splendid.” “Why, splendid indeed!” “The mountain cherries blooming here pale in comparison.” “Pink Yoshino cherry blossoms—thousands upon tens of thousands—blanket Sumida’s embankments and Ueno’s hills like clouds.” “In their flower-viewing robes and red headbands, Edo’s multitudes pass their days beneath the blooms.” “Some drink sake.” “Others dance.” “There are even those who burn aloeswood and savor its fragrance...”

“Oh!”—Yamabuki involuntarily let out an exclamation of admiration— “A place like Edo must have many beautiful persons residing there, mustn’t it?”

“There are indeed many of them.” “Moreover, their attire is extravagance itself.” “Garments of the finest silk.” “Sashes from Nishijin.” “Underrobes of Kyoto yuzen-dyed crepe.” “The ladies adorn themselves with cosmetics.” “White powder... rouge... fragrant oils…” “Oh!”

And once more exclaiming in admiration, Yamabuki let out a sigh, “Ah, I want to go and see. Ah, I want to go and see!” she said in a dreamlike voice. It was a voice that burst forth from a young girl’s curiosity and vanity. “Perfect!” Tashirou thought, but without letting any hint of this show, he maintained an utterly serious expression, “So you wish to go to Edo? Do come—I shall guide you. That’s precisely why I’ve been telling you every time we meet, haven’t I? Why would someone as beautiful as you remain in such a place deep in the mountains—a kajin community like this—forever?”

“But…” Yamabuki faltered. “Wouldn’t it be better for someone like me—a know-nothing country bumpkin—to stay right here living with rabbits and monkeys than go out to such a bustling place and shame myself at every turn?”

“There’s no need for such concern.” “I, Tashirou, shall accompany you.” He thumped his chest—a mannerism that might seem affected, but to a mountain girl unversed in the ways of the world, it instead appeared reassuring. And she smiled gently. “Then… your house is also in Edo, I presume?” “Edo?” “Yes yes, it’s in Edo.”

Even as Tashirou said this, he felt a sudden jolt of panic in his heart. He was a townsman and thus had no mansion in Edo. "It must be a spacious house, mustn't it?"

Yamabuki asked again in a daze. “Ah, my house, you ask?” “…Ah, well, it’s quite spacious, I suppose.”—the truth was, Tashirou’s so-called house amounted to nothing more than a single-room tenement in a back alley. “Your household must be quite large, I imagine?” “My household… um, t-twenty people”—he instinctively wiped his brow. because sweat had begun to seep out. That was only natural. His family consisted of just him and his mother. “Ah, it’s no good! Someone like me!”

Suddenly crying out in despair and covering her eyes, Yamabuki caused Tashirou to startle and half-rise from his seat, though he couldn’t comprehend what was wrong. “Ah, someone like me could never measure up!” She cried out again. “Measure up? “What about?” “Why is that?” While saying this, seizing the opportune moment, he took Yamabuki’s hand. Then he gently sat down.

This time, Yamabuki did not try to shake off the hand that had been taken. She kept still, letting him hold it just as he was.

“But still… I want to go.……”

Saying this like a feverish murmur, she looked at Tashirou’s face— “What sort of noble person are you? You aren’t a samurai, are you?” “Absolutely not! That’s not it at all!”

“Then—a farmer?” “Ah, a merchant!” “A great, great merchant!” “But why would someone like you engage in peddling and such?”

“Well, that’s just it…”

Tashirou wiped his brow again, but— “In other words, I’m still an apprentice...” “Ah, right. Now I understand.” Yamabuki fell silent there and began indulging in daydreaming. With that, Tashirou brought her hand to his mouth and tried to press his lips against it. Yamabuki pulled the hand back slightly, but it was an unconscious act. But now she was envisioning the time when she would go to Edo and achieve success.

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

And then, Yamabuki once again cried out such words as if in delirium.

“Ah, I hate this! “In the mountains!”

“Then shall we be off?” “To the glorious heart of Great Edo, hmm?”

Tashirou pulled Yamabuki’s hand. She buried her face against his chest as he pulled her close. “Please take me with you! Please take me with you! I will go to Edo no matter what!”

Nine A fierce smile flashed across Tashirou’s cheek for an instant as he tried to tilt her face upward with deliberate force. When their eyes met, he abruptly lowered his face toward hers. The moment he did so, laughter pierced the air. Startled, they looked up to see Ushimaru standing at the entrance.

“Hey! What’re you two chattering away about!” “I’ll tell Iwa-san!” With eyes blazing hatred, “Oi! Iwa-san’s coming! “Don’t you go associating with that weirdo!”

“Idiot!” “Brat!” “Disgusting urchin!”

She was a woman of the mountain community.

Releasing a surge of violent emotions all at once, Yamabuki scolded her brother. “What’s Mr. Iwa?! “What’s Iwatarou?! “If he comes, I’ll just drive him out!” “Hmph!” Ushimaru also squared up for a fight. “You were the one making a huge fuss over Mr. Iwa before Tashirou even showed up!” He turned sharply toward the forest. “Oh, he’s already almost here. “…That weirdo’s tagging along with him…” Hearing this, Yamabuki and Tashirou craned their necks to peer toward the forest.

“Oh my, Mr. Iwa really is coming.” Yamabuki panicked and shouted, “If he comes, I’ll just drive him out!”

“Hah! So that ungainly fellow over there is the man called Iwa.” Tashirou snorted through his nose. “He’s not even fit to be my family’s gardener.” Ushimaru, beaming with delight, declared, “Let’s go welcome Mr. Iwa!” and ran all the way outside.

“Oh?”

Suddenly, Tashirou showed signs of unease.

“What a terrifying expression! That weirdo’s expression!” He took up his travel bag. And then, he fled clattering from the side door toward the slope. “Oh, Mr. Tashirou! What have you done?!”

“I too—I too—take me with you!” Yamabuki cried out in panic.

——In a panic, she fled out through the side door.

Afterwards, in the room, there was no one. The pale yellow autumn sunlight dimly illuminated the rug. A small bird, confused, flew into the Tsuto Room but immediately flew back out as if startled. The surroundings were utterly still.

Then, voices could be heard outside.

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

“Is there a guest here?”

“…………” “In any case, shall we go in and see?”

The ones who promptly entered the earthen floor were Ushimaru, Iwatarou, and the white-robed figure known as the "strange person."

Iwatarou was of the same age as Tashirou. Their characters were complete opposites. He was serious, passionate, and steadfast—truly typical of a young man from the mountain community. He wore a striped narrow-sleeved robe and mountain trousers fastened with a beast-hide belt.

The white-robed figure stood in stark contrast—truly divine like a deity. The skin shone with such whiteness it appeared almost translucent. Hair cropped at shoulder length paradoxically bestowed an air of dignity. Though the white robe draped long enough to hide feet beneath its hem, those feet bore no footwear. A noble brow arched above a prominent nose. The finely shaped mouth held a smile that might disarm even an infant at first glance. But the eyes defied comprehension—utterly mysterious orbs shifting between crystalline clarity and feral intensity capable of cowing wild beasts. They became emblems of authority itself, transforming ceaselessly without pause or pattern.

Iwatarou looked around his surroundings, but “Oh? There’s no one in the house!” “Oh, where could Sis have gone?” Ushimaru searched through room after room, but “She’s not here, not here anywhere! Ah, so she ran away then. Too ashamed to face you. Alright then, let’s go search for her!” The one who restrained them from rushing out was the white-robed strange person.

“There’s no need to search—she will return on her own in time. “A bird with a nest will return to its nest.” “……So you’re Mr. Ushimaru?” The white-robed strange person asked amiably, his voice as pure as spring water flowing over rocks.

The mischievous Ushimaru also abruptly changed his demeanor, but “The ‘mischievous Ushimaru’ would be me,” he said with utmost politeness. “Ha ha ha.” “The term ‘mischievous one’ is amusing, isn’t it?” “It’s honest of you to say it yourself.” “By the way, someone just left here and fled toward the slope.” “What kind of person is that?” “Is it not a young man?” “If that’s the case, it’s that Tashirou fellow.”

10 “What, Tashirou?” When he heard that, Iwatarou’s complexion changed abruptly, but he was restrained by the strange person.

“I thought as much,” said the white-robed figure with dignity. “That man is dangerous. He built a wooden hut beneath the Tengu Shrine’s cliff for his schemes and lives there. He descends to the castle town to purchase goods, then peddles them here. He doesn’t come from the castle town to these mountains—no, he stays in that hut, constantly observing our community’s movements while awaiting his chance to strike…”

“Hmm, so that’s how it is.” “He certainly is a bad one.” Iwatarou was greatly surprised but said, “Even so, how would your excellency know such a thing?”

“Ah, that is nothing,” “I am one who patrols these mountains, begrudging even a moment’s lapse.” “And so, one day, I discovered that wooden hut.” “……Oh? There’s someone at the entrance.” “They’re eavesdropping on my story.”

Indeed, the moment he said that, Yamabuki entered through the doorway. The reason her cheeks were flushed and her breath came in ragged gasps was likely because she had chased after her lover Tashirou but failed to catch up. “Ah, Sis!” “Oh, Yamabuki!”

Two voices called out simultaneously. The one who called Yamabuki was Iwatarou.

Iwatarou hesitantly stepped forward, but “Yamabuki, I won’t say anything. “I have brought an esteemed person. “Please express your thanks to this esteemed person.” Told this, Yamabuki raised her eyes and gazed at the strange person, when suddenly those eyes began to shine more brightly. A feeling of piety welled up within her. And she silently lowered her head in respectful deference. The strange person’s divine countenance was suffused with a calm smile, but

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

“It is my pleasure as well.” “Yamabuki!” Iwatarou declared passionately, “Yamabuki, I am at ease. The esteemed person here will surely reconcile us two without fail. —We quarreled earlier, didn’t we? And then I said I wouldn’t meet you anymore and rushed out from your place. ……But I’ve come again. That is for no other reason. It’s because I wanted to introduce this esteemed person to you. Yamabuki! This is an esteemed person!”

Yamabuki raised her bowed face and looked at that person again. And that person smiled again, as though unable to bear the humility,

“No, no—I am neither a great person nor an outstanding human being. “I am an ordinary person. “However, I speak the truth and act upon it. “Perhaps this is where I differ from ordinary people. “……At any rate, earlier today I met this person. “That’s right—I met Mr. Iwatarou in that forest over there. “And then I had some idle talk with this person for a while.” “That’s right.”

Iwatarou raised grateful eyes, “...In the bitter frustration of lost love, I was running through the forest while tearing at my hair.” “At that moment, I suddenly had the honor of meeting your excellency.” “When I saw your excellency at a glance, I immediately felt a sense of nostalgia.” “And so I told him everything—the matters of my love with Yamabuki and even how that love was shattered today.”

“Ah yes, you at that time were exactly like a madman, weren’t you?”

The strange person pondered,

“However, while he was engaging in idle talk with me for a short while, my heart gradually softened. …Now then, changing the subject—I think I shall tell you a story, Yamabuki-san.” “It is by no means a story that will be to your disadvantage.” “How does that sound—would you care to hear it?” “Please do share it with me.” Yamabuki replied obediently. “……The first thing I want to say is that I am a traveler.—I have been to Hizen Nagasaki and also to Osaka. “I have also been to Kyoto, Nagoya, and all sorts of places.” “Of course, I have been to Edo as well.” “Now then, Yamabuki-san—which place’s story shall I tell, I wonder?”

“Yes,” Yamabuki replied with renewed vigor, “Then please do share with me the story of Edo.” “Very well—then I shall proceed to share the story of Edo.” The strange person closed his eyes and contemplated something intently, but “Edo is a den of demons!” he declared sharply in a single phrase.

“No, that’s not true! That’s not true!”

The one who cried out scornfully was none other than Yamabuki herself, who had been thoroughly indoctrinated with Edo’s extravagance through Tashirou’s honeyed words.

“No! Edo is said to be a paradise where beautiful people live and play in splendor!” “Listen!” A sharp voice once again burst forth from the mouth of the strange person, and the entire gathering, intimidated by that voice, fell completely silent at once.

Now, what exactly was this strange person trying to say? However, at the very least, it seemed certain that the strange person was trying to return Yamabuki—the mountain maiden whose heart yearned for vanity and pretension—to her original simple-hearted self. But would Yamabuki heed his words and revert to her former maidenly self, or would she succumb to Tashirou’s temptations? This very point was the crux that the author intended to address next.

一一

With Iwatarou and Yamabuki seated before him, the white-robed, long-haired strange person began to speak of Edo. “...Edo is where the shogunate resides—a place so extravagantly bustling beyond all measure.” “From daimyo and hatamoto above to artisans and merchants below—all parade finery unbefitting their station. In spring they view cherry blossoms, in autumn maples; days echo with music while nights overflow with banquets... All compete in their revelries.” “Delicacies from mountain and sea, brocade garments—whatever one desires can be bought. Golden hairpins, tortoiseshell combs—once you’ve piled up enough koban coins, they become yours.” “That’s right.” “Truly, present koban coins and everything falls to your will—this is Edo’s way.” “Thus there exists neither ‘Serenity’ nor virtues like ‘Humility’—only ‘Falsehood’ and ‘Hypocrisy.’... In truth, you’ll find no birdsong there, no forests of verdant beauty, no fragrance of ripened grain—nothing but jealousy, suspicion, factional strife, mad obsession with coin, and the murderous acts born thereof... Such constitutes all that exists there.” “Moreover, its surface appears crafted most beautifully splendid—designed expressly to tempt honest country folk.” “...How magnificently this Sasano-daira contrasts with that!”

While saying this, he quietly turned and pointed to the scenery outside,

“Men tilling fields, women pushing carts. Children and dogs calling out joyfully. How peaceful it is!... The autumn foliage forest, bathed in midday light, blazes ablaze. Wild chrysanthemums mingled among the weeds. Kudzu flowers swaying and bending in the wind. White and yellow butterflies flitting from flower to flower in search of nectar; flocks of migratory birds crossing from peak to hill, hill to valley, valley to foothills. How peaceful it is!—The sound of the mountain stream is nature’s drum; the wind through the pines is heaven’s zither. We must not let insects infest the budding love conceived within this wondrous realm. —Happiness is something fragile and does not come twice.”

While saying this, the strange person extended his hand toward the two. And so, Yamabuki and Iwatarou both involuntarily clung to his hand. Connecting their hands together, the strange person said: “Beautiful garments are made by tailors; court ranks are created by the Ministry of Ceremonies. “In short, they are all trifling things. “What is truly precious is human love! “You must love and continue loving forevermore. “Should either of you break this bond of love, that person will surely sink into an abyss of unfathomable misfortune.”

“Yes.”

Iwatarou shed tears and bowed humbly and respectfully, but

“Even if I’m told to kill, I’ll never go against today’s teachings. …Yamabuki! What’re you plannin’ to do, huh?” “Iwa-san, I was wrong. I ain’t gonna go anywhere no more—please don’t hold it against me and forgive me.”

“Oh, I see. That’s mighty grateful of ya.” “There ain’t nothin’ to forgive or not forgive.” “I’ll be the one to say thanks.” The two clung tightly to each other. A sound of stifled sobs could be heard. The one who buried her face in Iwatarou’s chest—that was Yamabuki’s weeping. That is to say, the mingled sorrow and joy of having nearly stumbled due to sweet temptation, only to be barely saved, gushed forth as weeping.

Everyone remained utterly silent.

The autumn midday was quiet.

Ushimaru, who had been standing at the entrance observing the situation, now came stomping in and addressed the strange person in a deeply impressed manner. “You are a great person, aren’t you? What kind of person are you?”

Then, the white-robed strange person approached Ushimaru with a gentle smile on his face 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 mountain community to spread this very doctrine.” “A monk?” “Nuh-uh, you’re not a monk.” “But you have hair on your head, don’t you?” “That is why I am a monk with hair. Therefore, my sermons are slightly different from those of ordinary monks.” “What is your name?”

“I have no true name to begin with. ...I am clad in white robes.” “That is why the people of the mountain community call me Shirahoushi.”

“Huh?” Ushimaru was astonished, but it wasn’t just him—Yamabuki and Iwatarou were also dumbfounded, and they all stared fixedly at the strange person.

“There’s nothing to be surprised about.”

Shirahoushi began to expound calmly.

“The Shirahoushi whom the mountain community people hate and despise—that is me.” “However, I am not a demon.” “I should rather be an angel... This mountain community is a good community.” “The people here are good people, but there is one bad thing.” “Detesting people from the lowlands who are not Kajin is by no means a good thing, no matter how you consider it.” “I am one who has come to break down such ideologies.” Shirahoushi’s eyes blazed like flames as he spoke these words. Shirahoushi soon bowed deeply and, stepping over the threshold, went outside. He entered into the woods and walked on. Before long, his figure was hidden among the trees, but his divine white-robed form remained in the eyes of the three. And the compassionate words that preached the “religion of love” still lingered vividly in the ears of the three.

The two lovers, still embracing each other, were seeing Shirahoushi off.

12

About a month had passed since these events occurred. The crimson brocade of autumn leaves that had adorned all the mountains and blazed with color withered away, and Sasa no Hara was buried beneath snow. The season of winter seclusion arrived.

For the Kajin people, winter was a season of hunting and revelry. They would go hunting for bears and wild boars, carrying bows and arrows. They would hold feasts where men and women mingled together, using the captured prey as game. It was a season of love, a season of carnal desire, and also a season of peace. And it was also a season of indolence.

Snow fell day after day.

They lit fires to warm themselves and gathered to exchange idle chatter. They had no other business. The sole topic of their conversations was "Sousuke Tengu," and for them, "Sousuke Tengu" was a guardian deity more revered than any other. Of course, rumors about Shirahoushi also arose. "The one who destroys the peace of the mountain community."

With these words, the people would voice their hatred. However, generally speaking, their mountain community was peaceful during the winter.

The night in the deep mountains had deepened.

A faint moon hung in the sky. As far as the eye could see, everything was buried beneath snow; both forests and groves were pure white. And then, a single black shadow emerged upon the snow. A bear? No, no—it seemed human. Moreover, it seemed to be carrying something heavy on its back. It drew near, sluggishly wriggling forward.

This was the mid-slope of Mount Yatsugatake. This was the Tsuzumigatani Valley, located directly below the Kajin people's mountain community. A cliff towered before them. When the black figure reached the base of the cliff, it came to a halt.

“Hey”

Then, they suddenly called out. “It’s me, it’s me—open the door quickly,” came a whisper-like voice.

Who on earth was he calling out to? There was no one around here, was there? Moreover, even if he told them to open the door, there was no house anywhere here, was there?

The surroundings were oppressively quiet.

And then, strangely enough, a voice answered from nowhere. "Hey, who's there? Gonkuro?"

Then, the black figure said in a voice trembling from the cold, “You should’ve been able to tell by my voice. Who else would come to a place like this in the middle of the night besides me?” “Did you bring what was requested?” “Heh, no need to worry. I’ve brought all the goods you requested. It’s freezing—hurry up and open it!” “You came alone, didn’t you?” “Man, this is really the checkpoint now, eh? If this were Ataka no Seki, it’d be Togashi—but since it’s Tsuzumigatani, it’s Tashirou. Nah—this glare of yours ain’t got no bite. Yes, yes—this humble one is alone.”

“Good. 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, and in the snow-covered grove, a single flicker of firelight cast its glow. Though concealed by trees and blanketed in snow—rendering it nearly invisible from the outside—there appeared to be a log cabin nestled within the thicket of shrubs at the base of the cliff. The firelight also seemed to come from there.

Once again came the creaking of the door—the firelight vanished instantly because the cabin door had been shut—and Gonkuro’s figure disappeared from sight because he had presumably entered that cabin.

Afterwards, all was desolately still. The snow, white as bridal purity, and the clear azure moonlight interplayed, unfolding a mystical scene that could not be witnessed save on a winter's night in the deep mountains. A loud swishing sound rang out. The bamboo grove had shed its snow. After that, it grew quieter still.

At that moment, a war cry suddenly rang out from the direction of the peaks. The barking of dogs, the laughter of women. The sounds seemed to be coming from the Kajin people's mountain community. Inside the log cabin surrounded by shrubs, a bonfire was blazing crimson. With a bonfire in the middle, two men were drinking sake from bowls. They were Gomi Tashirou and Gonkuro. Tashirou’s beautiful, almost seducer-like face, flushed crimson from the sake and the fire’s heat, appeared to be in remarkably high spirits as he chattered incessantly.

Gonkuro appeared to be over forty; his plump bearded round face was flushed crimson too, yet he chattered away without being outdone. The cabin interior was lively.

13 “Hmm, what on earth is going on? The mountain community’s making an awful racket, isn’t it?” Gonkuro pricked up his ears slightly.

“That’s right,” said Tashirou with a smirk. “It’s awfully lively out there. They must be holding some banquet or such.” “Seems our plan’s finally falling into place, eh?” “Huh? What’re you—” “Plan? You’re still harpin’ on that?” “Quit spoutin’ your same old line—that plan o’ yours has dragged on forever!” “Now now Gonkuro, don’t be like that.” “Big undertakings need long preparations—that’s how it goes.” “I get that much,” retorted Gonkuro, “but this ‘plan’ o’ yours—I still can’t swallow it.” “Middlemanning miso ’n rice from the castle town to fleece them tribesfolk—even if we mark it up sky-high, the profit ain’t what you’d call easy money.”

“Now, now, Gonkuro—I’m beggin’ you, I’m beggin’ you. You think I built this cabin just for profits thinner than a mosquito’s tear? My sights are set way higher.” “Comin’ on mighty strong there. You sure talk a big game, eh? Then spit it out—let’s hear this grand plan of yours.” “Heh—finally foldin’? Poor clueless bastard… Fine then—listen up good. What I’m after? First comes gold, second comes dames.”

“What? That’s all? Such trivial things?” “What other good things are there?” “After all, the world’s all about love and gold—they’ve been sayin’ that since way back, ain’t they?” “So what’s your point, eh?” “Ain’t nothin’ special ’bout that, I’m sayin’.”

“It’s ’cause you ain’t seein’ the real gems.” “Even the finest gem couldn’t fetch a thousand ryo.”

“What? You want gold? If it’s gold you’re after, there’s another channel for that…… Holding off on the women talk, are we?”

“Well—let’s hear things proper-like, in order.” Gonkuro grinned wryly. “Well now—how awfully composed of you. By the way, the woman’s a tribesperson.” “That ain’t even worth askin’.” “And she’s Sugi Uemon’s only daughter.”

“The mountain community’s leader, Sugi Uemon, right?”

“Yeah,” Tashirou nodded deeply. “Nineteen years old, fair-skinned and delicate.” “Heh, that too ain’t worth askin’ again.”

“That’s a matter of order.” “You’re not even listening properly.” “Fine then.” “She’s a splendid beauty.” “And she’s fallen for me.”

“What a nasty bastard.” “Quit making that weird noise.” “……Hunh, then what happened?”

“We’ve formally decided to elope to Edo…”

“Heh, that’s some bold talk there.” “But things aren’t going smoothly afterward.”

“...And here we are, just as I expected.” “Exactly as written, interference has come in.”

“Impressive! What a masterstroke! While you’re at it, get a good look at this mug.…” “This mug ain’t worth lookin’ at. First off—the woman trouble speaks for itself, yeah?” “Ugh—rotten luck through and through. Anyway, where’d we leave off?” “What a forgetful bastard you are. We’d just hit the part where interference showed up.” “Yeah. No mistake—that interference went and tangled with a damn monk of all people.” “Bwahahaha! Bwahahaha!” “Hey—laughin’s too damn mean! Least you could do is say somethin’.”

“But you’d make a killing with that monk. You don’t stand a chance against him, do ya?” “That’s why we’re all moping like this.” “Huh? Moping? With that face of yours?” “Ain’t there no scheme to pull ’em back?” “I ain’t sayin’ I can’t lend some smarts, but what’s the woman’s situation?” “They’re putting up a false retreat against us.” “Hunh, that’s troublesome.” “What the—! And you call that wisdom?! What you call helpin’ out is downright frightenin’. …But I’ve got a solid plan ready. Right here—striking at the heart.”

“Then just say it sooner.” “I was just putting you to a little test.” “Hey, unwrap the cloth bundle—I want to see that custom order.” “Understood.” As he said this, Gonkuro began to unwrap the bundle he had carried on his back from the castle town all the way here. Lacquered clogs of exquisite beauty, Hakata obi, chirimen robes, silk-lined underrobes, silver hairpins, coral hair ornaments—many high-end goods emerged. “Even a man seeing them ain’t bad. “If you showed these to young women, they’d come leaping at you in no time.”

“Hah! So you’re sayin’ we’ll use that prey to drop ’em into the trap, eh?” Gonkuro licked his lips. “Testin’ whether the monk’s preachin’ or my tricks work better on the girls—might not be half bad, eh, Gonkuro?”

14

The bonfire burned heartily, and the inside of the hut was warm.

In a single-room hut that could easily hold ten tatami mats, miso tubs, rice bales, sake bottles, salted salmon fillets, soy sauce barrels, brooms, dustpans, oil jars, cotton, cloth, thread, and needles lay strewn about in disarray, while hidden among them were bows, matchlock guns, daggers—all of which were goods to be sold at high prices to the mountain-dwelling cave people community above.

“Now then,”

Gonkuro licked his lips, then gulped down the sake in his bowl, “Is that the end of the women talk? What about the money talk?”

“This one’s a bit hard to talk about.” “We’re just halfway through the plan.” “Heh—you’re spouting nonsense. That plan of yours is shady.”

“Oh my, how oddly suspicious you are.” “Well then, go on and suspect to your heart’s content.” “Just you wait—I’ll make ’em gasp soon enough.”

“Now, don’t say that and just tell me—keeping it all to yourself is downright greedy.”

“Heh, back to your same old act again?” “Well, if you’re gonna call it hogging everything for myself, even I gotta admit it feels kinda gross.” “Alright then, I’ll spill it—let’s start with the sum of money.”

“A thousand ryo?” “Two thousand ryo?” “What’s all this fuss about some trifling thousand or two thousand ryo?” “Whoa, you’re swingin’ big there!” “If my guess ain’t off, we’re talkin’ ten thousand ryo in koban.” “What? Ten thousand?” “You gone mad?” “What a shocker!” “So where’s this treasure exactly?” “On Tsutsumigadou cliff.” “Hunh—that cave people community?”

“In the inner sanctuary of the Tengu Shrine... There’s a large wooden statue there. It stands two jō tall—about six meters—and holds a spear. The wooden statue of Sousuke Tengu. In other words... that’s their guardian deity.” “What’s that got to do with anything?” “The wooden statue’s wearing armor.” “That’s mighty impressive.” “That armor’s worth ten thousand ryo!” “I still don’t get it.” “Both helmet and cuirass are goldwork—melt ’em down into koban coins and you’ve got ten thousand easy.” “But why steal it? You can’t even get through the mountain community.”

Then Tashirou nimbly stood up, took the torch that was placed there, and lit it from the bonfire. “Hey Gonkuro, come here! I’ll show you something that’ll make your guts shrivel.”

He took the lead and exited the hut. Then Gonkuro followed suit and exited.

The snow outside, illuminated by torchlight, flared into a rosy brightness only in that spot—ghastly yet beautiful. Tashirou walked toward the cliff, crushing the snow beneath his feet, but suddenly stopped and turned around. “Hey Gonkuro, look here!”

As he spoke, he held out the torch.

On the cliff face shrouded in ice and snow—though not clearly discernible as such—there was a single path that appeared to have been carved out, perhaps with a chisel. It ascended diagonally upward along the cliff face in a stair-like formation. “Hmm.” Gonkuro let out a groan. He was thoroughly impressed by this patient, meticulous work.

“How about it?” Tashirou declared in a spirited voice. “Do you still think I’m a fool?… This is the path I carved out.” “It must have taken nearly half a year.” “This cliff path runs all the way to the very back of the Tengu Shrine.” “No—it was a real struggle.” “Now that I’ve come this far, all that’s left is to steal the prize.”

“Not a word left to say. I’m impressed.” “Right—now that we’ve come this far, all that’s left is to steal the prize.” “That thing lives up to its name—it’s heavy as hell.” “Because it’s worth ten thousand ryo in gold.” “By the way, I’m of frail constitution.” “Nah—you’re quite the silver swindler.” “That’s why I chose you.”

“This is practically a feast laid out—now that it’s all prepared, shall we take the first bite?” “Had enough?” “What of it?”

“Then we’re agreed?” “By all means—let’s carry this out together!” Suddenly, yet again, a boisterous burst of laughter could be heard coming from the mountaintop. “That’s it—that’s exactly it! That laughter—it’s our boon!” “Hmm, I don’t get it.” “What do you mean? While there’s snow, the mountain community is always in a festive mood. That’s when we’ll do the job—that’s what it means.”

XV

After these events, several more months passed.

January turned to February, and though in warm Edo the plum blossoms had scattered and cherry blossoms were about to bloom, Sasano-daira of the mountain community remained buried in deep snow.

And thus, it was a time of great peace.

Always, songs and laughter could be heard coming from within the houses that stood scattered here and there.

They were indulging in revelry.

However, even in such a peaceful mountain community, there came a time when calamity struck.

One day, a figure came running through the snowbound mountain community, shouting at the top of his voice. That was none other than Iwatarou. The villagers, startled, stopped him and asked what had happened. "Sugi Uemon’s daughter—my betrothed, that beautiful Yamabuki—has abandoned the mountain community, cast me aside, and eloped with that Tashirou, seduced by the hollow glamour of the lowlands!" This was Iwatarou's reply. “Damned fool!”

Upon hearing that, the villagers immediately declared, “To abandon this splendid dwelling and join with lowlanders who have piled ancestral grudges generation upon generation—what a foolish woman, unafraid of divine punishment. She will likely find no good fortune in the future and will surely come to regret this.”

With these words, they—some hating, others pitying—regarded the woman who had left the mountain community. However, it was now early spring, and the mountain community lay wrapped in snow. For them, this was an era of indulgence. And so they let pass this grave betrayal incident—one that under ordinary circumstances would have warranted far greater uproar and condemnation—with surprising nonchalance. They likely reasoned that happiness lay not in wasting precious time on others' affairs, but in fully indulging their pleasures throughout what might be called the year's festive months.

Even so, Iwatarou—Yamabuki’s betrothed—and Sugi Uemon—her father—could not simply overlook this as if they were strangers.

Speaking first of Iwatarou’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, thinking to at least exhaust his body and thereby numb the anguish and sorrow in his heart, he climbed ever upward through the glistening white slopes of Mount Yatsugatake—fighting boars when he found them, battling bears when he encountered them, killing foxes and capturing monkeys—embarking on every manner of adventure.

Sugi Uemon’s state of mind was equally tragic. Being none other than the leader of the mountain community, he felt deeply responsible. And as befitted a leader, his reverence for Sousuke-tengu and devotion to the mountain community were twice as strong as anyone else’s. "For the daughter of the mountain community’s leader to defy Sousuke-tengu’s will and form a bond with some lowlander youth is already an unpardonable transgression—yet to abandon the mountain community and vanish without a trace… What manner of wayward woman is this?" Yet even as he thought this,

"A woman of different status from the mountain community who bonds with a lowlander will inevitably be cast aside—that much was certain, for once she descended the mountain, she could never return again. Unable to dwell in human settlements yet barred from the mountains—what would become of her then? Would she hang herself or perish by hanging? Either way, it was pitiful." A twinge of compassion stirred within him. From that day forth, Sugi Uemon grew despondent. He scarcely ventured from his hearthside. He did nothing but feed logs to the fire, gaze fixedly at the flames while sinking into brooding thought—forsaking both merry feasts and his beloved hunts.

Ten years ago he had lost his wife; as for female presence in his life, there had only been his daughter—and now that she too had fled, Sugi Uemon remained alone in his home. The only one who came to visit was Iwatarou, who carried the same sorrow.

Today too was a fierce blizzard. It seemed they had caught a bear or something. It was what they called the dreadful "bear blizzard."

Sugi Uemon was thinking intently. A hook held a kettle, and beneath the kettle, a fire burned.

It was nearing dusk. The room was nearly dark. However, the lamp was not lit. Yet Sugi Uemon's figure remained clearly visible in the firelight.

At that moment, the front door opened, and a young man slowly entered.

“Oh, Iwa.” Noticing this, Sugi Uemon called out listlessly. “Ah yeah, that’s right. It’s us.” While saying this, Iwatarou approached the hearthside 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 shō of sake.” He placed the swan down with a thud beside the hearth. “This sake ain’t cuttin’ it.” Then, heating the sake over the hearth fire, the two men began gulping it down vigorously.

For a while, both remained silent. That was oppressive for the two men.

16 “Iwa,”

Suddenly, Sugi Uemon said. “You ain’t gettin’ drunk at all, are ya?” “Seems even this old man ain’t gettin’ drunk either.”

“What’s wrong? I ain’t gettin’ drunk at all.” “Same here. Ain’t gettin’ drunk at all.”

There, the two fell silent. The silence was long. And so it was a suffocating silence.

Snow seeming to blow through gaps in the door settled on the two men’s shoulders. Whether a remnant of the storm had strayed inside, the hearth fire suddenly flared sideways but immediately righted itself again.

The two men remained silent. And then, suddenly, Iwatarou said. “I just don’t get it! No matter how I think about it, I just don’t get it!” “What do you mean?!” Sugi Uemon pressed on. “What do you mean? It’s a woman’s heart!” “Don’t call her ‘woman’—use ‘Yamabuki’!” “Oh, I’ll say! Oh, I’ll say! I just don’t get it. It’s that Yamabuki’s state of mind!” “She’s been possessed by a demon. What else could there be?!” “You can say that all you want, but I wanna know—what was it that lured Yamabuki?”

“What’s the point of asking that?” “It won’t do any good, but I just wanna ask.” “Hmph. Stupid line of questioning.”

There, the two fell silent again. The two shō of sake was nearly gone.

“That’s right. That guy was no good.”

This time, Sugi Uemon groaned out. "If I'd given 'em a proper scoldin' back then, this whole ruckus wouldn't've happened..."

“Huh?” Iwatarou challenged. “Gramps, did somethin’ happen?” “Shortly before she disappeared, that man came around—which was unusual.” “That man? Tashirou?” “Tashirou?” “That’s right—that peddler fella. He spread out all sorts of goods there on the veranda.” “Even when I saw ’em, my eyes near got dazzled by those fancy obis and patterned clogs.” “……Then that Yamabuki wench—who’d been sittin’ all listless-like in the back room till then—up and went to the veranda. Must’ve been when I’d stepped out on some errand.” When I came back, there she was—that Yamabuki wench—grinnin’ away happy as you please. And what’s she holdin’? Clogs. Turned out Tashirou gave ’em to her. Gave her a bit of an earful, sure, but didn’t lay into her proper—lookin’ back now, I was yellow-bellied… Next day she gets an obi. “Then day after that comes a hairpin.……”

“I get it now. Hmm, I see.” ……And so it finally clicked. “Gramps!” Iwatarou’s voice strained. “Hey now!” Sugi Uemon widened his eyes. “I’ve finally made up my mind.”

“Yeah.” “That seems for th’ best.”

“I’ve got no use for a woman who’d abandon a man she loved—and who loved her back—just to shift her gaze to obis and hairpins.”

“Yeah. That’s absolutely reasonable……I severed the parent-child bond in my heart long ago.” “Master Shirahoushi would be appalled.” “……He wouldn’t have dreamed in his wildest prayers it’d come to this…” “Huh? What’d you say?” “Shirahoushi, you mean?” “Nah—this is our own affair.”

There, they fell silent once again. The sake had likely been prepared; the two idly stared fixedly at the fire.

“Gramps, I’m headin’ out then.”

Iwatarou stood up.

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

Iwatarou 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. Eventually, as the firewood ran out, the fire gradually began to die down.

Sugi Uemon still did not move a muscle.

Night soon arrived. The storm seemed to have gained strength, as a terrifying roar—like the crack of a whip—howled through the air. Sugi Uemon suddenly stood up, staggered toward the front, and swung the door open with a clatter before rushing out. With a deafening roar, the blizzard lashed at eyes and mouths. In the dark void where neither mountain forms nor forest shadows—not a single thing—could be seen, only snowflakes resembling goblins or phantoms danced wildly. Sugi Uemon whirled around in a somersault and tumbled onto the snow. Round and round and round and round he spun, tumbling through the snow like a madman, heedless of hills or valleys.

In a manner befitting a leader of mountain folk long accustomed to such ways—through this cruel method—he tormented his own flesh and sought to numb both his yearning for his daughter and his hatred toward that very same individual.

17

“Heave-ho,” “Hup-ho” “Heave-ho,” “Hup-ho”

Such work chants drifted through the air. They came from two voices—likely men bearing a heavy load—yet their forms remained hidden in the dark. For this was nighttime at a cliff behind Mount Yatsugatake’s tengu shrine, where early spring had layered ice and snow into thick drifts. Freshly fallen powder blanketed the ground as moonlight seeped through cloud breaks to cast slanting beams across the precipice.

Along that cliff ran a diagonally and steeply carved artificial path. Having spent six months painstakingly building it, Tashirou had created the path, and now two men were descending it from above. Exchanging hushed calls of “Heave-ho” and “Hup-ho,” they descended slowly and cautiously.

It was Tashirou and Gonkurou who were carrying a thick, short object wrapped in straw matting, making it look as though it were heavy. Having completely descended the cliff, the two men let out a sigh of relief, “Just one more push—let’s finish this.” “Understood,” said Gonkurou, striking a wooden mallet in agreement.

Then, shouldering their load once more, the two men passed silently by the wooden hut standing nearby and walked toward the snow-crowned forest looming ahead. They had no sooner entered the forest than a dog’s howl echoed from the base of a large cedar.

“Hey! Damn beast!” they cursed as they approached. There stood a dog sled awaiting its passengers. “Heave-ho,” they grunted while dropping their heavy load onto the sled with a thud before scrambling aboard themselves. Gonkurou seized the reins while Tashirou sidled up to the luggage. With a whip crack that split the air, Gonkurou glanced backward. “Oi Tashirou—what’s gotten into ya?” “Couldn’t even spare a farewell glance at the hut?” “…Hweeeeee!”

He urged the dogs on with a whistle. Then the three massive dogs lowered their heads forcefully and strained their hind legs. In that instant, they surged smoothly forward. A puff of snow shot up as the sled slid out quietly.

“Heh.” Tashirou snorted derisively. “We ain’t that naive. …What’s it matter what happens to some mountain community woman?” “Oh ho ho! Acting all high and mighty now, are you? Heh, you make me sick. Weren’t you hell-bent on that woman just a while back?” “Yeah, I was, for a time. …When it’s the daughter of those mountain people—the ones the townsfolk fear like demons—well, anyone’d get a bit curious. And her looks aren’t half bad either. There’s something to be said for a different flavor. She’s perfect for a bit of fun. You’d think the same, wouldn’t you?”

“By the way, was the flavor to your liking?” “For me, it was my first time.” “Her physique was excellent.” “In her fairness and softness, she’s more like silk floss than silk crepe.” “And as for the fierceness of her passion—hee-hee-hee—how should I put it?”

“Damn it!”

Gonkurou shouted as he swung his whip through the air with a whoosh and struck one of the dogs. “Heh, you pulled it off nicely. In a remote mountain hut deep in the woods, just the two of you—what you did’s plain as day. Must’ve fooled around till you got sick of it.” “Not quite, but close enough.” “After ditching a woman like that, why’re you runnin’ again? This part don’t add up.” “Told you already. She’s just some mountain community girl. No way I’d shack up with her forever.”

“Hmph, so you got bored with her, huh?” “To tell the truth, that’s about the size of it.” “For someone like that, you sure lack wit.” Gonkurou sneered.

“Lack wit? Me?!” Tashirou suddenly widened his eyes. “What a waste to abandon her. Deceive her and bring her down to town—why not sell her off to a procurer?” “Hmph. What? That’s your grand scheme? Kongming-level wisdom indeed.” “If that’s all it was, I’d have agreed ages ago.” “Agreed? …Then why didn’t you?” “In other words—the ‘gem’ in question differs.”

“I’d love to hear this—how’s it different?” “If they were village women, that might work. Once mountain women get an idea stuck in their heads—mark my words—there’s no handling those who’ll stop at nothing to see it through.” “Hmph, why can’t you handle ’em?” “Show even a hint of crossing them, and we’ll have our throats slit while we sleep.” “Well now—they’re that fierce?” “They’re single-minded to the core.” “Hey, beasts! Quit dawdling!” “Quit dawdling!”

Gonkurou tightened the leash on the dog straying sideways while shouting in desperation. “It’s the dead of a snowy winter night!” “Even if you wanted to nibble at weeds—there’s no grass here to eat! Giddyup now!” “Run! Run!”

Gonkurou swung the whip recklessly.

18

Forests and woods covered in snow stood like ghosts under the pale moonlight’s glow. As the sleigh advanced, they drew gradually nearer. When the sleigh passed them by, they dwindled smaller and smaller until vanishing into the distance behind. Mountains robed in white and ravines yawning like a colossal beast’s maw likewise drew near as the sleigh progressed, only to retreat farther back once it had passed. And through it all, the hazy moon hung indifferent in the sky—whether the sleigh crept or raced mattered not—casting its dim light from on high upon both vehicle and men.

The people on the sleigh—Gomi Tashirou and Gonkurou—remained silent for a time. Gonkurou slackened the reins as much as possible, letting the dogs run freely while envisioning his return to town—drinking at a warm izakaya and claiming the largest possible share of their splendid spoils. In contrast, Tashirou was devising schemes to seize this ill-gotten gold entirely for himself. Tashirou glanced around in all directions and thrust his hand into his coat.

“However, wait,” he muttered and stealthily withdrew his hand. “Haste makes waste. Too close, too close.” He crossed his arms and stared intently at Gonkurou’s movements. Gonkurou continued manipulating the reins with his back turned to Tashirou, unthinkingly. His posture was full of openings. Tashirou looked around in all directions. In battle, terrain is paramount……It must have been because he thought this. At this moment, the sleigh was racing along a narrow rocky path between mountain and ravine.

Before they knew it, the sky clouded over, and the peony snowflakes that had once ceased began to fall again, carried by the wind. The moonlight swiftly faded away and then vanished completely.

The snow light cast a dim, faint glow. At this moment, Tashirou thrust his right hand into his pocket once more and seemed to firmly grip something. With that, he fixed his gaze intently and glared at Gonkurou's back. When they rounded the rocky path, a vast ice field spread before their eyes. The blizzard steadily intensified, roaring against them like a beast. The dogs began panting in distress. Time and again they tried to flee, sinking their teeth into the tethering rope. And each time, Gonkurou's whip cracked resoundingly against their backs.

“Now! “Now!” Tashirou muttered these words to himself as he inched forward. At that moment, as if they had struck a rock, the sleigh suddenly lurched. In that instant, Tashirou swiftly pulled his arm out from his pocket—but no sooner had his hand risen into the air than something glinted. Gonkurou shouted “Ah!” and flung away the reins, but in the next moment he rolled heavily into the snow.

“Tashirou! You…! You stabbed me!”

While pressing down firmly on his bloodied shoulder wound with one hand, Gonkurou writhed in pain.

Tashirou stepped down from the sleigh, gripping the dagger in a reverse grip with an air of calm, and fixed Gonkurou with a cold glare,

“How does it feel, Gonku? Does it hurt?” “What do you think you’re doing, cutting down a comrade?! “So you’ve gone mad with bloodlust.” “Ah, it hurts.” “I can’t breathe.” “Why would I lose my mind? “Thoroughly and methodically—this is the act of a sane man.” “What do you mean ‘sane’?” “Hmm. So that’s it.” “Then you… that spoils—” “Have you only just realized? …I intend to keep it all for myself.” “Not a chance!” As he said this, Gonkurou unsteadily rose to his feet, but perhaps unable to endure the pain from his wounded shoulder, he plopped heavily back down onto his backside.

“If you’re going that way, then I’ll answer in kind! Ready yourself, brat!”

Drawing the dagger he too had concealed, he gripped it in a reverse grip and pressed forward while rising to a kneeling position. The dogs who had lost their driver now began barking fiercely. All three looked skyward, trembling in the relentless snowfall as they howled mournfully. Weakened by his initial wound, Gonkurou gradually faltered. Blood dripping from his shoulder stained the snow crimson, though in the night's darkness it appeared black. He strained desperately to stand—tried again and again—but his legs refused to obey. Scrabbling on his knees, he barely managed to keep Tashirou at bay.

“Here I come!” Tashirou darted about while taunting him. He moved with unshakable composure—striking from the right, lunging from the left, then whirling around to assail from behind. Like a cat that had caught a mouse, he first delivered a fatal blow, waited for his prey to weaken toward death, then sought to deal the final strike.

Tashirou began prattling like a fool. “Hey Gonku—no, wait, Gonkurou—what a genius I am! “Born with a willow’s constitution, I’m ill-suited for brute strength. “So I used you—stole that unimaginable prize—and once I kill my partner here, it’s an easy profit without spilling a single grain to others. …And that very prize? Converted to gold coins, it’ll surely make 40,000 ryo—no, 50,000 ryo at least. “Heh! Though I may not look it, starting today, Lord Tashirou here is a man of great wealth—free to indulge in luxury. “Beautiful women and fine sake—Lord Tashirou won’t be lacking in any of it.”

19 “Oh… Does it hurt? Does it hurt?” “It must pain you, mustn’t it? It must pain you.” “That shoulder’s gushing blood now.” “This suffering is but momentary—after comes the nenbutsu for rebirth. You’ll find peace at last.”

“Urgh… uuugh.” Gonkurou could no longer even speak. Yet through what might be called a final resolve, he channeled all his strength into his legs and abruptly stood upright. Without an instant’s pause, he swung down the dagger. The blade pierced sharply into Tashirou’s unwary arm—though the thick winter robes prevented it from gouging deep—but Tashirou’s panic needed no explanation. “Ah!” he cried out, staggering backward five or six steps.

First dropping the dagger from his hand, Gonkurou then fell backward onto the snow like a withered tree collapsing. And then he lay stretched out, no longer attempting to move. He completely stopped breathing. The snow fell steadily. The snow continued to pile mercilessly even upon poor Gonkurou’s corpse. The corpse that had appeared black turned white as one watched. Eventually, it vanished completely.

It had been buried in a snowy grave.

Tashirou nimbly boarded the sleigh.

Without uttering a word or looking back, he drove the sleigh. Soon he and the sleigh’s shadow were swallowed by the blizzard and vanished from view. An imposing silence fell afterward.

A howl—at that moment, wolves' cries came from the forest. In response, two or three answering howls emerged from nowhere. Then upon the pure white snowy plateau appeared one, two, three, four black shapes drawing steadily nearer. They were several wolves. The wolves scattered across the terrain swiftly coalesced into a pack. With muzzles lowered earthward as though craving human blood, they trudged resolutely forward until reaching the burial site of the corpse, where they began circling endlessly. As they circled, they pawed frantically at the snow. The excavated snow, whipped by the tempest, billowed thickly skyward. What lay revealed beneath was Gonkurou's pitiless corpse. In one swift motion, the wolves pounced.

The corpse was devoured by the wolves, leaving behind nothing but tattered rags. However, even that was buried under the snow and vanished in an instant.

The cabin was warm. The bonfire burned vigorously.

Yamabuki sat motionlessly. Her eyes were fixed on the bonfire, but her mind was thinking of something else. She was waiting for her husband’s return. She was waiting for Tashirou’s return.

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

However, she hadn’t the slightest inkling of such a thing. And so, she waited earnestly.

Outside, a blizzard seemed to be raging, and the violent sound of branches snapping could be heard mingling with the howling wind.

Suddenly, she raised her face and looked toward the window. A clunking sound echoed. She listlessly stood up and slid open the window shutters. A bear’s face with a pointed mouth and gentle eyes appeared. It was peering in through the window. Yamabuki laughed with a lonely smile,

“Ohhh, with this heavy snow today, it seems there’s no food in the mountains.” As she said this, she picked up the pot and threw the leftover porridge to it. And then, the bear’s face immediately withdrew, and soon the sound of slurping could be heard, as if it were eating the porridge. When that stopped, the same face appeared again at the window. “There’s no more left for you. Go on over there.” As she said this and waved her hand, the bear nodded two or three times before swiftly disappearing from the window. There, Yamabuki closed the window and returned to her original spot. While gazing fixedly at the bonfire, she sank into thought once more.

The night gradually deepened. She waited endlessly. She did not even move.

At that moment, footsteps could be heard. However, they were not human footsteps. Shhht shhht shhht shhht—the footsteps began circling around the cabin. Moreover, they belonged to many. They seemed to be dogs. Pleading whimpers—"Whine, whine..."—could be heard.

“Oh, you’ve come, you old dears.”

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

“Ohhh, you must be cold too. Come now, don’t hold back—warm yourselves by the fire.”

二〇 The five wolves wagged their tails and nuzzled playfully against her body. Immediately pushed away, they staggered feebly but gathered together in a corner of the cabin and there knelt down quietly. And from there, they watched over Yamabuki’s face through the bonfire. A woman and five wolves.—That was what occupied the single room. ……What a terrifying thing this was! However, it was not the least bit frightening. That was because Yamabuki was a 窩人, and 窩人 and beasts were kin.

Bears, wolves, and foxes were all friends to Yamabuki. Even back when she had lived in the 窩人 tribe, Yamabuki and the beasts had gotten along well, but after coming to this log cabin, the two had grown even closer, and whenever Tashirou was away, they would come by to visit.

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

The next morning, she left the cabin and casually searched here and there, but she did not see the figure of her beloved. She even tried calling out loudly, but only the storm answered. Eventually, night came. At midnight, she tried waiting, but he still did not return. Another bleak night dawned. Morning sunlight came streaming in. And so, she left the cabin and wandered across the snow-covered plateau, searching like a madwoman, but the result was the same as the day before. And so, another desolate night would come……

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’s snow had mostly melted, and lush green began to sprout, shining in the sunlight across peaks and valleys. Kobushi magnolias and deutzia flowers became visible among the trees, and mountain cherry blossoms began to bloom. The songs of bush warblers and Japanese robins could be heard coming from the thicket.

Yamabuki was pregnant around this time. She was carrying Tashirou's child.

She finally came to clearly realize in her heart around this time that she had been abandoned by Tashirou.

"Revenge!"—she vowed in her heart. She would make that heartless man understand just how terrifying the vengeance of this mountain tribe's daughter—as relentless as obsession itself—could be! Thus she had resolved.

"But the child bears no sin. All else must wait until it is born." Thus she waited within the cabin for the day of delivery.

At last, midsummer arrived.

The Wajin tribespeople of Sasano Taira were busy preparing for the festival. It was the Sousuke Tengu festival ritual. This was an annual tradition; on the fifteenth day of July, at dawn, the sacred curtained pavilion would be opened. And then, the assembly reverently paid homage to Lord Sousuke, whose body was armored in golden plate. The Wajin tribespeople were busily engaged in their respective tasks with vigor. Those making flags, those repairing banners, those hanging lanterns, those preparing curtains—voices of laughter, conversation, and song could be heard throughout the tribe.

At last, the day of the festival arrived. The precincts of the Tengu Shrine were decorated with flags and banners. The Wajin tribespeople in their finest attire began gathering from the night before, and by the time the Morning Star faded, the shrine precincts were crowded with people. At that moment, a solemn procession filed into the shrine precincts. They were the people conducting the ritual, with Sugi Uemon at their head. Barefoot, with disheveled hair and wearing a white pilgrimage robe, he held a sanpō tray in his hands. The one who followed was the vice-leader and Iwatarou’s father, KiriGorou. He was holding a torch in his hand.

The precincts that had been bustling suddenly fell into solemn silence. The crowd parted to either side and welcomed the procession. The procession advanced solemnly. They stopped in front of the shrine. With a creak, the shrine door opened. Then, Sugi Uemon and KiriGorou solemnly ascended the steps.

The torch KiriGorou held burned with flickering sparks scattering in the depths of the inner sanctuary, emanating solemn mystery. Once more came a creaking groan.

The crowd suddenly grew tense. It was because the sacred curtained pavilion had been opened. The eyes of the crowd snapped toward the depths of the inner sanctuary. Suddenly, a scream resounded. It had come from the depths of the inner sanctuary. The crowd erupted into restless murmurs.

Before the eyes of the crowd, Sugi Uemon and KiriGorou came rushing out.

“How dreadful! What sacrilege!”

Sugi Uemon shouted hoarsely. "Sousuke Tengu stands naked!" KiriGorou continued shouting. Both men were trembling violently. And their faces were pale.

The crowd fell silent for an instant. Due to the utterly unexpected event, they were unable to even speak.

But in the next instant, a terrifying chaos erupted. They all began shouting at once.

21

Some called this divine punishment. "Our unfaithfulness has angered God, and He has sent down a miracle!"

Others also shouted in this manner. "A thief must have stolen it." "The golden armor holds immense value." "—It must have been a thief from castle town!"

Others spoke as follows: “It must be Shirahoushi’s doing!” “That bastard has always scoffed at our tribe and our faith.” “The one who defiled our sacred god and trampled our sacred ground must be none other than that bastard!” “That’s right! That’s right!”

And the crowd all echoed these words in unison. “Capture Shirahoushi!”—“Search every blade of grass!”—“Hunt Shirahoushi! Hunt Shirahoushi!”

The crowd excitedly left the shrine precincts. The festival transformed completely into a hunt for Shirahoushi.

Around midday on this day, Shirahoushi sat atop a large rock. White robe, long hair, bare feet—the same gentle smile as ever.

Before him stood Iwatarou. He had watched for an opening among his companions and come to warn Shirahoushi of the imminent danger. “I mean no harm. “Please flee quickly. “The Shirahoushi-hunting mob will be arriving shortly. “Please, I beg you—leave the mountain with all haste.”

Even as he spoke, Iwatarou anxiously scanned his surroundings. “No—”

“No—” Shirahoushi said calmly. “I fear no one. I will never run away.” “This is dangerous, Lord Shirahoushi!” “No—,” he said again quietly. “No—I am in no danger. I have deep confidence. ……They have tried to capture me many times before. But they always failed.”

“Yes, that is indeed so.” “As Your Excellency says.” “But this time—this time alone—you must not remain complacent.” “I understand that too.” “They appear convinced I defiled their guardian deity.” “But they are mistaken.” “...The one who stole the golden armor was not I—it lies elsewhere.” “Your words need no elaboration.”

Iwatarou bowed his head. "Noble, noble you—why would you ever do such a thing? Even so, the tribespeople are utterly convinced that it was you, sir, who stole the armor. Even if they must part every blade of grass and cut through branches, this time they will not let you escape—every last man, woman, and child of the tribe has rushed here, with over five hundred now surrounding the mountain and searching since earlier."

“I see.”

The monk closed his eyes and remained still in thought for a while. “I will absolutely not flee. However, I shall leave this mountain.” “That would be safe. Above all else, safe.” “No—I face no danger. Even were I to remain on this mountain as I am, divine grace protects me. The tribespeople could never capture me. Were I to raise my hand but once, a mountain fire would suddenly erupt. Were I to lift my foot again, an avalanche would come crashing down... Once before I caused a mountain fire to disrupt their gathering—though it was no true conflagration. Merely an illusion that made them think so, yet they fled in fear... I do not fear them. What I fear is myself... I came to this mountain one year past.” “At first there were dozens of believers.” “But now only one remains—only you.” How frail my power has proven! It remains too soon to persuade others; to presume to teach them would be overreaching. That is why I shall leave this mountain. “I will depart, and through departure hone myself yet further.”

At that moment, a thunderous battle cry welled up from the forest below. A group of tribespeople brandishing their weapons came charging up, kicking up snow as they advanced.

Damn it! Iwatarou cried out in his heart,

“It may already be too late, but please hide! With all haste, Lord Shirahoushi!” “With all haste, Lord Shirahoushi!”

However, by the time Iwatarou said this, he was no longer there.

As he looked, there was something moving on a distant mountain peak. And from there, carried by the wind, a voice like this could be heard.

“Farewell, Iwatarou!” “I will meet you all again.” “Until then—farewell.”

“Ah, that is Lord Shirahoushi.”

Iwatarou muttered and bowed his head many times from atop the rock.

二二

The merciless defilement of Sousuke Tengu's sacred object struck the tribespeople of Sasanodaira like a thunderbolt from clear skies—an indescribable terror. Having failed to capture even Shirahoushi, they plunged into utter despair. Despair gave way to chaos. The once-peaceful settlement of the tribespeople crumbled completely within a single day.

Groups of ten or twenty people formed and began leaving Sasanodaira. “Until we reclaim the golden armor, we shall not return here—Let us go search for the golden armor. We’ll search every last corner of the land of Japan—no matter how many years it takes. Search and search and search—let’s go searching.”

With these words, they set out.

As January and February passed, the number of tribespeople in Sasanodaira had dwindled to a mere two hundred. Thus, by the time autumn passed and winter arrived, Sasanodaira became a deserted land. For Sugi Uemon himself led the remaining two hundred people and embarked on a wandering journey. At the Tengu Shrine, there were no longer any who performed the enshrinements, and in the dwellings of the tribespeople, none remained to dwell. The very fact that it had once been so bustling made its present state all the more desolate, with an air of bleak and desolate austerity now pervading the place.

One day, a wild fox—likely chased by a hunter—dashed headlong into the worship hall of the Tengu Shrine, but even after several days passed, it did not leave. It had made that place its dwelling. Gradually, animals gathered, and the once-majestic Tengu Shrine became utterly defiled with animal droppings and footprints, leaving no trace of its former dignity, while raccoon dogs and badgers formed colonies in the tribespeople’s abandoned houses, breeding and raising their young.

Thus, spring came again.

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

At that moment, in the cabin beneath the cliff, the vigorous cry of a newborn baby rang out. Yamabuki gave birth to a child. The child born was a boy. And he was named Inotarou.

Yamabuki, the new mother, lay buried in straw inside the cabin. There was no one to care for her. The sole comfort for Yamabuki was a small monkey with a bewildered expression sitting primly by the pillow of the sleeping infant.

Among all the animals in the universe, the creature named humans possesses the greatest adaptability.

Despite such wretched circumstances, Yamabuki thrived mysteriously. There was only the scant remaining rice and miso, along with various fruits she had carefully stored away last autumn—this was all the food she had—yet her milk came in and she could stand and walk. The baby grew up healthy and strong. Thus several months passed, then several years passed. Five years had flown by. The five years of hardship had eroded Yamabuki’s body until she finally fell ill. Inotarou, now five years old, desperately nursed her, but her body weakened day by day as if fate had decreed it, and death seemed imminent.

One day, she called Inotarou to her bedside. And thus she spoke.

“...Listen well to what I say.” “Your father was 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 return this resentment and curse.” “I cannot die even in death!” “Inotarou...there’s something I must ask of you.” “In place of your mother, repay this resentment to the hateful Tashirou!” “That would be the greatest act of filial piety!” “...Come here, come here, Inotarou. Come to my side.” “Extend your arm—your right arm.” “Bring it to my mouth.” “Now, to your mother’s mouth—come on.”

Yamabuki bit firmly into Inotarou's right arm and left teeth marks. “Those teeth marks shall never disappear. “It’s your mother’s memento. “Every time you see those teeth marks, remember your mother’s resentment. “And then, repay your mother’s resentment to that hateful Tashirou.” Having said this, Yamabuki closed her eyes as though relieved, quite peacefully. And then she lived for about two more days, but on the morning of the third day, she breathed her last.

From that day onward, five-year-old Inotarou became a complete orphan. However, he was not lonely. For monkeys, wolves, deer, and bears were there to comfort him. Thus his life became truly wild—for food there were small birds and fruits; for drink, the water of mountain streams; and during winters when provisions ran scarce, he would raid lonely village households to skillfully steal chickens, grains, and vegetables. Thus another five years swiftly flew by. And so Inotarou turned ten years old—yet his body surpassed even eighteen- or nineteen-year-old youths in size and sturdiness, while the agility of his movements combined with his arm strength proved truly astonishing. And that remarkable intellect! This too was truly astounding—indeed he could be called a mysterious creature who had inherited both mountain tribe and townsfolk blood while being raised by untamed nature—but this Inotarou stands as none other than the protagonist of our tale: The Demon God of Yatsugatake.

Lo, in the next installment, the author shall advance the brush of description regarding Inotarou’s circumstances while stirring up entirely different incidents in separate spheres—unleashing wave upon wave of upheaval with numerous twists and turns—to have our dear readers gripping their seats.

The story written thus far was but a mere prelude to the whole. From the next installment, we would enter into the main narrative.

The Takato Castle Town Volume

I

“Doctor, how does it seem? Is there a slight improvement?” “Indeed, it may be favorable.” “Is it not favorable?”

“Indeed, it may not be favorable.” “Then, which might it be?” “Indeed…”

Having said that, he did not offer any further response.

Lady Oishi was watching the situation intently with a worried look. Then she asked again. “Doctor, how does it seem? Is there a slight improvement?” “Indeed, it may be favorable.”

“Is it not favorable?”

“My lady!”

Unable to bear watching any longer, her husband Yuminoshin interjected from the side. "The Doctor has his own considerations. Wouldn't it rather be discourteous for you to keep pressing him with questions like this indefinitely?"

“Yes. I beg your pardon.” Oishi quietly wiped her tears and humbly retreated on her knees.

The room fell silent for a time. “May I have your ear…” As he said this, Dr. Amano Kitayama stood up, so Yuminoshin too rose to his feet. The two entered the neighboring room. “I hesitated to mention this due to My Lady’s profound grief, but the patient will not recover.” “Ah—that may indeed be so.” “Since it is ordained fate, nothing can be done.”

"In Western medicine, this illness is known as acute pneumonia." "Tonight will prove critical." "Tonight?" Even Yuminoshin felt his blood run cold.

“I shall return at a later time to conduct another examination.”

After Kitayama left with these words, it became as lonely as if a fire had gone out. The couple’s only child—eleven years old and in the bloom of adorable youth—Yanosuke lay sleeping deeply, tossed by a raging fever. "What if he really dies?" Oishi was nearly hysterical. "Amano Kitayama is a renowned master of Dutch physicians, a veritable deity of diagnosis and medication—if he declares death, death it shall be." Yuminoshin also said resignedly.

The two would not leave their beloved child’s bedside even for a moment. “Even so—is this Yanosuke not our miracle child?” Oishi, choking back tears, began to speak again. “For twenty years after we came together, we could not have a single child—so though it was the deity Koujin-sama, we were advised by others to pray to Lord Sousuke Tengu of Suwa Yatsugatake for a miracle child, and from that very month we made our supplications, I became mysteriously pregnant and gave birth—was it not this Yanosuke?” “He is the miracle child.” “How could that miracle child die at just ten or eleven?” “No, no—he will not die! No, no—he will not die!”

Oishi collapsed onto the tatami.

Then suddenly Yanosuke jerked upright on the bed.

“A replacement comes! A replacement comes! The next shall be greater still!” No sooner had he cried out than he collapsed abruptly and ceased breathing.

Thus June passed by. “You must keep your spirits up.” “My dear, you must keep your spirits up.”

The couple came to console one another in this manner.

“I hear a grand kabuki troupe has come from Edo. How about we go see it?” “Thank you for your kindness. But since autumn has arrived, perhaps you would prefer to enjoy your beloved mountain outings instead.”

“Hmm, a mountain outing? I suppose going wouldn’t be bad.” “You should set out tomorrow.” “Lord Kitayama was also fond of them.” “Perhaps I should try inviting him.” “That would be most agreeable.” When they sent a messenger to inquire, the reply came that he would gladly accompany them.

The following day was perfect autumn weather—the sky high and clear, persimmons reddening, insects flitting over withered grass—a truly splendid day.

Even before sunrise, Amano Kitayama arrived with three disciples in tow.

“Good morning, Mr. Kagami.”

“Mr. Kitayama, you’re quite early.”

The two exchanged pleasant greetings.

Accompanied by five young retainers and servants, with one dog in tow—a gourd filled with sake, a basket packed with food, and a canteen containing fresh water—Kagami Yuminoshin set out. The lady rested her hands on the entranceway floor,

“Take your time,” she said, bowing her head.

“My dear, I’ll be off now.”

With that, the group exited the gate.

Before long, they came upon a country path. Crunching frost pillars stood rigid; they pressed forward by treading on them.

II

Matoba, Nozasa, Nagafuji Village—and then their destination, Hachibuse Mountain. At Hachibuse Mountain's midslope, they opened their picnic baskets. As far as the eye could see stretched a mountainside brocade of autumn leaves. When a gust swept through just once, the whole expanse rose up as one, swaying and glittering like ten million gold coins being cast about—a scene of indescribable beauty. "How splendid." "Truly magnificent!"

Thus, both Yuminoshin and Kitayama, thoroughly satisfied, poured each other sake from the gourd.

At that moment, the retainers suddenly sprang to their feet all at once. "Bear! Bear!" they shouted in alarm. “What? A bear?” Yuminoshin looked in the direction the young retainer was pointing and saw a pitch-black mass squirming at the bottom of the valley to the side. It was undoubtedly a bear. In the blink of an eye, the enormous beast came charging up toward them.

“Kingo, the bow!” shouted Kagami Yuminoshin to the young retainer as he took up a bow. Kagami Yuminoshin—who lived up to his renown as one of Lord Naitei Suruganokami’s chief retainers governing Takato Castle’s 33,000-koku domain and a certified master of Yukigawa-ryū archery—firmly nocked the small black-fletched arrow and drew the bowstring creaking taut, when—

“Wait, wait! Don’t shoot!”

A sharp voice rang out.

As someone stopped his hand from releasing the arrow and looked sharply toward where the voice had come from, a half-naked, powerfully built man darted out from a thickly overgrown grove. Though Shinano's autumn was said to be cold, he wore only a fur wrap around his waist, his sun-reddened muscles exposed beneath the autumn sky. Unkempt hair hung in thick clumps down to his shoulders, naturally grown long. In his right hand he gripped a mountain knife; his age appeared about seventeen or eighteen, with leather sandals on his feet. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! There’s no way I’ll let you shoot it here! After all, this is the bear we went through hell to drive out from Yatsugatake. There’s no way I’ll let someone else take it!... Now, you bastard, resign yourself! Enough of your meddling! You thought you could dazzle Lord Inotarou’s eyes and slip away to another domain? That’s not happening on my watch!”

Cursing all the while, he chased after the bear, and the moment he thought he had caught up to it, he suddenly leapt onto its back.

With a roar, the bear desperately tried to stand on its hind legs and shake him off. “Not so fast! You’re not getting away that easy!” “Take this and die, damn you!” No sooner had the mountain knife glinted than crimson blood gushed like a waterfall from the area around the crescent-shaped mark. With a roar, the bear bellowed once more—this must have been its death cry—and thudded down on its side. “How about that, Lord Bear? Were you surprised?” “Once you’ve been glared at by me, there ain’t no final outcome but this.” “Ahahaha! This feels great!” “Well, might as well skin this hide now.”

He kicked the bear’s corpse onto its back, dropped to his knees before it, and plunged his mountain knife into the crescent-shaped mark. And then—at that moment—he abruptly looked up at the sky. “Mother!”

With that one cry, he collapsed limply. So captivated were Yuminoshin, Kitayama, and all the disciples, young retainers, and servants by the magnificence of the combat that they had simply stood transfixed—but now they came scrambling over in disarray. “Lord Kitayama, check his pulse quickly!” “Understood,” said Kitayama as he firmly gripped the youth’s wrist. “He’s fine—there’s a pulse indeed.” “That’s a relief. A favorable outcome indeed.” “His spirit was so deeply moved that he fainted indeed.” “Does he require any treatment?”

“He’ll be fine as he is indeed.” “What?!” “What’s this?!” “This scar…!” As he spoke, Kitayama firmly pulled the youth’s hand forward. There, on his right upper arm, twenty distinct teeth marks were cruelly imprinted. “Could these be human teeth?” “Indeed, they are human teeth.”

At this moment, appearing to revive from his faint, the youth suddenly began to move. First and foremost, he opened his eyes and looked around in all directions with a puzzled expression, but

“Ah, what a horrifying dream I had.”

Having said this, he abruptly sat up. Then he stared intently at Yuminoshin. No sooner had a look of joy appeared on that robust face than the youth suddenly stretched out both hands, “Father!” he called out. Then he lost consciousness once more and slumped against the bear’s corpse. At this moment, Yuminoshin suddenly remembered how the late Yanosuke, on his deathbed, had cried out: “A successor will come! A successor will come! The next one will be even greater!” A successor will come! he happened to recall how Yanosuke, on his deathbed, had cried out: “The next one will be even greater!”

“Hmm, I see! This one!”

...he slapped his knee with a clap.

The following autumn, an adopted son came to the Kagami family from Iida’s castle town. He was the third son of Horii Shimamori’s kendo instructor Nanjō Ukon—bearing the same family name as Ushinosuke—but upon entering the Kagami family, he changed his name to Yanosuke in accordance with their house laws.

Three “Lord Yanosuke, the adopted son of the Kagami family, is said to be twelve years old, but at first glance he appears eighteen or nineteen.” The young retainers of the household would gossip about Yanosuke whenever they gathered. “He’s all gangly limbs and stocky build—like some giant fool’s bamboo.” There were those who would speak such malicious words. “The lankiness part is spot-on, but the stockiness doesn’t quite fit. Why, he’s quite the handsome youth.” And among them, there were also those who offered praise. “Now then, how about his kendo?”

“No good, no good. He’s completely hopeless.” “Utterly inept indeed!” “No, no—it might not be entirely so.” “Nanjō Ukon of Iida is said to be a skilled practitioner of Ono-ha Ittō-ryū.” “Given that he’s the third son of such a man, we cannot exactly look down on him.” “Proof over theory—you’ll understand once you cross blades.” “No, no—he’s the adopted son of our chief councilor. We cannot simply drag him to the dojo and thrash him.” “In martial arts, there exists no distinction of rank.” “But he remains a child—they say he’s only twelve!” “We are splendid men in our prime indeed.” “That being said, does that fellow not appear every bit eighteen or nineteen?” “Even if he seems any age, years remain years.” “Very well then—let us handle him with careful gentleness.” “Exactly so—that should suffice.”

One day, these young samurai were practicing at the Nakajō-ryū dojo in Tachikawa Town, their bamboo swords clacking rhythmically. The dojo's master, Matsuzaki Seizaemon—a man of exceptional gentleness—happened to be away on business, leaving substitute instructor Ishiwata Sanzou stationed in the upper chamber. As Yanosuke passed by with his attendant Kurahira in tow, he suddenly found himself before the warrior window where crisp shinai strikes echoed. "Wait here, Kurahira."

After calling out, he casually peered through the window. The young samurai had already spotted him. One whispered "Hm?" while another immediately answered "Yeah." Two or three came scrambling out haphazardly. "Well now, Lord Yanosuke! You can't see properly from there." "Please come inside for a proper viewing."

“Come now, inside! Come now, inside!” They relentlessly urged “Inside!” again and again, like a train conductor ushering passengers into a carriage. “This is truly inexcusable—peering in was my own mistake. I humbly beg your pardon.” Yanosuke apologized with visible embarrassment. “Not at all—it’s no matter whatsoever.” “When bamboo swords go clack-clack like that, anyone’d want to peek.” “You can’t see properly from out there.” “Do come inside and watch at your leisure.”

"Moreover, until now we have passed each other by without ever having had the opportunity to receive your esteemed opinion." "Today is not a day we shall let slip by so easily." "Hey Kondō, what are you saying?" A man called Shirai cautioned him. "In any case, please do come inside, Lord Yanosuke." "Kurahira, what should we do here?" "Young Master, please let us return." Having deemed the situation perilous, he attempted to lead his master back.

There once again appeared two or three young samurai. “Is it not Lord Yanosuke?” “Well, well! What an unexpected guest!” “Kondō, Shirai, what are you doing?” “Hurry up and guide Lord Yanosuke inside!” “Well now, Lord Yanosuke! Please come in, please come in!”

“I shall take up your kind invitation to observe.”

“Got him!” “Hey!” “Hahaha”

Thereupon, Yanosuke slowly entered the dojo. "Hey! I'm going in—going in!" "Poor thing—he doesn't even realize he's about to get beaten." "Ignorance is bliss, as they say." "Even so, he's big though..." "He doesn't look twelve." "Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—he looks about that age." "He seems quite strong too." "If someone were to get thoroughly beaten with that strength..." "That must be excruciatingly painful." By now, some were beginning to show fear.

When Yanosuke's figure slowly materialized within the dojo, the assembled disciples again erupted in hushed whispers. Many deemed it pitiable—"He ought to have refrained"—yet with the majority powerless to act, they could only wait with grim expressions.

“This way, this way,” said a man called Shirai as he guided him to a seat—a seat that, with supreme irony, required sitting in the traditional Japanese manner. That is to say, it was beside the practice platform.

“Is this the master instructor?” Yanosuke bowed with youthful deference to Ishiwata Sanzou. “I am Kagami Yanosuke. I humbly request your recognition.” “I must also apologize for intruding upon your practice today.”

“Ah! The esteemed adopted son of the Kagami household, is it?” A puff of tobacco smoke drifted from his mouth—this was Sanzou’s greeting. Though his skills as a substitute instructor were indeed exceptional, he remained the sort of man who flaunted his prowess while harboring a warped disposition—one who would offer such a greeting. Here and there, voices snickered.

IV

However, Yanosuke paid it no mind and sat properly with his hands on his knees. Then he cast a sweeping glance around the dojo. He was remarkably composed. Almost the moment Yanosuke appeared, the practice came to a clattering halt, leaving the dojo devoid of the sounds of bamboo swords. The atmosphere was strangely lackluster, but Kondō Shikita abruptly stepped forward, “Mr. Kagami, care for a practice match?” “Not at all,” Yanosuke replied without hesitation. “Please show me two or three bouts.”

“Heh heh, indeed it is.” Kondō Shikita made a peculiar face and withdrew—a perfectly natural reaction. After dragging someone in under the pretense of letting them observe, then demanding they spar before anyone had demonstrated a single bout—it stood to reason they’d get summarily kicked.

"Impressive! Truly worthy of being the Kagami family's adopted son." Yanosuke's supporters nodded in satisfaction as if to say "Just as expected!" "Hmph. That puny Kondō was made to suffer a humiliating defeat right from the outset."

However, on the other hand, the young samurai found Yanosuke’s composed and unhurried attitude deeply irritating. “Why doesn’t someone step up and try two or three bouts?” “In that case, I shall.” “In that case, I.” More than five groups emerged in disarray. “Head!”, “Torso!”, “I yield!”, “Again!” They clashed blades with a clack clack clack clack but swiftly disengaged and retreated. “Hey Kondō! Why don’t you go give it a try?”

“Aye-aye,” said the disagreeable fellow as he lumbered out once more. “Mr. Kagami—care for a practice bout?”

Yanosuke suddenly burst into loud laughter—"Ahahahaha!" How could Kondō Shikita not be shocked! His eyes gaped wide, blinking rapidly. "This hardly resembles swordsmanship practice." "It's more like December soot-cleaning—Ahahaha!" he laughed again, but—

“I would very much like to observe your real swordsmanship practice.”

“Heh heh… As you say,” came Kondō Shikita’s feeble reply as he withdrew. “No good—utterly no good! This humble one is done here.” “You appear quite beyond my capabilities.” “Such insolence! If that’s how it stands,” declared the young samurai, who advanced in genuine anger—some ten pairs of them stomping forward—and an intense practice session commenced. When this concluded, Shirai Seizaburō strode up to Yanosuke and, “Ah, Mr. Kagami, Lord Yanosuke—though it may impose upon you—if reports hold true, you have trained in the Ono-ha Ittō-ryū school?” “As this reflects the collective wish of those assembled, we humbly entreat you to demonstrate a single technique—how might this be received?”

“Originally I came solely to observe your practice—thus I must repeatedly decline any matches—but as kendo remains my fond pursuit, and given your persistent urging...” “Then would you honor us with a bout?” “Though my skills are unrefined...” “I am most deeply obliged.” With a triumphant smirk, he asked, “And your weapon of choice?” “A short bamboo sword...” “Then please select one at your leisure.” The entire group nearly cried out in unison upon hearing this.

Yanosuke abruptly stood up, grasped a short bamboo sword measuring about one shaku and two sun, and stepped forward without any preparation. “Ah, Mr. Kagami, please prepare yourself.” Perhaps unable to bear watching any longer, it was at this moment that Ishiwata Sanzō finally spoke up. “I am perfectly sufficient with this.” “You require neither mask nor torso armor?” “While we belong to the same school, there are differences in our styles. In matches against other schools and serious contests, I am prepared to act with this resolve…”

“Ah, I see how it is. “Quite admirable... In that case, Mr. Shirai, you must also remove your mask and torso armor to face him.” “This truly is a troublesome matter.” Shirai Seizaburō reluctantly removed his mask and torso armor, yet harbored a sliver of trepidation in that moment. The disciples who had been lounging about also exchanged glances upon hearing this. “What say you, Mr. Saeki? “How do you assess this match?” “Our expectations may prove mistaken.” “The opponent’s momentum overwhelms.” “Have we prodded the thicket and roused a serpent?”

In contrast, Yanosuke’s supporters were overjoyed.

“Do watch closely now, Shirai Seizaburō—you’ll be finished without even putting up a fight.” “Really now, those fellows reek of insolence.” “Let ’em get what’s coming to ’em good and proper!”

“Quiet now, quiet. They’ve assumed their stance.” “Let me see… Ah yes, the Seigan stance… Oh! That Shirai has overextended his swing.”

“Lord Yanosuke’s stance—isn’t it rather splendid? When that shifts with a flick, Shirai Seizaburō will be struck down.”

五 By now, Yanosuke had assumed a middle stance and gauged his opponent’s movements, but they posed no challenge at all. And Yanosuke thought. "Why hesitate? Just strike him down!"

With a tap, he opened his bamboo sword into the hassō stance. It was no inviting feint at all. Nor was it any true opening. Yet Seizaburō cried “Yah!” and charged in nonetheless. Yanosuke shifted rightward, entered with irimi movement, and delivered a light kesagake strike to the right shoulder. Holding position, he spun sharply around— “The Five Point Initiation of Ono-ha Ittō-ryū! From waki-gamae stance—a Myōken strike sweeping the enemy’s shoulder!”

He had properly explained his technique. There was no way to describe it as vivid or anything else. The striker explained the sequence—striking, resetting, then striking again—after executing it himself. There could be nothing beyond this. "I yield." Seizaburō called out, though the declaration was redundant. He crept back to the gathering spot. "Wah!" A commotion arose—though it was an anticlimactic one.

“Yamada Sazen. “Your opponent is ready!” “Understood. I ask for your leniency.” “I ask for your leniency.”

The two stopped dead and glared at each other. Sazen was of Menkyo-level proficiency. However, he was no match for Yanosuke. Why hesitate? Take him down. Hmm, this time it’s the Zetsumyōken. Right, I’ll finish him off with this one. As his form shifted, he assumed a lower stance. He revealed an inviting opening at his left shoulder. Ah, this opening is a trap indeed. This differed slightly from how he had handled Shirai with paper-cutting precision. Having seen through it, he didn’t move. Sure enough, the opening vanished. And this time, a flicker of an opening appeared on his right shoulder.

“Hah!” he shouted. Even faster than that leap came Yanosuke—firmly parrying, locking swords at the guard, then exploiting his opponent’s startled breath to counter with a body tackle! He capitalized on the unsteadiness with a hip throw, swiftly parrying and slipping sideways. “The second technique of Ono-ha Ittō-ryū’s Five Points: from the lower stance, detect their strike toward the shoulder through an opening, lock at the guard with a body tackle to break posture—then strike freely! This I declare the Peerless Blade!” Once again came his thorough explanation. “I yield!” This too followed convention.

This time, no one laughed. The crowd grew slightly awestruck. No one had exchanged even two strikes with him. Truly, Yanosuke’s precise control of his strength was enough to leave the crowd utterly astounded.

“I must commend your splendid skill.” “Though unskilled, this humble one shall be your opponent.” It was Ishiwata Sanzou who had spoken these words. Lightly descending from the upper chamber, he firmly gripped a thick, elongated red oak wooden sword hanging on the wall—one whose clam-shaped edge could claim lives as readily as a true blade when wielded by an expert—and stepped forward. “This humble one excels with wooden swords; I shall face you with this.” “You may freely choose your own weapon.” “No, I shall keep this.” “Hohō! With that short bamboo sword of yours?”

“Yes,” he said with a grin.

“Exactly!” he said resentfully. “This humble one’s dueling style is fierce, I warn you!” “Yes, please come at me with all you have.” “Hmph,” Sanzou snorted through his nose. “Now then!” With that, he lowered his wooden sword.

“Now then,” Yanosuke also lowered his bamboo sword. The entire hall fell deathly silent.

However, Sanzou was a licensed practitioner in his prime at thirty-eight years old—one holding the position of substitute instructor. Even if Yanosuke were skilled, he was merely twelve years old—the age difference alone made it glaring. To face him with a wooden sword? “Mr. Ishiwata, this is most unbecoming! Please desist, I implore you!”

Two or three people called out, but he had already risen to his feet by then. "It’s too late!" someone gasped. Their eye-level stances aligned perfectly, their gazes locked solely on each other’s eyes.

“Hmm... Seems you have some skill after all.” Yanosuke muttered under his breath,“Still no match for me.” “Hah!”

With an uncharacteristic shout, he took a step forward. “Hyah!”

Sanzou too called out but sharply drew back a step.

Both parties glared at each other in silence.

“Now, what should I do?” Should I commit to striking decisively? After all, he’s a substitute instructor—it’d be awkward for him to lose to me. But I can’t afford to lose either. Who cares? I’ll just slap him down! “Hah!” With that, he takes a step forward. “Hyah!” Sanzou says, taking a step back. “Hah!” “Hyah!” “Hah!” “Hyah!” Pressed back again and again, Sanzou finds himself tightly pinned against the wooden wall planks. Sweat trickles down from his forehead. His vision begins to blur hazily. Hah... hah... hah... His breathing grows ragged.

"Go for broke!" Sanzou thrust out mightily with both hands, but Yanosuke—employing the Ono-ha haraisute technique—swung up sharply from the side with a crack, exploited his opponent's unbalanced posture, and struck true at the jaw with sword-like precision! "Gah!" The moment he did, a tremendous battle cry erupted from out of nowhere.

Six Startled, Yanosuke drew back a step. Seizing the opening, Ishiwata Sanzou swung straight for his left shoulder— “Too slow!” Once again, the same voice rang out from nowhere.

“No contest!”

And the voice continued.

At that moment, a small-statured man emerged composedly from the front lattice door—a man of about fifty-five or fifty-six years old, wearing a cotton crested kimono and yellowish-brown hakama, grasping a single sword in his left hand as he advanced in precise, measured steps.

“Mr. Ishiwata, what is the meaning of this?!” “Engaging in a wooden sword match against a child is utterly improper! Withdraw at once!” “Ah, Lord Yanosuke—this humble one is Matsuzaki Seizaemon, master of this dojo.” “Though you be young in years, I marvel at your formidable skill. Now, this humble one shall be your opponent! Do not retreat—you must not step back!”

After placing his long and short swords aside, he gripped an iron fan and planted himself at the center of the arena.

The hall fell utterly silent; not a single cough could be heard. Sunlight streamed through the warrior window. Even that grew strangely clear.

Yanosuke too finally changed complexion. Matsuzaki Seizaemon lived up to his fame as one of Japan's foremost swordsmen of his era; he had fought Asari Matashichirou—official sword polisher for the shogunate—to a draw, taken two out of three bouts against Otani Shimousa-no-kami, and in his later years even pinned Chiba Shusaku—founder of the Hokushin Itto-ryu style—against the wooden wall planks. Indifferent to fame and fortune and disdaining advancement, he had withdrawn to the countryside—yet remained a hidden dragon among swordsmen.

Now that man gripped the iron fan and declared, “Come at me!” No matter how much of a martial prodigy Yanosuke was said to be, even he could not help being overwhelmed by this.

However, there was no escaping now. “Forgive me, Master.” He gripped his bamboo sword and assumed Ono-ha’s perfect defensive stance—the Ryousha Ichiyou Manji.

“Hmm, impressive—you’ve taken a defensive stance.” Seizaemon nodded while assuming the Tōgun-ryū stance of no resistance, thrusting his iron fan straight out without raising it as he intently observed the situation. “Hah!” With that, he attempted to provoke a response. Yanosuke remained motionless. “Hmm, you’ve grown even more resolute… Hmm, but what formidable fighting spirit you possess.” He was trying to break it down from within his stance. Wait. Hmm, this was unexpected. He possessed an innate killing instinct. “This fellow’s truly dangerous—Hah!”

He tried provoking him again, but Yanosuke remained utterly motionless.

Seizaemon took a step forward. Yanosuke took a step back. Distance. He remained perfectly still. Yanosuke took a step forward. And Seizaemon took a step back. “Impressive. “He’s pushing me back.” What a fearsome opponent’s spirit he had—and yet maintained his defensive stance unyieldingly. Hesitate and you’d be struck down… Was this truly a twelve-year-old boy? An utterly terrifying matter indeed. A natural-born warrior. First I must call it thus… Yet still too much wildness remains. A so-called unpolished gem… They claim he’s Nanjou Ukon’s third son—dubious at best. This capital-polished swordsmanship wasn’t what it seemed… A technique brutally rough like freshly quarried stone… His breathing grew labored now—such over-concentration of spirit would surely make him collapse. “I yield!” he declared, drawing back his iron fan.

“Gasp!” Startled, Yanosuke stepped forward with two quick strides. “I have been defeated!” “A bright future lies ahead—a bright future indeed! Continue striving ever harder in the years to come!” “Yes, I am most grateful.” Yanosuke wiped away sweat. “Who trained you?” “Yes, I trained under my father Ukon.” “Hmm, and besides that?” “My only teacher is my father.” “How curious—is that truly the case?”

“Why would I lie?”

“Even so, there’s something I can’t quite grasp.”

Seizaemon tilted his head.

“Though I remain unskilled, I humbly request you accept me as your disciple from this day forth.” “No,” Seizaemon replied with strange coldness upon hearing this. “Due to certain matters known to me, accepting you into our school proves impossible.”

“...Known circumstances? What do you mean by ‘known circumstances’?” Yanosuke grew agitated. “Known circumstances mean exactly what the characters read as.”

Seven

“Yanosuke, come here... They say you tested your skills against many at Matsuzaki Dojo in Tachikawa Town—this cannot possibly be true?” “It... is true.”

“Why did you do such a thing?” “Circumstances compelled me unavoidably…”

“Unavoidable circumstances? What do you mean by that?” “As it appeared they had planned beforehand—when I approached the dojo, the disciples scattered out haphazardly, forcibly took me inside, and persistently demanded a match—so…” “Ah, I see—circumstances beyond your control… Rumor claims you effortlessly defeated disciples named Kondo, Shirai, and Yamada. Is this true?” “Yes—the opponents were rather weak…” “Hmm… So you won, I suppose.”

“I ended up winning.” “I heard you crossed blades with Lord Matsuzaki as well.” “I had the honor of receiving instruction from him.” “Lord Matsuzaki must be formidable indeed.” “He resembles a demon god incarnate.” “Even so—that man’s skill stands equal to, if not surpassing, the sword saints of antiquity.” “I found myself utterly awestruck.” “Your own prowess proves remarkable as well.”

“No, I am deeply ashamed.” “As expected of your late father Lord Nanjo—a peerless master of Ono-ha Itto-ryu who would not fall short even against Lord Matsuzaki. Yet born as his third son, your skill far exceeds what one would expect from a youth of twelve. I find it both joyous and reassuring.” “I am honored to receive your praise and am most grateful.”

“But the world has no shortage of masters.” “Yes, that is correct.” “You must never grow complacent.” “Complacency is foolish; I intend to apply myself even more diligently from now on.”

“Refrain from unnecessary duels with others.” “I am fully aware.” “If you lose, it brings shame; if you win, you incur resentment. Not engaging in contests is the safest path.” “As you command.” “Your conduct at Matsuzaki Dojo has become the talk of the household.” “I am most deeply humbled.” “At present, you have both a favorable reputation and many sympathizers.” “Ah, is that so?” “A favorable reputation is no excuse for complacency.” “Indeed, I must not be complacent.”

“A good reputation tends to turn bad.”

“Just as you say.” “A tarnished reputation resists restoration.” “I shall take utmost care not to lose it.” “Precisely!” Yuminoshin smacked his knee.

“Well noticed.” “It must be so.” “Therefore, from now on, become an idiot.” “Huh?”

With that, Yanosuke involuntarily widened his eyes.

“From now on, become an idiot.”

Yuminoshin said this again and watched Yanosuke intently.

“How about it, Yanosuke? Do you still not understand?” “I understand your words, but…”

“Hmm, it seems you do not grasp the meaning. Then I will give an example. It is said that Ōishi Yoshio, the model samurai, was a daytime lantern.”

“Father! I finally understand!” “Ah! You’ve grasped it!” “Splendid!”

“I shall become a daytime lantern!” “Hahahaha! Become a daytime lantern!”

“I will certainly become one and show you.”

“A daytime lantern is a foolish thing; people may laugh, but they won’t resent it.” “I will comply with your command.” “Our house is the Naitō family’s second chief retainer; our noble lineage makes us easy to resent.” “Your nature is too sharp, and this too easily breeds enemies.” “The only way to avoid that is to become a daytime lantern.” “It must be a daytime lantern.” “Oh, become an idiot! Become an idiot!”

At that moment, the sliding door opened quietly, and Lady Oishi, bearing tea, entered the room. "I have prepared some tea to pass the time." "Mother."

With a childishly sweet voice, Yanosuke called out, then stretched out his legs and lay down. “Sweets! Give me sweets!” He stretched out his arm, abruptly grabbed a sweet from the bowl, and stuffed it into his mouth.

“Oh, this child!”

Lady Oishi exclaimed in surprise, “Such uncharacteristic poor manners—you’ve turned into an idiot, haven’t you?” “Hahahaha! That’s the rhythm!”

Yuminoshin clapped his hands. “With this, both our house and Yanosuke are first and foremost assured of safety.” “A joyous occasion! A joyous occasion!” “Hahahaha!”

Eight

Naitō Suruganokami Masakatsu had passed fifty years of age; his nature was broad-minded and bold, and moreover benevolent—thus he ought to be counted among wise lords. However, his flaw lay in heavy drinking. Today it was drinking, tomorrow it would be drinking… such was the state of affairs.

One day, when Yuminoshin came to attend upon him, “Your adopted son Yanosuke, though still a tender youth of twelve this year, is reported to be an extraordinary martial arts master. He shall receive one hundred koku while remaining a dependent household member. Present him promptly at the castle to serve as a page.” “This is indeed an excessively gracious decree beyond our humble station, but Yanosuke here is feeble-minded and naturally somewhat simple of wit…”

“Now, now, Yuminoshin! Do not speak such nonsense!”

Exposing his broad-minded nature, Suruganokami roared. "How could Yanosuke—a simpleton by nature—possibly possess the skill to defeat martial prodigies like Kondo Shikita, Shirai Seisaburo, and Yamada Sazen!" "It would likely be a victory marred by injuries." "It is said that the third son of Ishiwatara Tanomo has the skill of a substitute instructor, but Yanosuke is on an entirely different level." "If he's an idiot, then an idiot he shall be!" "By all means, have him start his duties from tomorrow!" Having been told this, there was no help for it. Moreover, it was a gracious decree. Yuminoshin accepted.

Thus, starting the next day, Yanosuke came to serve in attendance upon His Lordship. He had glossy bangs; though twelve years old, he appeared eighteen or nineteen at first glance—high-nosed and clear-eyed, a beautiful youth who was also gallant in his gaze and bearing, one who embodied the very essence of martial arts. “What kind of idiot is this?”

When Suruganokami first laid eyes on Yanosuke, he took an immediate liking to him. Yet Yanosuke would often behave outrageously. He would stretch his legs before His Lordship, doze off while walking, suddenly release great yawns, and whenever unoccupied, close his eyes in drowsy reverie—at best appearing free of worldly thoughts, at worst utterly vacant. “They say Lord Yanosuke’s a pushover despite being hailed as a martial prodigy!” “A fraud! A downright fraud!”

“His vacant and sluggish way of suddenly standing there makes him like a useless tree.” “Nothing he does ever shows any spark. That vacant look is like a daytime lantern.” “Daytime lantern, daytime lantern! Ah, this is an excellent metaphor!” “Lord Daytime Lantern!” “Lord Daytime Lantern!” Yanosuke’s peers soon nicknamed him Daytime Lantern.

“Hmm?”

Suruganokami tilted his head. He could not comprehend how someone as clever as Yanosuke could occasionally lose his composure. Was his mind truly feeble, or was this a stratagem of wise self-preservation? He resolved to test this one thing.

One day, by His Lordship’s sudden decree, an archery tournament was to commence.

Suruganokami rode his horse with his young retainers following behind and headed toward the archery range. At the archery range, Sasaki Genbei—a master of the Heki-ryū school of archery with great renown—had already taken his position; upon His Lordship’s arrival, he stepped forward and performed a formal salute.

“Ah, Genbei. Your efforts today are noted.” Suruganokami nodded. “Have the archers commence at once.” “By your command.”

As Genbei withdrew from His Lordship's presence, a conch shell immediately resounded. Ten archers lined up in a row. With a whizz, whizz, the bowstrings resounded loudly as they drew and loosed their arrows toward the target. The snap of bowstrings rang out crisply, and when they struck true, a red flag was raised. At the sound of the gong, they withdrew; at the sound of the conch, fresh contenders emerged. The order of turns progressed systematically. The three archers who appeared last were senior disciples who had received certification: Watatsuki Monbee, Maya Shōji, and Ishiwatara Sanzō; however, the targets were also small golden ones. Each one alone would shoot five arrows.

They withdrew without distinction. Afterwards, there were none left to step forward. Today’s archery came to an end. “Here, Yanosuke,” Lord Suruganokami called out to him beside him. “You are reputed an unmatched master of kendo within your school—but archery and horsemanship—what we call kyūba—are foremost among martial arts. These are essential disciplines for any true warrior.” “I trust you are versed in these matters.” “Step forth and loose a single arrow.” “Yes.” Yanosuke had been told as much; now that it came to this, he could not refuse. To shrink back citing inexperience would bring disgrace upon his house and dishonor upon himself. He could no longer maintain his pretense of idiocy.

“Though I am unskilled, as it is Your Lordship’s command, I shall loose a single arrow.”

He humbly accepted the command, left the line, and briskly proceeded to the prepared seat. He stared fixedly at the golden target.

“Will you attempt it, Lord Yanosuke? What school have you studied?” Sasaki Genbei asked with a gentle smile.

“Yes, I’ve studied the Chikurin school—just a little.”

While saying this, he casually gripped the bow.

Nine Upon seeing this, the young samurai began to whisper among themselves.

“I hear Lord Daytime Lantern’s going to shoot a bow.” “Well, where’s he gonna stick this one?” “He’ll probably jump right over the mound and send it flying toward the riding ground or something.” “But then again, if it bounces back and lands on the seats, that’d be a real hassle.” “Now, now, you shouldn’t speak of him only in that way.” Among them were those who favored him. "At Matsuzaki Dojo, he gave Lord Ishiwatari quite a hard time, I hear." “But I hear even that was a win by injury.” “Then perhaps this time too he might win by injury.”

“If he keeps winning through injuries time after time, we’ll be rather inconvenienced.” “Quiet! Quiet!” “He’s nocked an arrow.” “Is that the Chikurin school’s signature stance?” “No no—that’s the Daytime Lantern style.” “Now that’s quite the remark.” At that moment, Yanosuke took an arrow, nocked it with a crisp click, drew the bowstring taut with a creak, and released it without even aiming. “How’s that?”

The samurai opened their eyes wide. Apparently having missed, no flag was raised. “Well, well—failed right from the start, did we?” “The second arrow’s target would trouble even Yoichi... How about it now, Lord Daytime Lantern?” Without haste or panic, Yanosuke promptly loosed his second arrow—but this one too must have missed, for no flag was raised. “Whoa! Now he truly embodies ‘Lord Daytime Lantern’! “To fail both first and second arrows yet keep such composure—remarkable!” “No shame brings peace of mind.” “He seems utterly unperturbed.” “The lord tilts his head slightly.” “The fault lies with our lord’s judgment.” “Not only does he employ such riffraff—he shows them favor!” “That’s our lord’s caprice for you.”

“He’s going to shoot again, I tell you. Quiet! Quiet!” Yet Yanosuke grew ever more composed, his stance unwavering. With breathless speed and a resounding twang of bowstrings, he loosed his third, fourth, and fifth arrows—but still no flag appeared. After firmly hanging the bow on the rack and briskly brushing off both sleeves of his hakama trousers, Yanosuke quietly left the archery range and composedly placed his hands before the lord. “I am ashamed to have shown you my unskilled archery.” “Hmm.” Though he had spoken, Lord Suruga remained seated on his camp stool without moving. He seemed to be pondering something.

“Genbei! Genbei!” Lord Suruga abruptly called out. Sasaki Genbei, the archery instructor, came running over with a slight hunch. “Bring the target here.” “Hah!” Genbei acknowledged, raising his fan in signal. The young flag-bearing samurai immediately reverenced the target, sprinted straight across the archery grounds, and solemnly delivered it to Genbei. Genbei then offered it up to his lord.

Suruga-no-kami examined the target,

"Oh!" Suruga-no-kami involuntarily let out. "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 deeply impressed.” “These are arrows that strike true when so willed.” “That goes without saying.” “Well? The certification is valid, wouldn’t you agree?” “No—he has already surpassed certification.” “Which of them is more skilled—Sanzo or him?”

“This is on a different level.” “I suppose so,” he nodded, then turned his gaze toward Yanosuke. “Now, I have something to ask you. Not striking but grazing the edge—does this follow some tradition of the Chikurin-ryū school?”

“No, I am not aware of any such tradition.”

Yanosuke stared blankly. "If you claim ignorance, there’s nothing to be done. You shall provide a detailed account of the lineage of the Chikurin-ryū school you studied." "Yes, my lord." Though he had said this, Yanosuke could not claim ignorance. Thereupon, he adjusted his posture and, "I shall now relate the lineage of the Chikurin-ryū school. To begin with, the founder was born in Gōshū, ascended Mount Hiei to take monastic vows, and went by the name Jōsei of Sekidō-ji’s Chikurin-bō. Having become close with Sasaki Nyūdō Shōtei and long staying as his guest, he intensively studied a hundred schools' traditions, then formulated his own style which came to be called Chikurin-ryū. The eldest son Shinzaburou drowned; the second son Yazou earned acclaim for surpassing his master, served Ishida Mitsunari at Sawayama in Gōshū, took refuge at Mount Kōya after the war, and later settled near Yoshino. Lord Tadayoshi, Major General of Kiyosu, upon hearing his name, summoned him. Afterwards, he served Lord Genkei of Owari, and among the many disciples he took under his wing, Nagaya Rokubei and Sugiyama San'emon were said to have most excelled in their craft—participating in both Osaka campaigns under Lord Owari, retiring once only to return again. In his later years, harboring private contemplations, he selected Numamori Moruaki alone and bequeathed all teachings and techniques to him. Through descendants inheriting and disciples receiving the tradition, it has endured to this day. Among the three warriors from three houses, Wasa Daihachirō stands counted among the most renowned figures of the Chikurin-ryū school."

He stated with refreshing eloquence.

10 “This is no mere dim-witted fool. “This is an extraordinary prodigy. It was as though some demon deity possessed him to make him speak and act... Ah, I see! So Yuminoshin, worried about this youth’s future and fearing the envy of his peers and seniors, made him feign sudden idiocy.” Yuminoshin is cautious... If that’s the reasoning, then so be it. “It’s a carefully laid plan—I’ll let them see it through to fruition.”

Suruga-no-kami nodded.

“Today’s competition ends here. “Men! Carry on!” Having declared this, Suruga-no-kami mounted his horse. With a clatter of hooves, he returned to his residence. Yanosuke mingled with the young attendant samurai and followed after.

What deficiency had caused Matsuzaki Seizaemon to refuse Yanosuke’s entry? It was beyond anyone’s comprehension. However, for Yanosuke himself, it was a matter of unbearable regret.

"If that's how it stands, then I'll forgo a master and devote myself to solitary training—shatter Tōgun-ryū's secret 'Dust Particle Stance' and strike down that Seizaemon!"

Before long, Yanosuke came to harbor such grand ambitions within his heart. After leaving the palace, he would go out to the suburban forest, sometimes sitting before the Hachiman Shrine to enter a state of no-thought, and at other times wielding a wooden sword to split the crotches of standing trees. First push, second push—they say that’s sumo’s secret technique. First thrust, second thrust—that is the essence of kendo. But precisely because it’s the essence, it’s not unusual for anyone to learn it... Now then, could there be any surefire technique other than thrusting?

Night after night, Yanosuke thought of nothing but this point. However, it was not easily figured out. If I stop thrusting and focus solely on cutting—now where would be easiest to strike?

Pressed to the limit, Yanosuke could not help but shout, “The shoulder!”

There was nothing better to cut than the shoulder. He would slash diagonally from his opponent's right shoulder down to the left flank. That was the Aya-Kesagake! Even if he veered right, he'd strike the arm; veer left and he'd sever the neck—either way dealing a critical blow. Yeah, this was it.

From the moment this idea struck him, he devoted himself entirely to studying the Kesagake strike without hesitation. His technique was already honed; moreover, he was a rare genius. With such single-minded devotion, his progress accelerated rapidly—within half a year, he could cleanly split even rather thick living trees diagonally from the crotch through the trunk using just a wooden sword. It’s said that Arima Kihe tried to break Miyamoto Musashi’s cross stance by splitting tree crotches alone, but surely he couldn’t split the trunk—no matter how great Matsuzaki may be called, he would still be inferior compared to Musashi. One more year, two more years—after relentlessly honing my skills, I’ll challenge Matsuzaki to a match and strike down that Seizaemon!

Because he had an imaginary enemy, his skills continued to improve day by day.

Thus, six years passed. Yanosuke became eighteen years old and a full-fledged man. "Oh Yanosuke! Come closer."

One day, in the evening, Suruga-no-kami called Kagami Yanosuke to his side and spoke thus. “Yes,” he said, sliding closer. “Is there something you require?” “I have a command for you.” Suruga-no-kami said seriously. “Yes, what might your command be?” “Subdue the specters tonight and return.” “And when you speak of specters…?” Even Yanosuke could not help but inquire uneasily.

“You must have heard the rumors. At the residence of Otori Monbee—who has long served our house in financial matters—specters now frequently appear to torment him. Though he has been a man of merit to our household, his excessive greed and callous dealings have earned him poor standing among the people. Yet abandoning him would be pitiable. You shall go and lend your strength.” “Yes.” Though he had said yes, Yanosuke could not help but hesitate. Indeed, he had come to know of that rumor through public talk. For a long time now, monstrous creatures had been gathering at Monbee’s residence—crying, threatening, pleading, even uttering curses—until at last they would inevitably raise their voices in unison: “Give it back! Give it back!” they would clamor. According to public rumor, those grotesque specters were none other than what people called the pitiful spirits of debtors who had been tormented by Monbee—those who still resented having their homes and estates seized even after death, and thus appeared night after night to clamor, “Give it back! Give it back!” they would cry in unison.

——

If the opponents were vicious bandits or murderous criminals—such foes he would have accepted subduing without hesitation—but facing vengeful spirits was undesirable. This was Yanosuke’s state of mind.

“I do not refuse your lordship’s command, but might there not be another stalwart individual better suited than a youth such as myself—” “No,” Suruga-no-kami interrupted. “You are the most suitable one. You shall not refuse—you must go by all means... Though newly forged, this Horikawa Kunihiro blade I lend to you. Once you have subdued them, I shall bestow it upon you as your sidearm.” “To refuse my lord’s words, so graciously spoken, would be disloyal indeed. I shall undertake this task.”

“Ah, so you will undertake it?” “That is most reassuring.” “By your leave.” he slid back from his seat. “Proceed with caution.” “I am deeply grateful for your thoughtful consideration.”

Yanosuke exited the presence, carrying Kunihiro’s sword.

The mansion of wealthy Otori Monbee stood alone in cultivated fields near Obara Village at Nihon'enoki—a spot colloquially called "Two Zelkova Trees"—half a ri from the castle. Surrounded by woods on all sides with a moat-like ditch dug around its perimeter spanning approximately five chō when circled, this imposing structure comprised over ten buildings including the main residence, detached rooms, guest halls, pavilions, stables, storehouses, and tenant cottages. In one chamber of this main residence lay Master Monbee himself, prostrate.

“The lamps are too dim. Light more of them!” Monbee spoke as if delirious, his face emerging from the bedding. His exact age remained unclear—white-haired and wrinkled, he appeared over sixty though likely hadn’t yet reached it. With large eyes and a prominent nose, he must have been quite handsome in his youth. “There are ten lamps already lit,” came the response. The ten attendants included swordsmen, sumo wrestlers, ronin skilled in jujutsu, along with clerks, managers, and tenant supervisors—all crowded into one room. Manager Sasuke surveyed their surroundings before peering into Monbee’s face.

“My lord, please observe—there are fully ten lamps in the chamber.” “What darkness could there possibly be?” “No—it’s dark! Pitch dark!” “Trim the wicks now!” “Then Mr. Uhei, trim them.” “Yes,” said the clerk Uhei, who stood quietly and trimmed each lamp’s wick one by one. The room grew somewhat brighter.

"Now, what time is it?" Monbee asked anxiously. "Yes," Sasuke paused briefly, "it must be near the first hour of night - two hours past sunset."

“Is it still that early?” “It is the beginning of the night.” “Ah, if only night would break quickly... I detest the night... The night terrifies me.” The rustling spring wind could be heard coming through the storm shutters. Then came a thud. “What was that? What was that sound?” “Well, what could it be?” Swordsman Saeki Monbuchi drew his great sword close to his knees as he said, “Could it be foxes from Hachikubushi Mountain, drifting here on this hazy spring moonlit night?”

“What foxes?!” Monbee’s terror-stricken eyes darted about as he cried, “Chase them away! I hate foxes!” “Very well.” With an air of reluctance, Monbuchi abruptly stood up, slid open the fusuma door, and went into the adjacent room. There was the sound of a shoji being opened. There was also the sound of storm shutters being opened. “Ahahahaha!”

As laughter rang out, the storm shutters and shoji were closed.

Monbuchi entered the room but,

“It was not a fox but a dog,” said Saeki Monbuchi. “A black one was wagging its tail, I tell you.” “Was it a dog? What a relief,” Monbee replied. “Now I can rest easy.” He let out a long, relieved sigh.

For a time, the room was quiet. Then, in a sorrowful voice, “Ah... I want to sleep.”

“I want to sleep... to forget the pain... Dr. Kitayama, please give me medicine!” Amano Kitayama remained silent. Though he was an accomplished Dutch-trained physician from Nagasaki and served as Suruga no Kami’s personal doctor, he was treated as a guest. Even were he to practice in Edo, he would rank among first-rate physicians; though he smoldered in these mountains due to his disdain for reputation-seekers, he was no attendant to base characters like Monbee—however wealthy they might be. Yet having been entreated with such earnest courtesy nearly ten times over, he could not abandon him entirely and occasionally paid visits. But he differed fundamentally from hastily hired swordsmen or masterless samurai. If he deemed it unnecessary, he would depart at once; if improper, he withheld medication.

“Dr. Kitayama! Give me medicine!” “No.”

Kitayama rebuked.

One Two “Your illness cannot be cured with medicine. Repent. Repent. If you do so, it will likely heal immediately.” “Repentance?” Monbee replied fearfully, “There’s nothing! Nothing at all! There is nothing to repent!” “Do not lie!” Kitayama rebuked with scorn. “Why would someone with nothing to repent become so agitated and fearful like this? ...You didn’t do anything wicked in your reckless youth, did you?”

Snapping open and shut the black-lacquered fan he had propped on his knee, Kitayama pressed on with his questioning. “No, there is no such thing. “I am an honest person. “I have no memory of being resented by others, nor any memory of being hated by others—I am an honest person.” “I cannot accept this. “No matter how you look at it, there seems to be unease in your heart. “You are severely distressing your nerves… Now, I ask again: where were you born?”

“Yes, it is Edo.” “Where exactly in Edo? Which part of it?” Kitayama pressed on without restraint.

“Yes,” Monbee replied in a flustered manner, “Shiba in Edo.” “Ah, Shiba? Where exactly is that?” “Yes, Shiba is in Kinshibori…”

“What nonsense!” Kitayama roared with dry, scornful laughter. “There’s no such place in Shiba—Kinshibori’s in Honjo, I tell you!” “Ah! Right! That Honjo—that’s where I was born.” “Hmm. Then tell me—where exactly in Honjo is Kinshibori located?” “Yes, on the outskirts of Honjo.”

“Ah ha ha ha! It’s precisely the opposite. “Kinshibori lies on the outskirts of Honjo... You’re not well-acquainted with Edo, are you?” “……If you don’t wish to speak of it, you need not.” “For shady characters who can’t even state their birthplace, I’ll no longer administer medicine… But there’s another matter I wish to inquire about: how exactly did you amass a fortune exceeding a hundred thousand?”

Kitayama gazed fixedly at Monbee’s face. However, Monbee did not speak. “It seems you cannot speak of this either... Perhaps there is something shady involved.” “Shut up!” Suddenly, in a voice tinged with madness, Otori Monbee roared. He bolted upright.

“Shut up!” “You quack!” “What nonsense are you spewing?!”

“What?”

Kitayama also glared.

“I am an honest man!”

Monbee kept roaring. “What shady business are you talking about?! “I worked honestly and earned this money properly! “What’s wrong with that?!” “Hmm, if that’s true, you’re quite the hard worker. “This Kitayama will praise you... If the money was earned so cleanly, there’s no need to hide anything. “Go on—tell me how you made it.”

“No! I ain’t telling! No reason to tell!” “Why’d I gotta tell scum like you?!” “Say it then! Go on—say it!”

“I’ll tell you—I’m a doctor!” “So what if you’re a doctor?!” “I’m examining the source of your affliction.” “Examine the source? No need for that!” “You’re pitifully deluded.”

“Deranged? Don’t be absurd!” “I am sane!” “How can you cure an illness without first determining its root cause?”

“There’s no need to heal me! Just leave it be!” “Ah, I see. Then so be it.”

Kitayama stood up decisively. “I shall not come even if summoned again.” “…………” “You bear the mark of death.” “You will not last long before being taken.”

“Agh!” Suddenly, Monbee collapsed onto the tatami mats— “Please save me, Lord Kitayama! I beg you, Dr. Amano! I don’t want to be killed! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything!” “Ah—so you’ll speak,” said Amano Kitayama. “If you will talk, then good.” He settled back down. “Then I shall cure your illness... What did you do to earn this money?”

“Yes, that…” Just as he began to speak, the inner sliding door smoothly opened, and a young woman appeared. She was Monbee’s daughter, Otsuyu. “Father dear,” she said, supporting his hand, “a messenger from the castle lord has arrived.” “The messenger?” Monbee said curiously, “Well now, what messenger could this be?” “He stated it was a sick visit.” “What sort of gentleman is he?” “Yes,” Otsuyu replied with a bashful expression, “a young and handsome samurai lord.”

“Ah, I see. And his name?” “He gave his name as Lord Kagami Yanosuke.”

13

Having received orders to exterminate demons and left the castle, Yanosuke visited the grand residence of Otori Monbee in Nihon Enoki, Ohara Village, without bringing any attendants. The young woman who came to greet him—it was the daughter Otsuyu—but when he saw Otsuyu’s figure, his heart stirred. It was because he thought she was beautiful. However, even that carried only a fleeting impression—it hadn’t reached what one might call love at first sight. When the girl who had withdrawn once more reappeared gracefully, he thought again that she was beautiful.

Otsuyu blushed so deeply it was even visible in the dim light and fidgeted bashfully, but—

“It may be a shabby place, but please do come through.” “Pardon me,” said Yanosuke, carrying his sword as he stepped up into the entranceway. Passing through each successive room, he arrived before a deeply recessed chamber. The opulent appearance of every decorated room and the form of the corridors connecting them represented the perfection of beauty and utility—one could imagine that even a samurai official’s residence would not surpass this. Yet despite this, the mansion’s interior remained oppressively desolate; the candelabra lights lit at intervals cast faint, hazy rings, and in the corners untouched by light, faceless yokai seemed to laugh soundlessly; though many people were likely present, there was no warmth of human presence.

"As befits a mansion called a haunted house, it was indeed a mysteriously desolate mansion."

When he muttered this inwardly, Otsuyu slid open the fusuma door without a sound. “This is Father’s sickroom.” “Is that so?” said Yanosuke. With Kitayama and the attendants having discreetly withdrawn to the neighboring room, only Monbee remained within. Though confined to his sickbed as befitted an invalid, he had been maintaining formal seiza posture until now—upon their entrance, he shifted to brace one hand against the tatami.

Though he was called the lord’s messenger, he was not an official envoy but rather an extremely informal visit. “No, please stay as you are,” said Yanosuke as he settled into a seated position. “His Lordship finds it deeply regrettable that your mansion has become haunted by yokai. The reason for my visit today is precisely to witness these apparitions. You must not think His Lordship’s goodwill neglectful.”

“Why would I think it neglectful?” “Yes yes, truly grateful… Your Lordship must have endured great hardship. Please do rest yourself first.”

Monbee quietly raised his face. Though they had known each other's names, this was their first meeting; their gazes locked perfectly. Then terror suddenly flashed across Monbee's features— "Wha— a ghost!" he screamed. "Now now, what's this?" "What do you mean by 'ghost'?" Yanosuke became the startled one, scrutinizing Monbee's condition. "Forgive me! Forgive me! My fault! My fault! ...Yamabuki! Yamabuki! Have mercy!"

It was as if he were a frog entranced by a snake—Monbee continued to shout without taking his eyes off Yanosuke’s face, yet the sweat streaming down his forehead and his entire body trembling violently silently conveyed the extent of his terror. “Now now, Mr. Monbee—what’s come over you? I am Kagami Yanosuke. What do you mean by Yamabuki? Please keep your composure.”

While saying this, Yanosuke gave a pitying bitter smile. "Ah, this too must be the work of yokai." "Now, where should I begin?"

“What? You claim to be Lord Kagami Yanosuke?” Staring at Yanosuke with bristling eyes, Monbee did not blink, but finally let out a relieved sigh and said, “It was a case of mistaken identity.” “You weren’t Yamabuki.” “Yes, you are Lord Yanosuke… But even so, how does your face bear such a striking resemblance to that Yamabuki?” “What a resemblance! What a resemblance!” “After all, you are Yamabuki!” “Thou—where didst thou come from?!”

Once again, he descended into madness. "By His Lordship's orders, from within the castle." "No—that's wrong." "That cannot be right." "Did you come from Yatsugatake?" "By His Lordship's orders, from within the castle." "Lies! Lies!" "Undoubted lies!" "The Kajin tribe of Mount Yatsugatake!" "Thou must have come from there!" "Curse me if you must!" "Haunt me if you dare!" "Does it gall you that you were cast aside?!" "...You glare and glare!" "Oh, glare all you want!" "I'll glare back! I'll glare back!" With bloodshot eyes snapping open, Monbee glared at Yanosuke.

At that moment, a mournful voice—like a choked sob or a weeping cry—could be heard from far outside. It was a multitude of voices that seemed to be shouting in unison as if in chorus. Yet rather than shouts, they were pleas—thin, thread-like whimpers that swelled into high-pitched screams before trailing off like the mournful notes of a flute, lingering endlessly. “Return it.” “Return it, please.” “Sousuke the Tengu’s armor—we beg you, return it to us.”

Thus they were crying out.

14

Monbee suddenly sat bolt upright, his bloodshot eyes darting nervously, his convulsing lips twisted grotesquely, hands clawing frantically at his chest, and his shoulders heaving as if struck by a great wave— “Ah... ah... ah... ah,” he first gasped, then shrieked “They’re here!” as he wobbled to his feet and cried, “Come here! Come here! Someone come here! Murderer! Someone come here! ……Oh Lord Kagami! Lord Yanosuke! They have come! I beseech you to save me! This is a rescue—I beseech you to save me! …‘Return it,’ you say—but what am I to return?! Armor and helmet? I don’t know such a thing! Oh, how would I know such a thing?! Even if I did know, it’s all in the past! No—no—I cannot return it! No, no! I tell you, I don’t know!”

“Mr. Gomi Tashirou! Mr. Gomi Tashirou! Please return it to us—Sousuke the Tengu’s golden armor! Please return it to us!” The voices outside continued to shout. “Don’t know! Don’t know! I don’t know! I know nothing at all! ……Lord Yanosuke! Lord Kagami! I beseech you to save me! Ah—you’re Yamabuki! Oh! It’s Yamabuki! Yamabuki! You bastard! Have even you come to curse me?! Oh, terrifying, terrifying! Don’t glare at me! Don’t glare at me! Forgive me! I was wrong! Ah... ah... ah... ah, my chest... it’s so tight! A cold arm clutches the chest!”

Suddenly, Monbee clutched at empty air and collapsed like a withered tree. And just like that, he lost consciousness.

At that moment, abruptly from the corner of the room came a woman's laughter. It was an uncanny sound—*hee, hee, hee, hee*—like nothing he'd ever heard before.

Kagami Yanosuke shuddered involuntarily upon hearing it. Because it was a laugh he recognized.

In the distant past, during my childhood, I had certainly heard it somewhere. I did not know whose voice that was. I didn't know where I had heard it either... Where on earth was it laughing? Yanosuke sharply cast his eyes toward the corner of the room where the voice was heard, but the source of the laughter was nowhere to be seen. However, the laughter continued ceaselessly—hee, hee, hee, hee—reaching his ears.

"How strange," I thought. "What was this?" "How should I interpret this? A laugh of utmost cruelty—as if relishing its own pleasure at a hated foe’s suffering!" "A malicious laugh!" Hee-hee-hee-hee—it kept laughing. I found myself wanting to laugh too. My heart grew tempted. Hee-hee-hee-hee… Still it laughed… "I’ll laugh back," I resolved. “Hee-hee-hee-hee... Hee-hee-hee-hee.”

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

And what was even stranger—the unseen laughter gradually drew closer. What he had thought was the corner of the room was now heard coming from atop the tatami mats. What he had thought was atop the tatami mats could now be heard quite vividly from around Yanosuke’s knees. At last, the voice finally began to emanate from his arm.

“How utterly bizarre!” Yanosuke abruptly rolled up his sleeve. A well-fleshed white arm smoothly appeared up to the upper arm, where twenty sets of human teeth marks were imprinted. There was nothing particularly strange about this. Since childhood, Yanosuke’s arm had borne such teeth marks, so there was no need for surprise—but now, those marks had come to resemble a woman’s face. With eyebrows raised high, eyes glaring, and lips twitching side to side, the visage of fury it displayed resembled nothing so much as the grotesque Human-Faced Carbuncle. The “hee-hee-hee” laughter was coming from that mouth.

But what was most unnerving was that the Human-Faced Carbuncle’s eyes were fixed on Monbee’s unconscious face; those eyes were filled with hatred. So extreme was this that Yanosuke doubted his own vision.

"This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening!" As he shouted, he closed his eyes—perhaps an instinctive act to avoid seeing something terrifying. But when the eerie laughter suddenly ceased as if severed, he snapped his eyes open. The Human-Faced Carbuncle was gone. Only teeth marks remained. "So it was an illusion after all." Yanosuke let out a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his brow, but the terror and eeriness would not be easily forgotten.

At that moment, once again from outside the door came the sound of many voices—pleading yet stifled, as though choking back tears.

“Please return it, please return it. Sousuke Tengu’s golden armor—please return it.” “What in the world is happening here?” Yanosuke muttered. “Though they say that’s the voice of a monster, I can’t help but find it strangely nostalgic. If I were to call something nostalgic, even the face of the Human-Faced Carbuncle seems oddly nostalgic to me… When I hear the monster’s voice, it feels as though I’m listening to someone from my hometown speak. And then, the woman’s face of the Human-Faced Carbuncle fills me with yearning and longing, as if it were the face of my own mother.”

Yanosuke sat vacantly, making no move to stir.

15

There, the story took a dramatic turn.

Even today in the thirteenth year of Taisho (1924), the people of Kōshin firmly believe that the corpse of Takeda Shingen—adorned most solemnly with his Datenashi armor, the Hinomaru banner, and the Suwa Hōshō helmet—was placed within a thick stone coffin and buried at the bottom of Lake Suwa, where it is said to be protected by Suwa Myōjin. This, from a historical perspective, appeared to be the truth. As evidence, the following historical epic was published in Kinko Shidan.

Bullets leap in the dark, astonishing all; On Noda Castle's heights, the flute's notes chill. Who could have known? Of seventy-two decoy tombs, None match the peace of one coffin beneath the lake's depths. Interpreting the last two lines: In ancient China, there was an evil king who, fearing his tomb would be discovered after death, created seventy-two decoy tombs—yet even so, it was ultimately unearthed. Takeda Shingen did not resort to such methods; instead, he had his corpse buried at the bottom of the lake. One cannot fathom how much more secure this method was—in other words, this is precisely what it meant.

While this was indeed more secure than seventy-two decoy tombs, there was no denying it could not be called absolutely secure. When the time came for Lake Suwa’s waters to dry up, the corpse would have to emerge still in its stone coffin. Even without that development, should some curious soul spare no expense to send divers down and discover Shingen’s resting place, there would then be nothing they could not do afterward. Therefore, it could not be said to be absolutely secure. Sure enough, during the Bunsei era, a curious individual appeared and attempted to raise Shingen’s stone coffin.

Did it succeed or fail? Who was that person? That will naturally become clear as the story progresses.

Indeed, this incident was of considerable significance for the highly legendary tale known as "The Demon God of Yatsugatake." Therefore, it had to hold equally vital relevance for the story’s protagonist, Kagami Yanosuke himself.

It was precisely due to this connection that Kagami Yanosuke’s whereabouts were temporarily suspended mid-narrative and the incident shifted to another front.

The castle town of Takashima in Suwa District, Shinano Province, was bustling as if during a festival.

On the shore of the boundless, brimming lake, townspeople—old and young, men and women—gazed out across the waters while wholly engrossed in hushed conversations.

“A lot of ships have gone out, haven’t they?”

“There must have been over twenty of them.” “They’re quite splendid, different from fishing boats.” “The Suwa family’s curtains have been hung all around.” “The ones boarding are all samurai lords.”

“Even from a distance, samurai lords and fishermen look quite different.” “But isn’t this whole scheme a bit too reckless?” “Well, that’s worth thinking about.” “No—it’s downright worth thinking about.” “Rumor has it the shrine maidens at Jinguuji are furious.” “When those lot get angry, it’s downright scary.” “They’re the infamous Water Fox Tribe, after all.”

“Will even the Young Lord fail this time?”

“He’s certainly a fine man, but recklessness drives him.” “It’s all because he’s still young.” “Seems a tad too curious for his own good.” “This whole scheme comes from curiosity too.” “The shrine maidens will curse us for sure.” “Nobody cursed by the Water Fox Tribe ever escapes unharmed.” “They hold grudges like nobody’s business.” “Been grudge-bearers for generations, they have.” “And they practice dark magic.” “They say it’s secret Christian rites.” “Not Christian—it’s yin-yang sorcery.”

“Maybe it’s Japan’s own yin-yang sorcery?” “Exactly—Nakamikado’s yin-yang arts.”

“Oh,” someone pointed out. “The Young Lord’s state ship is finally departing!” “Let me see.” “Ah yes, that does appear to be the official vessel.” “The Young Lord himself has come to issue commands.” “If the Water Fox Tribe means to curse anyone, they’ll surely target His Lordship!” “Dreadful as those fox-witches are, I fear the gods’ wrath even more.” “Could this be divine retribution from Takeminakata—Japan’s Supreme War Deity?” “There’s an ancient tale claiming Suwa Myōjin’s spirit dwells within Lord Hōshō’s helmet.”

“It’s even properly written in Jōruri, that one.” “Is His Lordship one of the Twenty-Four Filial Exemplars now?” “...‘To lie with such a lord is the princess’s blessed fate,’ strumming tsun-tsun-ten—in other words, this is where we are.” “This is no joke—we’re done for. They’re really going all out with the mouth shamisen.” “Then you’ll get tangled up in the inner sanctum, and that damn white fox’ll work its curses.” “After all, it’s established that the deity’s messenger princess is a white fox.”

Sixteen “The state ship is approaching.” “The state ship is approaching.” Having said this, one person pointed. “The one standing at the bow appears to be the Young Lord.” “Is he standing there holding that crimson fan aloft in his hand?” “He really is holding the fan.” “If he waves and calls out ‘Hey! Hey!’…” “Which is it, which is it? Is he Kumagai, eh? Or maybe Kiyomori of Itsukushima?” “Or maybe Kiyomori of Itsukushima, eh?”

“This frivolousness won’t do. Quiet now, quiet,” one person said. And the people fell silent, watching the Young Lord’s state ship advancing briskly across the lake surface.

Now, the state ship came to a halt.

The heir of Suwa Inaba no Kami Tadayori, Lord Yorimasa, was a promising young nobleman of twenty-one with an adventurous spirit, but he now stood at the ship's bow holding a crimson fan. Twenty small boats drifted around the state ship, but on this day—clear-skied and serene—the mirror-like lake surface held not a single cloud, vividly reflecting even the swift shadows of birds that flew low and unafraid of people, lying utterly still. The morning sun, still newly risen, shone upon the water in a golden hue tinged with red, creating a scene more beautiful than any painting.

To the eastern sky, the Yatsugatake peaks towered in an unbroken range. To the north, Okaya’s small village cast the shadows of its white walls upon the water. Turning to look south, Takashima Castle’s stone walls loomed at the water’s edge in unrelieved gray, while Suwa Myojin’s forest and the hills and groves of Jinguuji Village—where the band of shrine maidens known as the Water Fox Tribe lived apart from outsiders—stretched from south to west, clinging to mountainsides or leaning toward the water, appearing and disappearing within the morning mist.

However, Yorimasa made no attempt to admire the scenery. He stared fixedly at the water's surface—no, not at the surface itself, but through it, trying to discern what lay beneath. Yet the indigo-black water, unfathomably deep, blocked his vision and hid the lakebed in its distant depths. Then Yorimasa lifted his gaze to survey the twenty attendant boats. Raising the fan high above his head, he swept it sharply sideways.

Then, from the bow of the ship closest to the state ship, a naked man leapt and plunged into Lake Suwa. A sudden spray erupted! The rainbow glittered so brilliantly likely because the sun had not yet risen high. From Young Lord Yorimasa down to the warriors aboard the ship—needless to say—and even 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 Nada Hyoue—a diver renowned for his swimming skills specially summoned from Awa Province—but even after some time had passed since his dive, he showed no sign of resurfacing. However, before long, the lake water first began to bubble vigorously, then split forcefully apart to both sides in an instant, revealing Nada Hyoue's rugged face emerging from the fissure. With a *whoosh*, he took a deep breath as water gushed from his mouth like a silver serpent. Grasping the ship's edge firmly with one hand, he rested his body awhile.

The impetuous Yorimasa, disregarding formalities, addressed Nada Hyoue directly. “Well, Nada Hyoue? Did you find the stone coffin?” “It’s rather...” Nada Hyoue formed a smile on his weather-beaten face. “The mud lies thick, water plants abound—to plumb the lake’s depths is no simple task.” “That reasoning stands sound... But tell me—does it seem likely to exist?” “Even were this humble diver to submerge for two days, three days, even five—given this lake’s boundless expanse—I could not discern whether such a small stone coffin exists or not. Yet by my reckoning, it assuredly lies not in these waters.”

“Hmm… Doesn’t seem to be around here.” “Then where might it be buried?” “If we knew that, there’d be no cause for concern.” “Then you can’t tell me that either?” Yorimasa’s face darkened.

“I cannot say for certain.” “In any case, I’ll dive down a bit more southwestward, near Jinguuji Village, and take a look there.” “I see. Alright, turn the ship around!” Yorimasa issued orders to the rowers. With a creak of straining oars, the fleet turned their prows southwestward. With the Young Lord’s state ship at the head, they proceeded toward Jinguuji Village. The people on the shore who had been watching began whispering among themselves in hushed tones.

“They seem to be heading toward Jinguuji Village.” “This is utterly perilous—it’s like charging into death’s domain.” “Calling it death’s domain might be overblown, but it does feel rash.” “Let’s just pray those Water Fox Tribe shrine maidens don’t pull some wicked prank.” “Mark my words—those fiends fear neither lord nor shogun.”

“Let’s just hope nothing happens.” “That’s right—something bad’s bound to happen, huh?” “If even that magnanimous Young Lord must suffer hardship for this, it would be truly pitiable.”

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

17 With the Young Lord’s state ship at the lead, the twenty vessels advanced swiftly toward Jinguuji Village, cleaving through the lake’s waves to either side—but upon reaching the designated point, Yorimasa signaled with his fan. The twenty ships halted abruptly. This was an inlet where reeds and pampas grass fringed the water’s edge, the shore spreading into cultivated fields interspersed with groves—yet rising in solitary majesty stood the sacred forest of Suwa Myojin, its presence forming a vista of divine grandeur.

Surrounding that sacred forest from afar, thatched huts, pole-built huts, and tents in autumnal hues formed a geometric battle formation scattered across the landscape—this was none other than the village where the shrine maidens known as the Water Fox Tribe dwelled. A few trails of cooking smoke rose while chickens clucked and dogs barked peacefully; the scene appeared perfectly tranquil at first glance. Yet no human figures were visible, and the voices that normally echoed through the air remained conspicuously absent on this day—clear evidence that peace did not reign here.

From aboard the ship, Yorimasa gazed at the Water Fox Tribe's village but immediately returned his gaze to the lake surface and swiftly raised his fan overhead. The moment he did, a loud splash echoed through the water. Nada Hyoue plunged into the water. Ripples rapidly formed on the lake surface and gradually spread outward. "Now, how will things turn out this time? Even if we don't know where the stone coffin lies, I just hope there's at least some clue." Yorimasa stood firmly at the ship's bow and gazed intently at the water's surface.

Suddenly, he shouted, “Ah!” Where his gaze fell, the once clear azure surface of the water began frothing violently—and in the blink of an eye, a blood tide resembling peony petals rose starkly into view. Then blotch after blotch of crimson blood tide surfaced across the water until, within moments, the entire area transformed into deep scarlet as though someone had spread a vermilion carpet over it. When the warriors on the companion ships saw this, they all turned pale and raised an uproar,

“Return to the manor! Return to the manor!” some shouted. “Nada Hyoue must have been killed!” “He must have been devoured by a monster fish!” “No—it’s the shrine maidens’ revenge!” “It’s the damn Water Fox Tribe’s revenge!” “Return to the manor! Return to the manor!” “Turn the ship around!” They all at once hurled insults at each other.

“Halt!” At that moment, Yorimasa commanded authoritatively, suppressing them.

“Returning to the manor is impermissible! Someone there—leap into the lake and ascertain whether Nada Hyoue lives or dies!”

“…………”

When they heard this, the warriors aboard the ship all gasped as one, their chests constricted. No one responded. They could only exchange glances. “Someone! Someone! Confirm whether Nada Hyoue lives or dies!” Yorimasa stood at the bow, stamping his feet and shouting, yet no one stepped forward. “You cowards! You spineless wretches! Are you so terrified of a monster fish?! “Are you so terrified of this lake?! “In all the Suwa household’s thirty thousand koku domain, there isn’t a single true samurai! “There’s no choice—I’ll go! “I’ll plunge into this lake myself and confirm whether Nada Hyoue lives or dies!”

No sooner had he spoken than Yorimasa flung his haori behind him. The samurai retainers were aghast. Scrambling to cling to him from both sides,

“What is this?!” “Your precious self must be protected!” “What is this?!” “Release me! Release me!” “I said release me!” “My lord!” At that moment, an old man named Miyagawa Takeuemon, the Suwa clan’s swordsmanship instructor, stepped forward. “My lord, I shall go.” “Ah, Takeuemon! Will you go?” Yorimasa’s mood improved for the first time, but “But you are already elderly—can you truly accomplish this perilous task?” “Ha,” said Takeuemon, placing his hands on his knees and bowing humbly. “Victory or defeat rests with fate. Yet our foe is either a specter or demonic fish.” “Moreover, even Nada Hyoue—that valorous diver from Awa—was bested by this fearsome adversary. Nine times out of ten, this old man too would meet defeat.”

“Knowing you’ll be defeated, yet you still insist on going?” Yorimasa pressed intently.

“Yes, I must go.” “You must go? Why is that?” “There is no one else to go.” “Deceit…” With that, Yorimasa indignantly looked around. “No. Even if there were others, this old man would have to push through and fulfill his duty.” “Hmm, why might that be?” “I am the instructor.” “I am the swordsmanship instructor.” “However, lately I have become old and decrepit, and am of no use.” “Despite this, both the Great Lord and the Young Lord continue to value me as they always have, and the members of the household do not neglect this old man.” “All of this is the grace of your noble household—there is no need for me to say so.” “It is precisely in such circumstances that this old man must repay your grace—when else could I possibly do so? Well then…”

With that, Takeuemon edged forward on one knee and said, “I have a request to make.”

18 “The nature of your request?” “You may state it,” Yorimasa said gently. “If I should unfortunately become prey to the monster fish, I humbly beg you to immediately abandon this current endeavor.” “This is my humble request.” “That cannot be done,” Yorimasa said, shaking his head with a pitying look.

“For what purpose do you think we undertake this venture?” “I presume it stems from your curiosity.” “That is your first error. It absolutely does not spring from curiosity. This is to cleanse the Suwa clan’s dishonor!” “How perplexing—I cannot grasp this decree.” “Since you fail to grasp it, hear me! The so-called Takeda heirloom—the Suwa Hōshō helmet—was originally our clan’s treasure. That lawless Shingen stole it, then in death had it placed on his corpse before sealing it within a stone coffin and interring it at Lake Suwa’s depths! Such conduct utterly shames our house—is this not cause for righteous fury?! When we speak of raising the coffin, it is solely to reclaim the Hōshō helmet and restore it as our heirloom. Now then—do you still deem *this* venture born of mere curiosity?”

“No—” Takeuemon raised his face. “Having failed to recognize such profound consideration on your part, and having presumptuously offered counsel—now I am deeply ashamed.” “So you understand at last.” “Then I am reassured.” “By your leave,” said Takeuemon, springing upright in one fluid motion. He unwound his belt with brisk efficiency. “So then, Takeuemon—are you truly resolved to enter the lake?” “My lord, I have no second thoughts.” “I find this admirable. You must succeed.” “You must succeed.” “Understood.” With that, he shed his garments, secured a dagger in his loincloth, and fixed an unblinking stare upon the water’s surface. He raised both hands overhead and slipped beneath the waves as smoothly as an eel. The splash subsided; ripples spread; his form vanished into the depths.

Yorimasa and all the retainers clenched their teeth, widened their eyes, and stared fixedly at the water's surface—but for a while, nothing changed.

And then—what suddenly surfaced was Namu Sanbō! It was a tide of blood. “Ah! Takeuemon’s been struck down too!” When Yorimasa leapt up and cried out, the water churned violently—and from its roiling depths emerged Takeuemon, drenched in gore. “You there! Men! Save Takeuemon!”

“Ah!” someone exclaimed, and two or three men, still fully clothed, leaped into the water and at once hoisted Takeuemon up. “Arm! Arm!” someone shouted. Grisly! Takeuemon’s right arm had been bitten off from the shoulder joint.

“This looks to be an injury! Tend to him!” “…Takeuemon!” “Takeuemon!” “The wound is shallow!” “Stay resolute!” “Stay resolute!”

“My lord, the lake’s depths are hell!” Takeuemon gasped out between labored breaths. “An old woman in shrine maiden attire…” “An old woman in shrine maiden attire?” Yorimasa reflexively echoed. “Sitting on a moss-covered stone coffin…” “Sitting on a moss-covered stone coffin?”

“With Nada Hyoue’s severed head in her mouth…” “Hmm… holding Nada Hyoue’s severed head in her mouth?” “When she saw me, she began to laugh.” “Ah, ah, ah—she began to laugh.” “Ah, ah, ah…”

No sooner had he spoken than he slumped his head limply. Takeuemon lost consciousness.

The boat fell utterly silent for a moment. No one dared make a sound. The lake’s depths! The lake’s depths! The depths of the lake! A shrine maiden of the Water Fox Tribe, clutching a severed head in her mouth, sat perched upon a moss-covered stone coffin! Ah, that this horrifying spectacle could dwell so vividly beneath the very vessel we occupied!

Yorimasa's voice shattered the suffocating moment of silence.

“Return to the castle! Return to the castle! Turn the ships around!” Creak, creak, creak, creak—the oars from twenty vessels began screeching frantically. Now all order had collapsed—with the young lord’s flagship at their center, rear ships became vanguards and vanguards became rearguards as they rowed in chaotic zigzags toward Takashima Castle’s water gate. Thus concluded the first day’s failed attempt to raise the stone coffin. From that moment, Lord Yorimasa’s heart seethed with resentment and found no solace. For even were he to attempt a second time, none would answer his call.

One night, he left the castle alone and wandered toward the lake. It was a night of beautifully bright moonlight, and the lake glimmered like silver. Suddenly, at that moment, Yorimasa heard the sound of a woman crying. By the lake shore stood a willow, and at its base a woman wept as if choking.

Yorimasa quietly approached.

“Seeing that you’re a maiden of tender youth, what sorrow makes you weep so?” he said kindly. The woman gasped in surprise and abruptly stood up from the base of the tree, but when he saw her face, it was now Yorimasa’s turn to be astonished.

For her appearance, adorned by the moonlight, was far too beautiful, far too noble, and far too majestic.

19

There is nothing that compares to a hazy moonlit spring night—neither too bright nor too cloudy. It is not only the spring moon; throughout the four seasons, moonlight reveals the beauty of all things.

The maiden stood slender with Lake Suwa at her back, her face buried in both sleeves as she sobbed—now adorned by moonlight, she appeared all the more beautiful. To Suwa Yorimasa, the young lord of the Suwa family, she seemed as if a spiritual being had descended from heaven. “What sorrow brings you to 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 not a suspicious person. “I am one of equal official standing. “There’s no need for concern. “You shall tell me your circumstances. “Where have you come from?”

Then the maiden stopped her crying and slightly raised her face from her sleeve, “I was born in Kyoto.”

“What? Kyoto? “Ah, is that so? “Kyoto is the imperial capital 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 by yourself?” “I was kidnapped.” “You were kidnapped? “That’s unfortunate. “So, by whom were you kidnapped?” “Yes—about twenty days ago, while returning from visiting Kiyomizu Temple with my wet nurse, I was kidnapped by a terrifying, terrifying human trafficker who had disguised himself as a puppeteer.”

“Ah, I see. How dreadful—your parents must be deeply worried. Our meeting by chance must be fate’s doing. I shall arrange an escort to return you home.” “Yes, I thank you for your kindness, but my mother and I share a troubled bond. Even were I to return to my family home, naught but bitterness awaits me.” The maiden buried her noble face in her sleeves once more and wept. “Truly yours is a pitiable plight—this complicates matters gravely.” Yorimasa knit his brows and demanded, “Now—where might that kidnapper-trafficker be at this moment? What deeds occupy him?”

“As for where or how he might be… At a mountain called Wada Pass or such, I finally managed to elude the human trafficker’s notice and fled here in desperation—but with no acquaintances nor savings, if I wander aimlessly, I may well fall to becoming a beggar or outcast, nor can I say I won’t be captured again by those terrifying traffickers… Rather than that, if I were to throw myself into this beautiful lake and die, perhaps I could meet my birth mother in Yomi…”

“So you were crying here?” “Yes,” she said, trembling.

The moon grew ever more brilliant, rendering the maiden’s entire body nearly translucent as she stood enveloped in a pale, hazy light. The disarray of disheveled hair tangled around her shoulders; the starkly white Fuji-shaped forehead emerging through sleeves that concealed her face; a slender waist and tall stature—her demeanor, blending allure with dread, held tormenting power over those who beheld her. Yorimasa, who at twenty-one years of age had been attended by countless beauties yet had never loved anyone due to his devotion to martial arts, now for the first time felt a chest-tightening, blood-pulsing emotion surge within him.

“And what is your name?” he asked.

“Yes, my name is Mizumo.”

“Mizumo, Mizumo... What a modest name.” “Now what do you mean to do?”

“Yes, I don’t know what I should do… Perhaps I should just… sink to the lake’s depths— Please, let me die!” “Please, let me die!” She writhed frantically. “As long as this Yorimasa exists, I will never let you die.” “Why do you want to die like that?” “Because of my pitiful circumstances…” “As long as this Yorimasa exists, I will not let you sink into unhappiness.” “Or do you dislike me?”

As he spoke, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Mizumo did not attempt to avoid it. She only stiffened rigidly.

“Your lack of response seems disagreeable.” Mizumo wordlessly shook her head.

“Or are you embarrassed?” The maiden silently nodded. “Do you still want to die?” “I’ve grown to hate the idea of dying.” “Why don’t the two of us live happily together?”

Mizumo raised her face from her sleeves, but the tear-drenched star-like eyes faintly smiled at this moment.

“Oh, you smiled!” “It must be so.” “I too have known desolation.” “Though my station lacked nothing, I had always lived in solitude.” “But now I shall find solace.” *I had exchanged ambition for love.* *Let me drown in love’s intoxication.* *Truly, a man must cast both flesh and spirit into some cause—else life holds no purpose.* *Until now, I had lived through martial fury and worldly schemes.* *Just as those paths grew barren, I chanced upon a woman’s devotion.* *Now I may live content.* “You are my savior.” “And thus, my beloved.” “I shall never release you.” The melancholy vanished from his face, supplanted by newfound hope.

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 to go somewhere.―― Not long after that, another rumor concerning the young lord began to spread. It was said that the young lord had recently taken a secret lover and was frequenting her abode.—

And so, people talked about it.

“How interesting that our martial arts-loving young lord has taken a lover!” “Well, what kind of woman could she be?” “Whose daughter might she be?” “Could she be the daughter of someone in the household?” “Or perhaps a courtesan from another province?” “That reckless plan to raise the stone coffin from the lake seems to have been halted thanks to this affair.” “For that alone, we should be grateful.” “Let us enshrine her as a goddess!” “Still—where could she be kept?” “I’d give anything to catch a glimpse of her.” “She must be a beauty without doubt.” “Since she’s the woman who effortlessly bewitched our stone-faced young lord Ishibe Kinkichi, she’s surely peerless.” “Oh no—I’ll wager she’s no such thing.” “Our eccentric young lord must be pampering some three-parts-human, seven-parts-sea-monster abomination.” “Ah, that does sound plausible.” “Could she be a rokurokubi?” “Night after night lapping oil from lanterns.” “A one-eyed bald hag perhaps?” “What of Shinshu’s famed snow woman?” “But it’s not winter now.”

“Hmm, then maybe a summer maiden?” “I’ve never heard of such a monster.” “Perhaps a kappa in disguise?” “Or maybe a tanuki from Eishoji Mountain?” “It must be the fox from Karasawayama.” “No—a badger!” “No—an otter!” “No no—it’s surely a flying squirrel!”—rumors begot rumors.

Before long, to the eyes of the household members, the fact that Lord Yorimasa himself was growing alarmingly weaker day by day began to appear as a mysterious fact.

――Thus, another rumor began to spread. “This must be possession.” “The other party must indeed be a supernatural being.” “A badger? A kappa?” “It must surely be the kappa of Okaya.” “No—it’s not that.” “No—that can’t be right. This must surely be the Water Fox Tribe.” “Ah, of course!” At this opinion, the people were struck with terror.

“Indeed, this must be the Water Fox Tribe.” “If it’s the Water Fox Tribe, they should be cursing us.”

“That’s right—this is bound to bring a curse.” “It’s because those bastards tried to raise the stone coffin from the lake that they’ve long guarded as their sacred talisman.” “It’s said that among those bastards’ ranks there’s a woman of eye-opening beauty.” “And what’s more, those bastards are sorcerers!” “On top of that, they’re dreadfully persistent.” “He’s been possessed by something formidable!” “The young lord’s life must be in peril.” “We must save him, or we’ll fail in our duty.” “As retainers, this would be disloyal.” “But how on earth should we proceed?” “The first thing we must do is ascertain where that woman resides.”

“But how on earth can we find out?”

“Who would be the most suitable person?” “This unworthy one will track her down and present her before you!” There was someone who declared boldly like this. It was Migi Unhachi Munnensai, the Saburi-ryu spearmanship instructor.

“Oh, Lord Migi! You’re the perfect man for this!” “Indeed, this duty suits me well.” The people pressed him in unison. “We must entreat you to bear this hardship.”

“Very well—I have accepted.” “She is merely a daughter of the Water Fox Tribe. This unworthy one will surely drive away the demon with my spear!” And so, that night, Unhachi—spear tucked under his arm—slipped into the inner palace garden adjacent to the young lord’s chambers and observed the situation. The late-night wind struck the shrubbery, rustling and swishing, while the clouded sky held no starlight; within the castle, the people seemed to have fallen deeply asleep, leaving it eerily silent and dreadful. At that moment, the shutters opened without a sound, and a figure landed lightly. It was none other than Young Lord Yorimasa.

As if pulled by invisible strings, Yorimasa walked onward without glancing around, moving smoothly, steadily. Then the back gate's small door opened soundlessly and smoothly, as though unseen hands were working it. He passed through and exited beyond the castle grounds. He rushed through the desolate residential quarter—where no dogs barked nor chickens crowed—like a shooting star. The destination ahead must have been Shrine Temple Village. He ran toward that direction.

“Now it begins,” Unhachi thought while maintaining a distance of about two ken and running straight ahead without falling behind. When they exited the town, open fields lay before them. Along the narrow path through the fields, two figures ran without making a sound. Before long, they emerged into a thickly wooded forest. Yorimasa ran into the forest. And Unhachi also ran in—but when he eventually emerged from the forest, Yorimasa’s figure was nowhere to be seen.

When he muttered “This is bad,” an old woman came from the opposite direction. She appeared deep in thought, her head bowed low. “Old woman—I have questions for you.”

Unhachi called out urgently. “A fine young samurai must have passed this way just now—did you not happen to see him?”

21

The old woman did not respond. She was eating something noisily. She seemed to be snickering. “You impudent wretch! How dare an old hag like you show such disrespect!” “Why aren’t you answering?!” Migi Unhachi Munnensai grabbed the old woman’s shoulder while shouting. However, the old woman did not respond. She was still bowing her head and laughing. And then she was eating something. A low chuckle escaped her lips, accompanied by wet, squelching noises as she ate. Unhachi grew increasingly enraged and tightened his grip on her shoulder. Then his hand suddenly went numb—and abruptly, the old woman raised her face. Her face—crowned with platinum-white hair and ruddy as a vermilion basin—floated in the dark night, fresh blood clinging thickly to her mouth, nose, cheeks, and jaw. What she held firmly in both hands was a half-eaten severed head. Blood dripped from the severed edge. It was Nada Hyoue’s head.

The moment Unhachi thought *Ah!*, his vision swam dizzily. Then he collapsed and fell unconscious on the spot.

After being nursed by several villagers, by the time he had revived from his faint, the morning sun of the following day was already high in the sky. Unhachi's failure instantly became the talk of the castle town, and whether warriors or townspeople, all were thoroughly gripped by terror—so much so that when sunset came, people would not even attempt to venture outdoors. Suddenly, the castle town fell into desolation, and even the martial might of the Suwa family came to be doubted. Nevertheless, Young Lord Yorimasa continued to sneak out of the castle and go off to destinations unknown. And so he weakened day by day and night by night. A curse! A curse! The Water Fox Tribe's curse! What in the world should be done?!

The strange rumors surrounding the Suwa family even reached the Naito family of Ina.

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

“Regrettably, might you go to the Suwa family and expose this specter?” he entreated with feigned helplessness. “Yes,” replied Yanosuke, though his expression betrayed reluctance. “The Suwa family shares marital ties with our house.” “Surely we cannot turn deaf ears and blind eyes to their plight?” “Is there truly no one else?” “It must be you.” “It must be you.” “Need I remind you? That unknown entity which plagued Otori Monbee disappeared after your single visit.” “This proves your spiritual authority.” “I personally implore you—go.”

“Under what pretext shall I go?” “As an envoy from our house.” “To inquire after Young Lord Yorimasa’s illness.”

“It cannot be helped. In humble obedience to your decree, I shall nevertheless go.” “Should you succeed, it will bring honor to our house.” “The Suwa family too would be indebted.” “Now then—when do you intend to depart?”

“It is best to act swiftly.” “I shall humbly receive your leave at first light tomorrow morning and set out for Suwa.” “Have a retinue splendidly prepared.”

And so, the following morning, accompanied by a grand retinue, Kagami Yanosuke departed. With his crystalline handsome features and skilled handling of horseback reins, he traversed the densely wooded mountain pass from Ina to Suwa. Offering stands, ornamental boxes, great feathered standards, and attendant servants—truly, he presented the very image of an imposing envoy.

They spent a day on the road and arrived in Suwa the following day, but the courier had already come. The Suwa family had anticipated the envoy's arrival; they deliberately dispatched men to meet him at the provincial border, but first—as a gesture to allow rest—they politely invited Yanosuke to the newly constructed annex within the castle grounds.

The following day was the official meeting day. That night, numerous executives came from Suwa to pay their respects, but it was when Chino Hyogo arrived that Yanosuke abruptly inquired. “I hear your family has been a literary house for generations—you must have a great many books in your collection?” “Indeed, we have a great many.”

“I would very much like to see your collection.” “It’s a simple matter. I shall guide you.” Hyogo guided Yanosuke to the book repository. It was truly a splendid collection. Exceeding ten thousand volumes of books from ancient and modern times were arranged orderly and neatly. Yanosuke, suppressing his inner turmoil, patiently investigated the “Su” section until he finally discovered a manuscript titled *Water Fox Tribe Chronicles*. Upon returning to his room, he began reading it fervently.

The emergence of the Water Fox Tribe and the outline of their religion had become vaguely clear.

It was during the Heian period—on the shore of the lake in Suwa Province stood a solitary castle. They called the castle's master Sousuke and his betrothed Saku, but Saku loved not Sousuke—instead devoting her very life to his younger brother Natsuhiko. In time she conceived and bore a daughter of Natsuhiko's seed, whom they named Kudahime. Thus began the tragedy: though brothers, Sousuke and Natsuhiko clashed as rivals in love. 22

For fourteen years, the two brothers fought bloodily at Lake Suwa and the Tenryu River, but during that time, Saku and Kudahime spent their desolate days in a ruined ancient castle, maintaining their faith in Catholicism. In the fourteenth year, Sousuke returned to his own castle carrying his younger brother Natsuhiko’s severed head, but by that time, Saku had already stabbed her throat and died.

“I curse all humans!” “I curse this floating world!” As previously detailed at this story’s outset, Sousuke—after roaring these curses—fled to Mount Yatsugatake, gathered followers, committed every manner of atrocity, and while still living became a demonic tengu of the underworld. His clan came to be called the *wajin* tribe, forming a reclusive community that shunned ordinary society. Yet the sole survivor, Princess Kuda—ancestor of what we now call the Water Fox Tribe—lived on as a pitiful orphan bearing her father Natsuhiko’s severed head. She abandoned the castle alone to dwell in Jinguuji Village, venerating the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ as her guardian deities. Over time, comrades joined her cause. They opposed the *wajin* tribe and established their own settlement there, blending Catholicism with Japan’s ancient Shinto traditions—specifically the Nakamikado school’s Onmyodo practices—to forge a strange new faith uniting East and West. And so, their leaders would always proclaim the name Kuda, and it was decided they would be called Princess Kuda when young and Old Woman Kuda once aged. And so, it was decided their leaders must always be women.

The most distinctive characteristics shared by the entire tribe were these: regardless of gender, they engaged in shamanism as their trade; they did not interact with those outside their community; they regarded the wajin as lifelong enemies; and they practiced sorcery. Above all, their leaders had attained frightening mastery over what might be described in modern terms as clairvoyance, clairaudience, hypnosis, psychic dissociation, somnambulism, and mind-reading techniques……

“Hmm, I see.”

After reading through the manuscript, Yanosuke murmured in surprise. "They are formidable enemies. Moreover, there are too many of them. Facing an entire tribe—even one who has attained mastery in martial arts would find it difficult to defeat them. This requires thorough consideration. ...No—wait—that need not be so. If only their leader were defeated—perhaps the misfortunes plaguing the Suwa family alone could be severed. Hmm—yes—let me focus my mind upon this single point."

In the quiet depths of the castle night, seated at the center of the annex guest chamber, Yanosuke sat deep in thought—

There was no use thinking about it anymore; knowing your allies and knowing your enemies was a principle of certain victory in military strategy. He would sneak out now and observe the Water Fox Tribe’s settlement firsthand. He stood up smoothly and exited into the corridor. Opening the rain shutters revealed a garden beyond—he stepped through into its shadows. When he reached the castle’s rear gate, a lone guard stood watch. “Who goes there?” challenged the guard. “Where might you be bound?” “I am an envoy from House Naito,” Yanosuke declared. “Business calls me townward—kindly open this postern gate at once.”

“Hah!” he exclaimed, adopting a formal posture. “No matter how distinguished the personage may be, once the appointed hour has passed, I cannot open this gate.” “Ah—so no individual whatsoever may pass through this small gate once curfew falls?” “It is the Suwa family’s law.” “Yet given there exists one who violates this law nightly—how profoundly inconvenient this regulation proves.” “No, no! No such individual resides within the Suwa household.”

“No—not one of the household retainers.” “A most distinguished member of the main family.” “Hmm—who could that possibly be?” “None other than the young lord Yorimasa.”

“Ah, I see!” The guard blurted out, staring blankly with widened eyes. “What utter nonsense you speak. “Not a word of it holds truth.” Yanosuke laughed. “No—not a single word of it is true.”

“Then kindly open the gate.” “Under unavoidable circumstances, proceed now.” With a creak, the guard opened the gate. Having slipped through with a soft *pon*, Yanosuke briskly walked along the narrow path through the fields—which he had surveyed during the day—toward Jinguuji Village. The late moon had just risen, and the open fields glowed hazily. While letting the breeze tousle the hair at his temples, he walked on without haste or anxiety, though his mind was occupied with strategizing—what should be done?

Before long, far ahead came into view the Water Fox Tribe's settlement. In terms of households there were over a hundred; in population perhaps around three hundred—now of course all lay still in slumber, not a single soul visible. Though his night vision couldn't discern them clearly, the houses' construction appeared unusual compared to ordinary dwellings—strikingly primitive—with one particularly conspicuous large structure likely being the tribal chief's residence. Just like those of an ancient castle stood chigi fork-shaped roof ornaments and katsuogi log bracings. Moreover, the roof followed the tsumairi style while the veranda encircling all four sides of the residence evoked the Shinmei-zukuri architectural form.

And then, abruptly, from that direction, the sound of music could be heard.

“Hmm?” Yanosuke muttered, involuntarily stopping in his tracks.

23 The sound of music was faint yet possessed an exquisite harmony. The instruments appeared to be a kakko drum and flute. The clang of a gong could also occasionally be heard. Yanosuke listened for a time before creeping closer in stealth. Hiding in the shade of trees and peering across, he saw several women seated in the garden of the Shinmei-zukuri mansion—all young women of the Water Fox Tribe. One played a flute, another beat a kakko drum, and a third struck a gong. At the center sat an elderly woman who appeared to be fervently praying. The gong's clang-clang-clang intertwined with the kakko drum's thud-thud-thud as flute notes whistled through the night air. This formed a hypnotic harmony that resonated across the moonlit darkness.

The elderly woman stood up quietly. She extended both hands. She moved them up and down. She appeared to be summoning something. Then from the direction of the castle town, a black speck appeared—racing forward like the wind. The witch's hands must have summoned a victim from afar. Clang-clang-clang, thud-thud-thud, whee-whee—the music's tempo gradually quickened as the old woman's up-and-down hand motions accelerated in tandem. The black speck drew steadily closer. The speck elongated into a rod, the rod took human form, until finally a young samurai bathed in moonlight materialized before them. It was Yorimasa, heir of the Suwa clan.

The three women and the old woman suddenly stood up in one smooth motion. Then, while continuing to play the music, they began ascending the stairs with leisurely composure. The old woman once again raised and lowered her hands. Before long, she vanished into the building.

Yorimasa’s eyes were wide open. They remained fixed unwaveringly ahead. Yet he appeared to be asleep. Only his legs moved mechanically. No sooner had he reached the stairway’s base than he was already ascending. His body tilted diagonally as though drawn by invisible strings—then he slid smoothly into the building. Afterward, an eerie stillness prevailed. The music’s sound had vanished entirely. From his hiding place beneath the trees, Yanosuke shuddered involuntarily.

“...This must be the Water Fox Tribe’s sorcery.” “That old woman must be their leader.” “They lure people with music.” “The strangeness never ends... What could they be doing inside that house?” Driven by intense curiosity, Yanosuke quietly emerged from the shade of the trees, gently set foot on the stairs, and climbed up to the first, then second floor. No sooner had he done so than a throwing stick came whizzing through the air, attempting to sweep Yanosuke’s legs out from under him. Startled with a gasp, Yanosuke leapt from the stairs and landed lightly on the ground. However, there was no one anywhere. The pale moonlight filled the front garden. The tree clusters and house shadows were merely imprinted jet-black upon the ground.

Yanosuke shuddered once more. "I should probably head back." He could not help but think this. There, he concealed himself, slipped out of the Water Fox Tribe’s village, and retreated briskly along a narrow country path back to the lakeshore.

A woman was standing in the shade of a willow tree on the shore of Lake Suwa. She seemed to be crying.

“What has happened to you, maid?”

Yanosuke, suspicious, drew closer. When he looked, she was a beautiful girl. "In such a late hour, in such a place—what could you possibly be weeping for?" "Yes," she replied, but the girl made no move to lower her sleeve from her face. Her white neck, disheveled hair, and willowy waist—all conspired to lure men's hearts into longing and stir disorderly desires.

“From where do you hail, and what are they wont to call you?”

Yanosuke gently asked again. “I was born in Kyoto—my name is Mizumo… I was taken by dreadful human traffickers…” “No, that cannot be true,” Kagami Yanosuke said quietly. “Your birthplace is Jinguuji—your name Kuda...”

"Huh?" The girl looked up. "Fool!" Yanosuke barked, drawing his sword in a flash as he struck. The girl recoiled in panic, leaping backward as she wound her sleeve around her hand and raised it high overhead, then began whirling it round and round like a vortex. Though his defenses remained intact, Yanosuke found her bizarre behavior suspicious and fixed his gaze intently on her hands. Gradually his mind grew clouded. This was hypnosis. Yanosuke had fallen under its spell. By the time he realized—"They've got me"—he could no longer move a muscle. The moonlit lake, willow tree, and girl's form all vanished from sight. Before his eyes swirled a strange vortex-like phenomenon, spiraling upward endlessly—higher and higher into the empty sky.

He rolled to the lakeshore still gripping his sword. He sank into a deep slumber.

And then, when he was awakened by villagers the next morning, everything from the swords at his waist to his clothing had been completely stripped away.

24 This was an indescribable disgrace for Yanosuke as a samurai.

Yanosuke secluded himself in the castle's annex from then on, avoiding visitors. Using his illness as an excuse, he even had to postpone meetings with official envoys. However, this rumor soon spread within and beyond the castle walls. "I hear the envoy from the Naito family who came visiting has come down with a mysterious illness."

“Indeed, a most mysterious illness.” “Some even say it’s a feigned illness.” “They also say it’s called the disgraceful illness.” “It’s also said to be called the illness of public shame”—there were even those who spoke such slander. No matter what was said, Yanosuke had no words to oppose it. “According to rumors, this Yanosuke fellow was known even in Lord Naito’s household by the derisive nickname ‘daytime lantern’—a useless fool—but if that is indeed true, then it is the Naito family who are truly beyond reproach for sending such a man as their envoy.” Even those who spoke in this manner had begun to emerge.

“No, no—that is slander. Lord Yanosuke is an extraordinary martial artist who vanquished a specter in Takato Castle town and proved his martial valor, so they say.” Rarely were there those who spoke thus in Yanosuke’s defense. “What of it? The Takato apparition differs from Suwa’s phantasm in nature—a spineless creature, no doubt,” others jeered with biting mockery. Meanwhile, regardless of how diligently they guarded Young Lord Yorimasa or who stood watch, when the hour arrived, he would invariably slip past his keepers and vanish from the castle grounds. Thus did he waste away day after night, until his demise became but a matter of time.

Moreover, Yanosuke remained quietly secluded deep within the annex, making no attempt to venture outside.

One day, Yanosuke was seated formally in the annex’s tatami room as usual, deeply engrossed in contemplation. Before him lay the Water Fox Tribe Chronicles, left open. He had read and reread this transcribed copy countless times up until today. And from within this, he tried to discover some ray of light, some path forward. However, he had unfortunately been unable to find one up until today. He snapped his eyes open. And then he began to read again. And then, suddenly, his eyes fixed on a line of text.

“Against the Wajin of Mount Yatsugatake, let there be an endless and inexhaustible deep grudge—this is the Water Fox Tribe’s ancestral precept.”

Thus it was recorded there. "Yes, this is it!"

And Yanosuke slapped his knee sharply. "What a blockhead I am! To have such a splendid path forward before me and not realize it until now... If the Water Fox Tribe regards the Wajin of Mount Yatsugatake with such profound enmity, then undoubtedly the Wajin must likewise hold an equally deep grudge against the Water Fox Tribe. Therefore, those Wajin must surely be devising hostile measures against the Water Fox Tribe. Then what if I were to meet those Wajin and ask about their hostile methods against the Water Fox Tribe! They will undoubtedly gladly tell me. I'll go to Mount Yatsugatake and meet the Wajin!"

After waiting for sunset, Yanosuke secretly slipped out of the castle. Along the way, he fully prepared for the journey, first walking to Chino-shuku, then entering the mountain path from there. Kusazawa, Kaminohara, Yanagisawa. He spent the night in Yanagisawa and departed before dawn the following morning. He came as far as Yatsude and turned north, but this area was already a plateau, and beyond this point there were no dwellings. He climbed up and up along Mount Amida's ridge. He spent one night camping outdoors along the way.

On the third day around noon, he arrived at the Tsuzumigadou valley, and when he looked, there stood a hut. Years of exposure to wind and rain had left the roof and plank walls mostly collapsed, rendering the hut a pitiful ruin—yet this very shack was where Yamabuki, daughter of the Wajin tribe, and Tashirou, a merchant from the castle town, had lived together for a time over a decade prior. The wild child called Inotarou, born between them, must have once lived here as well. Where did those people go, I wonder? Yamabuki should already be dead. However, Tashirou and Inotarou should still be alive.

Kagami Yanosuke stood before the hut for a short while. Strange though it was, an indescribable wave of nostalgia surged up within him. An indescribable nostalgic sentiment—as if the sound of a flute often heard in the distant past, then forgotten midway, had abruptly resounded once more in the depths of his ears! Feelings of longing welled up. But why was that? Yes, why was that? For Yanosuke, Tsuzumigadou held no connection whatsoever—wasn’t this his first visit here? Kagami Yanosuke was Kagami Yanosuke. He was none other than himself.

Or could there be some connection between Yanosuke and Tsuzumigadou? “This is strange,” Yanosuke muttered aloud. “In the distant, distant, distant past, I somehow feel like I lived in this hut. ...But there’s no way that could be possible!”

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

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

25

“Come! Come! Come!” A voice overflowing with compassion was heard again from atop the mountain.

When Kagami Yanosuke heard this，an indescribable wave of nostalgia welled up from within his heart． “Someone is calling me． I’ll go see．I’ll go see．”

He hurriedly looked around his surroundings. Directly ahead, there was a cliff. On the cliff, there was a path. The path led up to the mountaintop.

And so Yanosuke decided to take that path up the mountain. Though covered in moss and buried in fallen leaves—a difficult path to walk—it posed no hardship for Yanosuke. And so he climbed resolutely upward.

The place he finally reached through these efforts was what was once called Sasa no Taira in the past—that is to say, the Wajin tribe's 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 decade ago, the Wajin people had embarked on their nomadic journey.

However，of course，Yanosuke was unaware of such circumstances．And so，with only the Wajin’s ruins remaining and none of the Wajin themselves present，he found himself considerably disappointed．“But that earlier call was definitely not just my imagination．It was definitely a human voice．Where could that person be？”

So he decided to search for that person above all else.

He carefully searched each and every cave-like hut—structures that had once been dwellings of the Wajin tribe but now served as dens for foxes and badgers—but no human figures could be seen. Could it have been just my imagination after all?

When he had finally begun to doubt, once again, the same voice came drifting from nowhere.

“Come! Come! Come!” The voice came from the direction of the mountain. So Yanosuke gained vigor and ran toward the voice. When he crossed over the upper wilderness, there was a forest atop a hill, within which stood a shrine, and deep within its inner sanctum he found an imposing wooden statue of a warrior holding a spear standing erect—this was none other than the Tengu Shrine, and that awe-inspiring warrior statue was indeed the sacred embodiment of Sousuke Tengu. However, even so, Yanosuke did not understand what it signified.

Even so, for some reason, that wooden statue felt both venerable and nostalgic to him, so Yanosuke reverently pressed his palms together and bowed. And then, at that moment, a human voice rang out.

“Oh Inotarou, you’ve returned at last.”

When Yanosuke, startled, instinctively widened his eyes in surprise, a white-robed, long-haired figure smoothly glided out from behind the wooden statue and appeared before his very eyes. It was truly a divine figure. His visage overflowed with compassion. He was closer to a god than a human. The divine figure spoke again. "Oh, Inotarou, you've returned at last." Startled by the unexpected appearance of this figure, Yanosuke stood speechless for a moment; then, abruptly, he bowed deeply.

“I do not know who you are, but you must be mistaken,” Yanosuke said. “As for myself, I am Kagami Yanosuke of the Takato household; I am not Inotarou.” “Indeed, indeed,” replied the divine figure. “Your current name is Lord Yanosuke, was it not? But you remain Inotarou still. At least your childhood name persists.” The radiant figure smiled gently as he spoke these words. “And yet—might this not be so?” “No, no—that too is incorrect,” Yanosuke countered. “My childhood name is Uzaburou—this is how I have always been called.”

“Indeed, indeed—there was such a time.” “But that was only for a brief time.” “Moreover, that was a temporary name.” “It was a name given as an expedient, but that fact will naturally become clear in time.” “And from the moment you understand that, you will become a wretched human.” “The terrifying, terrifying form of your karma will become vividly clear before your eyes.” “The most unfortunate person in this world is none other than you.” “You are becoming a victim of your birth mother’s curse.” “And so, you must kill your own father without fail.” “But that is impossible.” “As a child, kill your own father!” “But this is absolutely impossible.” “It is precisely because you cannot do it that you suffer.” “There lies your karma… You are an unfortunate human.” “If you try to avenge your mother’s grudge, you must kill your father.” “If you walk the path of a son, you will never be able to resolve your mother’s delusional obsession at her deathbed, and must leave her unappeased spirit to fall into hell for all eternity.”

Then Yanosuke laughed, but

“I cannot comprehend what you’re saying at all. “My true father and mother are alive and well in Iida’s castle town even now, yet you speak such nonsense about deathbed obsessions and vengeful spirits. “Even jokes have their place—go beyond that, and it becomes outright disrespect. “I must ask you to keep silent now. “I won’t hear another word!”

In the end, he even became slightly angry.

26 Then, the divine figure looked at Yanosuke with a compassionate gaze, as if pitying him— “What are your parents called?” “My father is Minamijō Ukon, and he serves as the swordsmanship instructor to Lord Iwami no Kami of Iida Hori in Shinshu Province.” “My mother is Oshina, the third daughter of Maekawa Tanomo, a senior official of the same domain.” “Indeed, indeed—that was so.” “I am aware of that as well.” “However, those are temporary parents.” “What? Are you saying they’re temporary parents?” “What a strange pronouncement. Explain yourself in detail.” Yanosuke’s expression darkened.

“No, no—that cannot be revealed.” “But in time, naturally—naturally—the season when all becomes clear will arrive.” “You must wait for that season.” “Since earlier, everything you have said has been most mysterious, but what exactly is your status? What manner of person are you?”

“I was one who dwelled in these mountains before you were born.” “Ah, is that so?” “And I am one who shares a deep bond with your true parents.” “Particularly with your deceased mother.” “……?” “Goodness, equality, compassion, peace—I am the proclaimer of these.” “Ah, is that so?” “A short while before your birth, I departed this mountain.” “For I felt deficient in virtue.” “Yet this mountain ever weighed upon my heart.” “Thus I remained by your side day and night.” “Nay—not you alone! I attend all unfortunate souls without cease.” “To some I manifest as tears; to others, as light—this is my essential form. ...And concerning you, I comprehend every particular.”

“And what is your name?” “In these mountains, they called me the White Monk.” “You are Lord White Monk, then.” “The problem is that in this fleeting world, there exists a wicked one who takes a position opposed to mine and works against me.” “Evil, inequality, curses, mercilessness—the possessor of such things clings to all humans just as I do.”

“Who might that be?” “Let us just call him the Black Monk.” “Alternatively, you could call him the villain.” “Therefore, I am the good one.” “…The karmic causality that pierces through three lifetimes is nothing but the struggle between the good one and the villain.” “…But there’s no need for me to expound on this as if it were something new. Even so, the misfortune that has befallen you is the work of that Black Monk.” “And at least for now, there is nothing I can do.” “There is no choice but to wait for the season… And not only are you a victim of your birth mother’s curse, but now you even seek to cast yourself anew as a sacrifice for your tribe.”

“Tribe? Tribe? What do you mean by tribe?”

“It refers to the tribe you belong to.” “I am of the samurai class.” “Indeed, now—now you are a samurai.” “I have been a samurai from the beginning.” “That is not so, that is not so.” “Then what might I be?”

“That I cannot say.” “I cannot say now.” “The one who will tell you that is none other than the Black Monk.” “Where is that Black Monk?” “He clings to all humans.” “So he clings to you as well.”

“He does not appear before my eyes.” “Soon he will become visible to you as well.” “A sacrifice for the tribe? The Black Monk? Ah, I don’t understand!”

“Water Fox Tribe! “Water Fox Tribe!” The White Monk said abruptly. “You came to these mountains intending to destroy them, I suppose?” “It is exactly as you say.” “For the wajin, the Water Fox Tribe has been their ancestral enemy since time immemorial.”

“I had heard as much.” “Therefore, they are also your enemy.” “Why might that be?” “You will understand soon enough, you will understand. …In any case, you must fight another tribe for the sake of the one you belong to.” “You must fight those Water Fox Tribe.” “And then you must kill Old Woman Kuda with your own hands.” “This is your fate.” “But how can I slay that detestable witch?” Yanosuke asked anxiously.

“Look upon that! Behold it!”

As he said this, the White Monk raised his hand and pointed at the Heian-style long spear held by the wooden statue in the inner sanctuary. "That wooden statue is none other than the guardian deity of the wajin." "Their ancestor Sousuke." "He is the clan leader of those wajin." "There is no means to slay the Witch other than using the weapon wielded by this clan leader to strike down their opposing chieftain."

Hearing this, Yanosuke leapt up. He swiftly dashed into the shrine and, with a forceful tug, wrenched the long spear free from the wooden statue’s hand.

27

“…The moment you kill Old Woman Kuda, you shall receive another curse.” “Such a terrible curse!” “Such a terrible curse!” “Wretched soul!” “Wretched soul!” Ignoring the White Monk’s cries from behind, Kagami Yanosuke charged down the mountain toward the village—and it was not long after this that he did so.

He was simply overjoyed.

"I can defeat that detestable witch. I can reclaim my tarnished honor. What's a curse? What's a curse?!"

This was Yanosuke’s state of mind.

"What deserves gratitude is this spear. Spear—I beg you—manifest your mystical power for my sake. Let me stab that witch Old Woman Kuda to death with just a single thrust!" This was Yanosuke’s wish.

He quickened his pace and thudded down the mountain.

On the way, he camped overnight, and around noon the next day, he returned to Takashima’s castle town but deliberately did not go back into the castle, instead waiting for nightfall at an inn on the outskirts of town. Eventually, day turned to night, and as the hours passed, it deepened into late night. Disregarding the solemn-faced inn staff, Yanosuke left the inn.

He walked along the rice field path bordering Lake Suwa toward Shrine Temple Village.

Before long, he arrived at the Water Fox Tribe’s settlement, but just as when he had come before, the houses stood silent and still, with not even the sound of a dog to be heard.

"Alright." After muttering this, Yanosuke crept toward Old Woman Kuda’s residence, moving along the shadows of trees and houses while muffling his footsteps. When he reached the spacious front courtyard, he stopped short in surprise. Bathed in faint starlight from the sky, four or five shadowy figures squirmed restlessly. The rat-a-tat of nails being hammered, the shh-shh of planks being planed—various sounds came drifting over. They seemed to be constructing something. "What’s this?"

With that, Yanosuke grew suspicious. And so, muffling his footsteps even more, he crept along the dark shadows of objects, trying to catch their conversation as he moved closer toward them. They were discussing something.

“What’s the holdup? Still not finished?” “The knots make it tough to plane.”

“That’s good enough! That’s good enough!” The scrape-scrape of planed wood echoed through the night. “Nails! Pass me the nails!”

“Whoa, there we go—that’s the nail!”

The rat-a-tat sound of hammering nails pierced through the night's silence, echoing weirdly gloomily. What were they building?

And again, they began to talk. "Quit dawdling like fools!" "That's because it's the final farewell, you know."

“She’s clinging on, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, that’s right—inside the ornamental screen.” “A crone past a hundred years.” “Nonsense! Seventeen or eighteen—fresh as water’s first bloom!” “Ahahaha! Couldn’t have said it better!” They chuckled under their breath while hammering away. “Makes you almost pity him,” another worker began. “A water burial for one so young?” “All comes down to one’s nature.” “Divine retribution for crossing us.” “Punishment for disturbing the lake.” “Had Lord Yorimasa of House Suwa behaved with the dignity befitting his station, he’d never have met this end.”

“Serves him right! Serves him right!”

There, they laughed again. “……Well, the coffin’s mostly done.” “If only the corpse would arrive soon.” There, they fell silent. Hearing this, Yanosuke couldn’t help but shudder. They had been building a coffin to hold Yorimasa’s corpse. And so it seemed Young Lord Yorimasa was being lured to this house once more tonight, deceived by the hundred-year-old crone Kuda, who had transformed herself into the beautiful maiden Mizumo. Moreover, Young Lord Yorimasa’s life seemed to be drawing to its end with each passing moment. _Coffin! Coffin!_ _Water burial ritual!_ They were apparently going to dump Yorimasa’s corpse into the coffin and sink it into Lake Suwa. It was imminent right before his eyes!

“I can’t let this go on any longer.” Yanosuke scuffed his foot. The moment he did, there was a clanging sound. He tripped over something. He gasped in realization, but it was too late. The four coffin-making Water Fox Tribe members stood up simultaneously and surged this way. "It can’t be helped now." "I’ll cut down every last one of them."

In a split-second decision, Yanosuke pressed his body flush against the astonishingly thick trunk of an ancient cedar tree standing there. Unaware of this, the four Water Fox Tribe members came running in a dense mass.

28 When they came within three feet, Yanosuke’s hand shot out. The Heian-style long spear pierced like lightning through the center of the chest of the Water Fox Tribe member who had charged ahead first, as if to rake through it from behind. With a groan, he collapsed, and in the same instant, the spear was pulled back to Yanosuke’s side. Before there was even time to register its withdrawal, the swiftly flipped butt end pierced the throat of the second Water Fox Tribe member. With a groan, this one too collapsed. The two who realized an enemy was present turned their heels to flee, but he chased them down, sweeping one’s legs out from under him. Leaping over the falling body, he pierced the last one through the back with a straight thrust.

It was a move too swift for the eye to follow. He did not let a single enemy utter a sound. Yanosuke shuddered violently, dashed straight through the front garden, and leapt like a swallow into the ancient-style mansion standing before him—the dwelling of Old Woman Kuda. Climbing the stairs led to a corridor—at its end loomed a massive cedar door. Placing his hand upon it and pulling it open revealed a pitch-black room devoid of lamplight; passing through this darkness, he pressed deeper inward. Then, beyond one room, a faint lamplight shone through. Yanosuke crept closer and peered through a gap in the hanging cloth of a standing screen to see inside, but he instinctively bristled, every hair standing on end.

Her large sleeves glowed with rich colors, a blazing crimson obi wrapped around her waist, and an embroidered brocade sash adorned her form—though she appeared a bewitching maiden in silhouette, her head bore silver-white hair and her face was crisscrossed with wrinkles. A hundred-year-old crone cradled a samurai in her arms. It was none other than Young Lord Yorimasa—his face gaunt with approaching death, forehead tinged indigo blue, lips bearing an ashen hue—lying in a deathlike slumber. The old woman opened her mouth wide and blew her breath—Hoh... hoh... hoh... hoh...—repeatedly toward Lord Yorimasa’s face. Each time, Yorimasa writhed in agony.

After staring intently, Yanosuke kicked the screen aside with a sharp motion and leapt nimbly into the room.

Yanosuke firmly poised his spear.

Even Kuda no Uba was startled, but she flung aside the Yorimasa she had been holding and rose swiftly to her feet. Her height seemed to reach the ceiling, but this was of course an illusion. The two locked eyes. "You brat! How dare you barge in!"

In a hushed voice, Old Woman Kuda rebuked him, swirling her right sleeve in tight circles before raising it high above her head—her customary method of deploying the sleep-inducing hypnotic technique, which she now set spinning with a rapid *whirr-whirr-whirr*. Once again, Yanosuke teetered on the brink of falling into that dreadful snare.

And then, a miracle occurred. The Heian-style long spear—the very spear borrowed from the wooden statue of Sousuke Tengu, guardian deity of the wajin tribe—began swirling of its own accord, independent of Yanosuke’s will. As a result, while the crone’s upraised hand rotated leftward again and again above her head, the spear spun rightward—rightward—ever rightward. In other words, it was attempting to disrupt her hypnotic secret technique. Yanosuke was astonished, but what was truly astonished was none other than Kuda no Uba. She stared fixedly at the spear. Anguish blossomed across her face, terror flashed in her eyes—then suddenly a groan escaped her lips.

“Sousuke’s spear!” “Sousuke’s spear!” “Ah! Since thou holdest that spear, thou art one of the wajin!”

However, Yanosuke did not even respond. He pressed forward relentlessly. Pressed by this advance, Old Woman Kuda retreated step by step. The two remained locked in a glaring standoff. At that moment, Kuda's right hand—which had been held aloft—suddenly dropped to her side. A spear thrust flashed between them! The blade pierced clean through her solar plexus.

However, Kuda did not fall. She gripped the spear’s shaft with both hands as if clamping down with a vise-like hold. “...Cursed you are—one of the wajin!” “You shall know no peace!” “You shall never die!” “You shall never age!” “The Water Fox Tribe’s curse! My curse!” “Taste it! Taste it! Taste it!” Thus the crone screamed—and with that, she breathed her last. Finally allowing himself to relax, Yanosuke slung the unconscious Yorimasa over his back with one arm, gripped the bloodied spear in his other hand, descended the stairs, and emerged into the garden.

Fortunately, the village was fast asleep. The village appeared unaware of such a commotion.

And Kagami Yanosuke quietly withdrew from the Water Fox Tribe’s village. He exited the village, emerged into the rice fields, and proceeded along the lake.

The cursed words of Old Woman Kuda meant nothing to him. That he saved Young Lord Yorimasa, severed the root of calamity, and restored fallen honor—all these things brought him joy.

Thus, he appeared at the main gate of Takashima Castle in a bloodstained state during the predawn hours of that night.

Volume of Grudges and Vengeance

1

Ever since Old Woman Kuda had been vanquished by Kagami Yanosuke’s spear, Suwa Yorimasa, the young lord of the Suwa family, rapidly regained his vigor. Having fulfilled his mission, Yanosuke 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.

At last having bid farewell to the Suwa family, he was to return to Takato. The Suwa family had a first-rate figure 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 still thought of Yanosuke as a fool. He was regarded as an idol and held up as a paragon by those of the Takato domain.

“I hear Lord Yanosuke has returned.” “Oh, I hear he’s returned.” “I hear he has accomplished tremendous deeds.” “They say such things. A fine matter indeed.”

“What a distinguished person he is.” “He must surely be Takato’s foremost now.”

“Indeed, he is our benefactor as well.” “Exactly so! Our benefactor indeed!” “Since that esteemed person arrived, there have been no more supernatural occurrences, haven’t there?”

“Oh, that’s right—it’s truly a blessing!” “We must express our gratitude.” “I’ve been thinking that all along!” “How can we repay this debt of gratitude?” “Hmm, that’s the tricky part.” “Surely we can’t even offer money…” “He is the esteemed son of the chief retainer—we could never do such a thing!” “Then, we cannot even offer goods either…” “He would never deign to accept them.” “Then, Father—how about we invite him outright?”

“Hmm, then let’s do that and treat him to a feast.” “That seems most appropriate, we believe.”

“Indeed, this might be a good idea.”

Otori Monbee and his daughter Otsuyu finally concluded their discussion there.

The next day, Monbee, dressed in formal attire, went to the Kagami residence himself.

Ever since returning home, Yanosuke had been invited by various people and had already grown thoroughly tired of the feasts. Even when invited by Monbee, he inwardly felt no particular pleasure. Yet refusing would cause offense. So he decided to accept after all—though toward Monbee’s daughter Otsuyu, he harbored a lukewarm affection. That girl is beautiful, he thought. Remarkably innocent too. She bears no resemblance to her father whatsoever. Meeting and talking with her might prove enjoyable. These feelings too influenced his decision.

After a day's interval, he went out to the Otori residence. The various dishes prepared with care still pleased him. The master’s sincere attitude and the daughter’s charming hospitality lightened his heart. Above all, Otsuyu’s amorous glances whenever opportunity arose sent his heart soaring. As expected of a wealthy family, their collection of calligraphy, paintings, antiques, and swords contained remarkable masterpieces shown without hesitation. This too delighted him.

What pleased him most was being alone with Otsuyu in an exquisitely designed tea room and having her prepare and serve tea herself.

When they wandered through the garden constructed according to Sekishū-ryū principles under Otsuyu’s guidance, the evening moon rose above the treetops. “What a beautiful moon…” “Oh, what a splendid moon…”

The two sat down in the arbor. A flock of small birds nestled among the leaves suddenly began singing noisily. The moonlight was so bright that they must have thought morning had come. Before they knew it, the two were nestled close together. The warmth of their bodies flowed into one another. Their hearts were swept into ecstasy. Suddenly, Otsuyu sighed.

And Yanosuke also let out a sigh. With a plop, a fish leaped in the pond. Afterward, everything was hushed and still. They tried to say something to each other but found themselves unable to speak at all. The more they thought to speak, the tighter their lips remained sealed. And so the two remained silent. Both were young and beautiful. Both had no experience with love. This was their first love. The two gradually grew flustered. So they turned their faces away from each other. However, their bodies moved in the opposite direction—toward each other. Their chests surged with terrible intensity. And then their fingertips trembled faintly, and their bodies burned hot as if aflame.

II

After all, the two remained silent. As if sharing the thought that should they utter some clumsy remark and cause this joyful moment to vanish forever, how utterly disappointing that would be, the two remained silent all the while. Youth, beauty, courage, and fame—a man like Yanosuke, who embodied all these qualities in one person, was none other than the perfect object of affection for a maiden such as Otsuyu. Moreover, that person was none other than an indispensable benefactor for her family and her dear father. From the very first glance, Otsuyu had been captured by Yanosuke. As time passed, that affection only grew stronger. The fact that she had urged her father to invite Yanosuke to their home was also the work of this affection that had taken hold of her.

Now was the perfect opportunity to confess her true feelings. The place was the arbor in the garden. The lover was sitting right beside her. It was a beautiful evening under the crescent moon. There was no one else but the two of them. ……However, she was a virgin. And thus her nature was calm. She had been raised innocently and purely. How could she directly confess her thoughts to the man she loved? For Yanosuke, until now, this beautiful girl called Otsuyu had been nothing more than an object of faint affection. He would occasionally remember her, only to forget again immediately. However, on this day when he had been invited, met her, and been shown her frank displays of affection, for the first time he was seized by a love that scorched his very being. He had been tempted by her. The window of love had been opened.

A man of his disposition, once his heart was stirred by love, became like a stone rolling down a slope—knowing no stopping. ...Fervent ambition, untamed wildness, suppressed passions like a dormant volcano—these were his true nature. However, he was a virgin. How could he directly confess his thoughts to the woman he loved?

And so the two remained silent. However, both of them understood the other's heart. Though dissatisfied yet somehow satisfied, they remained silent.

“Yanosuke, come here for a moment.”

One day, his father Yuminoshin called Yanosuke to his room in this manner.

“Is there something you require?” “You’ve been frequenting the Otori household quite a bit lately. What do you think you’re doing, going there?” Being told this, Yanosuke blushed but, “Yes—no—it’s not—there’s nothing…” “Of course, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with going.” “Moreover, from their perspective—since you are essentially their benefactor—they likely invited and entertained you.” “If you’re summoned, you can’t refuse.” “So going isn’t bad, but it does seem a bit excessive.”

“I will take care to be more cautious.” “Indeed. You should be a bit more careful—after all, their household’s reputation stands quite high.”

Even Yanosuke was surprised by this. “What do you mean by ‘the household’s reputation’?” “What? There’s nothing to worry about. You’re now the flower of the household—it’s only natural you’re talked about, whether for good or ill.”

“What kind of rumors might those be?” “That’s rather disagreeable... The Otori family are wealthy and possess a beautiful daughter.” “Thus when you frequent their home with those two objectives in mind, this is what people say.”

“…………” “Ahahahaha! What foolish talk!” “Though unworthy of our ancestors’ legacy, our Kagami house holds the chief retainer’s seat in this domain—by any measure, a distinguished lineage.” “Even were the Otori family wealthy beyond measure—they remain mere peasants! Could such dross ever blind our eyes?” “And let us not forget—Monbee’s repute stinks to high heaven.”

“Yes, that is correct.” “They say he’s a greedy man.” “Such are the rumors.” “The daughter called Otsuyu, on the other hand, has an excellent reputation.” “But I have never seen her.” “So they say she’s a beautiful girl?” “Yes, she is a fine girl.”

Yanosuke blushed. “No matter how fine a girl she may be, the difference in family status makes it impossible to take her as a bride. Moreover, we cannot possibly send you to the Otori family as a son-in-law.” “I have no intention of going there.”

“I suppose that’s right. “It must be so. …Now that this matter is understood, I’ve no desire to have my harmless intentions scrutinized.” “Yes, that is correct.” “So don’t visit so often.” “I shall take care to be cautious.” “I truly bow my head to your martial prowess and wisdom. “I have nothing more to say on this matter. “The sole thing you must guard against in the future is women’s charms. “Wise predecessors have long warned of this very pitfall.” “I shall take ample care in that regard henceforth as well.”

Yanosuke placed his hands and bowed respectfully.

III

What appears calm on the surface yet in truth consumes both body and soul like hellfire is the heart of one’s first love. He suppressed it.

Kagami Yanosuke could find no joy from that time onward, his heart filled with discontent. Naturally, his heart could not help but grow heavy with melancholy. When a depressed heart is left to fester indefinitely, most people turn violent. That Yanosuke’s heart grew increasingly violent day by day was an unavoidable outcome. He sometimes saw hallucinations. He also frequently heard "strange voices". “You’ll never know peace!”

That strange voice called out to him from nowhere in particular. It was an eerie voice. It was an ownerless voice.

And it was also a voice filled with resentment—a sorrowful and tragic voice. Then he felt as though he had heard that voice before. These words held no lie. In truth, he came to feel increasing anxiety in his heart day by day. As if there were an imp in some corner of his mind scratching at his heart with sharp claws, he felt a strange restlessness that left him unable to sit or stand still. In truth, peace had long since been stripped from his heart.

What was happening? It was strange. Even he had to acknowledge this fact as strange.

And so, he endeavored to suppress this inexplicable anxiety through sheer force of will. However, that was futile. "Something is cursing me." At last, he could not help but arrive at this realization.

"Indeed, I had heard that voice before. ...Oh! That's right—it was Kuda's voice!"

There was no mistaking it. It was undoubtedly the voice of Old Woman Kuda—leader of the Water Fox Tribe—imbued with her vengeful grudge. Old Woman Kuda’s grudge did not end merely with this.

Soon, a terrifying incident occurred. And that plunged Yanosuke into the abyss of ruin. One night, he was engrossed in reading. Then, that familiar voice reached his ears. His heart was suddenly thrown into turmoil, making it impossible to remain seated. And then, he opened the door and went outside. It was the harvest moon night of that transitional period between autumn’s end and winter’s beginning, but he staggered onward.

When he had passed through Mondo Town and traversed Kataba Street, arriving at Otsu Town, a towering monk in black robes walked before him. When Yanosuke saw the towering monk, a shuddering chill ran through him. At last you show yourself, Black Monk! There's no doubt—this one is the villain! This was what he had thought. A seething surge of killing intent welled up within him. With muffled footsteps, he quietly approached the towering monk. Without uttering a word, he struck from behind with a sudden slash in the next instant. A *Waa!* of a scream shook the quiet night air—there on the ground lay an old man, cleanly cleaved from left shoulder to right flank, his body stained crimson as he collapsed.

“Ah! This isn’t the Black Monk. This is a townsman from the castle town.”

Yanosuke gasped in shock, but by now there was nothing to be done. Yet something bizarre surged up within his heart... The anxiety and impatience that had been coiling like serpents in his breast vanished the instant he cut down the old man... His mind grew crystalline and clear, while at the same time an indescribable pleasure welled up unbidden. When a tamed beast learns the taste of blood, calamity follows. For Yanosuke—a man of primal disposition—to have learned the flavor of murder was a far more perilous thing still.

Not only that, but there another strange phenomenon occurred.

It was the morning after he had committed murder when, upon seeing him rise from his futon, his mother Oishi exclaimed: “You look different from usual.” “Is that true? What’s happened?”

And so, Yanosuke looked in the mirror. Indeed, there was a slight difference. His pale complexion had grown paler still, his black eyes ever blacker, his red lips even redder—there in the depths of the mirror was reflected an elegant, beautiful boy, more comely and noble than his usual self. Yanosuke let out an involuntary groan. And then he muttered. "Strange, strange. What in the world is this?"

But there was nothing strange about it at all. Why should this be considered strange? If you feed meat to a beautiful dog, it becomes even more beautiful. The flowers blooming from corpses are more beautiful than other flowers.

It was only natural that he became beautiful after killing someone and bathing in their blood.

IV

The second time he killed someone was in broad daylight.

That day, he wandered aimlessly toward the foothills. Birds were singing in the thicket. Wild roses' red berries were strung like beads, and among the grass, insects were chirping. It was an extremely pleasant day.

A solitary figure appeared on the mountain pass ahead, gradually drawing nearer as it parted the long stalks of silver grass. When Yanosuke looked, it was the Black Monk. Realizing this, he had no choice but to deliberate. "Is this a hallucination? Or the real thing?" All the while, the Black Monk steadily approached him. Soon they were nearly brushing past each other. At that moment, that familiar voice reached his ears. "Permanent peace shall never be yours!"

A shudder ran through Yanosuke as a chill gripped him, and at the same time, a seething surge of anxiety welled up in his heart.

And he drew his sword. And then he struck down with a diagonal slash. The sun was blazing down. Exposed to that autumn sun was the corpse of a young woman.

"Ah... So it was just a hallucination after all." Yanosuke muttered sullenly yet felt no regret - his spirits had lifted through the act. For his third victim he cut down a courier; for his fourth, an old woman; and for his fifth, a samurai of the household. Takato Castle town erupted in chaos. An era of terror had emerged, chilling the people to their core. "Whose handiwork could this possibly be?"

No one could know. The household samurai formed squads and resolved to patrol the castle town night after night. The decision on that plan was finalized one month later.

And so, that night too, the night patrol team solemnly made their rounds through the castle town.

It was when they reached Enjōji Crossroads that one of the squad members cried out, "Ah!" When they spun around at the shout, Shirai Seizaburou lay slain by a diagonal slash, drenched in crimson. And there, directly behind him, Kagami Yanosuke stood with arms folded in silence.

No one could ascertain who had appeared from where or how Seizaburou had been cut down. Thus, the painstakingly assembled night patrol had no choice but to disband. The one left troubled was Suruga no Kami. Following custom, he summoned Yanosuke. “Now then, Yanosuke. Another assignment.” “You know of these street slayings—we’ve not a single clue about the villain.” “Therefore, you will patrol the town and apprehend this criminal without fail.” “Understood,” Yanosuke replied, though he could not suppress a bitter smile.

“I fear this particular case may be somewhat beyond my capabilities.” “Why is that? Why can’t you handle it?” “There’s no particular reason, but... the opponent seems somewhat too formidable for me.” “No, no—you’ll manage just fine.” “However, I beg you... entrust this to someone else...” “No, no—it must be you.” Thus, having no choice, Yanosuke decided to obey the lord’s command. There was a samurai who intently watched him retreat from the lord's presence—none other than the swordsmanship instructor and guest retainer, Matsuzaki Seizaemon.

“Well now, Seizaemon – Yanosuke is quite the remarkable man for his youth.” Suruga no Kami remarked offhandedly.

“As Your Lordship says.” Seizaemon replied listlessly, “However... there is a certain aspect I cannot quite comprehend...” “An aspect you cannot comprehend? What exactly?” “Recently, Lord Yanosuke’s appearance has remarkably improved.” “Indeed, indeed—that is most peculiar.” “It is truly peculiar.” “However, he was originally a beautiful boy.” “Yes, he was a beautiful boy. And there was also a wildness about him. Moreover, it was a terrifying wildness bearing a gloomy murderous aura. A ferocious wildness that one simply cannot believe was nurtured in Iida or Takato! And though I thought it regrettable, I declined to take him into my disciples.”

“I’ve caught wind of such rumors.” “However, as of late, something even worse has come into play.” “Hmm, you think so? What exactly do you mean?” “A sinister aura, my lord.” Seizaemon declared with conviction. “What? A sinister aura? This is most peculiar!”

“Truly mysterious indeed.” “Yet it appears not so to my eyes...” “Nevertheless, it remains certain.”

“In what aspect does it seem doubtful?” “This concerns perception alone.” “I cannot explicitly identify it.”

Suruga no Kami tilted his head. "I simply cannot believe it." "You will come to understand in time."

Five

The fact that Yanosuke—the murderer himself—had been ordered to devise the method of capture was nothing if not a laughable irony. Not only did the street killings persist unabated, but their increasing frequency became an inevitability beyond question.

Thus, the true era of terror—thus, the true lawless era—was ushered into Takato Castle Town.

The moon hung frozen in the winter night sky as the murderous fiend—posing as a constable—passed like a shadow through the midnight town, where even the hollow howls of dogs sounded distant! Oh people, beware! That beautiful visage! That elegant bearing! That silent stride! He is not human! He is a cursed blood-drinking demon!

The snow fell silently. A haze rolled in across the surroundings, obscuring even what lay a single ken ahead. But people—you must take care! For through that hazy fog passed the murderer clad in snow-white garments. No—this was absolutely no lie! Those who did not believe were to leave their houses early the next morning and pass through the castle town to see for themselves. Over there at the crossroads, over here on the thoroughfare, beyond at the gatefront, and here by the riverbank—they would find corpses of men and women, diagonally slashed and lying sprawled. It was evidence of the murderer’s passage.

“It seems even Yanosuke can’t handle this particular villain.” Father Yuminoshin muttered. "Perhaps I should lend him a hand."

For Yuminoshin, unaware of the circumstances, to think this way was only natural.

However, he had better not do that. For he would only end up in the wretched predicament of blowing on hair to find a wound!

“I can no longer stand idly by.”

Someone muttered these words. "If there's no other choice, I'll step in." That person was Matsuzaki Seizaemon. At that time, he was a great swordsmaster of the realm who, having no desire for social advancement, lived confined to the small castle town of Takato—yet even if he were to go to Edo, he would not fall below third rank among the masters of the Togun-ryu school. ——If this man were to take action, even a murderous fiend would find himself unable to move.

But would he truly take action?

That night too, snow was falling.

A samurai holding an umbrella was walking quietly through the town. Then, from behind, a masked samurai followed after him as if drawn to him. From Sumi-cho through Mitsusuji-dori, turning at the crossroads into Yabukouji, then passing right by Shōten-mae in Hanakimachi Midorimachi, and proceeding for a while to Sakamoto-chō... The two samurai walked on for over half a period, neither closing in nor falling behind. During that time, the masked samurai reached for his sword several times, but as if some luminous object were emanating from the body of the samurai walking ahead, he hesitated and ultimately did not follow through.

The two continued walking.

It was when they reached the corner of Kiyamachi. Another samurai appeared. He was clad in a woolen cloak. The samurai in the woolen cloak had inserted himself between the umbrella-bearing samurai and the masked samurai. Having perceived this, the masked samurai casually headed in that direction.

A surge of killing intent seemed to erupt—but swords were already gripped in the masked samurai's arms. "Stop!" What a panicked cry it was! The cloaked samurai had shouted, but upon hearing this, the masked samurai took a step back. "Oh! You're Father!"

“Damn you, Yanosuke! So it’s you!” “My apologies!” With that shout, the masked samurai—Yanosuke—turned on his heel and fled like a hare. At that instant came a sharp “Kuh!” shout as a snow pellet shot forth from the umbrella-bearing samurai’s right hand. The snow pellet thrown by the expert had the force of a cannonball, and Yanosuke, struck in the back by it, tumbled head over heels and fell—but this was a life-or-death situation. He sprang to his feet and ran off.

Stunned by the utterly unexpected fact, Yuminoshin stood frozen like a post.

At that moment, someone called out to him. "Mr. Kagami, I can imagine what you must be feeling."

Yuminoshin raised his eyes. The umbrella-bearing samurai was standing there. "And what of you? ...Oh! Mr. Matsuzaki!" "When I captured him, it turned out to be my own child. ...Mr. Kagami, you must have been shocked." “Yanosuke, that villain… Ah, everything is but a dream.” “……Ah, everything is but a dream.” Yuminoshin wept tearfully.

"This unworthy one shall never speak of this to others. It would be best if you returned home and determined how to handle Lord Yanosuke."

The snow grew increasingly fierce. Yuminoshin did not even reply.

Even when he tried to respond, he found himself unable to put the words into voice. He was the chief retainer of the Naito family. That a child of such distinguished lineage could instigate such grave events and stir such turmoil—this was not solely the fault of the individual himself. Their parents too were equally guilty. They would have to be held accountable for their failure in supervision. It was in the predawn hours of that night that Yuminoshin, after leaving a single suicide note addressed to Yanosuke, performed seppuku and met his end.

6

Yuminoshin's death was ruled an unnatural death. However, as the Naito family was a house of distinguished vassals with proud lineage, they could not permit its extinction. Therefore, they covered it up as death by illness, and no sooner had the lavish funeral concluded than the family headship was passed to Yanosuke.

For a time, there was much discussion within the household regarding Yuminoshin’s death, but as he had been an immensely popular figure during his lifetime and was respected by all, no voices of criticism were heard. And thus, in the end, not a single person came to know the cause of his suicide. The only ones who knew of it were Matsuzaki Seizaemon and Yanosuke. That Yanosuke, upon seeing the suicide note addressed to him after his father’s death, felt ashamed and could not help but weep.

"If I were to know that you are the one behind these street killings... I could not continue living. To atone for my child's sin, I shall commit seppuku with resolve. Thus your sins are erased. You must not follow me. You must never die. Now facing death, I shall reveal fragments of a secret concerning your origins. Your registered father is Minamijō Ukon of the Iida household, but this is false. Your true parents must be entirely different people. Yet even I know not their identities. However, regarding your adoption into the Kagami family as Minamijō's child—there was reason for your coming. Proper procedures were observed. The sole keeper of this knowledge is my dear friend Lord Amano Hokuzan, our domain's guest retainer. You may question him. I hasten toward death and cannot speak further. [...]"

This was the gist of the suicide note.

And so, one day Yanosuke visited Hokuzan’s residence.

After silently reading through the suicide note, Hokuzan quietly closed his eyes. “Lord Yuminoshin wrote something incorrect.” Eventually, Hokuzan said. “And why might that be?” Yanosuke asked quizzically.

“Why? Because that simply isn’t true.” “But…”

Having said that, Hokuzan once again became lost in thought there, but—

“That might be that man’s one redeeming quality.” “Keeping you deceived forever must have been unbearable for him.” “Whose child am I?” “As written here, even I do not understand.” “If forced to say—a child of the mountains.” “Huh? A child of the mountains?” “If you say mountain child, then mountain child—there’s no other way to put it.” “But let me explain in order.” “……Lord Yuminoshin had a child named Yanosuke at that time.”

“Ah… Is that so?” “However, he died young from illness. At the moment of his death, he reportedly cried out: ‘The successor will come! The successor will come! The one who comes next will be even greater!’” “That is a most curious thing to say.” “One day, Lord Yuminoshin and I went to Hachibuse Mountain for an outing. It was the height of autumn, and the entire mountain was ablaze with crimson leaves—a truly magnificent sight—when suddenly, a massive bear came charging up from the valley. Then from right behind that bear, a child came running. Although autumn in Shinano was cold, he wore nothing but a fur wrapped around his waist. On his feet he wore leather tabi socks, and in his hands he gripped a mountain knife. The child and the giant bear engaged in a fierce struggle with tremendous ferocity. And then the child finished off the bear. The moment he finished it off, he collapsed unconscious.”

“He didn’t die, did he?” Yanosuke asked anxiously. “He didn’t die—he fainted.” “Now, strangely enough, when he regained consciousness, he stared at Lord Yuminoshin and cried out, ‘Father!’” “And then he fainted again.” “And when he regained consciousness from that faint, the child had forgotten his past.” “How curious.” “If you call it strange, it is strange—but if you say it isn’t, then it isn’t either.” “In Western medicine, this state is called mental conversion.” “That is, he would completely forget his past, and from the moment he regained consciousness, a new life would begin……Having discerned this, Lord Yuminoshin said to me thus:” “‘This must be the successor that Yanosuke prophesied. As proof, when he saw me, he called out “Father!”’” “‘Therefore I shall take this child in and make him my adopted son.’ Thereupon I said:” “‘That is an admirable plan.’” “‘However, taking him in and raising him immediately as you suggest would bring great misfortune in the future, both for the Kagami family and for this child himself.’” “‘For a mountain child of unknown origins, who can say what your lordship’s true intentions might be? It would be better to entrust him to an acquaintance and have them take him in as their own child.’……And so, as a result, Lord Yuminoshin explained the situation to Lord Nanjo Ukon and decided to place the child in his care.” “Having come this far in the story, you must have guessed—that mountain child is none other than you yourself, Lord Yanosuke.”

VII

Hokuzan’s explanation was an astonishment to Yanosuke. He doubted and grieved. However, in the end, he had no choice but to believe Hokuzan’s words. But even so, the debt owed to his adoptive father—who had raised a mountain child like him, of unknown origins, with such loving care—was truly profound. Yet he had caused that adoptive father to meet a violent end. I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—he repeated from the depths of his heart. There’s no other way for me to make amends. I will simply become an exemplary person. That would be the greatest repayment of your kindness.

From then on, he devoted himself to rigorous cultivation of both martial and literary arts, astonishing all who witnessed his endeavors in every matter. To this indomitable spirit of his there was no chink to exploit—the Black Monk did not manifest itself, nor did the eerie voice declaring “Permanent peace is impossible!” make itself heard. Thus did his life flow peacefully onward thereafter. Yet only once did an inexplicable occurrence befall him.

It was a day in late spring when he was invited to a cherry-blossom viewing banquet by Otori Monbee. And so he went. After reuniting with Monbee’s daughter Otsuyu following their long separation and receiving their sincere hospitality, his previously despondent mood abruptly brightened, letting him pass the day in cheerful ease. But as most guests had already dispersed, he too made ready to depart—though still lingering over the evening blossoms—and drifted alone into the garden toward the pavilion.

Then someone—a young woman—was crying inside the pavilion. When he approached and looked, it was Otsuyu. Though he had avoided romance with Otsuyu out of respect for his late father’s teachings, this was merely superficial—deep within, his heart remained as full of longing for her as ever. Before his eyes, the tear-soaked figure of his beloved appeared—not as a dream but as reality—unhindered and alone. It must be said it was only natural that his heart flared up in that moment, making him forget all else as he ran to her and embraced Otsuyu’s shoulders.

"What sorrow makes you weep?" His voice quivered.

Otsuyu said nothing. She simply remained still in his embrace. There is nothing as powerful as silence in such moments. In such moments, silence is truly eloquent. "Otsuyu loves me. She is crying because of that love."

Yanosuke thought this.

And thus, that was true. Ever since Yanosuke, who used to visit frequently, had abruptly ceased showing his face, Otsuyu’s love had turned to sorrow. As time passed, that sorrow deepened. For a certain type of woman, the absence of her lover’s presence causes her to forget that love. At the very least, it causes their love to diminish. However, for certain women, it brings about the opposite result. Otsuyu was unfortunately the latter.

It was only after Yanosuke had vanished from sight that her true love began in earnest. Her lover appeared before her today after a long absence. The longing she had endured—the sorrow she had contained—burst forth all at once; it was only natural. However, she was a virgin. She could not bluntly confess that longing and sorrow to the man she longed for. And so, she came to the pavilion to cry, avoiding prying eyes.

Yanosuke's hand grasped Otsuyu's shoulder firmly. For her, this was an entirely unexpected happiness. It truly seemed as if all the world's happiness had come at once. The shadow of sadness vanished from her heart in an instant. Her body and mind teetered on the verge of numbness. "The sentiment 'I wouldn't mind dying' arises in one's heart precisely at such moments as this." Then one of Yanosuke's hands came to rest gently beneath Otsuyu's chin. Her face—which she had tried to lift quietly—was raised tenderly upward, and four eyes burning with passion devoured each other hungrily. Gradually, Yanosuke's face drew closer to Otsuyu's. Otsuyu shuddered with rapture. She parted her lips softly and waited there to receive what should naturally follow—her lover's lips.

Voices came from the direction of the main house, but there was no sign of anyone approaching here. They were literally alone together. Now came the promise of love!

At that very moment, a hoarse woman’s voice was heard from right beside the two of them. “The Animal Realm! “The Animal Realm!” That was the nature of the voice. Startled with a gasp, Yanosuke mercilessly released the hands he had been holding. He swiftly scanned his surroundings, but no shadow of anyone fitting that description could be seen.

“Hmm?” he muttered, then abruptly rolled up his sleeve. On this arm where teeth marks should have been, not a trace of the twenty marks remained; instead, a woman’s face—more terrifying than those—had appeared, eyes wide open and lips twisted in a sneer. “Human-faced carbuncle!” As he shouted, Yanosuke drew his dagger and forcefully thrust it into that face. Spurting blood, burning pain—and in that same instant, the human-faced carbuncle vanished, leaving twenty teeth marks in its place.

Eight Then, not long after that, strange occurrences began happening in quick succession. These too concerned the twenty teeth marks on his upper arm—and their focus was Monbee.

In other words, each time he encountered Monbee, the twenty teeth marks would transform into a human-faced carbuncle, and it would cry out like this.

“Kill that man!”

Then, strangely enough, Yanosuke found himself hating Monbee, and a murderous urge welled up within him. However, he did not go so far as to draw his sword and cut him down. "Whether it's the teeth marks or the human-faced carbuncle, nothing but terrifying things cling to me. I am a cursed human." And yet, he continued to think this. "The Otori family and I might have some connection. What in the world could that relationship be? It must be a bad relationship. If I could know this so-called 'me' that existed before my mental transformation, perhaps I might understand that relationship."

However, he could not know the self that existed before his mental transformation.

"In any case, I will absolutely not set foot in the Otori household. "I'll put my love with Otsuyu out of my mind."

And so, he carried out this resolution with fierce determination.

Spring had faded away completely, and early summer arrived. And so, midsummer was about to arrive. Due to the sankin-kōtai system, Lord Suruga no Kami had to go to Edo.

In mid-May, the daimyo’s procession set out most splendidly along the fifty-three *ri* of the Kōshū Highway, heading toward Edo.

The upper residence in Edo was located in the Shikokuchō district of Shiba Mita, but the entire party arrived successfully without deviating from the scheduled date in the slightest.

Yanosuke was also among the procession. For him, Edo was his first time; everything he saw and heard was novel, and whenever he found a spare moment, he would leave the tenement to walk 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's Mita district, they rented a suitable house in Teramachi and found themselves with no respite from touring the city. However, there were indeed two reasons why they had come to Edo. After Yanosuke had withdrawn once more, Otsuyu's anguish became something Monbee could no longer bear to witness. After Yanosuke had left for Edo accompanying his lord, she took to her sickbed. It reached such a point that one might think death would be her only outcome if left unattended.

Monbee thought that if he took her to Edo where Lord Yanosuke was staying, perhaps her heart would find some relief. And if she could see him from time to time, her illness would surely heal. With this in mind, 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 Lord Suruga no Kami’s biological younger brother and had been adopted into the Mori family—and thus had to make his way there.

For Yanosuke, the arrival of these two in the capital was truly a dilemma—both painful and irritating. He still felt a strong love for Otsuyu. Meeting and talking was, of course, extremely enjoyable. However, at the same time, it was painful. What should I do about the curse's words? “Animal Realm!” “Animal Realm!” “Kill that man!” What am I supposed to do about this human-faced carbuncle on my upper arm, sneering and whispering?

It was his day off, but Yanosuke wandered through the city and only set out on his return when night fell.

When Yanosuke reached the back gate of Dutch doctor Otsuki Genkyo's residence in Atagoshita Sanchōme—a man much celebrated in society at the time—he found a palanquin waiting there. The gate creaked open, revealing an elderly man emerging from within. A glance told him it was Otori Monbee. "This is strange," Yanosuke thought, swiftly concealing himself beneath a tree's shadow to observe. Unaware of being watched, Monbee stepped into the palanquin clutching a long narrow box. The conveyance rose smoothly before beginning its quiet procession through the night.

"What business could Monbee have visiting a Dutch doctor through the back gate in the dead of night?"

Having thought this through, Yanosuke found himself unable to make sense of it. Thereupon, he decided to follow the palanquin.

The palanquin continued eastward through the midnight streets of Edo. To describe this route in today’s terms: from Atagocho to Sakurada Hongo, then from Uchisaiwaicho to Hibiya Park, through Sukiyabashi to Owari-cho—pressing steadily southeastward—then turning northeast from Nihonbashi, onward from Suda-cho to Ueno Park, it pressed steadily onward. Furthermore, Monbee’s palanquin proceeded toward Negishi, and as night was about to give way to dawn, it arrived at a grand residence.

“What in the world is this? Could this be Lord Tatewaki’s secondary villa?” Yanosuke, who had been following behind, muttered in astonishment.

IX

Though night had already given way to dawn, it remained an autumn night. The light lingered dimly without fully breaking. Lord Suruga no Kami's secondary villa stood in Inari Alley of Negishi district, separated by just over half a chō from the Mori Tatewaki family's secondary residence. There dwelled his cherished concubine Lady Oishi and their two sons. The eldest son was addressed as Lord Kinichiro - destined to inherit the Naitō family lineage since the legal wife bore no children. At fourteen years by traditional reckoning, he showed little aptitude for martial arts but demonstrated marked enthusiasm for scholarly pursuits.

They passed through the corridor toward the backyard. In the exquisitely appointed bedroom, a silk night lamp glowed faintly. Illumined by its light, resplendent bedding lay visible, and from beneath its collar edge peered a refined sleeping face—Lord Kinichiro lay slumbering there. Then came an ethereal sound like a flute. No—not quite a flute. A flute-like resonance. When ears strained, it seemed present; when attention lapsed, it vanished. This tenuous sound drew gradually nearer. Yet its origin and destination remained unknowable. Still, it appeared to approach the bedchamber.

Lord Kinichiro was sleeping. The attendants were also lost in dawn's dreams in the next room. And not a single soul heard the faint flute-like sound. Could it be that there was truly no one who could hear that mysterious flute-like sound?

Within the secondary residence, there was no one. However, outside the secondary residence, there was one who chanced to hear it.

It was none other than Yanosuke. Yanosuke had followed the palanquin to this part of Negishi, but when he saw the one carrying Monbee enter the Mori family's secondary villa, he stood there vacantly for a time; then upon coming to his senses, he turned on his heel and walked aimlessly toward his lord Suruga no Kami's secondary villa. It was when he had reached the precise midpoint between Lord Suruga no Kami's secondary villa and the Mori Tatewaki family's secondary villa that he heard a faint, flute-like sound—so faint—cross the ground before his eyes and race away toward Lord Suruga no Kami's secondary villa.

"What could it 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 vaguely creeped out, he continued to stand there for a while longer. “Oh, what’s this?” he muttered, then deliberately stepped forward and pressed his face close to the ground. Then, on the ground lay something white and glowing. And it drew a single long line like a white thread, connecting the Tatewaki family’s secondary villa and Lord Suruga no Kami’s secondary villa in a straight line.

“Lime, perhaps?” he muttered. After touching some to his finger and sniffing it, he let out a startled “Ah!” A strong stench stabbed his nostrils, seeping deep into his brain—for the foul odor that induced vomiting was indescribably unpleasant.

As if responding to something unspoken, Yanosuke nodded and took a tissue from his pocket. Pinching some white powder between his fingers with meticulous care, he deposited it into the paper's fold. He then quietly began his return journey. The night waned into dawn. Lord Kinichiro—who customarily rose with first light—remained abed that morning. His attendants grew uneasy and gingerly opened the sliding door. There lay their young lord: upper body wrested free from bedding's embrace, hands clawing at empty air beneath eyes rolled white in death.

This was truly no small blow to the Naitō family. With the heir apparent meeting such an unnatural death, they could not face their superiors with dignity. “Whose doing is this?!” “How was he killed?”

“There are no stab wounds or slash wounds.” “There isn’t even a single drop of blood spilled.” “There are no signs of poisoning.” “There are no signs that suggest strangulation.” “A bizarre murder—a death shrouded in doubt.” At both the main residence and the secondary villa, people whispered anxiously to each other.

Yanosuke sat in a room of his residence staring intently at the white powder within the tissue. "The great secret of the young lord’s assassination must lie within this powder," he muttered under his breath. A flute-like exquisite sound! How strange—truly strange! Whose sound could it have been?

10

In San-no-kuruwa-machi, in the middle of Takato Castle Town in Ina District, Shinano Province, stood the residence of Amano Hokuzan. One day, Hokuzan and his disciple Maeda Ichigaku were deep in discussion.

“Master, don’t you find this strange?” It was Ichigaku who said this: “There are apparently no stab or slash wounds either.”

“Un,” Hokuzan crossed his arms. “There’s apparently no suspicion of poisoning either.”

“It seems it wasn’t cardiac paralysis either.” “There’s apparently no suspicion of strangulation either.” “Then why did he pass away?” “I don’t know. “It’s beyond me.” “How mysterious...” “If you call it mysterious, then it is mysterious—but fundamentally, there are no true mysteries in this world. “If you shine the light of science upon something, anything should become clear.” “Then why did Lord Kinichiro pass away?”

"Well, that... remains beyond me for now." "But Master, you yourself declared moments ago - if we but illuminate it with science's light, all would become clear..."

“Yes, that’s right—I did say that.…If I could personally examine Lord Kinichiro’s remains, I would surely determine the cause of death through Dutch medicine.” "But I haven’t seen them." "The incident occurred at the Edo mansion—I’ve merely heard rumors." “Not even clairvoyance could reveal it—the Edo matter can’t be understood from Takato.” “That is most reasonable indeed.” Ichigaku blushed with a bitter smile. “But—” Hokuzan suddenly dropped his voice as if wary of eavesdroppers—

“But there are things I do understand.”

“Ah, what might that be?”

“Now, regarding the purpose of this incident—” “What was the purpose behind Lord Kinichiro’s murder?” “Ichigaku! This is a clan succession dispute!” “Well, I don’t quite understand,” “Who was the heir to our house?” “That would be Lord Kinichiro, who has passed away.” “Now that Lord Kinichiro has passed away, who is next?” “Would it not be the second son, Lord Kinjiro?” “And if Lord Kinjiro were to pass away?” “Master! Master! What are you saying? Such ominous words are most inauspicious!” “Now, now, this is just a hypothetical... After Lord Kinjiro’s passing, who would succeed the Naito family?”

“There remains no successor.” “Does this mean Lord Suruga-no-kami has but two children?” “That is indeed its meaning.” “Yet with no heir, the Naito house faces extinction.”

“That is a grave matter indeed.”

“It’s a serious matter.” “It’s an outrageous matter.” “That’s why we absolutely must urgently bring an heir from another branch.” “Ah, could it be an adopted heir?” “Yes, that’s right—from close relatives.” “From the closest relatives.” “That is most reasonable indeed.” “But who would be the closest esteemed relative to the Naito family, I wonder?” “Well,” he said after a moment’s thought, “would it not be Lord Mori Tatewaki?”

"Yes, yes—Lord Mori Tatewaki it is!" When he said this, Hokuzan gave a faint smile, but—

“Well?” he urged. “Do you get it? The meaning of this clan dispute?”

"Yes... but I simply can't grasp it." "My, my, even now you still don’t understand?"

“I simply can’t grasp it.” “You’re not very bright.” “Huh, Ichigaku?” "My foolishness has been with me since long ago." “And today it’s especially bad.” "My, my, such sharp words from you." “You’re constipated today, aren’t you?”

"No, I’m not particularly so." "Nah, that’s right—you’re definitely constipated." "And why might that be, I wonder?" "Constipation makes you stupid."

“Ah! So it does come to that after all.”

“Drink castor oil. Castor oil.” “Very well, I shall drink it then.”

“Ahahaha, that’s the way!”

He laughed with apparent amusement, but suddenly Hokuzan turned serious, "This is somewhat of a secret, but I'll tell only you." "During the previous sankin-kōtai period, I accompanied the lord to Edo." "Then one day, a messenger came from Lord Tatewaki and I was summoned." “Ah, I see. Is that so?”

“And so I went promptly to attend.”

“Was that an interesting story, I wonder?”

“However, there was a fellow guest present.”

“Ah, and who might that have been?” “A famous Dutch physician in Edo—you must at least know the name—a man called Otsuki Genkyo.”

一一

“Yes, I am well acquainted with the name.” “From Lord Tatewaki’s demeanor, he appeared quite intimate with Dr. Genkyo. But let us set that aside—the conversation took a perilous turn. To put it plainly, we found ourselves deep in discussion of poisons.” “What manner of poison could kill without leaving traces?” “I see—this is most alarming.” “So I made my excuses and withdrew, though it left me ill at ease.” After a long silence, Hokuzan pressed: “Do you still fail to grasp what I mean by this clan dispute?”

"Yes, it seems I've managed to grasp it dimly—if vaguely." Ichigaku nodded for the first time. "So I'm troubled—please ensure no harm befalls Lord Kinjiro, the second son."

“This is most concerning.”

“I’ve been eagerly waiting to see if there might be someone who could provide 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! So he's come." "My gratitude." "I've been waiting." "Have him guided to the back garden at once." "As you command."

After the maid had left, Amano Hokuzan stood up. When he came to the back garden and looked, there was Yamagishi Sahei, the young retainer of the Kagami household whom he recognized, waiting respectfully.

“Isn’t this Sahei?” “You’ve done well.” “At once!” he said, stepping forward and pulling out a document from his pocket— “From my master Yanosuke, with instructions to secretly present this document to you, Master—which I have received and brought here. I humbly request your examination.” “Ah, I see. Let me look.” “Next,” said Yamagishi Sahei as he reached into his pocket again and produced a small package, “this too was entrusted by my master. I respectfully ask that you examine both items.”

“Ah, I see. You’ve done well—truly done well. You must be thoroughly exhausted. Go and rest now.”

Having said that, Hokuzan abruptly entered his own room.

When he opened the document and read through it, the following meaning was written.

"[Omitted formal greetings], I write in haste regarding Lord Kinichiro's recent unforeseen passing—the lord and his retainers find themselves overwhelmed with profound grief, beyond what words could adequately convey. Yet that very night, though by chance occurrence, I encountered two or three peculiar incidents whose mysteries resist easy resolution. I therefore humbly seek your esteemed counsel and hereby enumerate them below." On that day, being off-duty, I left my residence and wandered through the city streets. When night had deepened considerably during my return journey, as I approached Atagoshita—there at the rear gate of Dutch physician Otsuki Genkyo's estate—a single palanquin was quietly set down. Upon casual observation, I witnessed an elderly gentleman preparing to enter it. To my utter astonishment, this elderly figure proved none other than Otori Monbee—whom you yourself know well, Master. Deeming this suspicious, I discreetly followed the palanquin's path, which entered Negishi and disappeared within the compound of our lord's true younger brother, Lord Tatewaki. Though this struck me as profoundly strange, lacking means for further action, I resolved to withdraw—yet as I turned to depart, an ethereal flute-like melody suddenly arose before me in the grasslands only to vanish instantaneously. This bewildering phenomenon compounded when I observed a trail of pure white powder resembling cosmetic face powder stretching unbroken from Lord Tatewaki's estate all the way to our lord's secondary residence.

Growing increasingly suspicious, I plucked that white powder and brought it back to my residence; the item I now present to you in a separate packet is indeed that very white powder.

When the following day came to pass, Lord Kinichiro met with an unnatural death. Being utterly unable to make sense of this occurrence and struck by its bizarre nature, I now humbly seek your esteemed counsel. Concerning this white powder resembling face cosmetics, I earnestly entreat you to conduct a thorough investigation into its properties—what might your thoughts be on this matter? [...]"

"Hmm... Indeed, this is suspicious." When he finished reading, Hokuzan tilted his head in deep thought. Then he slowly stood up and entered the laboratory. First he firmly closed the room's door. Next he lit the lamp. He then cut the string of the oil-paper package sent by Yanosuke, took out the white powder, held it to his nose, and quietly sniffed. "It has a scent. A strange scent." He pondered for some time but ultimately 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; what he added further into it was a purple-colored liquid.

He held the test tube over the flame. However, there was no reaction at all. This won't do. Then I'll try this one. Having said this, he poured another chemical into the test tube. Then he put it over the fire again. There was still no reaction at all. An indescribable look of doubt appeared on Hokuzan's face—it seemed even a Dutch-style doctor of his caliber could not determine the nature of the white powder.

One Two However, for Amano Hokuzan, it was utterly impossible at this juncture to simply dismiss the matter by claiming he didn’t understand. If we assume Lord Mori Tatewaki to be the mastermind behind the clan conflict, his accomplices would be Otori Monbee and Otsuki Genkyo—the latter being one of Japan's foremost Dutch-style doctors, called either the Amano of Shinshu or the Otsuki of Edo, and equally renowned as myself. All of this white powder here must undoubtedly have been provided by that Otsuki and used in the bizarre incident of Lord Kinichiro’s murder. Whether it was poison or something else—in any case, it could not be ordinary. However, if he could not determine what it was, this Hokuzan would lose face. He had to identify this by any means necessary.

However, the more he rushed, the less he could determine the nature of the white powder.

“I can’t remain like this any longer.” “I must go to Edo. I must go to Edo.” “I must either meet directly with Otsuki or devise some other means to determine the properties of this white powder by any means necessary, as soon as possible.” “Ichigaku! Ichigaku! Come here at once!” “Yes!” said Maeda Ichigaku, entering with a bewildered look. “We’re going to Edo. Prepare for departure.” “A trip to Edo? What’s happened here?”

“You’re coming too.” “Hurry! Hurry!”

Ichigaku was well aware of his master’s impatient nature. Without even inquiring about the reason, they set about preparing for the journey and, without so much as mentioning tomorrow, departed Takato that very day.

Meanwhile, even after sending a messenger to Hokuzan, Kagami Yanosuke could not put his lord's secondary residence in Negishi out of his mind. On days when he was off-duty, he would spend nearly the entire day loitering around the vicinity of the secondary residence, keeping watch. As it happened to be another day off, he casually left his house and set out toward Negishi. He came to check the secondary residence but found nothing particularly unusual. From there, he made his way to Asakusa. Asakusa, always bustling, was just as lively as ever that day, with the Okuzan area so crowded that people jostled shoulder to shoulder, making it difficult to walk.

Small plays, magic tricks, exhibits, acrobatics—from the show tents came the cheerful sounds of musical instruments, and the applause of cheering spectators could also be heard. "Not bad. Lively." And so, muttering to himself, he made his way through the crowd.

And then, one show tent caught his attention. "The Mountain Man of Yatsugatake" The sign bore these words, and he found himself overwhelmed by nostalgia at the sight of those three characters for Yatsugatake. He paid the entrance fee and stepped inside. The show appeared unpopular, given the sparse crowd. Unfortunately, it was intermission, with the stage curtain drawn. With nothing better to do, he absently tuned into the spectators' chatter. "So what I mean is—this mountain man they're advertising ain't no supernatural creature after all." A burly man who looked like a craftsman said to one of his companions:

“That’s what got us all disappointed too.” “He’s just a damn regular human!” “We thought a mountain man’d have hair down to his feet, stand eight feet tall, with a voice like a nue’s cry—that’s what we expected. But turns out it’s all nonsense—just some regular guy!” “Can’t say it’s all bad though,” another companion cut in. “Leaping clear across a five-ken stage in one bound—that crazy agility ain’t no human feat!”

“That guy sure astonished us too.” “Because he was completely like a monkey after all.” “Now that you mention it, that skill of his handling a terrifying python over five meters long like it was some crafted object was truly remarkable.” “And he seems skilled in martial arts too—handled that staff expertly—but even that ain’t something regular folks could manage.” “But hey, he’s got eyes, ears, a nose, and a mouth—just a damn regular human. Ain’t no monster, so it’s boring.”

At that moment, the clack-clack of wooden clappers could be heard from behind the curtain. Soon, the curtain was drawn open with a whoosh, revealing the full stage—at its center stood a large iron cage housing a giant bear. "Whoa! A wild bear! A wild bear!" "So he's gonna wrestle the bear, eh?" "Don't you dare look away! Don't you dare!" The spectators burst into cheers as one.

Then an old man with a bizarre appearance appeared.

“That’s no good—it’s the old man!” “No way—is that old man really going to wrestle a bear?” “Quit it, old man! It’s dangerous! Dangerous!”

Once again, the spectators raised their voices and shouted.

13

However, the old man did not flinch in the slightest and stood imposingly at the front. His appearance—wearing a boar-skin sleeveless garment, kudzu-weave mountain trousers, a short sword about one shaku long at his side, and leather tabi socks—though rough, carried a dignity that made him seem impossible to scorn. The spectators gradually quieted down, and the inside of the hut became solemn.

"Well, to all you distinguished spectators," declared the old man in a hoarse, booming voice that startled the crowd, "before the bear wrestling begins, I have something I wish to say." "It concerns no other matter," he immediately continued. "I wish to speak about the status of us mountain men. "My name is Sugi Uemon, leader of this troupe. "What people casually call 'mountain men' are properly known as Wajin. "Our dwelling lies in the Yatsugatake mountains of Shinshu Suwa. "Our ancestor was a castle lord named Sousuke from the Heian period, who even now exists somewhere as a tengu of the demon realm. "By nature, we Wajin observe a strict code against mingling with you common lower world people - for you are wicked liars, swindlers lacking kindness, shallow fools, cheating thieves of low breeding..."

“Shut up!”

Suddenly, angry shouts erupted from the stands. "What're you spewin', you damn beast! Don't spout such nonsense!" "Keep hurlin' insults like that and we'll smash this shed to splinters!"

“That’s right! That’s right!” voices chimed in agreement from all around. “If you hate the lower world so much, why’d you come down here!” “There is a reason for that. It stems from the hateful, terrifying deception of you lower world folk—to put it plainly, my daughter was abducted by a man from your world called Tashirou. Not only that, this human stole the golden armor from the sacred object of our revered Sousuke Tengu, making us incur divine wrath. Thus we had to descend the mountains, wander through this wretched lower world, stoop to carnival tricks to please you detestable lower world people, and reduce ourselves to this pitiful, fragile existence just to survive.”

“Serves you right!” “That’s what you get!”

Once again, the crowd erupted. "But," Sugi Uemon pressed his hand down, "the prosperous fate of that despicable Tashirou has finally reached its end." "Moreover, his life shall be severed by my own child." "Karmic retribution! Divine punishment before your very eyes! How dreadful!" "How dreadful!" "Thus, upon achieving our vengeance, we shall abandon this lower world and return to the abode of demons upon Yatsugatake's peaks, where we intend to live in peace and freedom." "We must bid farewell to all you esteemed people of the lower world." "This parting draws near within mere days." "Oh joy! Oh joy!" "Therefore, today we shall specially demonstrate how brave and wild we Wajin truly are." "For us, bears and boars are dear friends." "The spectacle of these friends wrestling and playing will surely interest even you fools of the lower world." "Truly, your foolishness defies all redemption..."

“Get lost, old man!”

At this, the spectators were now on the verge of rising en masse. Then suddenly, Sugi Uemon called out toward the greenroom. “Come out, Iwatarou!” “Yes!” A voice responded in return, and in an instant, a burly man leaped onto the stage with a swift motion. He appeared forty-five or forty-six years old, with only fur wrapped around his waist while exposing his bulging muscles without reservation. His broad chest and towering shoulders suggested a height of five shaku eight sun, while his peach-colored skin rather evoked that of a boy.

“Yah!” With a shout, he seized the cage door with both hands.

Edo in Chaos: The Madness Chapter

1.

Yanosuke returned to his residence from the show booth in Asakusa Okuyama. An unexpected person was waiting. Dutch doctor Amano Hokuzan and his disciple Maeda Ichigaku were waiting in the guest room. "Oh! Dr. Hokuzan!"

Yanosuke gladly bowed in greeting. “Mr. Maeda has also kindly come.” “Lord Yanosuke—it has surfaced.” Hokuzan spoke with uncharacteristic urgency. “Now, let me get straight to the matter. First, I must thank you for sending the letter and that mysterious white powder the other day.” “First and foremost, I must express my gratitude.” “Yet despite this, the white powder you sent—I couldn’t discern its properties at all.” “Ah, is that so?” Yanosuke responded with apparent surprise. “How utterly perplexing that even a great doctor like you cannot discern it.”

“Well, I too was disappointed,” Hokuzan replied. “And thus became deeply discouraged.” “But I couldn’t simply abandon it.” “And so, taking Ichigaku with me, I rushed here.” “…Therefore, I intend to have Ichigaku infiltrate Genkyo’s residence.” Yanosuke’s eyes sharpened. “Ah—so you suspect Otsuki Genkyo’s involvement, Doctor?” “Indeed,” Hokuzan affirmed after a weighted pause. “To speak plainly—Lord Kinichiro’s passing was naught but a sacrificial pawn in the Naito clan’s internal strife.” “And though it pains me to say—the architect of this turmoil is your honorable younger brother Lord Tatewaki.” “Ah, but there are reasons—” “Those I shall explain in due course.” “Now—two accomplices exist.” “Genkyo and Otori Monbee.” “The notion of Monbee’s complicity arose from your letter’s implications—yet given his character, such deeds lie well within his capacity.” “That man’s origins alone reek of suspicion.” “The means by which he amassed such wealth invites scrutiny at every turn.” “Consider this—on that fateful night, he traveled alone by palanquin to Otsuki’s mansion, stopped at Lord Tatewaki’s estate upon returning…and hours later Lord Kinichiro met his unnatural end.” “Call him accomplice or associate as you will—the connection stands.” “As for the white powder—it appears to be poison.” “Yet this baffles—the Mori and Naito mansions lie far apart, yet the powder formed a straight line between them.” “Most peculiar behavior for mere toxin.”

“Hmm, this is rather peculiar,” “Scattering poison on the ground doesn’t typically claim lives.” “Yet there’s no question this white powder is suspicious.” “Your letter mentioned hearing an exquisite flute-like sound along its trail—that remains unexplained for now.” “But once we decipher this powder’s nature, all will become clear.” “In any case, Otsuki Genkyo alone in Edo could produce such uncanny powder.” “Thus we must infiltrate Genkyo’s residence immediately—inspect his pharmacy above all.” “Genkyo and I share professional acquaintance.” “I cannot possibly lodge there myself.” “Fortunately, Ichigaku remains unknown to him.” “I’ll have Ichigaku move in posthaste to investigate.” “No time for delays—should we grow complacent, Lord Kinjiro will be next.”

“What?”

Yanosuke widened his eyes. "When you speak of the second son, you mean Lord Kinjiro—are you saying he will be targeted?" “He’ll be targeted—he’ll absolutely be targeted! If we let our guard down, he’ll be killed tonight.” Hokuzan fixed his eyes sharply. “Their aim is a plot to seize the Naito family. If both Lord Kinichiro and Lord Kinjiro perish, there will be no heir. Then Lord Tatewaki will come in. There—does that make sense now?”

When told this, Yanosuke groaned deeply. "No—I never imagined it was such an elaborate conspiracy." "This leaves no room for even a moment's carelessness." "It is truly dreadful..."

“The world of men is truly terrifying. “Now comes my turn—yet I shan’t present myself before you, my lord. “The reason is plain enough. “Should word spread of my coming to Edo, that Genkyo cur would be first to grow wary. “Monbee and Lord Tatewaki would surely restrain their hands thereafter. “Let that occur, and all is lost. “We’d grasp no tangible proof of their scheming.”

“That is most reasonable.” “Then though my house be cramped, perhaps you would secretly deign to stay there?”

“No, no—that’s hardly a sound strategy either. With people coming and going, it cannot remain undetected. Rather than that, I intend to live in town and move about freely. Now, I have a request for you. Though it may be inconvenient, please patrol the lower mansion starting tonight. And if that white powder happens to be scattered on the ground, scatter it away with your feet without hesitation. This is an extremely important matter.” “Understood. I shall patrol there every night.”

Yanosuke enthusiastically accepted.

II

Hokuzan and Ichigaku avoided being seen by others and secretly returned by palanquin. And then they went somewhere—for a time, their whereabouts remained unknown.

Now, here the story had to shift its focus slightly elsewhere.

Here in the desolate Udagawa-cho, the night had deepened in silence.

A palanquin bearer named Genzō—having likely drunk some unrefined sake, given his state—was walking in high spirits wearing nothing but a loincloth despite it being autumn. “Money circulates through the world—if you don’t have it today, it will come tomorrow! Ah, korya korya! Akorya korya!” He was walking while saying such things. Just then, from nearby ahead, there came the scream of a woman. “Heh heh heh, some bastard’s up to no good.” “If that’s how it is, then this is my territory!” “There’s no way I’m letting him get away!” “Let me see,” he said, then staggered on unsteady feet toward the direction of the voice and ran off.

Sure enough, in a small vacant lot, two men had surrounded a woman and were struggling with her.

“Hey, you brute! You vile bastards!”

Genzō barked in a hoarse voice. "Of all places—right in the heart of Edo—messing with a woman? What do you think you're doing? Kujira no Genzō won't stand for this! You've messed with my turf! Cut it out, I said cut it out!" Perhaps startled by this vigor, with a panicked cry, the two men dashed across the vacant lot and fled. "Go on, take a good look, you spineless cowards! Seems they got scared and went and ran off!"

Muttering to himself, he approached the woman. Then, the young woman who had been lying there scrambled up in a panic and clung to Genzō’s chest. Her hair was disheveled against her cheeks. Her obi had come loose, her clothing disheveled; even in the darkness of night, the blazing scarlet hakama clung to her pale shins. She appeared to be eighteen or nineteen, her face pale with terror - yet this only accentuated her extraordinary beauty, marking her as a mansion-bred young lady.

For a time she seemed unable to speak, her body trembling uncontrollably as she clung to Genzō's chest. Genzō's soul leaped into the air. He recklessly pressed his mouth against hers. "Th-this one ain't bad at all. Hmm, somethin' real good's come my way. First I'll make her mine, then if I sell her off to Shinagawa—that's fifty ryō right there." The moment he thought this, the woman nimbly pulled away from his chest, first adjusted her disheveled clothing, then bowed politely.

“You saved me in my moment of peril—I scarcely know how to express my gratitude, but truly, I am deeply thankful.” She delivered her thanks in formal cadence. “Eh? Now now, no need for such formalities.” “But seeing as you’re unharmed—what exactly happened here?” Confronted with her sincerity, Genzō found himself responding earnestly. “I had gone to Shinza on my master’s business when villains began pursuing me from behind…”

“Ah, so... you were caught in that vacant lot, huh?” “So where’s your place?” “Yes, right there at Atagoshita. “…I must apologize for the presumption, but since you’ve already been so kind as to save me, might I trouble you to escort me home as well?” “Well, those bastards might come chasing after us again. Fine then—I’ll see you home.” Though he said this, Genzō clicked his tongue inwardly. "Seems like this one’s no good after all. If she were some downtown girl, I could sweet-talk her into coming to an inn, but with this uptown mansion-bred lady and her proper way of speaking—can’t exactly lay a hand on her. "I’ll give up on claiming her and settle for extorting a hefty reward instead."

“Well then, shall we go?” With this, Genzō began to walk. “Since you will kindly escort me, for that I am truly grateful.” Chattering away, the woman walked side by side with him.

When they had come from Shibai-chō through Tsukuyomi-chō to Hikage-chō, "My, what an impressive physique you have." The woman suddenly said this. "Huh?" Genzō looked at her but couldn't immediately grasp her meaning. "What's this about my physique?" "It is your physical form I speak of." "What nonsense! You mean my body?" Genzō forced a strained smile, "In the palanquin trade where your body's your stock-in-trade—well, it needs to be decent enough." "You must carry quite some weight, don't you?"

"Huh?" Genzō replied, but he felt as though he'd been betrayed. "What the hell is with this woman?!" "Even after nearly suffering such an awful ordeal, she's already acting all carefree like this." "You even went and measured my weight—it must be about seventeen kan." "My, how remarkably big-boned you are." "Huh? She actually went and said that." "Ugh, I'm getting sick of this woman—heh heh, big-boned indeed!" "Ho ho ho ho. How delightful."

"Damn, now she went and laughed at me." "What a strangely unpleasant woman." Genzō was thoroughly fed up.

Then, the woman spoke again. "I clung desperately to your chest earlier, didn’t I? I measured it thoroughly then—yes, your very body." Genzō abruptly stopped walking and stared intently at the woman. With a heavy thud, he felt as though something had smashed through the crown of his head. The woman raised her hand and rapped lightly on the black-painted wooden fence of the enormous mansion standing there. As if it were some kind of signal, the sliding door slid open with a swish.

“This is my master’s mansion. I wish to express my gratitude.” “Please come in.” Having said this, the woman entered.

An indescribable fragrance wafted from the sliding door. For Genzō, it was a temptation. He was drawn in by the scent and wandered dazedly into the interior. Soon, his scream rang out. "Oh, what a beautiful flower garden!" After that, everything fell silent. And then Genzō vanished from this earth that very night. His figure was never again seen by human eyes for all eternity. "Oh, what a beautiful flower garden!"

What on earth could the meaning of his scream have been?

III

There, the story once again returned to Kagami Yanosuke's circumstances.

One day, Yanosuke left his residence in Shikokumachi as usual and walked toward Negishi to guard the lord’s secondary estate. When he had come near Zojoji Temple, a woman’s scream—“Hee!”—rang out. At the same time, from the dark shadow of the temple gate, a young woman with her hem in disarray came running toward him. Then from behind came two men shouting something as they ran up, but upon catching sight of Yanosuke, they turned back the way they had come. “Ah,” he muttered. “So they’re ruffians.”

The moment he muttered this, the young woman flung herself against Yanosuke and clung to him. Her clothes and hair were disheveled, but when glimpsed in the pale moonlight, she possessed an extraordinary beauty. "Please save me! Please save me!" she gasped, running her hands over Yanosuke. "Steady yourself. You're safe now," Yanosuke comforted her. "You weren't harmed?" "That was close," she replied. "When I saw your figure, I finally broke free and fled—but had that not happened... Oh, how dreadful!" The woman trembled violently as she pleaded, "Please escort me! Please escort me! Those villains might return to attack us. It's quite nearby. Please escort me!" She kept her grip tight.

“Very well, I shall escort you.” Yanosuke brushed the woman aside. “So, whereabouts is your house?”

“It is Atagoshita.” The woman adjusted her hair. “If it’s Atagoshita, then it’s just a stone’s throw away. Come now—you should come along.” As he spoke, Yanosuke took the lead and set off in that direction. “Well now, that is most kind of you. I am quite alright now.” “For a young woman to walk alone at such a late hour shows both thoughtlessness and a touch of audacity. You would do well to exercise more caution in the future.”

Helping a young woman and escorting her home was something Yanosuke was rather adept at. Moreover, she was a beauty. And she clung to him desperately. He even felt a certain pleasure. However, when the woman stopped and said, “This is the residence,” then added, “My master will have words of gratitude for you,” while pointing to a mansion and urging “Please do come in,” he could not help but start. This was because the mansion belonged to Genkyo, the Dutch-style doctor whom they viewed as their enemy.

“Oh! This is Lord Genkyo’s residence—then you are of this house...”

“Yes, I am a maid.” “Please, please do come in.” The woman did not release her grip on his sleeve.

There, Yanosuke thought. "Entering this mansion is like entering a tiger’s den, but if one doesn't take such risks, obtaining the tiger cub becomes impossible. Though we consider Genkyo our enemy here, those on his side likely remain unaware. Seizing this chance to infiltrate enemy territory and gather intelligence might prove advantageous. Moreover, I've never actually seen Genkyo before. Meeting him now to assess his true character could prove most intriguing."

There, Yanosuke decided to do as he was told and pass through the gate.

IV When the woman knocked on the door with a clack-clack, the inner door slid open with a swish. A pleasant fragrance wafted out, immediately overwhelming Yanosuke's senses.

Puzzled, the moment he stepped inside, he involuntarily let out a cry of “Ah!” Surrounded by tall black walls that hid it from the street, the garden was a profusion of blooming flowers and plants. “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—parted the flowers and emerged, but upon catching a glimpse of the two figures, he hid away as if fleeing. “An intoxicating fragrance.” Yanosuke took several deep breaths. “What might this flower be called?”

"It is fennel." "Oh! So this is fennel. Hmm, truly splendid. Fennel being such a valuable medicinal herb - as one would expect of Lord Otsuki Genkyo, a renowned physician of our age, to maintain such an impressive herb garden." Even Yanosuke found himself impressed as he walked along the garden. Then they came to a section about one ken square where the fennel garden had withered and decayed. "What a dreadful waste. The fennel has withered here." Yanosuke stopped.

"Yes, my master has been concerned and has taken measures to restore them, but once the fennel begins to wither, it does not revive easily, and we are at a loss." The woman strained her ears as she said this. Someone was digging somewhere. The sound of a hoe striking small stones clinked through the air.

Passing through the herb garden, they came before the mansion's back room. The bright lamplight shone through the shoji doors, and voices of people could be heard. "Now please do come in." As she said this, the woman stepped up first and smoothly slid open the shoji door. Feeling an inexplicable tension constricting his body, Yanosuke hesitated for an instant. Yet having come prepared and being innately fearless by nature, he entered the room as bidden.

“Pardon me for a moment,” she greeted and pulled him into the inner room.

Having seated himself properly on the matting, Yanosuke surveyed the room. In the alcove hung a single hanging scroll. It was a portrait of Shennong. A round paper lantern was lit. The flame’s sharp blue hue suggested it differed from traditional oil lamps. Before long, there appeared a corpulent man wrapped in a priest's robe with a freshly shaven head, who seemed to be over fifty years old. His large, bronze-colored face gleamed greasily. “This humble old man is Otsuki Genkyo.” Having said this, he sat down and bowed once, but appeared as an arrogant and insolent man who had seated himself with his back to the tokonoma.

“I understand you saved one of my household members. Though she is but a maid, she is connected to my wife—a blood relative through marriage. You have done us a great service.” “Genkyo offers his gratitude indeed.” Even so, he went through the motions of offering thanks. “I am Kagami Yanosuke, a retainer of Lord Naitō Suruga no Kami.” “As for your saying I helped someone, I merely happened to pass by. I am undeserving of such formal gratitude.” Yanosuke declared with equal haughtiness. “There’s no way I’d lose to some monk!” This was the resolve burning within him.

“Well now—the Kagami of the Naitō family? No no, yours is truly an illustrious house.” “I have long known of your esteemed reputation.” “In truth, this old man has frequented Lord Naitō’s honored younger brother Lord Mori Tatewaki’s residence and received his gracious patronage. Ah! So this explains matters!” Upon learning his guest was Yanosuke, Genkyo abruptly assumed an attitude of exaggerated courtesy.

At that moment, a maid appeared—but it was a different maid. In one hand she held a tin water pitcher,and in the other she carried a tray upon which had been placed two tea bowls and a small tea strainer. And a sugar pot had been placed there. “Hmm... That’s fine.Put it there.” Having said this.Genkyo scratched his chin. “Now then,Lord Kagami Yanosuke.This what we call ‘Southern Barbarian tea.’ Rarely obtainable Japan—not particularly delicious,but its rarity chief merit.”

As he said this, Genkyo himself took up the kettle and poured a deep red liquid into the tea bowl through the strainer. Then he added sugar with a spoon. “This unworthy one shall first perform the poison tasting.” Having said this, he took up one of the tea bowls and gulped down about half of it. “The temperature proves adequate—now I pray you test it yourself.” “Truly, this is an extraordinary brew.”

Yanosuke picked up the tea bowl but hesitated for a moment there.

5

It was only natural that Yanosuke hesitated to drink after picking up the tea bowl. "Otsuki Genkyo has a bad reputation—who knows what he might be giving me?" That was what he'd thought. Genkyo smirked.

“Ah, Lord Kagami Yanosuke, this old man would never offer you poison. Please set your mind at ease and sample it.” The remark had struck true to his secret suspicion. “What preposterous notions – I wouldn’t dream of such things!”

Yanosuke forced a bitter smile but found himself unable to retreat now. He gulped it down in one breath. It was a remarkably fine beverage—distinct from Japanese green tea in character, with an intense aroma and bittersweet flavor. "A delicacy! A true delicacy!" Yanosuke praised, not out of courtesy but genuine admiration. "This humble one experiences his first taste of Southern Barbarian black tea—a New Year's feast for the tongue." "Your satisfaction fulfills my deepest wish. Might I offer another cup?" "No, I've had more than sufficient."

Yanosuke declined.

“Very well. I shall not press further.”

Genkyo tidied up the tea set.

After that came two or three exchanges.

And Yanosuke gradually grew sleepier, as if being drawn into slumber.

By the time he thought, "This is strange," paralysis had already spread throughout his entire body. "Ugh, it was poison after all!" Yanosuke gnashed his teeth. Then he tried to draw his sword. His mind raced frantically, but his hands would not obey.

“Damn it!” he shouted. But no words came out. He had only thought he’d said it—in truth, not a syllable had escaped past his tongue’s tip. He pitched forward. Yet consciousness remained.

He hazily remembered the events that followed. ...First, hands of two or three men lifted him into midair... He seemed to be lowered from the veranda into the garden... There came a sound like digging. ...Then lantern light appeared. ...The fennel field came into view. ...Flowers faced upward toward the sky... A man was digging a hole... The mouth of a large pit became visible. ...They placed him inside it... Clods of earth came raining down... Oh—they were burying him. ...He could see nothing now. Earth cascaded down... Piling upon his face, his chest, his hands, his feet... Gradually he felt their weight... Then his breathing grew labored..."I'm going to die! "I'm going to die!" Yanosuke muttered these words resignedly within the pit. Then he lost consciousness completely.

……………………

……………………

Fresh air flowed in.

Yanosuke regained consciousness. And then he could breathe freely. But he couldn't move. He was still in the hole. The soil was piled thickly. However, the paralysis had worn off. The poison's effect must have worn off. Why can I breathe? Could there be a hole somewhere?

That was it—a hole had opened.

Right above his mouth, there was a hole. However, it was no ordinary hole. A bamboo tube had been inserted.

However, it was not an ordinary hole. A bamboo tube had been inserted. Who could have done such a thing? Of course, he didn't know who it was. However, because of this, Yanosuke was able to temporarily escape death. He breathed deeply. He tried to find a way out of the hole. But that was hopeless.

And so he decided to stay still and wait.

Then, at that moment, a human voice came through the bamboo tube. It was calling out to him.

“Lord Kagami, Lord Yanosuke.”

It was a man's voice. And indeed, it sounded familiar.

At that point，Yanosuke made a reply． “Who might you be？ Huh？ Who are you？”

“It is Ichigaku. Maeda Ichigaku.”

“Oh!” Yanosuke felt relief upon hearing this. “Ah, so it is you—Mr. Maeda.” “But... what is happening here?” “You were buried alive.” “Buried alive? Buried alive? Why?” “To save the withering fennel.” “What? Fennel? The withering fennel?” “Indeed,” came Ichigaku’s voice. “You’ve been turned into fertilizer... You’re not alone. Over a dozen others... More seem to be coming. ...Please wait a while longer.”

Six

There, the conversation ceased for a time, and afterward, all fell silent for a while. Then, once more, voices could be heard approaching. “Lord Yanosuke, are you suffering?” “It is painful. Please hurry and get me out.” “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” “What do you mean you can’t? Why is that?” “There are still people awake.” “Then when can I get out of here?” Yanosuke burned with impatience. “They will soon fall into deep slumber. Please wait just a little longer.”

“Even so, Mr. Maeda, why are you in such a place?” “To uncover Genkyo’s secrets, I became a cook and took up residence here.” “So, have you uncovered the secret?”

“Indeed, I’ve mostly uncovered it.” “Then what about the properties of the white powder?” “Indeed, I have mostly determined it.” “Indeed, that’s commendable work. So what exactly is it?” “So what exactly is it?” “It is a drug made from fennel.” “Hmm, I see. So it’s fennel, then. “So it is poison after all?”

“Indeed, indeed, it is poison.” “Ah! Then Lord Kinichiro was poisoned to death, I take it?” “However, that is not the case.” “So it’s not that, then? Is this not strange?” “Though the fennel-based drug may be called a poison, it leaves traces afterward... However, it is said that no traces whatsoever were found on the young lord’s corpse.” “Indeed, indeed, there were no traces... But if it wasn’t poisoning...” “It is truly perplexing.”

“Even if we understand the properties of the white powder, that still gets us nowhere.”

“However, when considering the surrounding circumstances, it is certain that the fennel-based white powder relates to Lord Kinichiro’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 knocks at the back gate. ...The manservant has opened the small door. ...Ah—Monbee. Otori Monbee has come. ...This cannot be overlooked. ...I shall go observe the situation....”

Maeda Ichigaku seemed to have left.

After that, silence fell once more.

Yanosuke gradually grew more distressed. Humidity seeped into his body. His breathing also gradually grew labored. He felt terribly weakened. Gradually, he began to feel drowsy. Ichigaku did not return.

"I mustn't sleep! I mustn't sleep!" Even as he repeated this to himself, his consciousness kept flickering like a guttering candle.

This was a terrifying sleep. It was a sleep from which he would never wake again. Once he fell asleep, Yanosuke would never return to life.

What would become of his fate?

It was precisely that same night.

In the innermost room of the Shojin-yado in Kanda, Amano Hokuzan sat.

A medicine box was placed.

An alcohol lamp was placed. A test tube was placed. And he was reading the Dutch medical text with a furrowed brow. The following was written there.

"...Fennel has three distinctions: wild fennel, large fennel, and small fennel. Moreover, the medicinal part of fennel is not its branches or leaves, but rather its fruit." They measure approximately two bu in size and form a greenish-brown oblong shape. It possesses an intensely strong aromatic property and acts as an anthelmintic, expectorant, and stomachic. Furthermore, due to its aromatic properties, it serves as a perfume and flavoring agent; alternatively, when the seeds are steeped in alcohol and consumed, they prove effective against abdominal pain. "Fennel essence, fennel oil, and fennel water are recorded." Hokuzan clicked his tongue there.

"This simply won't do." "However, since Maeda Ichigaku has informed me that this white powder is undoubtedly a fennel-based agent, there can be no mistake about that—yet I still find it rather suspicious." He crossed his arms and pondered deeply. He was unbearably irritated.

And so, he decided to leave the inn and go for a walk.

Since there was nowhere else to go, he headed toward Asakusa. He paid a visit to Kannon Hall. As the night had grown quite late, there were no other visitors.

Seven

On the hill behind Kannon Hall, dozens of men and women were present. Some lay sprawled out, others sat upright, still others stood or reclined—all gathered in disordered clusters—but under the dim starlit moon, their faces and forms remained indistinguishable.

“A shooting star streaked.”

“A star fell,” someone said. “Hmph, tomorrow’s weather should be fine.” Immediately, someone responded thus. And there was silence for a short while. A faint breeze slipped through the grove. A baby’s fretful cry sounded. Then, a lullaby could be heard. It must have been the child’s mother singing. It was a beautiful, delicate, soft voice. Insects were chirping in the grass. A faint breeze slipped through once more.

“Ah, how wonderful,” “I can’t even tell how wonderful it is… The scent of earth drifts through.” “…There’s also this smell like damp, rotting grass.” The old man’s voice spoke thus. “Yatsugatake! “Yatsugatake! “Oh, how I’ve missed Yatsugatake! “I remember Yatsugatake.” A voice answered him. It too belonged to an old man. “It’s been so long since they cast us out.” “We’re starting to forget Yatsugatake.” “I still see it even in my dreams,” the first old man continued. “Sasanodaira! “Sousuke Shrine! “Tengu Rock! “The rock cave dwellings! “In autumn the nuts would ripen, in winter we’d catch boars. “Then spring brought mountain cherries blooming, summer meant working the land… That time of peace and freedom!”

"I even recall them in my dreams." "Twenty years of wandering!" "How I yearn to return home soon."

“A star flew!”

Then someone else said. The insects' chirping continued. A night crow made a commotion in the treetops for a while. It must have been dreaming.

The wajin tried to sleep.

However, they seemed unable to sleep.

There, they began to talk. They were the performers of the show tents in Asakusa Okuyama. “Yatsugatake’s Mountain Man” —they were the performers of that temporary show tent putting up such a signboard. However, they were wajin. They preferred sleeping outdoors to inside the hut. This was because they were children of nature; rather than taking shelter from rain and dew under artificial roofs or wrapping themselves in warm futons, sleeping on the ground beneath the natural sky enveloped in humidity and the scent of grass was better for their health. So, unless there was a storm, they always slept on the ground.

Nearly twenty years had passed since then. At that time, they left Yatsugatake and descended to the dusty mortal realm below. Their purpose was to reclaim their stolen treasure—the golden armor that had been placed upon Sousuke Tengu's sacred object. Their wandering journey was long. They were persecuted everywhere. "Savages!" Such abusive insults were hurled at them.

During their long exile, some perished while others fled. Yet there were also women who bore children. Thus their numbers were in constant flux. But their purpose remained singular.

Their purpose was to exact revenge.

Near the hill, there was a pond. There was a flapping sound of waterfowl wings.

“Waterfowl, huh.” Then someone said. It was a youthful voice. “Birds are so lucky. They have wings.” “They have wings.”

Another youthful voice spoke.

“I want to fly away. To the high mountains!” “I want to fly away to the deep forest!” “To Shinshū’s mountains!” “To Yatsugatake!” “That’s right—back to our old nest!” Three or four voices said this. Cheerful laughter rang out. The scent of dried grass drifted through the air. Then everything grew quiet again for a time.

A flute sounded from the direction of the city. It was the flute of a masseur plying his trade.

The Kannon Hall pierced through the darkness and reached up to the starry sky. Then came the clang of the temple bell. There must have been worshippers visiting.

“I heard the white snake was stolen again.” Suddenly came such a voice. “So two were stolen then.” Another voice said: “It’s a poisonous snake though. Who would steal such a thing?”

“It’s a snake that only lives in Yatsugatake.” “But it’s poisonous. Who’d steal something like that?”

"Some fool must have stolen them." There, laughter erupted again.

As it faded, silence fell. The clattering sound of komageta echoed. It veered sideways and eventually disappeared. Again, a gentle breeze came.

The show hut stood in the darkness. With a screech, the night crow cawed too loudly. "I want to return before winter comes."

An old man’s voice said this.

"We can return—we will definitely return," said another old man's voice.

“There’s no way such ill fortune could persist much longer.”

“Tashirou, you bastard! You’ll pay for this!” “But Yanosuke is pitiable,” someone suddenly said. “It can’t be helped—it’s atonement!” another voice replied. “He must atone for his mother’s sin.” “His mother Yamabuki was the most beautiful woman in the tribe. She was the daughter of Leader Sugi Uemon. She was betrothed to Young Leader Iwatarou…… Truly a generous girl she was.”

"But she was deceived by that bastard Tashirou!" "And so she died a resentful death." "What a pitiful, pitiful woman she was." “……The child of Yamabuki and Tashirou!” “Poor, poor Yanosuke!”

8

After completing his visit to Kannon Hall, Kitayama, who had happened to come by, overheard the wajin tribespeople’s conversation and couldn’t help but think, "Oh?"

"They keep saying 'Yanosuke, Yanosuke'—could they possibly mean Kagami Yanosuke?"

It was only natural to doubt this.

With that, he hid himself in the shade of a tree and waited for the next part of their conversation. "But Yanosuke is a remarkable man," an old man's voice said. "He utterly destroyed the village of our enemies, the Water Fox Tribe." "That's right—that achievement cannot be denied," came voices of agreement. "Through that single act, his mother's sins have been fully atoned for." "Rumor has it those damned Water Fox Tribe have taken to a wandering journey." "They say they've come to Edo."

“There’s bound to be a clash somewhere.”

“Once they clash, that’s it—it’s a fight.” “That’s right—it’s a fight! My arms are itching to swing!” “This is war between tribes.” “A tribal grudge isn’t something that gets settled for all eternity.” “But now that hag Kuda no Uba—the Water Fox chieftain—lies dead, victory’s ours once steel meets steel!”

“The one who killed the hag was Yanosuke.” “Yanosuke is our benefactor.” “But he’s pitifully cursed.” “There will be no permanent peace.” “I’m sleepy.” a woman’s voice said.

Then everyone fell silent. They began to sleep. Before long, the sound of snoring arose.

Stepping out from the shade of the trees, Kitayama turned his steps toward the town.

"Hmm... So Yanosuke has inherited the bloodline of a mountain man?" He muttered to himself. "The one who killed Kuda no Uba must be Kagami Yanosuke... The Yanosuke they spoke of can only be Kagami Yanosuke... How would he feel upon hearing this... Should I tell him?" Should I not tell him? "...But who exactly is Tashirou?"

He headed toward Ueno. "Given Yanosuke's bold nature, even if he learned he descended from the bloodline of lowly mountain men, he likely wouldn't be terribly disappointed." "...Still, it's better to tell him... That's right—Yanosuke must be keeping watch near the lord's retainer residence in Negishi tonight as well." "I'll go meet him and assess the situation."

He headed toward Negishi. Negishi was a tranquil area. At night, not a single soul would pass through. Before long, he arrived at the side of the lower residence. Yanosuke was nowhere to be seen.

So he circled around to the back.

Then he emerged into a wide vacant lot. Through the darkness of the vacant lot stretched a single long white line drawn straight across the ground. When he realized this, Kitayama involuntarily cried out, “Ah!” “White powder! White powder!” “That’s the white powder!”

The instant he did so, a flute's sound reached his ears. It resembled a silver flute's tone. The sound traveled along the white powder. The white powder formed a pale straight line stretching all the way to Mori Tatewaki's lower residence. The flute's sound drew perilously close. It was now just a few meters ahead.

Kitayama let out another "Ah!"

Then, like a madman, he kicked the white powder away with his foot. And then he listened intently to the sound of the flute. The flute sound approached right to his feet. However, it turned back from there and retreated. The sound gradually grew more distant until it vanished completely. Kitayama was drenched in cold sweat from head to toe. Then, he extended his hand to the ground and picked up a pinch of white powder.

“I’ve got it!” he groaned out.

Nine

Yanosuke had been buried underground—what became of him after that? One bizarre and uncanny event followed another. After saying "Wait a moment" and leaving, Ichigaku had not returned. So Yanosuke waited. Waiting was manageable, but the suffocating difficulty of breathing tormented him. He found himself in a subterranean space worthy of the name. The eeriness defied description. Dampness threatened to dissolve his flesh. It felt as though maggots writhed within his very organs. He couldn't move an inch. If he shifted his body, the bamboo tube might slip out of position. Then he would lose his air supply. If that happened, it would mean certain death. He would have to die.

"I might die! I might die! But really—what happened to Mr. Ichigaku? Why isn't he coming to help? Could he have fled? No—he’s not that sort of man. Then has some danger befallen him? ……I can’t remain like this. A living man buried alive underground—however you consider it, it’s horrifying! I must escape! I must escape! Ah—my body lies fully entombed beneath the soil. Fennel flowers bloom above. And if I die here, I’ll become fertilizer for those fennel… Death! Fertilizer! How dreadful! I must escape no matter what. But how? Slash through the earth? But how to slash when it presses down like a massive stone slab?"

No good! No good! There’s no escaping this. ...Mr. Maeda! Mr. Ichigaku! Please help me! Please help me!

However, the surroundings were enveloped in deep silence, only dark and cold. “Can’t I at least move my hand?” He tried to move his right hand. The soil pressed down heavily. He couldn’t move it easily. However, after tremendous effort, he still gradually managed to move it.

“Good. Thank goodness. “I’m okay.”

He tried to scrape away the soil. Then his fingertips touched something. It was not stone but a hard object. There he grabbed it. The texture felt like iron. Moreover it was shaped like a ring. "To think there's an iron ring here—what in the world is going on?" Yanosuke found it strange. A drowning man will clutch at a straw. Then Yanosuke grabbed the ring and pulled with all his strength.

What occurred in that moment was, to him, something more astonishing than a miracle.

Suddenly, a square hole opened beneath his body. With a rush of falling soil, his body plummeted downward. A wolf trap? Or something else? In any case, there was an artificial hole there that had been dug some time before.

Yanosuke, having fallen there, was stunned by the sheer unexpectedness of it all. But fortunately, he was not injured. The hole did not seem particularly deep either. So, he groped around and explored.

“Hmm. There’s a horizontal tunnel here.” He involuntarily exclaimed. That’s right—there was a horizontal tunnel there. He had no choice but to consider. “If I crawl out of this vertical hole, I can reach Genkyo’s mansion. Fortunately, I have both swords. I can kill that hateful Genkyo. However, I am exhausted. The one who would devise such a treacherous plot—there’s no telling what preparations he might have laid. If I were to be killed instead, it would be a tragedy. …Now, regarding this horizontal tunnel here—it somehow seems deep. Instead of that, I’ll follow this tunnel and lay low for a while. After all, this horizontal tunnel might also have been prepared by that guy. Then, as for why it was prepared—investigating that wouldn’t be futile. If this was not made by him but by someone else—or if it was formed naturally—it might lead to the surface. Then that would be a way to survive. Either way, following the horizontal tunnel seems safer than trying to climb back up the vertical hole.”

There, he groped his way forward along the horizontal tunnel, heading deeper into its depths.

As expected, the horizontal tunnel continued deep into its depths. Even after advancing one *ken* then two *ken*, he encountered no dead end. Though low-ceilinged and narrow—an excruciatingly cramped passage—the air remained breathable enough, with no water seeping through. After pressing onward—five *ken*, ten *ken*, over half a *chō*—still the tunnel stretched endlessly ahead. Bit by bit, unease crept into Yanosuke. "How far does this damned thing go?" He halted to consider. But retreat now seemed more perilous than advance. Forward remained his only path.

10 So, he proceeded forward. After traveling over a chō, he tripped over something. There, he groped around and investigated. It appeared to be a stone staircase. “I wonder if I can finally get outside now.” When he thought this, he felt happy. He climbed the stone steps one by one. When he had climbed nearly twenty steps, he collided with a wooden door.

"So it connects to a residence." He couldn't help but find it unexpected.

He tried pushing the door. Then, surprisingly, it opened easily. Indeed, it was a house. It was a room in a house.

Yes, that was a room. Moreover, it was no ordinary room.

It was an extremely large room—one that could have held a hundred tatami mats if laid out—with a dim paper lantern burning faintly. Bound men and women lay scattered about everywhere. Those who groaned, those who wept, those who screamed, those still bound yet writhing, those uttering curses—the room seethed with these voices until it resembled Avīci Hell itself. The people represented every stratum. Beginning with the women: merchants' daughters from townhouses, palace attendants, young wives wearing traditional rounded chignons, beggar women, pitiful young girls, wizened crones, courtesan-like women, geisha-like women, female performers resembling sideshow entertainers—women of every station twisted in torment.

The men were the same. Merchants’ clerks, merchants’ apprentices, actors, samurai, artisans, street performers, peasants, magicians, Shinto priests, Buddhist monks—men of every class were running wild. And over these people, the dim light of the lantern shone. Low ceiling, sturdy walls—the entrance door was shut tight. Upon seeing this, Yanosuke felt not so much surprise as terror. He stood rigid as a rod.

"What on earth is this place? What kind of house is this? Who are these people? What are they doing?" But his surprise—no, his terror—had redoubled after some time passed. He grew more astonished still. More terrified still. For it soon became clear these people weren’t suffering at all—weren’t prisoners cursing their captors—but rather the opposite: they sang joyfully, offered praises—devout worshippers dancing in ecstatic devotion.

What he had taken for voices of curses were in fact voices of praise. “O Light Illuminating All! O Light Illuminating All! O God of Joy! O God of Fortune! O Male and Female Gods! O God of Children! Oooooh God! O God of Children! Please grant us children!” These were the voices that offered such praises. This was indeed the sanctum of a heretical cult. This was the altar of a heretical shrine.

To think such a heretical cult existed in the very heart of Edo!

And then, at that moment, abruptly, the sound of music resounded. First came the shrill tone of a hichiriki. Next followed the layered harmonies of a shō. As their sounds intertwined, a flute pierced through. Finally, the sharp crack of a small drum struck the air.

……It was strange music. It was music incongruous with a heretical cult. It was a sacred and noble tone. The dojo suddenly underwent a transformation. The men sprang away from the women, and the women pulled back from the men. They all knelt down simultaneously. Then they pressed their palms together in prayer. “Descend to us! Descend to us!” they chanted as one voice. “The Cult Leaders approach! The Cult Leaders approach!” They declared in unison.

The music gradually grew louder. It drew gradually closer. Eventually, it reached the doorway. Slowly and silently, the door opened.

The crimson light of torches streamed in through the doorway.

Suddenly, two acolytes appeared, followed by a procession entering. The acolytes were holding up torches. Light filled the room completely. The cult leaders were two individuals—a man and a woman. Both were young and beautiful. To describe them as merely ordinarily beautiful would be inadequate; theirs was a beauty that left one wanting. The woman appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old and was wearing crimson hakama trousers. And her outer garment was a twelve-layered robe. Moreover, around her neck hung beads, and in her hand she held a cypress fan.

The man appeared to be twenty-one or twenty-two and seemed to be the woman's elder brother. Their faces resembled each other. Around his chest hung similar beads, and he wore wide-legged trousers on his legs. But what he held in his hand was the sacred object of Mimuroyama. 一一 An old woman followed behind the cult leaders, and behind her trailed several beautiful men and women.

The interior of the room gleamed brilliantly. Various things that had been unseen until now—murals, sacred statues, shrines, and miniature shrines—were illuminated by the torchlight. They were all strange things too taboo to speak of.

The procession wound its way around the room. The crowd of believers jostled to be first, trying to touch the two Cult Leaders. The male devotees pressed toward the female Cult Leader, the female devotees toward the male Cult Leader, all especially eager to touch them. The male Cult Leader’s mysterious implement and the female Cult Leader’s cypress fan lightly touched each of those believers one by one.

In this manner, the procession quietly wound its way around the wide room. And then, they approached Yanosuke. Yanosuke stood blankly. He didn't know what to do. Of course he was not a cult member. And yet, he could not bring himself to worship the Cult Leaders without his conscience reproaching him. Yet if he continued standing there blankly, he would undoubtedly be reprimanded. If that happened, an incident would surely occur. If a complete stranger who wasn’t a believer had infiltrated the dojo, it would have to be a devastating blow to the cult. They would surely be outraged. They might resort to violence. There was no guarantee that all the devotees in the dojo wouldn’t turn against him.

"What in the world should I do?" He could not help feeling anxious; he could not help panicking. All the while, the procession kept advancing. Then at last, the two Cult Leaders came to a halt before Yanosuke.

Yanosuke found himself in dire straits. Then, he defiantly raised his face and glared at the cult leaders. Around the chests of the two cult leaders was embroidered a strange design. Noticing this, Yanosuke couldn't help but cry out, "Ah!"

It was a terrifying embroidery. It was an embroidery connected to him. Through it, he was able to understand the true nature of this cult. And because he had come to know this, he could perceive with absolute clarity that his current position was far more dangerous than anticipated. The situation changed abruptly. And that change was for the worse.

Startled by the "Ah!" sound, the two Cult Leaders opened their eyes. And inevitably, their eyes were drawn to the source of the voice. The four eyes of the two Cult Leaders clashed with Yanosuke’s eyes.

It was a fiery glaring match. But it was brief.

The male Cult Leader was the first to shout. “Enemy of the doctrine! Enemy of the doctrine!” The female Cult Leader shouted next. “It’s Kagami Yanosuke! It’s Kagami Yanosuke!” “Capture this man!” —What followed was chaos. This was how it unfolded. All at once, the devotees stood up. They swiftly surrounded Yanosuke. The procession sharply withdrew. The samurai among the devotees drew their swords in unison. The female devotees scattered in panic. Shouts! Bellowing! Screams!

“Enemy of the doctrine!” “Capture him!” “Cut him down and discard him! Cut him down and discard him! Cut him down and discard him!” The torch flames multiplied in number. Bare blades glinted coldly. Every exit was barricaded. The crowd pressed forward relentlessly. A murderous aura saturated the entire space. Though he had anticipated this development, Yanosuke’s mind reeled. No strategy surfaced in that critical moment. Yet remaining calm proved impossible. He had no choice but to defend himself. If he failed, capture awaited him. Capture meant certain death.

In all the world, there was nothing more terrifying than fanatics. They had no capacity for self-reflection whatsoever. What they possessed was nothing but superstition. Oh, and when it came to superstition—was it not the very root of all evil! "Superstition kills people while laughing!" Throughout creation, those who killed while laughing were none but followers of delusion! The deluded masses filled every corner of space. They advanced upon him as one murderous tide.

“If it’s come to this, break or be broken! Slash! Slash! Just keep slashing through them all! I’ll dodge whatever I can dodge!” At that moment, Yanosuke drew his sword. The true stance of Ono-ha Ittō-ryū! He fixed his glare in a mid-level stance. One two He couldn’t afford to let them get behind him. He pressed his back against the wooden paneling.

The number of opponents was overwhelming. He did the opposite of what should have been done—instead of watching all directions, he focused single-mindedly straight ahead. With unwavering concentration, he stared fixedly at the front. He would cut down any enemy that charged in. "The matter of horizontal and vertical, above and below, near and far." This was the sixth secret principle among Ittō-ryū swordsmanship's twelve articles. By focusing solely on the front, enemies from all directions—horizontal and vertical, above and below, near and far—naturally appeared in his mind's eye. Of course, beginners could never achieve this—no, even seasoned practitioners found it nearly impossible. Only masters of the secret techniques could reach such a state. And Kagami Yanosuke was such a master. With the sword, he was a genius. But he was exhausted. He had been poisoned and buried alive underground. Yet in dire straits, he could summon superhuman courage.

The poised long sword left no openings. And then, one man came rushing in. He was a burly, corpulent samurai. Of course, he was one of the cult members. Kagami Yanosuke was a beautiful youth with a graceful, almost feminine figure. Moreover, seeing that he was alone, the samurai completely underestimated him and came rushing in with a swift sideways strike without even taking a stance. There, with his signature diagonal slash—honed night after night through green-wood splitting at the Hachiman Shrine in Ina Takato—! From the right shoulder down to the chest, he unleashed a cut so swift that not even water could withstand it.

The samurai let out a pained scream. And then rolled onto the tatami mats. The spurting blood's foam appeared iridescent in the torchlight. By that moment, Yanosuke had already snapped back to his mid-level stance. He issued neither a war cry nor shout. He remained water-calm. Not one drop of enemy's blood stained him. For an instant, his body shuddered with warrior's tremors - Proof that courage permeated every fiber of his being. With a collective wail, the cultist mob scattered backward in disarray. Yet they rallied at once. The superstitious fear nothing.

Two came at him from both sides. “Yah! Yah! Yah!” “Yah! Yah! Yah!” They were disciplined samurai. The two exchanged battle cries. They tried to divert his attention to both sides. But that was futile. Yanosuke did not move. He stared fixedly straight ahead. Do not think only of striking the enemy—guard yourself. The moon spills unbidden from a humble abode. The secret principle expressed through a waka poem in Chapter Three, “Remaining Mind,” of *Kana no Sho no Kuden*—its meaning was exactly as the characters suggested: steadfastly guard your entire being, and when the enemy naturally reveals an opening, strike to claim victory.

Yanosuke’s mental composition was precisely that. Unshakable as the Vajra! He did not even twitch.

“Yah! Yah! Yah!” “Yah! Yah! Yah!” The two samurai pressed in. Still, Yanosuke did not move. The hall was utterly silent. The torch flames multiplied. The flames were as red as a blazing inferno. Countless believers entered through the entrances, one after another. They all had weapons. They were waiting for their turn to come. It was truly an innumerable multitude. Yanosuke! What do you intend to do?!

At that moment came a clanging sword sound. One samurai aimed for his head while another targeted his torso—both striking at Yanosuke simultaneously—yet in that split second he twisted aside, slew one with his signature diagonal slash and blocked the other's blade. By the time he parried it, he had already cut through. What rival schools called "Swallow Reversal," Ittō-ryū practitioners named "Golden Bird King Sword"—with this he severed them. Modeled after the Golden Bird whose single feather spans ninety-eight thousand ri across seas to devour dragons—this technique called "Five-Point Protocol" meant knocking an enemy's sword skyward before slicing clean through their torso along its central axis. He had slain three enemies. When believers roared and grudgingly retreated, they rallied at once. Fanatics fear nothing. Swinging weapons wildly again and again, over a dozen came charging.

13

Kagami Yanosuke cut down three. For most men, this alone would have drained their vital energy. Yanosuke’s vigor too was naturally spent. Yet he saw something dreadful. No—no, it was less dreadful than hateful. He had glimpsed the “evil destiny” that ceaselessly tormented him. He had beheld the emblem of his mortal foe. The grotesque pattern embroidered upon the chests of the twin cult leaders’ robes! This he had witnessed. Hateful, hateful, hateful pattern!

His courage multiplied a hundredfold. And so he resolved. "It's kill or be killed! These are no ordinary enemies! Even if I try to survive, there's no surviving! If I'm captured alive, they'll torture me to death... To slaughter them means tearing away this curse clinging to my body. To be slaughtered by them means being devoured by the curse... I mustn't act with any intent to live! I'll finish them off with the resolve to die! Then it's down to brute force! Throw away my life and strike down the enemy! ...Oooh, they've all gathered here. ...There's no way I can win by fighting properly. In that case, I won't be picky about methods. 'I'll deploy every trick in the book!'"

Ten samurai closed in. Yanosuke dashed in and cut down a vulnerable samurai on the left with a deep diagonal slash. The moment he did, he himself slipped smoothly and collapsed face-down onto the floor. With a roar, the remaining nine unleashed a flurry of wild slashes at Yanosuke. In the split second, Yanosuke—still lying prone—swept their legs with his sword. The Ittō-ryū Barracks Sweep! A technique of feigning defeat to rally and slaughter multitudes in one stroke—yet deemed cowardly and left unused under ordinary circumstances. This was an art of deception reluctantly employed when life and death became inseparable.

As expected, the nine all collapsed simultaneously, their legs cut out from under them.

Yanosuke leaped up, chased after the surging believers, and charged toward the doorway. And then, with the “Facial Slash”—he slashed through. The blood-chilling "Facial Slash"—rather than taking lives, this combat method involved diving into crowds like a lion scattering sheep, wielding a short-handled sword single-handedly to let blade meet enemy faces at will, cutting through them with whistling precision. A technique devised in his later years by Itō Ittōsai Kagehisa—when appropriate, reversing the sword to thrust its pommel into the enemy’s nasal bridge while striking their philtrum with a fist from the free left hand! However, this technique had its limitations—it wasn’t something just anyone could perform. In other words, it required one to possess both the arm strength to freely wield a long sword single-handedly and preeminent nimbleness—these were the qualifications one had to meet.

It was naturally a forbidden technique—esteemed beyond formal certification and permitted only after assessing the individual. It was also known by another name: the Leaf-Reversal technique. Like dead leaves swept up by wind currents—splitting into eight directions while hiding in ten—it divided one's body across eight paths to emerge from hidden quarters! Its purpose was to exhaust foes through ceaseless pursuit and make them slaughter their own allies. True to form, the believers descended into pandemonium. Like foliage tossed by gales, they scrambled right and left across the hundred-mat hall in panicked flight.

“There’s a traitor! “There’s a traitor!” “There’s more than one! “The enemies are numerous!” “There’s a rebel! “There’s a rebel!”

The cult believers brawled among themselves. Some even turned their blades on one another. The torch flames were blown out. The women let out shrill screams. Thudding sounds of collapse rang out. Utensils rolled. The image was torn apart with a rending sound. “Help me—egh!”

Someone cried out. Over the bodies of fallen believers, countless people trampled and ran. They began surging out through the gate in a swarm. Yanosuke’s strategy had succeeded. Chaos bred further chaos until control became impossible. “Quiet! Quiet! The enemy is only one!”

They must have been a well-intentioned believer. One person shouted at the top of their voice. Tsu and Yanosuke ran up and cut down the shouter.

“Light the lamps! “Light the lamps!”

A believer let out a shout. But immediately, that believer clutched at empty air and collapsed. He had been slashed dramatically from the shoulder.

Moreover, two or three torches dimly illuminated the great hall.

One of them fell with a crash. The torch’s owner groaned and writhed as he collapsed onto the floor. When he looked, one of his hands had been severed. Then another torch went out. Followed by yet another torch going out.

The room was plunged into darkness. In the pitch-black darkness, the believers scrambled against each other. They suspected each other. They grappled with whoever they touched. Then, in a rush, they jostled to be first and fled out through the gate. Yanosuke blended into their midst. Outside the room was a wide corridor, with rooms lined up on both sides. The believers swarmed into those rooms like locusts.

14

Yanosuke ran straight down the corridor. The corridor ended and became stairs, and below the stairs was a courtyard. Having descended there, Yanosuke plopped down heavily onto the ground. Then, focusing his power into his dantian, he held his breath for a short while. Then he gradually began to breathe. With sudden stillness, the spiritual energy clarified itself; vigor returned to his body. It was the Ittō-ryū recuperation method—the “Aka Technique” used on battlefields. Had Yanosuke collapsed heavily onto the ground at that moment or sat cross-legged with a deep sigh, he would have surely lost consciousness. He had overexerted himself. Both breath and muscles were utterly exhausted. A single slackening would have meant total collapse; all fatigue would have surged forth at once, leaving him fallen dead on the spot.

The seated meditation methods popular today also trace their origins to the "Aka Technique," so in that sense as well, Itō Ittōsai Kagehisa can be called great. When vigor filled his entire body, he attempted to switch his grip on the sword. As expected, stiffness had set into his arms, and he couldn't open his fingers. So, with his left hand, he undid the fingers of his right hand one by one. And from tip to pommel, it was thickly soaked with blood. "Stopping their breath—must have been eight or so. Inflicting wounds—perhaps twenty." "Inflicting wounds—perhaps twenty."

He tried to check the blade for nicks. He forcefully pulled the blade’s tip before his eyes, inched it forward bit by bit, and peered intently at the edge.

The sky held neither stars nor moon, and from the buildings encircling the courtyard came not a single sliver of light. In all directions lay true darkness. Yet through that blackness, a pale sword-aura shimmered within his mind's eye.

"Hmm... Good—no nicks on the blade." There should have been no nicks on it. He had cut down that many people, but he had only crossed swords with a clang two or three times.

“Good,” he said under his breath as he tightly wound his left sleeve around the hilt. Then with a sharp flick of his wrist wiped away the blood. He strained his ears against utter silence. Swaying unsteadily upright, he steadied himself. _In any case...I must reconnoiter this terrain._

And he began walking cautiously. Along the wall of one building, he advanced eastward. Ahead, a lone figure materialized. He quickened his pace to approach.

The figure turned around the corner of the house. "Ah—hiding at the corner to ambush me when I approach. I see."

Yanosuke was cautious. He muffled his footsteps and went to the corner. He listened intently for any sound.

There was a clunk as a window opened. He gasped and leaped back. At the same time, something came crashing down from overhead with terrifying force. It was a gigantic iron hammer. It had been thrown from the upper window. Had his retreat been a step slower, he might have been crushed. He snapped his gaze upward at the window. However, the window was already shut. Thereupon, he turned the corner. There was no one to be seen anywhere. And then, the path ahead was a stone wall.

Thereupon, he retraced his steps.

And so, he returned to his previous location. At some point, the doorway had been closed. He climbed the stone steps and tried touching the door. The door bar seemed to be latched. It wouldn’t budge no matter how he pulled or pushed. And so, he gave up. He followed along the wall of the same building and walked westward. Eventually, he came to the building’s corner. He swiftly thrust out his sword to see. It seemed there was no one on the other side. And so, he took a detour and circled around widely. Immediately before his eyes stood a pavilion. At the edge of the pavilion sat a man and woman with their backs turned toward Yanosuke, nestled close together. A single paper lantern was lit. The two figures were clearly visible. They seemed to be engaged in some romantic tale while revealing their true nature as heretical cultists—likely performing obscene acts.

"This is the perfect cutting stance. I'll slash you apart!"

Yanosuke crept closer. Without a battle cry, he struck sideways at the man’s shoulder. But in the very instant he thought he’d landed the blow, the woman whirled around toward him and hurled something that whizzed through the air. In the instant he barely avoided it, the two figures vanished. What was thrown was a cord. The cord lunged at him. It was a poisonous snake. And he sliced it into three pieces.

Ahead stood an impregnable stone wall. He could not scale it to flee. And so he turned back once more, returning again to his prior position.

There was also a building on the opposite side. Five or six stone steps rose from the ground, leading to a doorway. Naturally, the door was shut. He climbed the steps and yanked at the door with all his strength. To his surprise, it opened. The instant it did, he went tumbling backward. That fall proved his salvation. As the door swung open, something monstrous came hurtling toward him. Had he stood his ground, it would have crushed him to dust.

15 A massive conical stone—what today would be called a land leveling roller—came crashing down with tremendous force. The doorway slammed shut with a thunderous boom. Afterward, there was only utter silence. Yet there could be no doubt that countless cultists were closing in from all directions, trying again and again to surround and cut him down. The absence of human voices doubled its eerie intensity. The lack of commotion doubled its horror.

Now, Yanosuke was at a loss.

What should I do? What am I to do? From where should I flee? What am I supposed to do? He could not help but be thrown into confusion.

Yet he couldn't remain still. He circled around the building toward the east. Then he came to the building's corner.

As he turned the corner, a giant monk stood before his eyes, towering so high it seemed to pierce the clouds. "Hah!" He shouted and slashed. A metallic clang rang out. Then his sword snapped at the base of the hilt. The giant monk was an evil deity statue.

“Damn it!” he shouted involuntarily, glaring resentfully at the sword. The broken blade was useless. So he threw it away. Then he drew his short sword. Thus Yanosuke had no choice but to retreat once more. Now he had returned to his original position, but there was no new course of action to take. He could only stand there dazed. His courage too was gradually fading. Yet staying motionless like this would only further eliminate any path of escape.

Knowing it was futile, he circled around to the west. As usual, he came to a corner. Proceeding with caution, he turned the corner slowly. Ahead stood a stone wall, and an imposing gate had been erected. "Ah, since there's a gate here, the other side must be a thoroughfare. All right, all right. I'll climb over that gate."

He placed his hands on the gatepost. He nimbly leaped up onto the roof. And then peered through to the other side. He involuntarily let out an “Ah!” For there, numerous figures stood spread out in archery stances visible even at night. They were drawing their bows taut and taking aim. He looked back behind him. Then he cried out “Ah!” once more. A dozen figures were aiming gun barrels his way. He had been completely outmaneuvered. He was caught between enemies before and behind. He had no means of survival now. He stood no chance against projectile weapons.

But at that moment, a flash of insight pierced his mind. "This is Edo. And it's late at night—they wouldn't dare fire their guns. If they shoot even once, word would spread and bring the authorities down on them. The cult's hideout would be exposed instantly. 'They'd get rounded up in one sweep... No way they'll risk using firearms... Just watch out for the archers and I'll manage.'"

And so, he lay down on the roof ridge. A single arrow came flying. He deflected it with his sword in a flash. Two more flew toward him. Fortunately, they missed their mark.

Lying flat, Yanosuke thought. Being up high and taking arrows was akin to waiting to be killed. Only by discarding the body could one find a path to rise—this was the chant of Ittō-ryū’s ultimate secret. He would leap into the midst of the archers. The fourth arrow came flying. He sliced it in two and leapt down with a yell. The strategy had hit its mark exactly, and the archers scattered in all directions. However, Yanosuke's plan was thwarted in another quarter. There was by no means a thoroughfare. It was an even larger courtyard.

Peering through the gaps, here and there stood several cages. "Huh?" Yanosuke wondered in puzzlement. He approached one of the cages and peered inside. Three bears glared fiercely with eyes blazing in the darkness. At this, even Yanosuke shuddered. He went to another cage and peered inside. Over a dozen wolves ran round and round along the bars, pacing restlessly. There again Yanosuke shuddered. Then he went to yet another cage. A wild boar bared its fangs, crushing some sort of bone. Just then, a single point of torchlight appeared atop the gate's roof ridge. It was the flame of a torch. Then one by one, torch flames appeared.

A large number of people were standing lined up in a row on the roof.

And among them were the cult leaders as well. There were two cult leaders—a man and a woman.

Something seemed about to begin. They seemed about to start something. What were they trying to do? Then came a metallic clang. A bear growled low in its throat. Someone must have opened a cage. Three bears emerged slowly from their enclosure. The torchlight revealed their forms. Another clang resounded. Countless wolves jostled violently as they burst from their cage.

16

The cultists' intent was made clear. They sought cruelly to have Yanosuke devoured by wild beasts. This was characteristic of the cultists' methods. Yanosuke was not their first target—several others before him had been fed to the beasts. When they marked someone as a traitor, they would mercilessly capture them and secretly throw them into the cages. That bone the boar was gnawing! It had been human. Yet Yanosuke proved too formidable. They failed to capture him. So instead, they opened the beasts' cages, aiming to have him torn apart in this wide vacant lot encircled on all sides.

And so, with the cult leaders at their head, a great number of cultists were attempting to watch this unfold from atop the roof. The gladiatorial arena said to have existed in Rome! Spain's bullfighting arenas that still exist today! That such a thing could exist in the great city of Edo!

It was unbelievable. It was inconceivable.

But it was an undeniable fact. There were indeed wild beasts present. They were indeed closing in relentlessly. Indeed, the wild beasts were closing in. The wolf pack formed a circular ring and began to circle around Yanosuke. However, they never once barked. They had been trained. If they barked, people would find out. If it became known to the world, it would lead to exposure... so they could only growl faintly. Of course, the bears didn’t bark either. They merely let out a "Grooowl" growl.

Even Kagami Yanosuke felt his hair stand on end. "It's over. There's no escape." He tragically resigned himself. If it had been a fight between humans, there would still have been a way to escape. The opponents were a pack of wolves and bears. There was no escaping them. Yanosuke threw down the short sword. Then he sat formally upon the earth. He closed his eyes and crossed his arms. Yanosuke left himself at the mercy of the wild beasts. Round and round, the pack of wolves ran around him. The circle gradually tightened.

The three bears pressed forward relentlessly, their snouts aligned in formation. Yet neither the bears nor wolves made any immediate move to attack.

At that moment, a miracle occurred. First, a large bear collapsed before Yanosuke. It licked his foot. The bear licked him with apparent familiarity. Next two bears lay down. These too licked his hands eagerly as if acquainted with him. The wolves ceased running and converged around Yanosuke. Sitting uniformly on hind legs, they thrust their muzzles between forepaws and gazed up at him. It presented a scene of camaraderie. What had transpired? What manner of witchcraft had been employed? This was no witchcraft. Nor any miracle. There existed concrete reasons.

Although Yanosuke himself was unaware, he had inherited the blood of the wajin.

His mother was Yamabuki. Yamabuki was Sugi Uemon’s daughter. Sugi Uemon was the leader of the wajin. The village merchant Tashirou and Yamabuki, daughter of the wajin, lived a romantic life in Tsuchiguro Cave on Mount Yatsugatake, where they conceived and gave birth to Yanosuke. In other words, the childhood name Inotarou referred to none other than Yanosuke himself. Now, the wajin and the mountain beasts were nearly on friendly terms. The two groups were never enemies.

Thus did this miracle-like event occur between the two groups in such a desperate situation. Yanosuke, whose foot had been licked, shuddered and opened his eyes. And then he saw a strange spectacle. Of course, he could not comprehend why the beasts were showing him such friendliness. However, he could discern that those beasts harbored no harmful intent. He indignantly leapt up. In an instant, he intuited within himself the presence of divine power. A great power capable of performing miracles! He intuited that it existed. And, he shouted.

“Bears! Wolves! You’re my allies!” “Now go take care of them!” “I command this!” “Destroy them completely!” “Roooar!” The bear bellowed for the first time. And then it charged toward the gate. “Roooar!” The pack of wolves also raised their voices in a howl. And then they charged toward the gate. Yanosuke opened the boar cage. The boar gnashed its tusks and charged. Moreover, there were several cages. A cage of Tosa dogs, a cage of fierce bulls, and—how they had acquired it—in one cage there was a leopard. Moreover, they were a male and female pair. Yanosuke opened that cage. A scream arose from the gate’s roof.

The bears shook the gate. The wolves leaped onto the roof. Shrieks, screams, wails, roars! Thus erupted the great carnage of humans and beasts across the estate grounds. The tide had turned.

Dear readers, you would be mistaken to think this conflict was staged solely within the heretical church. It had spread throughout Edo, causing a horrific uproar.

How blood-soaked would the next chapter be? How splendidly would the great scenes of carnage unfold and be enacted one after another? At last, the story reached its climax.

17

Yanosuke came to believe he possessed miraculous power. He spurred on the wild beasts. “Now courageously run wild!” “You who’ve been caged and tormented for ages—make your tormentors suffer!” “This is revenge!” “Purge your resentment!”

The wild beasts roared. The leopard leaped onto the gate's roof. A scream arose from the roof. A sound of people tumbling down could be heard. Undoubtedly, the male and female cult leaders must have tumbled down as well. The torch flame vanished in an instant. There was no one to be seen anywhere.

Another leopard crossed over the roof.

A scream came from beyond the gate. Shouts, curses, screams and shrill wails arose. The sound of people fleeing in confusion could be heard. A leopard's roar could be heard. Three bears shook the gate's pillars with their powerful force. The gate began to creak and groan violently. Then the roof tiles fell, and the door shattered open to both sides. From there, the bears rushed out. Over a dozen wolves followed, bursting forth from the gate. Behind them charged five massive fierce bulls. Then thirty Tosa dogs, encircling Yanosuke, dashed out as the rear guard.

The place they entered was a central courtyard—specifically, the first central courtyard. A struggle was underway there.

It was a human-beast struggle.

Human corpses were lying scattered. They were humans who had been devoured. There were also humans in half-dead states—some clasped their hands, some knelt, and some screamed for help. Yanosuke showed no mercy. The wild beasts showed no mercy. The Tosa dogs surged forward. Suddenly, a struggle broke out. Humans were torn apart in an instant. One dog gripped an arm in its jaws, another clamped onto a neck, and a third seized a leg—all wagging their tails merrily.

There were figures grappling with each other—a group over there, a group over here. They were humans grappling with bears, leopards, and wolves.

Corpses rapidly multiplied. The discarded torch blazed fiercely with flames. A group of over a hundred people was running toward the building. The devotees who had protected the cult leaders were attempting to flee indoors through the open doorway there. Two leopards leaped forward. Several people were knocked down. However, the group did not break. They desperately ran toward the doorway. Three bears attacked. They joined forces with two leopards and pulled down devotees from behind.

Those who were killed did not move. The wounded were struck down but rose. They then joined 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 beasts attacked. Ten wolves leaped. In an instant, ten people were mauled. However, everyone sprang back up. “Protect the cult leaders!” “Protect the cult leaders!” The group that had protected the cult leaders gradually drew closer to the doorway.

The attack by the pack of beasts grew increasingly cruel in intensity. Twelve or thirteen people became corpses.

But they finally reached the stone steps.

At that moment, a bull charged. It thrust its horns into their midst. The devotees scattered in disarray.

However, in the next instant, they swarmed together again. Then the bull charged and scattered them again. The devotees scattered in disarray. However, in the next instant, they swarmed together again. “Protect the cult leaders!” “Protect the cult leaders!” The wolves whooshed through the air. A leopard bit into a human head. The fierce dogs bit into legs. “Protect the cult leaders!” “Protect the cult leaders!”

The group climbed up the stone steps. They finally reached the doorway.

They piled into the house.

Bears, leopards, and wolves also subsequently leaped into the house. The Tosa dogs subsequently leaped in.

Next, Yanosuke also sprang into the house. Thus, the brawl shifted from the courtyard into the house. In various places along the web-like corridors, struggles between humans and beasts took place. The beasts pressed into the room. There too, a fierce struggle ensued. Kagami Yanosuke slashed about. He picked up a fallen sword. In his right hand a sword, in his left a short sword, he whirled both blades wildly. Around him, wolves and dogs—always over a dozen—followed. 18 “Where are the cult leaders? Crush them!”

Yanosuke searched around.

Suddenly, the corridor curved sharply to the left. There, the cluster of cult leaders came into view—a pitch-black mass fleeing in tight formation. Yanosuke cornered them. He cut down the nearest devotee. A scream—"Waaah!"—ripped through the air as arterial spray painted both walls crimson. Several among their ranks suddenly wheeled about with desperate valor.

Yanosuke swung his right sword diagonally. With a thud, one person collapsed onto the floor. At that moment, a person came rushing in. And Yanosuke parried with his left sword. A head fell onto the floor and made a disgusting thud. The remaining two fled. Immediately, the wolves leaped. And then they bit through their throats. He saw fingers grasping the void. The group of cult leaders retreated.

Yanosuke gave chase. The wolves and dogs followed.

He tried to catch up to them again.

They came to an abrupt halt. Their faces twisted into smiles. They fixed their gaze on Yanosuke charging toward them. It was a malicious sneer. One suddenly stepped forward and pressed a hand against the corridor wall. The floorboards instantly gave way, plunging Yanosuke into the void below. They erupted in laughter and thundered away. With whooshing sounds, several wolves dove into the gaping hole. Moments later they came leaping back out. Yanosuke clung to the back of an immense wolf. He had wrenched his left hand. It hung useless. The searing pain overwhelmed him. He thrashed about. The Tosa dogs wailed mournfully.

However, the wolves did not bark. They gathered around Yanosuke and licked around the base of his injured left arm with warm tongues. Beasts had their own way of healing—this was their distinctive treatment method. Their saliva was medicine; the warm tongues licking him acted as a heated compress. Kagami Yanosuke’s body contained a mixture of wajin blood.

The wajin and beasts were friends. The distinctive treatment methods of beasts were also, in a way, the treatment methods of the wajin.

Yanosuke's pain ceased in an instant. His arm could now move freely.

His courage was restored.

He sprang to his feet.

Then he gave chase.

The figures of the cult leaders were nowhere to be seen. They had apparently turned down the corridor. Yanosuke, the wolves, and the Tosa dogs ran straight down the corridor. Then the corridor curved sharply right. Yanosuke followed the bend. Their figures remained absent. They kept running with heavy footfalls until the corridor terminated abruptly. An unyielding stone wall blocked their path. "Huh?" Yanosuke stood confounded. "It's a dead end. No way through. Where did those bastards disappear?"

Suddenly, a Tosa dog let out a loud bark. The Tosa dog lunged at the wall. Sure enough, a hole had opened in the wall. There turned out to be a swinging door there. The dog nimbly leaped in. At the same time, there came a piercing scream. The corpse of the dog, its neck severed, sprang back into the corridor.

It seemed someone was on the other side. They seemed to be lying in wait. The dogs stirred restlessly. Two or three tried to leap in next. “Halt!” Yanosuke stopped them with his hand. He lifted the dog’s corpse. He hurled it through the doorway. Then he himself dove through. Two samurai stood ready. With a hiss of steel, both charged. Clang! Yanosuke caught their blades with crossed swords. He parried one blade with a sharp knock and wrenched the other from its owner’s grasp. Pressing close, he swept his sword sideways. One man shrieked—the disarmed samurai. A gash ran from forehead to nose. Thud! The samurai collapsed. Wolves and dogs surged forward. In moments, they tore him limb from limb. “Hyah!” Yanosuke barked. Another cry followed as the second samurai fell. Beasts ripped him apart.

With a thud, the samurai collapsed. The wolves and dogs swarmed. In the blink of an eye, they tore him to pieces. "Hah!" Yanosuke called out. Immediately, a sharp cry rang out. The other samurai was cut down. The dogs and wolves tore him apart.

19

Yanosuke surveyed the room. It was unmistakably a bedchamber. The space had been divided into several chambers using hanging drapes. Each compartment contained nude statues. Every one depicted male and female figures. The many devotees - both men and women - must have received their benedictions in this chamber. Garments lay discarded throughout. The followers appeared to have fled in naked panic. Every partitioned area held an incense burner. Smoke curled upward from the burners. The scent of arousal-inducing drugs hung thick in the air.

There was a doorway on the opposite side.

Yanosuke exited from there.

There was a long straight corridor. He crossed it to the other side. The wolves and dogs followed. And then, he emerged into a separate tower. The cult leaders seemed to have fled into it. A clamorous uproar arose. Yanosuke entered. The stairs led upward. Voices came from above.

And Yanosuke dashed upward. The dogs and wolves followed.

At the top of the ascent was a room. But there was no one there. The stairs led upward. Voices could be heard coming from that direction. And Yanosuke proceeded upward. At the top of the ascent was a room. However, there was no one there. The staircase led upward. Voices could be heard coming from that direction. And Yanosuke proceeded upward. The result was the same. At the top of the ascent was a room. However, there was no one there. The stairs led upward. Voices could be heard coming from that direction. There, Yanosuke summoned his courage and decided to climb upward along it.

But that result was the same. At the top of the ascent was a room, and in the room there was no one. The stairs led upward. Voices could be heard coming from that direction. And Yanosuke decided to climb upward.

At the top of the ascent 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, Yanosuke had to climb upward. At the top of the ascent 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.

So where had they escaped from? There was a staircase leading down to the back entrance. It appeared two staircases had been installed—one at the front and one at the rear. They must have fled upward via the front staircase and downward through the rear one. "This is absurd. What madness... All I've done is pointlessly exhaust myself." Muttering these words, Yanosuke went to inspect the rear staircase entrance.

He inadvertently uttered, “Ah!” The crucial staircase had been removed.

He went to check the front staircase entrance. Once again, he cried out, “Ah!” The staircase he had just climbed up had been removed without him noticing. “Hmm… So I’ve been set up!” He had no choice but to gnash his teeth. He could not jump down. The staircase opening had been dug in a straight vertical line from beneath the foundation all the way to the top floor. And if he were to jump down, he would have to fall all the way from the top floor to beneath the foundation in one go. No matter how sturdy his body might be, it would be crushed instantly without a moment’s resistance.

He felt a shuddering chill of dread. He hurriedly opened the window to look.

The ground was shrouded in darkness. There was no means to descend. "Tricked! Tricked! Tricked!" He involuntarily stamped his feet. He had indeed been set up. Having been lured upward and upward, upon reaching the topmost floor, he found all staircases had been completely removed.

This was a dreadful fate. What in the world was he to do? The dogs and wolves began clamoring. They had chased after Yanosuke and climbed up here together. They too seemed to have already sensed the terrible fate through their animal intuition. They peered at the staircase entrance and looked up at Yanosuke's face. Before long they began whimpering sorrowfully, as though pleading for mercy.

Yanosuke was thrown into a panic. At that moment, something even more terrifying threatened him and the beasts.

This was because thick black smoke was billowing up in swirling clouds from the staircase entrance.

20

Burn it down! Burn it down! They were burning it down! The cultists had set fire to the tower. There was no escaping.

“Damn it!” Yanosuke groaned. He peered outside through the window. The outside flared crimson. The fire lit up the surroundings. The pitch-black earth that had until now been shrouded in night’s darkness now appeared bright. Countless human figures came into view. They looked up at the top of the tower, pointed their fingers, and shouted. There were also figures dancing wildly about.

“Damn it!” Yanosuke groaned again. Black smoke billowed up relentlessly. A heavy crashing sound echoed. Wood creaked ominously. Burning embers rained down.

The tower was burning from its foundation. Soon the tower would collapse. If that happened, all would be over. And then, at that moment, the wolves began exhibiting strange movements.

They rushed one after another to the windowsill, thrusting their muzzles out the window, and began howling a drawn-out "Ooooooo, ooooooo, ooooooo, ooooooo." This was the wolves' call to comrades—a hair-raising sound when heard in the deep mountains and secluded valleys.

“How strange,” Yanosuke murmured as he looked down from the window.

A strange phenomenon occurred. Or perhaps that was only natural. As if summoned by the call for comrades, wolves came running from all directions—no, bears and Tosa dogs too, even leopards came rushing forth.

In an instant, the crowd of people scattered in all directions.

The pack of fierce beasts looked up at the tower and thundered their roars. They pressed their bodies together. Suddenly, a wolf brushed past Yanosuke's profile and leapt nimbly from the window. Yanosuke gasped. Poor thing will be crushed to dust. No—it wasn't crushed. The wolf's body fell onto the mass of beasts pressed together below. As though landing on a futon, the wolf remained unharmed.

Immediately, the wolf leapt up. Then it pressed its body tightly against a fellow wolf. Then it called to its companions on the tower. Rrroar! Rrroar! It called to its companions. And grazing Yanosuke's profile, wolves leapt from the window one after another. They were all safe. They immediately righted themselves upon landing and clung to their companions' bodies. Then, as if urging them on, they let out a deep howl. Every last wolf inside the tower leapt from the windows down to the ground.

Only Yanosuke and the Tosa dogs were left inside the tower. "Alright." Yanosuke nodded. He grabbed a Tosa dog and threw it down from the window. Midway through its fall, it flipped once and let out a yelp, but the dog didn't even suffer a scratch. It landed safely on the swarm of gathered comrades and stood up. He threw the dogs down one after another. They were all safe. At last, Yanosuke was alone. Smoke enveloped the tower.

The tower began to sway with a groan.

The tower would collapse at any moment.

The beasts called to him. They called to him, shouting “Jump down! Jump down!”

Yanosuke made his decision. He placed his foot on the windowsill, raised both swords high above his head, and glared intently downward.

“Yah!” he shouted, and hurled himself out the window. The bear’s back caught him. He sprang nimbly up. It was as if he had landed on a bed of cotton. Instantly, the tower tilted. Embers scattered in a flurry to all directions. The embers ignited fires in several buildings. Flames erupted from all directions. The sound of the main gate opening rang out. The sound of people running out rang out. The firewatch bell at the town’s lookout tower rang out. The surroundings were as bright as day. Male and female believers ran about in confusion within the flames.

The wild beasts chased them. Once again, the clash between humans and beasts erupted within the flames. Yanosuke swung his twin swords in all directions, cutting down every foe within reach. The wild beasts protected him. He arrived before the main gate.

Outside the gate lay a thoroughfare. That was the great city of Edo. A group of shadowy figures ran past. They were presumed to be the cult leaders' retinue. "There!" Yanosuke shouted. The pack of wild beasts gave chase. Yanosuke charged straight ahead. Firefighter crews came running. Townspeople from every quarter came rushing in. They raised their battle cries—"Waaah! Waaah!"— This was because the beast pack was racing through. This was because Yanosuke—drenched in blood—ran clutching his bloodied sword.

The pack of beasts raced madly. At that very moment, the sky was a tempest. The fire spread to the neighboring houses.

21

The group of cult leaders fled. The wild beasts pursued them. And Yanosuke charged after their heels.

Late-night Edo seethed. The cult’s training hall burned to the ground. The fire spread in all directions. Town firefighters, onlookers, and officials came rushing in from all directions.

Screams, shrieks, roars, curses... Here in the Shiba district, the area transformed into a maelstrom—a realm of asura.

It was the same night.

Far-off Asakusa had few people causing commotion.

However, of course, people rushed up to second floors and roofs, whispering anxiously about the distant Shiba fire visible on the horizon. “Shiba and Asakusa are too damn far apart.” “That’s what they call ‘a fire on the other side of the river.’” “As long as all Edo doesn’t burn down completely, we’re safe enough.” “Catchin’ cold’d be trouble—just lock up and sleep.”

Some who had been saying such things retreated back inside. Only the nervous types kept on gazing toward Shiba.

From the hill behind Kannon Hall, whispering voices could be heard.

“Hey, I heard Shiba’s on fire.” “Let all of Edo burn to ashes.” “And let every last wretch in this fleeting world burn to death!” “Then let only us wajin remain alive in this transient world.” The night’s darkness held sway over the surroundings. The wajin’s forms loomed indistinctly. Some stood, others sat—some walked, some climbed trees—all mere black shadows against the gloom. At the far edge of the temple grounds stood a straw-matted temporary hut. It served as a performance shed. This was the very hut where the wajin tribespeople staged their acts. Near its entrance flickered a bean-sized light. It came rushing closer like a shooting star. The fireball seemed to stitch through the void. It reached the wajin’s gathering. The glow came from a kantou lantern. An old man bore the lantern. Sugi Uemon, chieftain of the wajin, stood there with Iwataro at his back.

“The time has come!” Sugi Uemon said. “It’s time to fight the Water Fox Tribe scum!” The wajin tribespeople stood up in unison and surrounded Sugi Uemon. “Hey, Iwataro, go on and tell them.” Sugi Uemon said this to Iwataro.

Iwataro swiftly stepped forward. “Listen up, everyone—here’s how it is. I heard there was a fire and went to check it out. It was when I reached the crossroads at Karasumori—a tightly clustered group came running toward me from the opposite direction. They seemed to be chased by someone. There were samurai and townspeople alike—men and women both. That’s when I saw something strange.” He paused. “A young woman and man, being carried on someone’s back. Their garments had embroidery on the chests.” His voice hardened. “When I saw that, I froze—a spiral embroidered in blue thread... and a white fox in white thread. Could that be the emblem of the Water Fox Tribe scum? Those two were her grandchildren—Kuda no Uba’s own blood! Now rise up! Destroy them! They’ll probably be here soon.”

“The enemy numbers around two hundred.” “But we’ve got fifty on our side.” “Like hell we’ll lose!” “Take them down!”

……I hurriedly turned back. Charging in alone was impossible, but that was no good! Those bastards were the tribe's common enemy! So we had to take 'em down together!

“Return to the temporary hut and take up weapons!” “Then let’s charge forward together!”

The wajin tribespeople scattered toward the hut. When they emerged, they were armed. They surrounded their leader Sugi Uemon at the center, positioned Vice-Commander Iwataro at the head, and began running as a unified group. They made no sound. They tried not to let their footsteps echo. They feared being intercepted. Upon exiting the temple grounds, they encountered a horse path. They cut through it and emerged into Nakamachi. They charged toward Taharamachi. They passed through Kiyoshimacho, Inaricho, and Kurumazaka, emerged at Yamashita, went from Kuromoncho to Hirokoji, and thus arrived at Kanda’s main thoroughfare.

The area around Kanda was somewhat bustling; townspeople had come out to their gates and were watching the great fire in Shiba. A large group of fifty robust men, clustered in a circular formation, passed through the area before them. They carried swords and spears. The townspeople were astonished. Yet they made no attempt to intervene. They feared the group's intimidating presence. The Shiba fire appeared to have grown larger still, its flames burning crimson through the heavens beyond the town's rooftops. The Wajin group ran onward. They passed through Muromachi, traversed Nihonbashi, and emerged at Kyōbashi.

Thus, the group emerged into Ginza.

Then from the path ahead came a densely packed black mass—a crowd of figures running toward them. It was the Water Fox Tribe and their believers. Thus the two tribes clashed. For the first time, a battle cry was raised.

二二

What had become of Kagami Yanosuke?

At this time, Kagami Yanosuke was heading toward Negishi via backstreets and running through the area around Minaokacho.

He was completely alone. The figures of the beasts were nowhere to be seen. The leopards, wolves, and Tosa dogs had all been exterminated by firemen, officials, and townspeople along the way. Those beasts that had narrowly escaped death fled back toward the mountains they longed for. But why was Yanosuke chasing after the Water Fox Tribe horde without attempting to attack and defeat them? He had remembered something along the way. "Guarding His Lordship's villa in Negishi was supposed to be my duty." Changing course, he ran toward Negishi. He passed through Kijichō and Awajichō, emerged at Surugadai, passed through Ochanomizu Hongō and Ueno, approaching Uguisudani.

Groves closed in from both sides, giving Uguisudani of this era the semblance of deep mountains. A figure approached from the path ahead. They appeared to be in desperate haste. Neither moon nor stars pierced the sky—indeed, the grove's canopy shrouded even that darkened expanse. All surroundings drowned in blackness. In the murk, two shadows passed one another. "Hmm," Yanosuke thought. "That person felt somehow familiar."

Yanosuke looked back over his shoulder. Then, it seemed the person he had passed by had also looked his way. If that person was in haste, Yanosuke's mind raced no less urgently. The two parted without further exchange. Yanosuke reached Negishi. He went around to the rear of His Lordship's villa. "Ah!" he gasped. There on the ground stretched a single glistening white line. "Damn it!" he cursed again.

However, when he soon saw that the line had been kicked apart by a foot and the white powder lay scattered in all directions, he finally let out a sigh of relief. At the same time, he found it strange.

“Who on earth did this?” He couldn’t help tilting his head in puzzlement. "The crucial meaning of this white powder should only be known to me and Master Hokuzan." "I don’t remember scattering it." "Then perhaps Master Hokuzan came here tonight and kicked it apart... Ah! Now that I think of it, that familiar person I passed in Uguisudani—yes, that must have been Master Hokuzan!" At last, Yanosuke pieced it together. "We can’t assume the danger has passed." "I’ll keep watch here tonight."

Yanosuke made his decision.

His body was exhausted like cotton. He lay down on the grass. He felt sleep pulling at him. "I must not sleep, I must not sleep." Even as he thought this, he found himself nodding off, on the verge of falling asleep. The night wind passed through the sky. It struck the grove and rustled steadily. That sounded like a lullaby to him.

He finally fell asleep.

In the darkness of Uguisudani, the person who had passed by Yanosuke ran off toward Yanaka.

He saw flames rising in the direction of Shiba.

“Oh, this is a massive fire.” He muttered in astonishment.

That was Amano Hokuzan. "I wonder if His Lordship’s villa is safe?" As he ran and ran endlessly，this was what filled his thoughts.

I wonder what happened to Lord Yanosuke? Despite having so strictly instructed him to keep watch over His Lordship's villa, for him not to show his face at such a dangerous time as tonight was utterly inexcusable. But he might be ill... The fire was growing bigger by the minute. I really wanted to go see what was happening. But I hadn't informed either the lord or the household about my departure. It would be odd for me to show my face. He exited Yanaka and emerged into Shitaya.

Now, what should I do next? I must meet with Lord Yanosuke urgently. It seems I need to inform him that he is of mountain tribe lineage.

The fire gradually grew larger. The Shitaya area was in an uproar. People stood at their gates watching. "I should take a palanquin secretly and try visiting Lord Yanosuke's residence." "There is something I need to request of him after all."

A single palanquin shop was operating. “Hey, take me to Shiba.” “Right away, sir!”

A vigorous young man brought out a palanquin. With that, Hokuzan got in with a thud. The palanquin sped off as though flying.

They had just reached the approach to Ginza when a war cry sounded ahead. It seemed a major clash had erupted. "Sir! Sir! A huge brawl!" The palanquin bearer announced this and stopped the palanquin.

“Take the back streets.” From inside the palanquin, Hokuzan said. There, the palanquin veered off toward Kobikichō.

23 The source of the fire seemed to be Atagoshita. The area around Kobikichō was also in an uproar. Moreover, with the so-called great brawl compounding matters, people’s hearts were truly trembling with apprehension. “They say it’s a fight between firefighters.” “No—they say it’s a fight between Asakusa entertainers and samurai.” “No—they say a gambling den was raided.” “No—they say it’s rebels.” “No—they say one side is entertainers and the other is a god.” “Since when would a god get into a fight?”

The people gathered in the street were all saying such things. The palanquin thudded onward. They exited Shibaguchi, passed through Tsukimachi, Udagawachō, and Kanasugibashi, and soon arrived before Suruga no Kami’s residence. This area was also quite tumultuous. “Let me out here.”

Hokuzan said. After exiting the palanquin, Hokuzan stood at the entrance to Yanosuke’s residence. When he requested guidance, a voice responded, and a young attendant appeared. “Well, well, if it isn’t Master Hokuzan!” “Is Lord Yanosuke at home?”

"No, he is not in residence." The young attendant said sympathetically. "Hmm, he's out? Where might he have gone?" "Yes, as of late he has been going out nearly every night." "Ah, I see. Nearly every night, you say?"

In that case, it appeared Yanosuke was indeed going to guard the lower residence. He must have gone again tonight. They must have passed each other without meeting. Amano Hokuzan thought this. “When Lord Yanosuke returns, please inform him I came,” he said. “I shall pay another visit tomorrow morning.” “Please take care regarding the great fire,” replied the young attendant. Hokuzan then exited to the street.

And so he hired a new palanquin and returned to the inn in Kanda. Yanosuke was fast asleep on the grass. One could hardly blame him for being caught off guard—he had indeed overexerted himself far too much in a single night. If this were a normal human, they would have died long ago.

But the fact that he had fallen asleep was unfortunate for him.

The back gate of the Mori Tatewaki residence, towering black against the sky, opened soundlessly with a swish at this moment.

Two figures had slipped out. One was an imposing samurai, and the other appeared to be a townsman.

Following the line drawn on the ground, they approached Yanosuke. Soon, they reached Yanosuke's side. The two exchanged glances in the darkness.

“Monbee, the secret is out.” The one who spoke was a samurai. “This samurai sleeping here interfered with our plans.”

"Yes, it does seem that way." "The white powder has been scattered here." "There was an occurrence before as well."

“This has to be his doing.” “What a fool—he’s asleep.” “Who on earth is this man?” At this, the townsman peered closer.

“Oh! This is Lord Yanosuke!” “What? Yanosuke? Kagami Yanosuke?”

“Yes, Lord Tatewaki, that is correct.” “I see.” The samurai crossed his arms. “If it’s Kagami Yanosuke, we can’t just cut him down and be done with it.” “That’s unthinkable! “That cannot be done.” “But we can’t just leave him be either.”

“I have a clever plan.” The townsman whispered something in a hushed voice near the samurai’s ear.

“Hmm, this one’s a brilliant idea.” “With that,” said the townsman, slipping his hand into his breast pocket. What he pulled out was a white cloth. He draped it over Yanosuke’s face. For a while, the two men stared intently. “That should suffice now.” Having said this, the townsman removed the white cloth. Then he picked up Yanosuke. Yanosuke lay as limp as a corpse. The samurai cradled Yanosuke’s head, and the townsman held his feet.

Toward Mori Tatewaki’s residence, the two walked slowly. Blocked by Ueno Hill, the fire’s light remained unseen. The entire Negishi area lay still in sleep. Carrying Yanosuke, their figures vanished into the residence through the Mori household’s back gate—truly unseen by any soul. Darkness alone spread. The night wind blew with bitter persistence.

24

Around this time, at Edo's very center, a brutal conflict between the Wajin and Water Fox Tribe raged with savage ferocity. It was a clash between tribe and tribe. It was a war between faith and faith. It was a collision where hatreds inherited from ancestors smashed against one another. The fire's glow reached even here, dyeing the sky vermillion. House roofs glimmered like scales. They divided into multiple bands and fought. Spears, bamboo pikes, swords, clubs—countless weapons flashed. Shrieks and bellows reverberated.

A group stampeded away. Another group gave chase. The fleeing group hid in an alley. The other group cornered them. The fleeing group came surging back. Hand-to-hand combat broke out in the alley. Several people tried to flee into houses. At that house, they shut the door. The household members pressed against it from inside. Several pursuers arrived there. Blades clashed at that spot too. Someone climbed onto a house’s roof. An enemy waited atop it. Still locked in struggle, they tumbled down.

A samurai was stabbed with a bamboo spear—one of those superstitious types. Other samurai charged forward. One of the Wajin cultists wielding a bamboo spear had his hand severed by their blades. Stones rained down like a tempest. A man groaned, his forehead split open. Two or three bodies crumpled to the earth—indistinguishable now whether Wajin or Water Fox Tribe. Through this carpet of corpses, a shadow pressed onward.

Iwatarou's warrior bearing was a spectacular sight. He swung a five-shaku-long sword with a Fujimaki hilt as if it were a mere stick. In the blink of an eye, he cut down several people. An enemy lunged forward. He slammed them down with a sweeping blow. Impulsively, four or five of them charged forward. He swung his sword in a wide arc. Four or five people fled backward. He suddenly turned around. One enemy was taking aim. “Damn it!” he shouted, slashing at the shoulder. With a spurt, blood sprayed like mist.

Sugi Uemon was being protected by the Wajin. He stood planted in the middle of the thoroughfare. He shouted hoarsely.

“Cut down the commander! Cut down the commander!”

His face was glowing. It was because the firelight illuminated it. He was carrying a spear. Blood was dripping from its tip.

The male and female cult leaders of the Water Fox Tribe stood protected by their followers. Both shouted in loud voices: "Enemies of the doctrine! Enemies of the doctrine!" "Let none escape! Let none escape!" The Wajin mob surged toward the cult leaders like a tidal wave, yet found their path blocked midway. The Water Fox Tribe crowd conversely rushed toward Sugi Uemon in full force. This charge too was halted halfway.

The fire refused to be quenched. The sky deepened into crimson. Through the crowds gaping at the flames and those transfixed by the brawl, the thoroughfare swelled with bodies. Corpses lay strewn like discarded dolls. The road turned slick with spilled blood. Firelight danced across its glistening surface. A roar—then another—the war cries thundered!

At that moment, the spectators cried out. “Look! It’s the officials’ arrival!” Dozens of official lanterns came flying from Kyobashi’s direction. The Hatchobori constables had come running at this moment with informants and underlings in tow. In an instant, the combat came to an end. Both Wajin cultists and Water Fox Tribe members carried away their dead and vanished in all directions. Yet the hatred and vengefulness between these two peoples had by no means ended. Even today—through Meiji and Taisho—they continue taking revenge upon each other across country and city alike beneath layers of convoluted schemes.

Hokuzan returned to the inn, plopped down in the squalid room, and sat pondering something intently.

He slowly stood up and opened the sliding door. In the closet, a medicine shelf had been built. It was an enormously large medicine shelf, upon which countless medicine jars had been placed. He took out a medicine jar. "Well, I'll leave it for tomorrow."

He reconsidered and decided to sleep. Then, he placed the medicine jar on the shelf, closed the sliding door, and prepared to sleep.

He woke up early the next morning.

After leaving the inn, he boarded a palanquin and had it hurried to Yanosuke’s residence.

He stood at the entrance and requested an audience. Immediately, a young page appeared. “Is Lord Yanosuke at home?”

“Ah—he left last night and has yet to return.”

“Hmm,” he said, but Hokuzan could not help tilting his head slightly.

25

Hokuzan, who had returned to the inn, could not help but ponder.

He wondered what had happened to Lord Yanosuke. A vague uneasiness came over him. He placed his hands on his knees and sank into thought. The young samurai he had passed at Uguisudani last night must have been Lord Yanosuke. After that encounter, Lord Yanosuke must have gone to guard the lower mansion. Now then—what next? Now then—what next?

—He could not know what happened after that. But somehow, he felt there might have been some incident near the lower mansion—a vague premonition that could not be ignored. "Surely such a thing would never happen, but could he have been abducted and taken to Lord Tatewaki’s residence?" Suddenly he found himself considering this possibility. "It can’t be definitively ruled out. By chance, I noticed their conspiracy and interfered. I kicked the white powder away with my foot. Then Lord Yanosuke went there afterward. How had the conspirators’ plot been thwarted? They came to investigate that. Both sides clashed in the plaza. Hmm, this seems plausible."

Hokuzan pondered deeply. "Yet when it comes to martial arts, Lord Kagami Yanosuke is something of a genius - he shouldn't lose to ordinary opponents." "But against overwhelming numbers... even a lone warrior might still meet a terrible end."

He grew increasingly anxious.

"But surely he hasn’t been killed."

Even so, he couldn't be absolutely reassured. Right! I should go out now and check the plaza's condition! If there was a struggle, there should be traces. If he was killed, there should be bloodstains.

And so, he decided to go.

But first, he had work to do. He had to prepare the medicine. When he opened the sliding door, there was a medicine shelf. He took out various medicines. He put them into a mortar and ground them into powder. He compounded mixtures again and again. He produced a large quantity of yellow medicinal powder. He took out a yellow bag from the shelf. He filled that to the brim with medicine. He must have packed over five gō of it. He then wrapped it in a furoshiki cloth. Then he slipped it into his pocket. He donned a woven hat and left the inn. He hopped into the waiting palanquin at the crossroads.

“Make haste to Negishi.” “Right away!” The palanquin broke into a run. “Very well,” he said as he exited the palanquin. And then he ambled away. He circled around the Naitō family’s lower mansion and headed toward the plaza. At the far end of the plaza stood a mansion. It was Lord Tatewaki’s mansion. Hokuzan fixed his gaze on the ground. The single line of white powder that had been drawn was nowhere to be seen. The area had been neatly smoothed. There were no signs of a struggle either. There were no bloodstains either.

"It seems they cleaned up." "Even if there had been a struggle or sword fight here, no evidence would remain... This grows increasingly worrisome."

Hokuzan stood still and thought.

“Should I boldly approach the Mori residence? It’s not entirely impossible to do so." "After all, though only once before, I was summoned by Lord Tatewaki and paid a visit." "But if I were to approach them officially, asking about Yanosuke’s whereabouts would likely be impossible."

“Then there’s no point in confronting them.”

He found himself at a loss.

"I'll give this matter more thought... I'll investigate the other angle."

He headed toward Asakusa.

Okuyama was bustling as usual. "The Yatsugatake Mountain Man" In front of the hut displaying it, Hokuzan came to an abrupt stop.

When he looked, the sign had been removed. There was no one at the gate either. The hut's entrance was closed; apparently, they weren't holding any performances.

Just then, a young man appeared, opening the door. He wore a listless expression as he gazed vacantly outside. His attire made it immediately apparent he was a hut attendant. Hokuzan approached him.

“Is the show taking a break today?” He called out casually. The young man looked at Hokuzan, but “Well, look at you in that getup...” His words trailed off oddly. “The weather’s fine and people are out. Why would you close on such a perfect day?” Hokuzan pressed with feigned nonchalance. The young man furrowed his brows slightly. He seemed ready to retort that it was none of his concern. But reluctantly answered: “Wasn’t like we wanted to close… Not a single performer left… Had no choice but to shut down.”

26 "Well now, are the mountain men not here?" Hokuzan exclaimed loudly, neither disappointed nor surprised. "So they went back to the mountains then." "Whether they returned to the mountains or went to the village—how should I know?" "And when did they disappear?" "Since last night—around when the fire happened." "So they fled without permission." "They certainly fled, but..." "Since they left all their tools behind, they'll probably come back eventually."

"Tools?" Hokuzan's eyes gleamed. "And what about the animals?" "So those things were their tools... They just up and left, abandoning the bears, monkeys, wolves, and all." "If I recall correctly, there were snakes as well?" Hokuzan pressed in a probing tone.

“Oh yes, there are—several kinds, you know.” Hokuzan reached into his pocket. He took out a paper case, pinched a small grain, and deftly wrapped it in paper. “It’s not much, but keep this.” “Much obliged, sir.” The hut attendant bowed with shallow, wobbly deference. “By the way, there’s a small favor I need to ask. Would you show me the animals?” “Of course, of course—easy enough.” The young man entered the hut. Hokuzan followed close behind.

The inside of the hut was dim and strangely muggy with dampness. They passed through the hut into the garden. Several cages stood there. Various animals squirmed within them. There was one small cage. Inside it lay five or six small snakes. Sunlight flickered across their deutzia-blossom-pale skin. They were foot-long serpents. All slept peacefully. Hokuzan halted before them.

He then observed the snakes.

“Hey, young man, pretty snakes, aren’t they?”

Hokuzan spoke to the young man. “Beautiful snakes, aren’t they? But they say they’re terribly poisonous.” The young man peered fearfully into the cage. “Do you know what kind of snake this is?” “The mountain men said. In Shinshu Province’s Yatsugatake—they said these Sousuke snakes live only there.” “Sousuke snake… that’s an amusing name.” Hokuzan smiled faintly. “In Dutch, it’s called Erokirusu.” “Huh, Erokirusu… That’s a strange name.”

“It appears there are six snakes.” “There used to be ten, but now only six remain." “According to the mountain men’s account, three were stolen.” “If three were taken from ten, seven should remain—yet there are only six here.” “What became of the remaining one?”

“Ah, the remaining one? Someone came earlier and bought it.”

“Huh?” Hokuzan’s eyes widened. “Hmm, so someone bought this snake, did they?” “Oh, that’s correct, sir.” “What did this person look like?” “He looked like a merchant in his fifties. Wasn’t from Edo, sir.” “He looked quite lavish, sir.” “He had the air of a country landowner.” Hokuzan fell silent and sank into thought. He muttered to himself.

“Tonight is dangerous. We can’t leave this unattended,” he said abruptly. “Sell me a snake too.”

“Oh my, you require one as well?” “So—how much per snake?” “The earlier gentleman paid one ryo each...” “Very well. I’ll purchase mine at one ryo too.” Hokuzan produced his wallet. He laid six koban coins across his palm. “Here—six ryo. Take them.” “Six ryo? For what purpose?” “What’s this for?” “I’m buying all six snakes outright.”

“Well now... this complicates things.” The young man alternated his gaze between the koban coins and Hokuzan’s face. “Why would this complicate matters?” “You’ve no legitimate grounds for hesitation.”

However, the young man scratched his head.

“You see, sir, this poses a problem. After all, isn’t that right? These white snakes belong to the mountain men—they’re not mine to sell.” “Then why did you sell one?” Hokuzan’s voice hardened in rebuke. “Whether it’s one or six makes no difference.” “No, that’s not so. If one or two had escaped, we could pass it off as an accident, couldn’t we?”

"So you don’t want six koban?" Hokuzan clinked the koban on his palm. “...Just say they died.” “But if there are no corpses…” The young man still hesitated. However, his eyes gleamed with greed, fixed upon the koban. “Well, I’ll give you the corpses then.” Hokuzan thrust the koban forward. “In that case, you have no objections, do you?”

27

The young man received the koban in his hand. “Why are you bringing them, sir?”

“There’s no need to take them back.” Hokuzan took out a yellow bag from his pocket. “I want to watch them devour each other.” He tilted the bag’s opening over the cage. He poured the powder inside with a dry rustle. But he didn’t empty it all. He stopped halfway. The powder touched the six snakes. They raised their sickle-shaped heads as one. Their cheeks puffed out. Their bodies writhed undulatingly. They straightened rigidly upright. They resembled tall wax candles. Suddenly, all six began devouring one another.

It was a horrifying sight. First, one had its throat bitten. The white body became smeared with blood. Then it went limp and collapsed. Stretched out long, it ceased moving. Writhing over the corpses, the five snakes continued their struggle. A second was devoured. Next came the third. Still three remained locked in combat. But they perished one after another. The last one died too. The young man clenched his fist.

Hokuzan smiled eerily.

“First, this put my mind at ease…the agents of evil were eradicated…and the drug’s efficacy was confirmed…Now then, I’ll take my leave.” “I’m going home.”

Pushing the yellow bag into his pocket, Hokuzan exited the hut.

The night of that day arrived at last.

Kagami Yanosuke woke up. There seemed to be a pitch-dark room.

Yanosuke's entire body was limp. His mind was terribly hazy. Every joint in his limbs ached.

“Where in the world am I? This is definitely not my home... When did I fall asleep?... It feels like I’ve slept for a year.”

He looked around his surroundings. In the unlit room, there was no sign of anyone’s presence. He pondered deeply. "...Even so... I gradually remember... I first saved a woman. I sent the woman off and went to the mansion. It was Otsuki Genkyo’s mansion. Then I was made to drink poison. Then I was buried underground. Then I passed through an underground horizontal tunnel. Then I went to the Water Fox Tribe’s strange hall. Then, with a grunt, I fought fiercely. Then I dashed out into the town. Then I went to Negishi for guard duty. There was that white powder on the ground. Then I slept in the plaza. So is this place the plaza?"

He felt around with his palm. Instead of the ground, tatami mats met his touch.

“No—it’s still inside a house… But who on earth carried me into such a place without my knowing? And when? …To sleep so deeply that I didn’t notice being moved—I must have been completely out… Regardless, I’ll inspect the mansion.” Yanosuke stood up. He first walked straight ahead. There was a properly positioned tokonoma. He walked straight to the right. Then his fingertips brushed against a sliding door. He gingerly pulled it open. There was a corridor where he had exited. He proceeded along the corridor to the left. Several rooms were lined up. Then the corridor formed a T-shape. There was a paper lantern covered with a net.

"This must be the villa of a daimyo or hatamoto." Yanosuke intuited. At the dead end of the corridor was a garden. He went down to the garden. The shrubbery was planted densely without gaps. He slipped through it and walked stealthily. It appeared to be late at night, with no sign of people. Occasionally, snores sounded. A black-painted wooden fence stood. Crouching at its base, two people were whispering to each other.

Yanosuke swiftly hid himself. He tried to listen to their conversation. The distance was too great; he couldn’t hear. Then, slipping through the shrubbery, he stealthily approached the two. The moon was directly above them. Their figures appeared hazy. Both wore masks and were clad in inconspicuous garments. One bore long and short swords at his waist. Yet the other was unarmed. Fragments of conversation reached him. “...There likely won’t be any interference tonight.” The samurai spoke these words.

“...Tonight should be fine...” The townsman replied. “...Then shall we release it gradually?” “That would be most appropriate.” “...You did spread the drug properly, didn’t you?” “I have been thorough in that regard.” There, their conversation ceased for a time. The townsman picked up the rod. It was a rod that had been placed beside him. Apparently, it was a thick bamboo tube.

The samurai stepped back two or three paces. The townsman carefully crouched. The townsman gingerly extended his hand and removed the stopper from the end of the bamboo tube. He swiftly placed the bamboo tube on the ground. Then he quickly stepped back. From before them, a line of white powder had been drawn to the base of the fence. There was a hole in one part of the fence. Through the hole, the white powder had been drawn all the way to the outside. Then came a subtle sound. It resembled whistling. From inside the bamboo tube, a single white cord slithered out. It raced across the white powder and dashed beyond the fence.

“Ah!”

Yanosuke cried out. He leaped from the shrubbery. Then he grappled with the townsman.

28

“Ah!”

And this time, the townsman shouted.

"Who's there?" the samurai barked. The townsman tried to shove Yanosuke away. But Yanosuke seized him by the neck and pressed him forcefully to the ground. Suddenly, the samurai drew his sword. Nimbly, Yanosuke stepped back. The sword cut the townsman's neck. The townsman let out a shrill shriek. "Damn it!" the samurai hissed as he drew back his sword.

At that moment, the flute's sound returned. From an opening in the fence, a white snake came flying in a frenzy. It lunged at the nearby samurai. "Gah!"

And the samurai let out a scream. He staggered and leaned against the fence. The white snake too seemed to have exhausted its energy; it stretched out its body and ceased moving. The samurai slumped and hung his head. He fell forward to the ground.

The moon illuminated three corpses—the townsman, the samurai, and the white snake.

Suddenly, a woman's laughter rang out.

“Tashirou! “Tashirou! “Do you finally understand?! “This is my grudge! “This is my grudge!” Yanosuke looked around his surroundings. The woman’s figure was nowhere to be seen. But the voice repeated. “Inotarou! “Inotarou! “Well done! “A thank you... from your mother.”

The voice ceased just like that.

Noticing, Yanosuke rolled up his sleeve. The twenty tooth marks—human-faced sores—that had formed on his upper arm had vanished.

The mansion grew noisy. There was a sense of people rushing in.

Yanosuke placed his hands on the fence. He flipped his body over and cleared the fence. He crossed the square and ran toward the town. When he collided with someone.

"My apologies." "My apologies." They exchanged apologies and stole glances at each other's faces. "Oh, if it isn't Master Hokuzan!" "Oh, Lord Yanosuke!"

“Master, what brings you here at this hour?” “We’ll discuss everything later… For now, let’s stay together…” The two of them ran toward the town.

It was the following day.

In Hokuzan's room at the inn in Kanda, Hokuzan and Yanosuke were talking. "...According to the Wajin people, it's called the Sousuke snake. In Dutch, they say 'Erokirosu.' This is an exceptionally rare venomous snake—if bitten by it, one dies in an instant." "Moreover, it leaves absolutely no trace." "A key characteristic of this venomous snake is its intense fondness for fennel-based preparations." "When they smell it, they become excited." "Now, regarding that white powder—needless to say, it's a fennel-based preparation manufactured by Otsuki Genkyo."

“However, it was the night before last. I went to Asakusa Kannon’s precincts and happened to overhear the Wajin people’s conversation—they were saying their venomous snakes had been stolen.” “Hmm,” I thought. “While mulling this over, I went to Negishi. When I arrived, a trail of white powder had been laid out. A whistling sound rang out, and something like cords came rushing forward.” “That’s when it struck me… When the Erokirosu smell that fennel concoction, they make noises—a sort of ecstatic cry from sheer delight. In short, those three villains drew a line of the fennel mixture from the Mori residence all the way to Lord Naito’s bedchambers, then set the Erokirosu running along it to bite the young lord… Incidentally, once those Erokirosu get a whiff of cinnabar powder even once, they go mad and die.” “I exploited that weakness.” “So last night I returned to Negishi.” “The white powder trail was there again.” “I scattered cinnabar powder thick over that spot.” “Just as I expected—the Erokirosu came charging up… but when they reached that point, they went berserk and retreated back the way they’d come.”

“Indeed, it was exactly as you say. The venomous snakes that came rushing back bit Lord Tatewaki.” Yanosuke nodded.

“So Monbee was also killed by Lord Tatewaki’s blade, you say?” “First, that is indeed correct. However, Lord Tatewaki originally intended to cut me down. Because I swiftly used Monbee as a shield, it was—so to speak—as if I had killed him.” “That aside, Lord Yanosuke—your childhood name being Itatarou—it seems you have inherited the bloodline of the Wajin people. It appears your mother was Yamabuki—the daughter of Sugi Uemon, leader of the Wajin. Your father was from the village—a young man named Tashirou…… You will likely meet the Wajin people before long. Do inquire thoroughly when that time comes. This too is a tale I happened to hear from mountain men—that is, the Wajin folk—in Asakusa the night before last.”

“So my mother was Yamabuki, my father Tashirou, and my childhood name was Itatarou—is that correct?” “And so, my bloodline is that of the Wajin of Mount Yatsugatake?” "Hmm," Yanosuke crossed his arms.

29

The next day, Kagami Yanosuke secretly reported to the authorities regarding the Dutch-trained physician Otsuki Genkyo’s heinous and immoral conduct.

As a result, the town magistrate conducted a raid, and laborers dug up the fennel field at Genkyo’s mansion. Sure enough, several men and women’s corpses emerged from beneath the soil. Genkyo was arrested and soon met crucifixion. However, regarding the long underground horizontal tunnel connecting to the heretical Water Fox Tribe’s secret training hall—it was said even Otsuki Genkyo had not known of its existence. Perhaps that tunnel had been created long ago, during something like the cave-dwelling era.

But well, that probably didn’t matter.

Now, what kind of life did Kagami Yanosuke lead from then on?

"He would never age. ...There would be no lasting peace."

The words cursed by Kuda no Uba, leader of the Water Fox Tribe, on her deathbed—this very existence came to repeat itself upon Yanosuke. He remained forever young. His heart was always uneasy. If explained in today’s terms, one might call it an obsession—or perhaps a compulsion. He was constantly being driven by something. And just as he had once conducted nightly street slashings in Takato Castle Town, now he was forced to wander through Edo’s city streets every single night, blood-stained sword in hand.

The night deepened beneath Mount Yatsugatake, the waves of Shinagawa’s sea grew still, and not a single light flickered in the daimyo mansions of Takanawa. When distant barking dogs and nearby wooden clappers sounded to remind one of the late hour, travelers who must have had urgent business—illuminating their path with an Odawara lantern—walked briskly along the Tokaido road in pairs.

A figure emerged from the shade of a tree. Clad in a plain black kimono and a custom-made hooded mask—perhaps deep in thought with head slightly bowed and shoulders slumped—he shuffled this way. The two groups were about to pass each other when suddenly the samurai raised his face. His right hand moved to his sword’s hilt—the glint that followed must have been him drawing it. A scream—"Kyatt!" A voice cried out—"Agh!" Then came another scream—"Kyatt!" The lantern that had fallen to the ground burst into flames, and in the sudden brightness lay two corpses. The swordsman who had done the slaying walked dejectedly several ken away, like a shadow.

It was none other than Kagami Yanosuke.

At Asakusa Kannon Temple, in the early morning within its precincts, the tea shop's shutters were locked, but the sound of human footsteps could be heard. It must have been a worshipper coming for morning prayers.

Leaning against the thick trunk of a ginkgo tree was a samurai wearing a woven hat.

A woman hurried past him toward the worship hall. The samurai stepped forward with a lanky gait. The instant he assumed an iaido stance, he cut through the sunless gray sky—a purple glow flashed where his blade passed. The moment he did, a woman screamed “Kya!” A headless corpse tumbled forward. Blood gushed from the severed neck! A crimson puddle spread across the ground. But the samurai who had done the slaying slowly circled around the ginkgo tree’s trunk and walked toward Kaminarimon Gate. The cooing of pigeons, the clinking of offering coins—nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

In the middle of Ryogokubashi Bridge, a samurai was cut down. At Kasamori's tea shop, on the bench, a woman lay stabbed in the side. In Senju's pleasure quarters—a courtesan's client; in Nihonbashi's thoroughfares—a merchant's clerk; in Shitaya's Ike-no-hata—an elderly fortune-teller; in Fukagawa's lumberyards—a cargo handler; and at Honjo's Ekōin Temple—a priest were slain.

Edo—to use an exaggerated expression—manifested an era of terror. The North and South Magistrates were thrown into great panic, and the yoriki, dōshin, and okappiki began scurrying around all of Edo. The incidents did not appear to be robberies, nor did they seem like vendetta slayings—if one had to put it into words, they resembled the work of a deranged swordsman... This series of events proved troublesome for the authorities. And so they could not easily track him down. It was unimaginable that Kagami Yanosuke—head of the Kagami family, a lineage serving as chief retainers to the Naito clan—could possibly be the perpetrator behind these street slashings.

But eventually, the street slashings came to an abrupt halt. This was because Lord Naito, Governor of Suruga, had departed Edo and returned to Ina Takato.

However, when the Naito clan's procession arrived at Shiojiri post town, an incident abruptly occurred. To call it an incident might be overstating things—Kagami Yanosuke had simply vanished suddenly from among the attendants. The Kagami family being a lineage of distinguished standing within the Naito clan, they could not simply leave it be when its lord had fled. They dispatched search parties in all directions. Yet his whereabouts could not be ascertained.

30

What on earth had happened to him? Where on earth had he gone?

He had gone to Mount Yatsugatake. He—his mother Yamabuki’s homeland! The settlement of his ancestral Wajin tribe! To Mount Yatsugatake’s Sasano-taira in Shinano Province, he walked unsteadily, like a sleepwalker. Passing through Shiojiri to Okaya, deliberately avoiding Takashima’s castle town, following the mountains through Kotō Village, from Kitayama Village to Tamagawa Village, from Hongō Village to Amida Peak—now this area was Mount Yatsugatake, its foothills stretching open endlessly. The place he had reached after three days was the Sasano-taira basin.

There was no difference from when he had visited before. The dwellings of the Wajin people stood devoid of human presence, and in Sōsuke Tengu's worship hall stood a nude wooden statue. The blazing sunlight that stared down relentlessly, the howling cry of a fox, the chirping of small birds, the sound of the wind—the breath of the deep mountains closed in on him. However, not a single one of the Wajin people lived there.

Yanosuke sat down in the worship hall and turned his eyes to the surrounding scenery.

Just then, a familiar man’s voice reached his ears.

“Inotarou, Inotarou, you came.” From behind the wooden statue at the back of the worship hall, a figure emerged. It was the white-robed, long-haired Shirahoushi. “Oh! You are Shirahoushi-sama!” Yanosuke stood up and bowed respectfully. “I had a feeling you would come.”

Alongside Yanosuke, Shirahoushi sat down on the edge of the worship hall. "Well, Yanosuke," he said, "you've finally come to understand your true lineage, haven't you?" "Yes," Yanosuke replied. "I've finally understood... My mother was a Wajin named Yamabuki, and my father was a village merchant called Tashirou." "But you don't realize," Shirahoushi countered, "that Tashirou's later incarnation was Otori Monbee."

“What?” Yanosuke’s eyes widened. “That Monbee is my father?” “That’s right,” Shirahoushi nodded. “Let me explain everything in detail.”

At that point, Shirahoushi began to speak. That Tashirou had deceived Yamabuki; that Yamabuki had given birth to Inotarou; that Yamabuki, seeking to return her grudge upon Tashirou, had imprinted twenty tooth marks on Inotarou’s upper arms; that Tashirou’s true aim had been to steal the golden armor from Sōsuke Tengu’s wooden statue; that having stolen it, he melted it down and sold it, thereby suddenly amassing great wealth; that to reclaim this armor, the Wajin tribespeople had ventured into human society; and that thus Tashirou—now Monbee—had been killed by Yanosuke through means both indirect and accidental. Now then, though the Wajin tribespeople had Tashirou’s life ended by Yanosuke’s hand, they were unable to retrieve Sōsuke Tengu’s armor. Thus, they could not return to their homeland of Mount Yatsugatake and still wander through various provinces to this day.—

This was Shirahoushi's account. "The grudge of Kuda no Uba is something even my power cannot contend with." "And so, you must remain forever young and forever unsettled... But this much I can teach you." "You can use your own power to invert Kuda no Uba’s grudge and wield it against itself." “By ‘invert its use,’ you mean...?” Yanosuke retorted. “You should think about that yourself.”

After parting with Shirahoushi, descending Mount Yatsugatake, and emerging into human settlements, Yanosuke did not return to Takato Castle town but instead departed to parts unknown.

Since then, his whereabouts could no longer be ascertained.

The times marched relentlessly onward.

Tenpo gave way to Koka, which soon became Kaei, then Ansei, followed by Man'en, Bunkyu, Genji, Keio—and thus Meiji arrived, until finally Taisho came. Every person who had appeared in this story vanished without exception from the face of the Earth, leaving only their descendants behind—such was the state that had come to pass. However, if Kuda no Uba’s dreadful curse had truly been carried out exactly as spoken, then Kagami Yanosuke alone must still retain his youthful appearance and be alive even today.

But could such a thing be possible?

Scientific civilization that rejects all irrational superstitions!

That was modern society. Even Steinach’s rejuvenation method had become suspect in that day and age. It was unthinkable that a person from the Tenpo era could still be alive.

31

It was the summer of Taisho 13.

I—Kunieda Shirō—traversed the Japanese Alps with several companions. At three thousand six hundred and three shaku, we spent a pleasant night at the mountain hut on Okuhotaka.

The mountain guide was named Sahei; though he was quite elderly, he was an extremely vigorous man.

“There’s such a story,”

This story that Sahei told in this manner was none other than "The Demon God of Yatsugatake," which I had chronicled thus far.

“By the way, Kagami Yanosuke is still alive today. Behind this mountain in the Kamata River valley—a basin measuring two ri across in every direction—they’ve built a magnificent Wajin town where he now reigns. This is no falsehood. If you wish, I can guide you there myself. Though mind you, we can’t actually reach the town proper. Impassable cliffs surround it on all sides. At most, I could take you midway up Jukkoku-dake to glimpse it below... Truly splendid it is—Western buildings and electric lights aplenty, housing over ten thousand souls. Yet being utterly isolated from the outside world, its full details remain shrouded in mystery.”

“But,” I asked. “When and how did Yanosuke end up going to such a place?” “It was the beginning of the Meiji era.” “He apparently encountered a wandering band of Wajin people somewhere in Kōshū.” “Of course, by that time, the Wajin people had gone through several generations—Sugi Uemon and Iwatarou had already died, and a different Sugi Uemon and Iwatarou were leading them.” At that point, Yanosuke apparently said: “There’s no need to keep searching forever for Sōsuke’s armor that doesn’t even exist.” “The Wajin”—though by that time they were apparently called Yamabito—“being mocked as Yamabito, persecuted by society, wandering the fringes of the mortal world... it’d be better to band together as one and build a Yamabito nation.” “……And so everyone agreed, followed Kagami Yanosuke’s command, and went to Okuhotaka.”

My curiosity was ignited. And so, the next day, being guided, we resolved to go to Jukkoku-dake. The path proved exceedingly steep, yet by that evening we reached the mountain's mid-slope. Below us spread a vast valley where evening mist had settled. But piercing through that very mist came the sight of countless splendid houses and boats floating in canals. Then when the sun sank, we discerned the gleam of electric lights.

It was neither a dream nor an illusion. There existed their nation. According to rumors, upstream along the Kinkido River in Sugoroku Valley there lay a lake of considerable size unknown to others, around which stood an equally splendid town of the Water Fox Tribe; thus it was said that the two tribes still harbored mutual hatred. Kagami Yanosuke, living on eternally—he was both the incarnation of human will and a symbol of cosmic truth. To live forever—was this not the most joyous thing?

However, those who live eternally are simultaneously eternal martyrs. And is that not the very essence of a great human being?

Be that as it may, I want to tell myself this.

"If the floating world becomes too harsh to live in, I'll cast it aside without a second thought, make my way up into the Japanese Alps, and enter the Wajin nation. Then I will work with Yanosuke and greatly develop that nation. And by completely escaping from this meddlesome society and its people, let us breathe freely, shall we?"

My hometown is Shinshū Suwa, where Mount Yatsugatake can be seen to the southeast. Last autumn, I went alone to Sasano-daira to see for myself. There were no longer any Tenpō-era buildings such as the Sōsuke Tengu worship hall or the Wajin people's dwellings, but what appeared to be their foundations—numerous granite stones—remained. I sat down on one of them and sank into meditation.

It was a clear day rare to behold, with the autumn sunlight beautiful and the voices of small birds echoing in the distance; the scent of dried grass wafted through the air.

“It’s so quiet,” I said.

The thought of Yamabuki and her ill-fated love affair kept relentlessly surfacing in my mind. A surge of indignation welled up against Tashirou’s impure love.

"The vulgar currents of the floating world are truly impossible to manage." "They don't just steal the tengu's armor—they even steal maidens' hearts," I found myself lamenting. (The End)