Pathway to Japanese Literature

I “Samurai are supposed to be…” The actress Bandō Koshino smiled enigmatically as she spoke. “You must be strong.” “I’d say I’m plenty strong.” The one who answered was Isshiki Koichirō: twenty-three years old, a master of Shōkan-ryū swordsmanship, whose father Kiyozaemon served as an esteemed vassal to the Tayasu clan. However, Koichirō had not taken official service. It was because he detested being constrained—he was a wanderer by nature. Prominent brows, a sharply defined nose, eyes upturned at the corners with a faint sword-like intensity—though not quite menacing in appearance. He was of medium build and height, with a fair complexion. And his nature was bright and ironic.

“No matter how strong you may be, I daresay you’ve never cut down a person.” Bandō Koshino began. “It’s an era of peace—how could anyone cut people down?” “Then how can we know…? Whether you’re truly strong or weak?” “In Shōkan-ryū, I’ve mastered it all. At twenty-three, achieving mastery—well, that makes me pretty damn strong.” Isshiki Koichirō pursed his lips and grinned slyly. “A samurai must be strong.”

“So I’ve been telling you—I am strong.” “Hey, you,” Bandō Koshino began coaxingly. “They say those who’ve cut down even one person have proven their mettle.” “Seems that’s how it goes.” “A samurai must have courage.” “Goes without saying,” Koichirō retorted mockingly, turning away. “Do you even have courage, I wonder?”

“I do! I do have plenty!” “You’ve never even cut someone down, for all your talk.”

“Koshino!” Koichirō said, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at her. “You’ve got some scheme brewing, don’t you?” “Why, whatever could you mean?” Koshino laughed in her usual manner, but it was a subtle laugh—and a vampiric one at that. “Hey, you—all I’m saying is this. When a man shows his courage, every woman in existence throws herself at him in an instant.”

“Hmm—so you mean falling in love?” “Yes, yes, precisely so.” “I see,” said Koichirō, though he seemed to ponder listlessly for a moment. Then he abruptly shifted the topic.

“Hey Koshino—is Nanbu Shūgorō coming?” “How kind of you to invite him so often.”

“He’s quite the persistent one, isn’t he?” “Hoh hoh hoh hoh—like you.”

“That’s right—I’ve got plenty of patience myself. …By the way, Koshino—which one do you prefer?” “Mr. Nanbu said the same thing.” “—‘Between Mr. Isshiki and this humble one—which of us have you fallen for?’ he said.”

“So, which one are you smitten with?” “Which of you might prove stronger?” “Hmph. So you’ll sway toward whoever’s stronger, eh?” “That would be the case.” Koshino smiled with vampiric allure. “So that’s how it is.” With that, Isshiki Koichirō jerked upright. “Koshino—till next time.”

“Are you leaving already?” “Yep.”

With that, he left the room.

This was a secluded room in Fukagawa's Kikyō Tea House.

Left alone, Bandō Koshino muttered to herself. "I told Mr. Nanbu the same thing. Please kill someone for me. ...For my sake, a samurai would cut down an innocent person! Ah, how splendid that would be! If they don't fall for me that deeply, then I shan't bother falling for them either. Now then, which of the two might grant my wish? What fine entertainment this will be. I shall wait and watch."

Having left Kikyō Tea House, Koichirō walked on, deep in thought.

“I do like that woman Koshino.” She’s beautiful yet cruel—that’s what makes her a complete woman. A woman without cruelty isn’t a woman but a mere female… Still, she’s one hell of a tough opponent. Have I really been pursuing her for half a year now? And still she won’t say yes… On top of that, she’s finally shown her true colors by demanding I cut someone down. Even if it’s for her sake, I can’t bring myself to slice up an innocent person… But if I don’t spill blood, I’ll never claim her… And while I’m dithering about, that damned Nanbu—my rival in love—might just snatch her away first. What a pathetic fool he is… “…Wait—where the hell am I?”

When he looked around, it was Koumebata rice fields. In the starry night of the tenth day of the last month, thickets and woods stood.

Two “Well now,” Koichirō muttered as his feet froze mid-stride. “To think I’d wander all this way to Koumebata rice fields while lost in thought! Was I led astray by foxes?”

Or perhaps not. "Cold, cold—I should hurry back." He started walking but found himself thinking again. "But really, swordsmanship where you just thwack each other with bamboo sword tips seems useless in real combat... Cutting down a person in one swift strike—!" The resistance of steel meeting flesh—the stench of blood! A shrill scream! The sound of thrashing! "...Not bad... Not bad at all. ...Once I'd like to try some roadside cutting."

Suddenly, Koichirō felt an urge. "Even if I were to cut someone down, it can’t be women or townspeople." "Only battle-hardened warriors!" He walked on, lost in thought. Then, ahead lay a thicket, rustling as it fought against the wind. It was when he reached its edge— "Hmm, something’s off here." Koichirō smoothly stepped back and peered intently through the thicket.

Nothing had changed. Yet Koichirō seemed to sense it. He tilted his head slightly. “There’s someone here! Steady your blade!” The approaching sword aura pierces solid rock; one who perceives with the mind’s eye embodies valor—such lies the profundity of Shōkan-ryū. He seemed to sense that sword aura. And remained utterly still. Suddenly, Koichirō raised his left hand and thrust forward his still-sheathed long sword. But when his hand reached the hilt, he drew it out about two inches with a sharp clang of the handguard.

And then, from within the encircling pitch-black thicket, a single figure emerged. "As expected of Mr. Isshiki Koichirō. It seems you’ve detected my presence." “Oh! You—Mr. Nanbu!”

“Indeed,” said Nanbu Shūgorō, taking two steps forward. “I’ve been tailing you from Fukagawa.” “Ahaha! Is that so? What brings you here?” Koichirō kept his guard up. “Let me be blunt! Face me…” “Well now,” he said, though an idea had taken root in his mind. “So you too were goaded by Bandō Koshino?”

“Then you as well?” said Nanbu Shūgorō in a somewhat deflated tone, “In that case, this situation grows ever more advantageous! I won’t let you escape—face me in combat!”

“Exactly—you won’t escape this time.” Yet he suddenly chuckled drily. “Still, bushido has decayed.” “Why?” Nanbu Shūgorō heaved a despondent sigh. “In Genki and Tenshō eras of old, men wouldn’t cross blades over women.” “How true that rings!” Nanbu Shūgorō laughed as if struck by revelation. “Ahahaha! What an auspicious age we inhabit!” “Well—this being Tenpō year ten... From Bunka through Bunsei, samurai have grown feeble indeed.” He proclaimed this with unshaken composure.

“Now now, Mr. Isshiki! What nonsense are you spouting? Let us stake our lives—come at me!” Nanbu Shūgorō’s urgency mounted. “I’m well aware,” Koichirō continued languidly. “I who aspired to be a wandering swordsman—serving no lord, a twenty-three-year-old dependent—meant to lay down my blade here and wander a thousand leagues.” His voice turned wry. “Yet I fell—to that riverbed tramp Koshino.” “Draw!” Shūgorō barked with leonine ferocity. “You’re stalling—coward!”

“Even a swordsman gets snared by women,” Koichirō pressed on relentlessly. “Utterly worthless,” came the reply. *Tsk.* Shūgorō clicked his tongue. “You’ve gone soft! “Isshiki Koichirō!” “Women outshine blades any day.”

“What nonsense! So what?” “Then I shall commit utterly.”

“Huh?” Shūgorō took a step back. “Koshino’s words telling me to cut people down—I’ll rely on that and commit utterly!” “Cut people down!” “I’ll cut you down!” “Claim the woman!” “Commit evil!” “I shall commit utterly to wicked swordsmanship!” “Here, Shūgorō!” he lunged forward suddenly. “You’ve charged right in—perfect timing!” “I am! I am!” he advanced again. “I’ve been waiting for this!” “A worthy opponent for this ambush!” “Heeere I cooome!” he bellowed.

The first great sound crossed the wild terrain and pierced the night’s darkness like a gargantuan rod. Simultaneously leaping back, Koichirō swung his drawn sageo with a whistling crack—in one fluid motion crossing it into a hasty sleeve-tie! His sleeves rolled up as two pallid arms slid out slickly, followed instantly by the rasp of steel leaving its sheath. Then—suddenly—Koichirō’s body hissed downward; observing closely, he’d stepped his right foot forward, bent his left knee to plant that leg firmly, and lowered his hips like a coiling dragon! Two sun-measures above his bent knee—there he set the sword’s hilt, splaying it diagonally like branching limbs—and with spread stance positioned his tachi: this was Shōkan-ryū’s lower guard hassō! Should opponents charge headlong, he’d parry and repel; should they thrust, he’d ensnare and fell them—a stance fluttering with unbound mastery. The blade tip flickered-flickered-flickered-flickered like star-carving azure flames. He kept it shifting to deny stillness. With a whooosh, sword aura billowed forth—as though ready to breathe rainbows into pitch-black void.

Three But Nanbu Shūgorō—this man was no ordinary foe either. A master of Tōgun-ryū, he too leaped back and thrust forward in one motion, pulling the hilt of his drawn tachi to his dantian as he drew both elbows tight—assuming nothing more than a standard middle guard stance.

“I see,” Koichirō muttered. “Quite impressive skill. But you’re no match for me.” “Alright,” he said, then began to taunt. “Now then, Mr. Nanbu—come at me! Merely standing there isn’t a skill. Swing that clunker of yours! It’s a starry sky—let it shine! Circle around to the right! Then I’ll circle left.” And so the two men clashed. And then—Clang——! A first clash of tachi! “What, a second clash? I won’t play along—it’ll be settled in one! Of course you’ll lose. A stone against an egg—utterly hopeless! Even foreigners come up with clever sayings sometimes. If a stone and an egg collide, there’s no question the stone will prevail. I’m the stone and you’re the egg—come now, Mr. Egg! Bounce right in!” he jabbered while strategizing.

"I'm bolder than I thought—tonight's my first real battle, yet I'm not particularly scared or terrified." "Right—with this, I can cut down a man." "……Alright, alright—I'll press forward from here."

Forming his toes into a viper’s head, he carved into the earth with grinding steps and advanced straight forward without circling. Gradually retreating Shūgorō, pressured by the mounting momentum, found his sword tip threatening to tilt upward. The moment it rose, the thrust would come. There, he steadied himself—pressed and calmed, pressed and calmed—regained composure, and took a step forward. And Koichirō took a step back. And then, Shūgorō took another step forward! And Koichirō retreated another pace. Shūgorō thought, “Got him!”—unaware his opponent feigned retreat—and with a sharp intake of breath, gathered his energy before lunging forth. Extending both elbows, he raised his tachi and aimed at Koichirō’s right shoulder—then slashed diagonally downward from the left!

"No good!" Koichirō barked. In an instant—the resounding clang of tachi! Next, a single ellipse blazed grandly across the starry sky. Isshiki Koichirō parried and knocked down his enemy’s sword, twisted his body to deliver a one-handed strike, and sent the great blade soaring into the air. Had this fallen, Shūgorō’s head would have been sliced diagonally from ear to crown. At that critical moment, a woman’s voice rang out. “Might you perchance be acquainted with butterflies?”

It was a beautiful, pure voice. With a hiss—the murderous energy drained from Koichirō’s heart.

And then, a woman’s voice spoke again. "It is the Eternal Butterfly." "...Might you perchance be acquainted with the butterfly?"

Where could she be—the owner of the voice?

There were groves of trees, there were thickets, and beyond that lay the wind-swept Koume Field. The woman’s figure was nowhere to be seen. And yet, the woman’s voice could be heard from immediately nearby. “If you happen to know of it, kindly deliver it to the Insect Museum.”

And then—to their surprise—an old man’s voice followed. “Daughter, it’s no use. What makes you think people like these could ever find the Eternal Butterfly?” It was an exceedingly dignified voice. It came from right nearby. But still no figures could be seen. “How could humans bent on murder ever hope to discover this mystical butterfly that lives eternally?” The old man’s voice spoke again. “Come now Daughter—it’s time we depart.”

“Yes, Father,” came a woman’s voice. “Then let us proceed elsewhere.” Then she spoke again softly. “Pray cease… Sirs… The matter of killing… Farewell… to such things.” That was all that could be heard now. Nor were there any departing footsteps. It was as though the voices alone had suddenly sprung from the earth only to vanish into thin air in an instant. The wind seemed to have grown slightly stronger. The thicket rustled and began to sway. With his sword still raised aloft, Isshiki Koichirō had been listening intently—and now he let out an involuntary sigh.

“Mr. Nanbu!” he called out. “Let’s call off tonight’s duel.”

“Very well,” said Nanbu Shūgorō as he picked up his dropped sword.

With a loud clang of his sword guard, Koichirō sheathed his blade. "I bid you farewell," he declared brusquely, then set off briskly toward town. "What on earth is this Eternal Butterfly?" As he walked, Koichirō pondered.

"What on earth is the Insect Museum?" He couldn't make sense of any of it. "What a beautiful voice that was. His heart had been cleansed all at once. "...She must be a young beautiful girl....I think I'd like to meet her."

His mansion was in Kōjimachi. Having returned there, Koichirō found himself hearing an unexpected tale.

IV

The one who told the unexpected story was none other than Kiyozaemon.

"As you well know, lately the Tayasu and Hitotsubashi families have been competing over every trifle, fostering an unsavory rivalry—but now they’ve begun squabbling over something truly preposterous." He began speaking thus. "To put it plainly: within fifty ri of Edo in all directions stands a structure called the Insect Museum, housing what they call Eternal Butterflies—a pair of male and female insects said to bear a mystical legend." "That is—whoever obtains both butterflies, makes them mate and spawn offspring shall gain immeasurable riches—or so it’s claimed." "The one who proposed this was that female mystic you know—Tetsukai Fujin." "And now our lord exhausts himself striving to obtain these butterflies." "But this is utter nonsense." "'Eternal life' means existence without end." "Yet butterflies perish within a year." "There can be no such thing as an Eternal Butterfly." "The fault lies with whoever started this rumor." "Mystics, by tradition, are expounders of Taoism—those who embrace emptiness and tranquility, devotees of Laozi’s philosophy. They ought to be free from worldly desires." "But this Tetsukai Fujin lacks both detachment and serenity." "That woman ceaselessly peddles alchemy here, elixirs there—pushing our lord toward wealth and longevity all while claiming mystic arts! She’s no true practitioner—merely a charlatan dabbling in crude ninjutsu tricks." "Hiring such a woman proved unfortunate for our lord—yet even this stems from their rivalry." "For the Hitotsubashi household first employed a female mystic called Madame Gama, boasting grandiosely of her powers." "And now rumors say that same Madame Gama proposed similar notions to them—so naturally our lord must strain to secure these butterflies too." "Today too saw endless commotion in the palace over these deliberations." "Most troubling indeed." "Such delusions..."

That Koichirō felt both astonishment and interest upon hearing this need not be explained. He leaned forward and inquired. "So, Father—where might this Insect Museum be located?"

“Did I not say it lies within fifty ri of Edo?” “So you don’t know its precise location?” “That’s right—they say even she doesn’t know.”

“If Tetsukai Fujin is a mystic,” he said, “then using her mystic arts, she should’ve located the Insect Museum already.” “Precisely why she’s a fraud!” Kiyozaemon retorted. The old man frowned yet continued, “Though that charlatan did spout this nonsense—‘A peninsula dense with trees, elevated dry land fit for Eternal Butterflies.’” He burst into derisive laughter. “Ah ha ha! What drivel!”

“Who is the owner of the Insect Museum?” “An old entomologist, they say.” “Might he not be accompanied by a daughter with a beautiful, cool voice?”

“Huh?” Kiyozaemon’s eyes rounded in surprise. “No, this concerns my own affairs.” Though he had deflected thus, Koichirō’s mind raced. "How peculiar—utterly peculiar. The Eternal Butterfly at Koume’s fields! The Eternal Butterfly upon returning home! Insect Museums sprouting everywhere! Wait—" His contemplation deepened. "Of two voices heard at Koume, one belonged to an elder—a voice of such divine authority. Be he scholar, priest, or sword saint—none but a sage could produce such tones. And I sought the Eternal Butterfly! Could that voice’s owner be the Insect Museum’s master? ...No—no, unlikely." Koichirō persisted. "If one owned the Museum, why seek the Butterfly? Having the butterfly, they must be distinct individuals... ...No—no, that too feels amiss." Again he pondered.

"I distinctly remember hearing the daughter’s voice at that time clearly state, ‘If you happen to know of it, please deliver it to the Insect Museum.’ Therefore, those who uttered those voices must inevitably be regarded as having some connection to both the Eternal Butterfly and the Insect Museum." There, he sank deeper into contemplation.

"If something like the Eternal Butterfly truly exists in this world, I absolutely must obtain it. If something like the Insect Museum truly exists somewhere, I absolutely want to go and see it. But even more than that, I absolutely want to meet the owner of that beautiful, cool voice who smoothly purged the murderous aura from my heart in one swift motion. Truly, that voice was splendid. Someone with such a splendid voice must undoubtedly be a peerless beauty. Alright, I'll go search for her!"

The year came around, and it was New Year. On January 10th, Tenpō era year 11 (1840), on that clear morning, Isshiki Koichirō departed from his residence.

He wore a deep woven hat and hemmed field hakama, carried large and small swords in waxed sheaths with hilt bags—a crisp travel ensemble—and setting foot upon the Tōkaidō, the swordsman embarked on his journey.

"When I think about it, this is one precarious journey." Koichirō found the situation somewhat amusing. "Relying solely on a girl’s voice I heard just once to go search for its owner—now that’s something."

He plodded along leisurely.

V

It was when he arrived at Kawasaki’s inn.

“Pray ride the horse, samurai-sama.” A lovely girl’s voice rang out.

Isshiki Koichirō turned around to find a female horse handler standing there, holding the reins of a packhorse.

“Right then, you may ride.” “I am most grateful for this. How far shall I accompany you?” “Well now… where should I go?” “I shall accompany you anywhere.” “Well now, where should I go? You, horse girl—where would be good to go?” “Oh ho ho ho,” she laughed, “Kyoto and Osaka are such places of trickery.” “That’s a bit far,” Koichirō thought with a laugh, then said, “You, horse girl—I’ve something to ask. A high, dry peninsula with dense trees and a large pond—I wonder if such a place exists?”

Then, for some reason, the horse girl shot a sharp glance but immediately regained her composure. “Seki-juku in Miura Misaki would seem a fitting place, I should think.” “Ah—there’s the spot.” “Then take me to Seki-juku.”

Koichirō nimbly mounted the horse. The horse handler called out, “Hya, hya, hya.” The horse started walking with a clip-clopping sound. Jingle-jingle-jingle went the bell. The journey began to take on the air of a proper journey.

“Master!” called the horse girl as she tugged the reins. “Is this a pleasure excursion?”

“Well, roughly that sort of thing.” “It’s rather cold for sightseeing.” Her tone held a sardonic edge. “Cold doesn’t trouble me.” “That is indeed most certainly the case.” She chuckled before continuing. “A high, dry peninsula with dense woods and a large pond.” “Since you’re searching for something in such a place, Master—”

“What?!” he exclaimed, though Koichirō had been thoroughly startled. “Why’re you asking that?!” “Because such lands teem with countless mysteries, I’ll have you know.”

"This horse girl is suspicious."

Koichirō noticed this for the first time and scrutinized the woman carefully. She had an imposing physique with refined grace. Her skin was pale white，her hair voluminous，her facial features perfectly balanced—she looked like a daughter from an upper-class merchant household. Her eyes were particularly striking. Their gaze seemed ready to discard reason for passion’s sake. A mole adorned her upper lip. It paradoxically enhanced her charm. "This one’s no real horse handler." Koichirō secretly concluded. Could she perhaps be some sort of female bandit?

Then the woman called out. “There’s no need for concern, dear samurai—I am no villain.” “Hrmph,” Koichirō was flustered. “What nonsense are you spouting? Such trivial matters!” “You were thinking it in your heart all along!”

To this as well, Koichirō was flustered. “Can you actually read people’s hearts?!” “I can understand Master’s heart.”

“This is astonishing. How do you know?” “Because you’re someone dear to me.”

“Huh?” Once again, Koichirō found himself completely taken aback. “Do you mean you like me?!”

“I fell for you at first glance.” “Well, well,” Koichirō said with a bitter smile. This had spiraled into utter madness. “Only a woman in love may fathom her beloved’s heart.”

“Horse girl!” “Don’t startle me so much!”

“Oh ho ho ho! Pray forgive me.”

Koichirō couldn’t make heads or tails of it. What on earth was this woman? Thereupon, he decided to investigate her background. “By the way, what might your name be?” “Yes, my name is Kimie.” “Ah, Kimie. How old are you?” “Yes, I am eighteen.” “And do you have parents?” “Yes, they are in good health.” “And where is the house located?” “In Seki-juku in Miura Misaki.”

“Huh?” Koichirō was startled once more. “Hey now—you shouldn’t tease me this much.” “No no, it’s true.” The horse girl’s voice held earnestness. “My house stands in Miura Misaki’s Seki-juku.” “And so I’ve been thinking of taking you there, Master—to my home.”

“How on earth did that come about?” “It’s an inn business, you see.”

“Ah, so… an inn.” “…Why would an innkeeper’s daughter be working as a horse handler?” “I was searching for someone.” “Hmm. So? Who’re you after?” “Yes, my lover.” After saying this, the horse girl smiled sweetly. “And so today, for the first time, I have found my beloved. “Master, it is you.”

And so it came to pass that swordsman Isshiki Koichirō, through this mere encounter with the horse girl, found himself colliding with unforeseen incidents one after another—torn between love and enmity, villainous swords and chivalrous blades, darkness and light, superstition and wisdom—now emerging in the mystical realm, now vanishing into the mundane world.

Six

Exactly five days had passed since that day. Kimie’s house in Miura Misaki—its house name being Sumiya—was an inn of imposing structure. Emerging nonchalantly from that gateway was none other than Isshiki Koichirō, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The girl named Kimie hadn’t lied. The house was indeed an inn, and her parents were alive and well. And they’re kind to me. Speaking of kindness—that Kimie—she really does seem to love me. It’s a bit troublesome, but not unwelcome. She was bright, lively, and uncomplicated. Truly, a single renowned flower blooming in the wild. Even so, I have another woman I love. I haven’t seen her form yet, but she’s the woman whose voice I heard during the duel at Koumedenbo. I must—absolutely must—find her and meet her... But putting that aside—why won’t Kimie let me go into that forest with the large pond?"

He halted and surveyed his surroundings. A winter-blighted village of part farmers, part fishers lay stretched out in a lone, desolate strip. Beyond that lay farmland. Beyond the farmland lay a vast forest where towering cypress and cedar trees scraped against the crystal-clear sky. He casually glanced back. What had made him say “Huh?” It was because fifteen or sixteen samurai—all in splendid travel attire—were striding briskly in this direction. For so many samurai to come pouring into a backwater post town like Seki-juku—this was no ordinary occurrence. “Strange…” he muttered, then hid in the shadows and watched.

Or perhaps they were unaware? The samurai passed by, chattering noisily.

“First, to the forest!” “There might be an Insect Museum there.” It was the samurai with cheek-beard who said this, adding, “If not there, we’ll head toward Izu next.” “In other words, we’re the vanguard—scouting is our only task.” This came from the samurai with a hooked nose. “Eternal Butterfly! Eternal Butterfly! Does such a thing truly exist?” The samurai with the red birthmark uttered these words. “Neither the Insect Museum nor Eternal Butterfly holds any use for me. That owner of the beautiful, cool voice I heard at Koumedenbo—I must meet her without fail.”

The one who had spoken these words was none other than his romantic rival, Nanbu Shūgorō. They hurried off toward the forest.

Emerging from the shadows, Koichirō couldn’t help but be astonished.

“Hitotsubashi clan samurai bastards!” It seemed they’d come precisely to locate the Insect Museum under Lord Hitotsubashi’s orders. …The one I loathe is Nanbu Shūgorō—once again he’s become my romantic rival. It seems he’s also identified the owner of that voice I heard then as someone connected to the Insect Museum. …I can’t just stand by like this. “No matter who tries to stop me, I’ll push into the forest and won’t rest until I find the owner of that voice before those bastards do.”

As if chasing after them, Koichirō dashed off with a whoosh—but just then, a girl emerged nimbly from Sumiya’s gateway.

“What?!” came the cry—and it was Kimie. “Father! Something terrible has happened!”

“What’s happened?” came the voice of a distinguished man in his fifties who now appeared—Eigorō, Kimie’s father and the local boss of these parts. His hair was half-white, his jowls sagging beneath a gentle countenance, yet his eyes bore a resolute spirit. “Lord Koichirō has gone into the forest!” “Oh! He’s gone in?!” “This is a problem…”

“Father!” “Father!” “You must do something…”

“Well now—can he actually be saved?!” “Ah! If something happens to Lord Koichirō... I’ll die! I’ll die!”

“Alright!” Eigorō resolved. “I’ll round up my men and search every corner of the forest! …But this is the Kodama Woods, true to their name—once you enter, you can never leave! A cursed place! If they can just spot him…”

In the deepest reaches of the Kodama Woods, a single rock towered. A spring welled up from its base. There were a man and a woman talking nearby. One was a beautiful woman around twenty years old with an air of maturity, and the other was a one-legged, ugly man.

“Is the Professor still in ill humor today?” It was the one-legged, unsightly man who had posed this question. “Kichiji, it troubles me so—Father has been perpetually cross of late.” The one who had uttered these words was a woman of striking beauty.

“That must be because those precious male butterflies were stolen from your father.” The one-legged man’s name was Kichiji, and the beautiful woman’s name was Lady Kikyō; their relationship appeared to be that of master and servant.

VII

Lady Kikyō appeared to be around twenty years old—slender and tall, wearing a bellflower-colored long-sleeved kimono befitting her name and a damask obi tied high, yet her hair alone was carelessly gathered at the nape and left to hang down. Precisely because of this, she appeared divine. But her divinity wasn’t limited to her hair alone. Her face too held remarkable divinity. What was especially divine was her gaze. A window to the divine! Exactly so! Her gaze was such that one might say exactly that. She didn’t strike one as some mountain girl. Yet she was no city girl either. She was the sort of girl you might say was a noble princess of superior lineage who, for some reason, had been exiled to dwell in the mountains—Eternal Virgin! This would be the way to put it. Her way of speaking was bright and straightforward, and her lack of pretense made her all the more appealing.

In contrast to this, Kichiji was rather ugly and sinister. He had a low nose, thick lips, and to top it off, only one leg. Yet strangely, he appeared intelligent. His academic knowledge seemed quite profound. He wore a tube-sleeved kimono and Iga hakama trousers, leaning on a crutch. He appeared to be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old.

Lady Kikyō was the Insect Museum Master’s daughter, and Kichiji was the master’s assistant.

“Kichiji, that’s right. Ever since Father lost those male butterflies, he has remained quite displeased.” Lady Kikyō’s voice sounded troubled.

“I find it utterly perplexing.” Kichiji shifted his crutch. “But isn’t that precisely the point? They’re no ordinary butterflies—yet they’ve vanished without a trace.……”

“But it can’t be helped—it’s true.” “The butterflies simply aren’t here now.” “According to the Professor’s words, they seem to have been stolen...but can that truly be so?” “Well now...even this humble woman cannot clearly discern it.” “Tell me, my lady—could the Eternal Butterfly ever be stolen?” “Not when we guard them with such rigor.” “And with the mountain itself an impregnable stronghold—none could possibly infiltrate it.”

“However, it seems we can’t claim that’s entirely true.” Lady Kikyō grew increasingly uneasy. “Lately Father keeps muttering unprompted—‘A terrible enemy has emerged’—he’s said it two or three times now.” “Eh? Such a thing?” “That’s news to me…” “Then what manner of enemy is it?”

“I don’t know at present.…… That being said, as for me……” When she said this, Lady Kikyō—for some reason—fixed her gaze on Kichiji’s face before continuing: “Ah yes—as for me, even were there no such terrible enemy as Father claims… should one wish to steal the Eternal Butterfly, I believe anyone at all could manage it.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Kichiji asked uncertainly in return. “You could steal them, and so could I.” This was a suggestive remark.

“What are you saying, my lady!” Kichiji took a step back. “Someone from among our companions could steal them.” “Ah—so then my lady means there’s a traitor among us who stole them?”

“I’m not stating it that clearly. If it’s a traitor, then they could steal them—I’m merely stating it in this manner.” “How could there be a traitor among us?” “How I truly, truly wish that were so.” There, the two fell silent. Kichiji was staring at his feet. There was a rock basin filled with spring water—a round basin large enough to hold a single person. The beauty of the water held within! It should have been clear all the way to the bottom, yet the bottom lay pitch-black. It must have been extremely deep. The sky was reflected on the water’s surface. A bird must have flown through that sky, for its shadow was cast upon the water—only to vanish in an instant. Kichiji’s gaze remained fixed upon the rock basin’s water surface!

Then, from behind the large rock, a voice called out.

“Kikyō! Kikyō! Are you there, Kikyō?” “Yes, Father—I am here.” Appearing from around the rock was a peculiar old man. The garment he wore was a doufuku robe—not in the Chinese style but rather Dutch-influenced, with embroidery adorning both collar and sleeves. The color was black, the fabric woolen broadcloth, with embroidery decorating the hem as well. Peeking out from beneath the hem were similarly Dutch-style boots. The hat he wore was also Dutch-fashion—the wide-brimmed sort a Puritan might use, its edges curling upward.

VIII The white hair spilling from beneath his hat—how beautiful it was! Billowing forth and gathered at his shoulders. A broad forehead, sunken eye sockets, and within them eyes shining with spiritual intellect! Indeed, he was every inch the great scholar. An exceedingly noble, high nose—of a Greek type rare among Japanese men. Will! How strong! As if declaring this through slightly thick lips came glimpses of perfectly aligned teeth—one would never take him for an old man. His angular jaw too spoke of indomitable will. His complexion glowed ruddily, unmarred by wrinkles. Tall in stature and well-muscled, his posture stood ramrod straight. He had long resided in Europe before recently returning to his homeland—a Japanese bearing such an air about him. Though harboring intense suffering, he suppressed it through formidable willpower while deliberately maintaining a cheerful demeanor. —Such was his bearing.

“So this is where you are, Kikyō—and Kichiji’s here too.” “You know, I think I’ll give up after all.” He sat down on a section of the rock and began speaking in this manner. “If it’s gone, then it can’t be helped.” “We’ve searched every possible way, but since we can’t find it, there’s nothing to be done.” “And besides,” he continued with a touch of sarcasm, “even if someone were to obtain a single male butterfly, not only would it be utterly useless—the person who acquired it would actually incur misfortune instead.” “They’d probably be so startled they’d let it escape without fail.” “If they let it escape, the butterfly should return.” “Ah—to this mountain.” “So we’ll wait for it here.” “Even if they never return for all eternity—as long as we retain possession of the remaining female butterflies—we’ll be perfectly fine.” “The secrets of mystery aren’t meant to be solved.” “That said—of course we’ll remain vigilant and keep searching constantly.” “What I mean is this.” “To fixate solely on the lost male butterflies while neglecting the female ones would be counterproductive—that’s what I’m saying.” “What do you think, Kikyō?” He stroked his beard.

“That is most reasonable.” Lady Kikyō’s voice sounded happy.

“Well, your decision has been reached.” “Truly, that is indeed so.” “They shall return in time.” “Let us wait, Father.” “…And I pray you may become again your former cheerful self, devoting yourself wholeheartedly to your research.”

“Ah, certainly—let us settle it thus.” “There’s no use getting sulky about it.” “You see—the world rarely bends to our whims.” “So I shall remain my usual cheerful self and work diligently as ever.” “Kichiji—what do you think?”

Then Kichiji also replied with apparent relief, “I find this most agreeable.” “If the Professor were to become melancholy, we would be utterly at a loss as to what to do.”

“Ahahaha! Of course! If I, the master, were to get angry, everyone would find it difficult to work.” “Very well—from now on, we’ll proceed cheerfully.” “Always keep laughing brightly.” He laughed once more, but it was a forced sort of laugh. “Come now, Kichiji—work, work! Go and give everyone their instructions.” “Hmm… Today’s greenhouse maintenance.” “Hmm… Then there’s installing the incubator… Hmm… Then manufacturing the honeycomb structures… Busy busy! So very busy… Now then—?”

At these words, the Insect Museum Master tilted his head as if perplexed. He seemed to be trying to listen for something. The sound of wind passing through the forest, the sound of spring water dripping from rocks—nothing else could be heard beyond that... But apparently, the Insect Museum Master could hear another sound. In an instant, his face grew stern, and his eyes narrowed with apparent displeasure. “Some fool’s coming! Don’t let them interfere!”

"How vexing this is." The one who said this was Lady Kikyō, who similarly knitted her brows.

“From which direction are they approaching?” It was Kichiji who asked this.

“They’re coming from the foothills direction—from Seki-juku.” “Let us drive them away using the usual method.” Kichiji tapped his crutch upward. “Very well, Kichiji—drive them away!” “Pardon me.”

Having said that, he started running. He ran with remarkable agility. He was far, far more agile than two-legged humans.

“Kikyō, let’s go to the room and have some tea. …How bothersome these folks from the world are—coming to disturb our residence from time to time!”

“How truly vexing this is.”

“They won’t even let me conduct my research in peace.” “Utterly insufferable creatures, these common rabble—disgusting wretches.” “They’re just overly curious, I tell you.” “And for their own satisfaction, they don’t care a whit about inconveniencing others.”

“Let us retire to the room, shall we?”

With that, the two of them rounded the rock and vanished into the depths.

Trickle trickle trickle trickle—the spring’s sound played delicate music. The chirping of small birds could be heard. The winter sun shone brightly. It was quiet, pure, and peaceful.

But as if to disrupt this peace, a great brawl occurred not long after that.

Nine

Pushing his way through the Kodama Forest, Isshiki Koichirō walked on.

"I must find that Insect Museum before those Hitotsubashi samurai at all costs—my pride won't stand otherwise. But damn, this terrain's impossible to walk through."

Tall trees towered lushly and majestically. Branches and leaves covered the sky. Though it was daytime, no sunlight pierced through. The surroundings were dim as twilight; shrubs and creeping vines grew thickly. They tried to snatch at walking feet. A giant fallen tree lay horizontally, and it too stopped his feet. A boulder like a small hill lay there. Old ponds existed here and there. Something suddenly jumped out. A group of pure white rabbits. Something rustled across the branches. They were several wild monkeys. Caw, caw—something cried out. It resembled a bird yet also a beast. The season was January; the place, a great forest; the air chillingly cold enough to freeze. The wind whistled—whoosh, whoosh—through the trees. It must have been passing through the treetops. But perhaps because the trees grew so densely, the wind did not blow into the forest. The ground seemed to be frozen. Decayed leaves covered it.

And with a squelch, his feet sank in. Isshiki Koichirō climbed up the slope, trudging steadily onward. His mind raced, so his feet quickened. But to avoid getting winded, he gathered strength in his dantian. "Come to think of it, this is rather precarious." Koichirō thought to himself.

"If I keep climbing up and up through this unfamiliar forest in this haphazard way—just recklessly pushing upward—will I even manage to reach that Large Pond they say exists here? And even so—would there truly be an Insect Museum by the Large Pond? Even if I were fortunate enough to locate both the Large Pond and the Insect Museum, would I even be able to discover the owner of that beautiful voice?... But well—I won’t dwell on that. Just walk! Walk! Just keep moving! Keep moving!"

And so he pushed resolutely forward. And then, as the forest trees thinned out, he emerged into a small open space. A massive boulder towered.

“Hmm?” At that moment, Koichirō stopped in his tracks and listened intently. For human footsteps echoed off that massive boulder. They seemed to be approaching from the other side of the rock formation, heading this way. This was no pair of stragglers. There were fifteen or sixteen of them.

“Hah! So the Hitotsubashi samurai bastards have come at last.” “Now what should I do?”—With matters having reached this point, there remained no alternative course of action. To either flee or confront them outright—those stood as his sole options. “What will come of it? I’ll clash head-on!” Having reached swift resolution, Isshiki Koichirō rapidly surveyed his surroundings—likely gauging footing. “Just my luck—there’s a massive boulder here.” “I’ll make this my shield immediately—why hesitate? I’ll cut through them!” He crouched in readiness and lay waiting—yet the group beyond the rock remained oblivious to his presence, approaching while chattering noisily. At that moment Koichirō raised his voice.

“Look out!” he first shouted. Then he proclaimed gallantly: “Ah! So you’ve come—with Lord Nanbu Shūgorō leading and Lord Hitotsubashi’s retainers in tow. “Your purpose being to seek the Insect Museum—am I not correct?” Here, he paused briefly and gauged their reactions.

They seemed utterly shocked—the footsteps halted and voices fell silent. But at once came Nanbu Shūgorō’s portentous voice.

“And who might you be?” “None other than retainers of Lord Hitotsubashi!” Thereupon, Koichirō raised his voice. “Mr. Nanbu—I recognize that voice.” “I am Isshiki Koichirō—the man you hold a grudge against.” “And one who holds a grudge against you in turn.” “At Koumebatake, our much-anticipated duel met an untimely end through unforeseen interference.” “Let us conclude what began that night—here and now.” “Now then,” Koichirō declared, his voice rising with emphasis, “to the remaining gentlemen of House Hitotsubashi—while we share no personal quarrel, I stand foremost as a retainer of House Tayasu, just as you serve Lord Hitotsubashi. As all parties well know, our houses have contended in every affair of late.” “Therefore,” he said, his tone turning dismissive.

“The competition between lords is none other than a competition between retainers.” “When that comes to a head, it becomes a fight.” “When quarrels reach their extremity—they become duels to the death!” “This has long been an established matter.” “Then fight!” “Then duel!” “It’s a showdown—!” He shouted threateningly. Then he strained his ears intently. From the other side came no response. But there was a restless commotion. They seemed to be preparing. “The enemy is numerous, and I am alone—I must resort to some trickery.” Having thought this, Koichirō deliberately called out in a stern voice: “I am on this side of the large boulder.” “I shall await you here indefinitely.” “Whether from the left or the right—come at me as you please.” “You may attack from both sides simultaneously—that’s acceptable too.” “Circle around the rock—come now, make your move!”

Drawing his sword smoothly, he slithered to the left corner of the boulder and then dropped prone.

Ten Koichirō pressed his ear to the ground—listening for how many Hitotsubashi samurai approached from this direction through their footsteps. Then came stealthy footfalls crunching through decaying leaves. "Hmm... Roughly seven or eight... Ah—then another seven or eight must be coming from the opposite side." Just as planned. They were circling from both flanks—likely aiming to strike front and back. "Good," he kept listening. "Three yards... two yards... They've stopped." "They're moving again—hesitantly... Here they come!"

Koichirō jumped up—but by the time he did, he had already leaped out. A raised blade—the cadence of a one-handed strike—with a roar, he unleashed a strike aimed at the throat, guided by instinct, and sliced clean through.

A scream—“Gah!”—the first to fall was the aquiline-nosed warrior, his skull split diagonally from right to left across the eye socket. The birthmarked warrior who had advanced second let out a startled “Oh!”, his fierce spirit and splendid swordsmanship faltering when he saw his comrade slain before him, leaving him rooted like a stone pillar. Koichirō regripped his longsword, twisted the hilt, stepped forward while crouching low, and—aiming upward at the left torso between fifth and sixth ribs—executed Shōkan-ryū’s Savage Battlefield Sweep, carving through flesh with a brutal slash.

The warrior with the birthmark groaned deeply, his sword clattering to the ground, but then arched his entire body like a bow and shambled forward with unsteady steps. With controlled breath, Koichirō swiftly drew his sword back to his side. The felled enemies thudded to the ground; blood gushed out in thick streams that soaked into the decaying leaf litter below. In an instant, two had been struck down—the unsettled Hitotsubashi retainers involuntarily faltered back—

“Here I come!” he shouted, abruptly thrusting his right foot forward—a display of relentless momentum. Terrified, the House of Hitotsubashi retainers drew back their swords and fled in one breath back the way they had come. Pretending to give chase, Koichirō twisted his body and leapt back to the rock’s edge. He paused for a moment to listen intently, then muttered “They’re here,” and sprang forward. Sure enough, seven or eight men were there. The first to stand was a warrior with sideburns, who—suddenly having Koichirō spring out at him—startled and stepped back,

“Here I come—!” he boomed his signature roar, first issuing a thunderous challenge before springing forward like a ricocheting ball—but as the warrior pressed his sword’s pommel to his chest and hunched his shoulders in an instant, with a “Hmph!”, Koichirō thrust both hands forward—a perfect strike! Exactly! To the enemy’s throat! But in that moment, one foe sliced swiftly from the right. Without hesitation he leapt back; an attacker who’d missed his mark stumbled forward two or three steps, propelled by his own momentum. The figure crouched low—its right shoulder poised to strike—looming three shaku before Koichirō’s eyes. Seizing the opening, Koichirō raised his blade and swept sideways—a clean horizontal cut.

His right arm severed at the shoulder, he screamed and spun round and round like a top two or three times; then his waist crumpled limply before he finally toppled sideways.

There once again, Isshiki Koichirō had struck down two men in an instant. The Hitotsubashi retainers, two of whom had been struck down, kept their tachi at the ready as they retreated, step by step pulling back; but when they reached the rock’s edge, they turned their backs and withdrew in unison into the shadow of the boulder. Having driven the enemies on both flanks to their respective sides, Koichirō—now alone—was not so untrained a warrior as to catch his breath there. He pressed his back firmly against the large boulder; with the enemy before him, he glared intensely forward—then abruptly sank his posture and darted out his right foot. Bending from the knee, he planted his left leg, positioned the sword’s hilt two sun above the bent kneecap, and spread his tachi diagonally like branching limbs. It was his signature stance—the Lower Hassō. A surefire winning technique in Shōkan-ryū, devised from the staff’s kaiten sweeping motion. And then, slowly turning his head, he looked to his right hand. However, the House of Hitotsubashi retainers did indeed appear around the rock’s edge—but having perhaps learned from their earlier defeat, they took a detour and stragglingly lined up in a row several yards directly ahead, assuming battle stances.

“Well, well… Here they come,” he muttered. Koichirō turned his head and slowly looked to his left. Just as he’d anticipated, the House of Hitotsubashi retainers—who had circled around the rock’s edge after fleeing earlier—now similarly took a detour while stragglingly forming a line several yards directly ahead.

A samurai abruptly stepped forward and called out, “Mr. Isshiki!” It was none other than Nanbu Shūgorō—a man of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a ruddy complexion, large and obese build, and an imposing stature due to his long upper body. Thick eyebrows, round eyes, a long nose bridge, and a large mouth. Two vertical wrinkles between his eyebrows gave him a sinister appearance. He called out “Mr. Isshiki” once more but continued mockingly: “What a cursed bond we share—you and I! Not only did we clash at Kōme Field over some riverbed wench, but now it seems we must vie for the owner of a beautiful voice whose very face remains unknown. Now, you might claim ignorance of such matters— They might say our quarrel stems from Bandō Koshino or some mysterious Insect Museum… but no, no—such trifles mean nothing. Once you’ve heard that voice at Kōme Field—such beauty would captivate any mortal.” “Indeed,” said Shūgorō, his lips curling into a lecherous grin that oozed discomfort, “indeed,” he repeated. “I too was captivated—so much so that I ventured all the way here to lay eyes upon that voice’s owner. And as for you—there can be no doubt you’ve come seeking her too. Have I gone mad? This perceptiveness! Still… to encounter you here of all places—most unexpected. There—the term ‘ill-fated bond’ rings clear as a temple bell.” “But enough prattle.” “Gentlemen!” Shūgorō turned to his assembled forces.

Eleven Having turned to his allies, Shūgorō spoke as if issuing a warning. “Mr. Isshiki here is a master of Shōkan-ryū—a man who cut down four opponents in an instant with that splendid skill of his.” “You’ll never best him in single combat!” “So form up together! Make a semicircle! Press inward steadily and draw him into a storm of blades!” “Let none slip through! Understood?” “...Mr. Isshiki!” Shūgorō now called out to Koichirō. “Come now—leap right in with gusto!” “Strike at the center, and I’ll engage you myself—while my left and right wings envelop you for the kill.” “Veer left, and my right flank wheels about; turn right, and my left flank does the same—either way, you’ll be wrapped up and cut down.” “But if you mean to cower against that rock forever—splendid! We’ll inch ever closer until twelve naked blades rain upon you all at once! ...Gentlemen!” Shūgorō turned again to his men. “Shall we begin preparing this human stew?”

In response to his voice, the House of Hitotsubashi retainers spread out left and right to form a semicircle, inching closer with menacing intent. Meanwhile, Isshiki Koichirō remained motionless in the Lower Hassō stance with the rock at his back. Yet his mind raced. "If I strike at the center like Shūgorō said, the wings will fold in instantly." "Can't win if enveloped." "But attacking left or right would still trap me." "Better hold position here." "Let them come as close as they dare." "Then leap out—cut down that bastard Shūgorō first." "Two or three more down, they'll break." "Coming... closer..." "They pressed inward relentlessly." "...Twelve against one. Tricky." "Nah! No problem! No problem!"

At last, he pressed his body down and gradually leaned his upper torso forward from the hips—preparing to leap out. The distance gradually narrowed. Now, neither side spoke. Twelve swords slithered sinuously through the dusk-dimmed forest, advancing toward a single blade. The single sword that met them swayed up and down like a wagtail’s tail, flickering intermittently as it gleamed blue.

It was a silence filled with killing intent. Startled by the killing intent, dozens of sparrows formed a straight line and flew soundlessly through the forest from one side to the other. Dead leaves, scattered by flapping wings, fluttered down—fluttered down, fluttered down—onto the crossed swords. But at that moment—what was happening?—the low drone of a bamboo war horn resounded from the foot of the mountain. Following that, the voices of a great many people calling in unison echoed through the forest, rousing the tree spirits as they came.

“Mr. Isshiki!” “Lord Koichirō!” “Hey! Hey!” “Hey! Hey!”

Eigorō, the gang leader from Seki-juku; his roughly one hundred followers; and his daughter Kimie, who had joined their ranks—the entire party searching for Koichirō now ascended higher and higher through the great forest. At the very front stood Eigorō, with Kimie accompanying him.

“Father, are you all right?” Kimie’s voice trembled. “Well, I can’t say for sure.” Eigorō’s voice sounded uneasy.

“This forest… it’s a cursed place. There’d be crowds screaming one moment, then boulders suddenly rolling down—or floods rushing out of nowhere. Dozens of disabled folk would appear hand-in-hand, only to vanish when you blink. Then you’d find a maiden fair as a celestial nymph leaning against a tree, lost in thought… and next thing, a godlike old man with an insect cage dangles from a branch like he owns the air itself. Nothing but strangeness here… This forest despises ordinary folk trespassing, see?...”

Twelve “That’s what I tried to tell you,” Kimie said in a trembling voice. “Lord Koichirō—Mr. Isshiki—you must not enter that forest. It is a dreadful cursed place. Once you enter, danger will surely befall your person. You mustn’t! You mustn’t! You mustn’t go in… Yet he slid right through as though possessed. Father! Father! Let’s hurry! Quickly! Quickly! Let’s locate him! ……May you remain unharmed. ……I am trembling so much. ……My chest is getting tighter and tighter!”

“Right, right—we must hurry! If we don’t find him soon, it’ll be too late! …Hey! Hey! You lot—shout out! Call out! Call out!”

There, they all began shouting. “Lord Koichirō! Mr. Isshiki!” The voices echoed through the forest. “Lord Koichirō!” came the reply. “Mr. Isshiki!” came the reply. Kimie joined in and called out as well. Kimie’s voice was the highest. It was the earnest voice of a young girl searching for her lover. One person blew a bamboo war horn dully. Only the tree spirits echoed back hollowly. Thudding onward, the whole group pressed forward. The footing was treacherous, treacherous.

Then, the dense forest broke off, and a modest clearing appeared. There stood a massive boulder. Before it stood a single samurai. It was none other than Isshiki Koichirō, his tachi poised precisely. Surrounding him in a semicircle, twelve samurai stood poised.

It was an utterly unexpected sight. Eigorō, Kimie, and all the followers gasped as one, rooted to the spot.

That was the moment. Koichirō leaped forward in one swift bound. A glint of steel flashed—his sword. A scream pierced through the forest. One samurai crumpled to the ground. But in the very next instant, eleven samurai swirled around and enveloped Koichirō at their center. “Father!”

“Kimie!” The parent and child staggered unsteadily—no doubt because they thought Isshiki Koichirō had been cut down by the eleven samurai. But that fear proved groundless. Several sword clashes rang out. Several screams pierced the air. Two samurai tumbled to the ground. Then the remaining warriors spontaneously broke ranks, scattering left and right. From that gap sprang a samurai like a bouncing ball. It was Koichirō—backed against the rock with perhaps minor injuries, yet unwavering as he held his sword at the ready.

“You bastards!” Eigorō bellowed for the first time, his voice resounding loudly. “Take them out from behind! “Slaughter them all!” “Sanpin!”

Over a hundred followers armed with bamboo spears, clubs, short swords, and assorted weapons raised a thunderous battle cry. With Eigorō at the forefront and even Kimie joining in, they charged into the group of samurai.

But at this moment, what an extraordinary thing occurred!

From the depths of the forest came two distinctly eerie, elfin cries.

“Do not defile the mountain!” “Do not defile the mountain!”

Then came a roaring sound.

Then came a great flood. More a waterfall than a river, it rolled stones, toppled trees, uprooted thickets of shrubs, and thus swept people away. What became of Koichirō? What became of the Hitotsubashi samurai? What became of Eigorō, Kimie, and the others?

Now, several days had passed since that day.

This was the depths of the forest. A large pond—its circumference perhaps half a ri—lay contained within the forest’s depths. On that shore, houses were dotted here and there.

The exceptionally large wooden house was an utterly unconventional structure. To put it simply, it was Dutch-style, with insect motifs carved into the pillars, walls, and doors. It was midday; sunlight fell upon it.

Then, the entrance door opened, and a single samurai appeared. Why, if it wasn't Isshiki Koichirō!

He began sauntering around the front courtyard. “What a fine view—so unconventional. I wouldn’t think this was a Japanese landscape.”

He muttered these words under his breath.

“Lord Koichirō.”

At the sound of a voice calling out，from behind the house appeared Lady Kikyō，her smile lingering. “How are you feeling, my lord?” “Thanks to you, I’m feeling much clearer today.” Koichirō cheerfully returned the laugh. “What a dreadful deluge that was.” “On the contrary, thanks to that deluge, I was able to come to the Insect Museum—a most welcome outcome for me.” “On top of that, I was able to meet you—the owner of that beautiful voice.”

“Oh my,” said Lady Kikyō as she looked toward the flower bed. From the shade of the everblooming roses, someone had been peering out. As if eavesdropping on their conversation.

13 “What’s wrong?” Koichirō asked, gazing intently at Lady Kikyō’s face. “It’s nothing at all.” Lady Kikyō spoke these words with a trace of unease. But the owner of those peering eyes vanished at once. A clack-clack sound rang out—the telltale noise of a crutch. The eavesdropper was likely Kichiji. He appeared to have departed by circling around the flower bed.

Koichirō and Lady Kikyō began walking toward the large pond. "That great flood certainly took me by surprise," he said. "Fortunately, since I was sheltered beneath a rock, I wasn't swept away—though I imagine every last one of those others got carried off." Koichirō spoke with amused detachment. "But truth be told, they made me swallow enough water to last a lifetime. Quite the ordeal I endured." "What a dreadful experience that must have been." Lady Kikyō smiled serenely yet continued: "It must have been fate. Though uncharacteristically concerned, I took my servants to inspect that great boulder—only to find a handsome young samurai lying unconscious there." Her voice softened slightly. "You yourself, in fact. While I rescued you without delay... Father grew most disagreeable."

“Your father, the Insect Museum Master, is a bit of an eccentric, isn’t he? Ah hah hah!” he laughed. “He seems the sort of misanthrope common among scholars. By the way, I hear that deluge was artificially created?” “It is that if one merely moves a single lever, the waters of the Large Pond will gush forth and flow out.” “What a dreadful lever.” Koichirō nevertheless looked amused. “Ah, but for driving off the common rabble, it’s quite an excellent design. From what I gather, there are various other defenses as well, I hear?”

“Yes,” said Lady Kikyō, though she seemed disinclined to speak further on the matter. She abruptly changed the subject.

“What an odious man you are.” She made this remark out of nowhere. “Huh?” He was momentarily taken aback. “And who might this ‘odious wretch’ be?” “I would never deign to call anyone ‘wretch’”—Lady Kikyō glared at him as if chiding his choice of words—“What an odious person you are.” “Ah—could that possibly be referring to me?” “Yes indeed, precisely so!” “In that case—” Koichirō deliberately adopted an exaggerated look of sorrow. “It seems offering my love to a young lady blessed with such a beautiful voice does not meet with your approval.”

“It doesn’t suit my taste—not to me, you see.” Lady Kikyō also deliberately feigned ignorance. “In love, there exists a proper manner of offering.” “Shall I receive it? This ‘offering’ you speak of?” “You are to kneel.” “Ah, then like this—” Suddenly Koichirō dropped to his knees and raised both hands in supplication. “Pray accept my love!”

“O knight,” Lady Kikyō said with a laugh. “Do not swing your tachi recklessly behind large rocks or in places like the Komae rice fields.” “Ah! So when you spoke of an ‘odious wretch,’ you meant that matter?” “As for the odious person I spoke of—” “Understood. I’ll take care!” “—Now then, young lady—what of my love?” “Arise! My knight!” Then she stretched out one hand resolutely. Koichirō grasped the hand and stood up—this time in earnest—letting out a cry of jubilation.

“Ah, you are mine!” Then he thought to himself. "I never imagined this love would be established so quickly."

But Lady Kikyō looked uneasy. "Something seems to follow us... "Terrible, terrible danger! "Ah, somehow with our love—!" "Please believe me," Koichirō said, pointing to his chest. "I'll prove I can protect. "With this shield—" Then he extended both arms. "Please believe me—these very arms!" The two tried to embrace each other seductively.

It was a path leading to the Large Pond. The path was flanked by flowerbeds on both sides. Early spring flowers were blooming. Golden flowers of striped narcissus, purple blossoms of winter jasmine, camellias, cold-red plums, Galanthus—here and there shrubs grew. White plum branches stretched out stiffly. They bore shell-like flowers. The midday sun spilled onto the path. The laid sand glittered. Two shadows were cast. Ahead lay the Large Pond, its waters shining as though gilded with foil. Behind them stood the Insect Museum, and its entrance door was open. The window curtains were drawn. Sunlight also fell upon the insect patterns carved into the pillars and plank walls.

And then, a voice called out from there. “Kikyō, Kikyō, come here for a moment!”

When the curtain was drawn open, what appeared was the face of the Insect Museum Master.

Fourteen

After parting with Lady Kikyō, Koichirō set off walking toward the Large Pond. His heart was filled with happiness.

“Feast your eyes, Nanbu Shūgorō, you bastard!” He muttered such things. “I won! I won! I found the Insect Museum first—and I got Lady Kikyō herself before you did! The owner of that beautiful voice!” “Though only her ‘heart’ for now.” “But I’ll take her body too and show you!” “But what’s become of you, Shūgorō? Did that flood sweep you into some ravine to die?” Then he muttered again: “Feast your eyes too, Bandō Koshino! You scheming witch!” “I’ve no use for a woman like you!” Here he grew somber. “But Kimie—what of her? And Lord Eigorō? They came with all those men to save me...but likely got swept away too.” “Did they fall into some gorge and die?” “If so—what wretchedness.” Yet Koichirō steeled himself. “No—I’ll think no more on it.” “Let me drown in this present bliss.”

Having emerged onto the shore of the Large Pond, Koichirō spread out some withered grass and gazed out. It wasn’t a particularly unusual pond. Black rocks, likely lava-formed, encircled the pond completely. The pond was elliptical in shape; though some artificial modifications had been added, it appeared to have formed naturally. The water’s color was a blue so deep it verged on black, as was typical for early spring. Not a single ripple marred its surface. That is to say, because the wind wasn’t blowing. It looked exactly as if tanned leather had been spread out. It shone as though inlaid with foil. This was undoubtedly due to the play of sunlight. Several waterfowl floated. Aquatic plants flowed lushly. As he gazed, his heart grew calm, and he slipped into a trance.

Around the pond stood numerous houses dotted here and there. They showed no unusual construction. They were small wooden Japanese-style houses. Yet all were single-story structures with shoji screens glistening whitely in sunlight. The residents appeared fond of flowers, for each house’s front garden held flower beds where early spring blooms opened.

Encircling the pond and houses as if guarding them, a towering great forest—with trunks as sturdy as rusted iron and leaves as black as obsidian—completely encircling the area could truly be called a magnificent sight. And so, the scenery of this place could be described thus: Within the cylinder of the great forest were enclosed a tranquil pond, charming houses, and beautiful flower beds—all completely surrounded—and there, a great number of people were working cheerfully.

Indeed, a great number of people were working there. There were people inside the houses as well. There were people outside the houses as well. Everyone was bustling about busily. There were men and women, the elderly and children. Laughter, chatter, and song blended into a pleasant chorus that spread toward the Large Pond. What were they working on, I wonder? They seemed to be performing their respective tasks for the Insect Museum Master.

Perhaps because it was surrounded by the forest, cold winds did not blow in. The season was indeed January, but the climate felt more like March. The weather was splendid; the surroundings were bright, and small birds sang in every direction. A Peach Blossom Spring! A world apart! But it was also a society of disabled persons. The reason was that each and every one of the many people working there was missing an ear or a leg, hunchbacked or blind, mute or deaf—there were no able-bodied individuals.

It seemed that the erudite Insect Museum Master had gathered society’s disabled persons, built a separate society here, and was engaged in some manner of enterprise. But when viewed from afar, they did not appear to be disabled persons. They all looked like healthy people. "Peaceful, serene, and beautiful." "A splendid realm." "Looks like a nice place to live." While entranced, Koichirō thought such things. "Marry Lady Kikyō, have that scholar as my father-in-law, and live here forever—that’s what I want."

A drowsiness began to creep over him. He attempted to lie down. But just then, he sensed someone approaching—a palpable human presence. The clack-clack of a crutch sounded around the base of a shrub thicket, and there appeared the one-legged Kichiji, who came to a halt before Koichirō and insolently looked him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze— “Sir Knight,” he declared. Then he burst out laughing in a hoarse voice. When his laughter subsided, he spoke. “It appears Mr. Isshiki remains unaware of what is strictly forbidden here at this mysterious Insect Museum.”

"What a disagreeable fellow," said Koichirō, roused from pleasant drowsiness yet retaining his bright, sardonic nature. He countered without yielding. "I'm but a novice here—the Insect Museum's codes? Truly, I haven't the foggiest notion." "Evidently not," replied the one-legged Kichiji, his insolence intensifying, "but defile her you must not! The Queen! Romance with Her Majesty is strictly prohibited." "Ah yes, how very prudent." Though Isshiki Koichirō spoke thus, he had already discerned the Queen's identity.

Fifteen

At that moment, Koichirō spoke. “I won’t defile her—I’ll only revere her.”

“That’s the problem,” said the one-legged Kichiji. “Reverence inevitably leads to defilement.”

“A ‘wise maxim,’” Koichirō scoffed. “Your insights into human nature seem remarkably thorough.” “Well then, I’ll provisionally accept that.” “Comply!” Kichiji pressed in a domineering voice, sharply beginning his rebuke. “Why not simply depart from the Insect Museum!” Koichirō affected an exaggerated look of perplexity. “Now I wonder… might Her Majesty the Queen grant such permission?”

“Now, now, now! That’s the problem!” “There is no permitting or forbidding here,” Kichiji rebuked sternly. “By rule, outsiders from the mundane world are never allowed entry to this Mysterious Insect Museum. That exception was made to permit you alone residence here springs entirely from Lady Kikyō’s extraordinary mercy.” “That’s precisely why,” Koichirō retorted coolly, “Lady Kikyō herself declares she won’t release this humble one.” “That’s precisely why,” Kichiji countered. “Such being the compassionate Lady Kikyō—you mustn’t love her, mustn’t touch her hand, nay, mustn’t even kneel before her.”

“Ah ha! So you were spying on me!” “I was keeping watch. Don’t be so harsh!” “It was Lady Kikyō who took my hand.” “Because you were the one who demanded it!” “I’ve only confessed my feelings.” “Now,” Kichiji said resentfully, “there isn’t a single soul in this Insect Museum who doesn’t love Lady Kikyō.” “They’ve just never dared say it aloud!”

“That’s why I’m the one who said it.”

“Exactly, you outsider heathen!” “Heathen? Splendid! The victor in love!” “I won’t allow this!” Kichiji thrust his crutch upward and advanced. “I won’t allow this!” “Oh? Won’t you now?” Yet to Koichirō, this posturing meant less than nothing. “What exactly are you to her? Brother? Kinsman? Some relation to Lady Kikyō?” “The Queen’s most devoted servant!” This constituted Kichiji’s riposte. “Is that so?” Koichirō roared with laughter. “Then I’ll elevate you myself—yes, this very I! When I become Her Majesty’s royal consort!” “When I ascend as consort!”

Contrary to expectations of anger, the opposite unfolded. The one-legged Kichiji hushed his voice into a whisper, speaking in tones both fawning and pleading.

“Now, now, Lord Koichirō—let’s cease this conspicuous behavior.” “After all, this isn’t doing either of us any good.” “So this time it’s a consultation—no, rather a request.” “The reason being—as I mentioned earlier—there isn’t a single soul dwelling in this Insect Museum who doesn’t both love and revere the beautiful Lady Kikyō.” “She is Her Majesty the Queen in every literal sense.” “That’s precisely why Her Ladyship must remain an eternal virgin—otherwise no order can prevail.” “Should anyone dare monopolize her, why everyone would rage.” “Moreover you’re an outsider—already watched with suspicion even without that.” “If one such as you were to claim her, the residents would raise an uproar as if seeing it unfold—this worries me sorely...” “Therefore I earnestly entreat you to quit this Insect Museum posthaste.” Here he fixed him with a stern glare but softened his voice further. “Should that displease you, very well—reside here.” “But take utmost care—henceforth never approach Lady Kikyō’s vicinity again.” “And then—” he added slyly, tapping his eyelids twice thrice, “—you must tell Her Ladyship thus: ‘That hand Your Grace extended earlier must have been some error.’” “‘As for myself—with all due respect—I must decline your affections at this juncture.’ ...Thus shall this village maintain eternal peace.”

When told this, even Koichirō had no choice but to give it some thought. "I see… That might indeed be how it is," he muttered inwardly. "It seems there’s no falsehood in the claim that every last resident of the Insect Museum reveres Lady Kikyō. If I, an outsider, were to monopolize her, they would certainly feel displeased. The hard-earned peace would be shattered. There’s no helping it now. Though she would make a precious lover, I shall abandon Lady Kikyō and depart from here. And so I shall first return to Seki-juku and see how the Angle House is faring. Then I shall return to Edo." "But wait a moment," Koichirō said, scrutinizing Kichiji’s face. "Though ugly-faced, he seems clever." But that cleverness of his seemed rather twisted. "Can I really take this guy’s words at face value?" He suddenly noticed this flaw.

And already, the one-legged Kichiji seemed to have read Koichirō’s inner thoughts. He nimbly leapt back two or three steps and abruptly shifted his demeanor.

Sixteen

“Hmph.” First and foremost, the one-legged Kichiji laughed venomously. “Will you comply? Or will you refuse? What’ll it be? What’ll it be!” When he said “If,” he hopped out about two steps and declared, “If you refuse—prepare yourself! A terrible danger will befall you! And it’ll strike immediately! Well? Your answer!” As he spoke, he leaned his entire body—strangely yet purposefully—toward his single good leg, shifting his weight slowly and deliberately.

“So this guy really is a villain after all!” Isshiki Koichirowa thrust him aside forcefully upon seeing through the deception. “I won’t forsake love! I’ll stay right here! Ah ha ha! How pitiful for you!” “You insist?!” KichiJi leaned his full weight onto his single leg while slightly hunching his shoulders—thrusting his head forward with an upward glare aimed at Koichirowa’s jawline. “Don’t underestimate this KichiJi!” “Don’t you dare look down on Isshiki Koichirowa!”

The instant an "Ungh!"—a ferocious groan—burst from Kichiji's throat, his crutch sliced upward through the air with a swish. At its tip glinted a steel ring—no ordinary band, but one armored with countless sharp metallic spikes. An unexpected weapon, splendid technique, ruthless timing—a martial art transcending martial arts itself! It was Koichirō who cried "Agh!"—had his jaw been smashed to pieces, teeth scattered, tongue bitten through while vomiting blood before collapsing backward with a "Gghh—", one would have had to call him a thuggish samurai. What kind of samurai would Koichirō be if he were such a man? In the very instant he cried “Ah!”, he had already leapt back nearly twelve feet in a single bound.

Though he had placed a hand on the hilt, he made no move to draw it and instead calmly observed Kichiji’s movements. Then Kichiji stood on one leg and raised his crutch high—his posture so magnificent it was astonishing, like an oak tree rooted deep in the earth—and slowly, deliberately began lowering the crutch downward, ever downward. With a thud, he planted the crutch, leaned against it, and began to speak.

“Splendid! As expected of Mr. Isshiki—you dodged this humble one’s strike well!” “Not one in a hundred could have done so.” “But…” he said, then hopped about. “There’s a second strike! A third! A fourth and fifth—I’ll keep attacking forever!” “I won’t let you escape! Do you think I’d let you get away?!” “If you flee, that’s cowardice—I won’t let you call yourself a samurai!” “Draw! Draw! You draw too!” About six feet ahead of Koichirō, the one-legged Kichiji—having closed in that far—leaned his entire body leftward as usual, supported himself on his single leg, and began inching his crutch upward, upward with a grating persistence. Where was he aiming? I can’t tell! He just kept gratingly raising it higher.

"A bit formidable," Koichirō thought, glaring fixedly. "Is it the leg? The torso? The cheek? Or the chin again, like before?" ...If I took that strike full-on, my bones and flesh would be pulverized... This bears no resemblance to any martial art I've trained in. That's precisely what makes it so damnably hard to deflect. "...No reason I couldn't cut him down—but he's a cripple, a native of the Insect Museum besides. There'd be hell to pay if I finished him off."

He had been left at a loss. All the while, the crutch continued its grating ascent, creeping ever upward. One foot, two feet—now three! With a whoosh—he swung it down. What glinted was a ring of thorns. Reflecting sunlight, it sparkled like a dazzling gemstone. So Kichiji stood planted on his single leg with a thud, utterly motionless. As ever, he resembled an oak tree rooted deep in earth. Then—astonishingly—Kichiji kicked off with that leg and came leaping to a spot three shaku directly before Koichirō!

Simultaneously—as soon as that familiar groan of “Ungh!” burst from Kichiji’s mouth—the crutch whooshed straight down toward Koichirō’s skull. Koichirō dodged right. Kichiji gave chase to the darting figure—his speed so utterly demonic it far, far, far surpassed that of any two-legged human.

“D-do you like thaa—t?!” [he] swept Isshiki Koichirō’s leg with his crutch. Narrowly turning left, Koichirō dodged—and resolved.

"It’s no good—I’ll slash him down!"

Just as he twisted his waist, a voice called out, “Mr. Isshiki.” Immediately following, “Kichiji!” came the same voice. It was the refreshing voice of Lady Kikyō. Lady Kikyō circled around the flower bed and approached the two. “My father wishes to speak with you and is waiting. Please come, Mr. Isshiki.” “Please come, Mr. Isshiki.” She turned her face toward Kichiji. “Go give them sugar—you mustn’t let the bees starve.”

Seventeen

This was the Insect Museum Master’s room, decorated in Dutch style. On the wall hung a wall hanging. It was embroidered with insects. There were frames in various places. Depictions of insects were drawn. Patterns were also drawn on the ceiling. Those patterns too were insects. Two windows faced the outdoors, their frames exquisitely carved with insect motifs. What could be seen through the windows were the flowers blooming in the front garden’s flower beds, their faint fragrance wafting in. Sofas, desks, armchairs, a fireplace, bookshelves, a Dutch-style chest—various furnishings and implements of the sort were arranged in orderly positions. What stood out most prominently were the bookshelves. Six feet wide and nine feet tall—three such massive, sturdy bookshelves stood side by side. But even this seemed insufficient—there were built-in bookshelves, and a crimson hanging cloth embroidered with insects hung draped in languid folds. No—even that seemed insufficient, for two elegant revolving bookcases were placed in a corner of the room. Now, as for those bookshelves—Japanese books were exceedingly few; they were filled to bursting mostly with Western and Chinese volumes.

A crackling sound rang out. It was the sound of a fire burning in the fireplace. The flowers placed atop the fireplace were Tritelia said to bloom in May. They were undoubtedly greenhouse flowers. A carpet was laid on the floor. Sure enough, it had insect patterns; its base color was pale green. It was undoubtedly ebony—on the gracefully crafted desk lay several insect cases. But the insect cases were not limited to those. Nearly countless insect cases were suspended from the ceiling with silk cords. And so, anyone entering this room would have to lower their head somewhat; otherwise, they would bump their forehead against those insect cases and sustain minor injuries.

There was a door on one of the walls. It appeared to be a door leading to the adjacent room. “Swear never to open this door.”

A notice like this was posted. It was undoubtedly a secret room. There was a door on another wall as well. That was the doorway leading to the corridor—needless to say, insect designs were carved into that door too.

Sunlight streamed through the window. Bathed in that light, the writing desk gleamed brightly, illuminating a single design. It would be more apt to call it a pattern. A butterfly motif with delicate, simple mottling. Perhaps it should rather be termed a painting.

The Insect Museum Master was sitting leisurely on the sofa while speaking, twirling a quill pen between his fingers. He seemed to be in quite a good mood. “...You are truly a good person.” “For someone like you, I would never voice any complaints.” “Please stay at the Insect Museum forever.” “…But I imagine you must find it all quite strange.” “As for my way of life and the society here.” “To begin with—if you exclude myself and Kikyō from the inhabitants—every last one of them being disabled persons must undoubtedly strike you as strange.” “But even this is no great matter—people have long believed that those with disabled bodies must also have disabled minds, but this is an outrageous misconception. In truth, the opposite holds.” “Because their bodies are disabled, they harbor an inferiority complex within and remain humble rather than becoming arrogant.” “They do not hate others and strive to be loved.” “Yet what we call general society fails to comprehend such sentiments and scorns the disabled precisely because of their physical impairments.” “This is an extremely undesirable state of affairs, and because of this, disabled persons come to harbor resentment.” “That is why I can make the following assertion.” “Those with sound bodies are precisely the ones whose minds are disabled, while those with disabled bodies are precisely the ones whose minds are sound.” “That’s when I conceived the idea.” “I would gather only disabled individuals to create an independent society—then have those people work to their heart’s content while I continued my research.” “Now then—having explained it this way, you must surely think this Insect Museum’s organizational structure is neither strange nor peculiar, but rather perfectly rational.” “And that is indeed the case. Now then—as for my research, it too is nothing out of the ordinary.” “Since what I love is insects, I decided to thoroughly and scientifically research their living conditions, then discover the principles from those results—and if they prove necessary for human life, promptly apply them to our existence.”

“That’s about the extent of it... This attempt proved successful.” “By studying the communal lives of bees and ants—these two—I discerned the principles governing an ideal human society.” “And regarding these matters, I do mean to explain them to you properly—but to summarize briefly, it would come down to something like this:” “Loyalty to the sovereign, equitable labor distribution, complete division of responsibilities, collaborative operations—and so forth, along those lines.” “Indeed, one might argue insect societies demonstrate far greater justice and equality than anything found among humankind.”

His tone was scholarly and matter-of-fact.

Sitting opposite each other in chairs was Isshiki Koichirō, his expression earnest as he listened.

18

"But Master," Koichirō asked hesitantly. "According to rumors, there's said to be a mysterious butterfly called the Eternal Butterfly at this Insect Museum. What kind of butterfly might that be?" At this, the Insect Museum Master's expression turned somewhat gloomy. "In the end, even I do not know," he said. "I see..." said Isshiki Koichirō, though he felt somewhat unsatisfied. "It's said there are two butterflies—male and female—and when they're mated and made to produce offspring, one can obtain vast treasures... So that's the legendary butterfly?"

"That will absolutely never bear offspring." For some reason, the Insect Museum Master said this curtly. "It is an artificial butterfly, you see." "Ah, I see. So it's artificial?" "But it is still alive."

This was beyond Koichirō’s comprehension.

“Then, with human power, can life be created?” “Well, even I don’t understand that part,” the Master grew increasingly gloomy, “but in any case, that butterfly is an artificial thing made in the distant past.” “But it is still alive.” “Yet it absolutely will not bear offspring.” “Though perhaps it might bear offspring.” “Even so, it differs from what is commonly called offspring.” “It holds an ancient secret.” “But that mystery cannot be solved.” “After all, it’s a mystery that even I couldn’t solve.” “Moreover, unfortunately, I myself allowed the male butterfly to escape.”

“Ah, since you went to places like Koumebata fields in search of that male butterfly.” “Still… how come only your voice could be heard that time, and your figure couldn’t be seen?” “Because I was in the thicket.” When put that way, it was nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, it was almost disappointingly mundane.

For a while, the room was quiet. The singing voices of the Insect Museum residents, who seemed to be working as they sang, came through the window. It was a song of peace and joy.

And then, suddenly, the Insect Museum Master pointed at the design on the desk, “This is it, Mr. Isshiki—the male butterfly that has gone missing.” His voice abruptly took on an authoritative tone.

There，Isshiki Koichirō gazed intently at the design. The wing patterns on the wings looked particularly strange to Koichirō. They were not the wing patterns of an ordinary butterfly. They were wing patterns resembling a map. They were such unusual wing patterns that any person who saw them at a glance would inevitably think，＂Oh？＂ ＂These are peculiar wing patterns．＂ ＂Indeed，＂the Master nodded．＂The other butterfly’s wings also bear similar patterns．According to my theory，they appear to be a map of some sort．＂

The room fell silent once more. Still, the singing voices could be heard. The scent of flowers wafted in through the window. It didn’t feel like early spring. It was warm enough to make one sweat. It was as if spring had reached its peak, regardless of the season. “Even so,” Koichirō asked dubiously.

“How did you come to obtain such a butterfly, Professor?”

“Well,” said the Insect Museum Master, but he fell silent there. Then he began casually, “In Brussels, capital of the Netherlands—that’s where I happened to acquire it.” He continued speaking without hesitation.

“Though you may not think it to look at me, I hail from an esteemed lineage—by ancestry, a branch of the Tokugawa clan itself. Though our house met destruction for certain reasons during the third shogun’s reign, the bloodline flows unbroken to this day, with myself as its direct descendant. In my youth, I crossed to Europe where I thoroughly studied entomology, returning to our shores only recently. “…But enough of that trifling matter. Regarding these male and female butterflies—they are no foreign-born creatures. They were unquestionably fashioned in Japan, then journeyed through Korea and China before finding their way to the Netherlands.” “There exists ample evidence of this, but such matters belong to specialized scholarship—explaining them would prove futile for one such as you.” “…Preposterous!”

With a sudden motion, the Insect Museum Master sprang up from the long chair.

“The sensitive musk insects have started to stir.” He slid over to the window. “This is bad! Something’s about to happen— “I can tell—a major incident is about to occur!”

It was around this time. A one-handed small man was riding a horse, galloping upward through the vast forest from the direction opposite Sekijuku, aiming for the Insect Museum. He seemed to be in a great panic. He seemed to be extremely terrified. "This is bad, this is bad! I must inform the Professor quickly!" "They’re attacking! They’re attacking—those bastards!" He muttered these words under his breath. His horsemanship was exquisite—weaving through groves and breaking through rugged paths as he galloped onward.

Before long, this messenger would gallop to the Insect Museum—and then something would be told. May no disturbance arise in the beautiful, peaceful Insect Museum because of this.

The messenger arrived. The small man shouted.—

“Be on your guard! The mountain ascetics are pouring in!”

Nineteen

"The closure of the Insect Museum was due to the mountain ascetics."

Thus it was recorded in ancient documents. What exactly were these "mountain ascetics"? Could they be another name for the so-called Yamamba? That remains unclear. In any case, they seemed to be a kind of mystical people dwelling in the mountains. Why did such mountain ascetics close the Insect Museum? That too remains unclear. However, it was rather the museum master himself who closed the Insect Museum.

“The mountain ascetics are attacking!”—As the messenger came to inform the Insect Museum of this, the following incident occurred.

“Finally—the enemies I’ve been fearing have attacked.” “If we fight, we’ll be defeated.” “They’re trying to force me to relinquish the Eternal Butterfly.” “This one must be released regardless.”

As he said this, the Insect Museum Master released the remaining female butterfly high into the sky.

“(2) The Insect Museum will be closed. The residents are free to leave.” As the Insect Museum Master declared this and withdrew into the building, the many gathered disabled residents abandoned the museum and departed. (3) However, only the assistant Kichiji stubbornly remained behind alone.

(4) The event where Lady Kikyō secluded herself within the Insect Museum alongside her father, the museum master. (5) Thereupon, Isshiki Koichirō temporarily turned back to Sekijuku and reunited with Eigorō and Kimie, who had escaped the floodwaters.

The separate society known as the Insect Museum—once beautiful, peaceful, and mystical—thus transformed into a desolate realm in the blink of an eye.

On a certain clear and pleasant day about ten days after that day, a samurai was riding a horse while a female groom led the reins, making their way along the country roads of the Miura Peninsula toward Edo. The samurai was Isshiki Koichirō, and the female groom was Kimie. “You should head back now.” It was Koichirō who had spoken. Kimie laughed and would not even try to listen. “No, I will escort you.”

“How terribly inconvenient that would be for me,” he scoffed mockingly. “How very unfortunate for you,” Kimie replied as if in full agreement.

This time Koichirō said with feigned anger, “A tad disrespectful, wouldn’t you agree?” “I wouldn’t say that’s entirely so.” Kimie did not waver in the slightest.

Jingle, jingle, jingle went the bells; clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop went the hooves—the two continued on their journey. "How far do you intend to escort me?" Eventually Koichirō asked.

“Yes, anywhere you wish.” Kimie’s reply was clear. “I shall return to Edo.” “Then I shall escort you all the way to Edo.” “Wouldn’t you say this is somewhat persistent?” This time, Koichirō began to admonish her. “It is simply my nature.” Still, Kimie showed no surprise. “Assuming you’ll escort me all the way to Edo, wouldn’t you feel lonely returning alone?” This time, Koichirō found himself sympathizing. “What need is there for me to go back?”

“Huh?” Koichirō shot back. “I shall stay by your side forever.” “Ahaha! Well now—but when I return to Edo, I plan to enter my father’s residence.” “I’ll become a live-in maid.” Kimie grew ever more serene.

“Well, color me surprised,” said Koichirō, who was genuinely taken aback. “Who would ask for a maid?” “Hohoho… You—” “Goodness gracious,” Koichirō added with mounting astonishment, “but I shall certainly never hire you.” “There’s no need for you to hire me at all!” Kimie was completely at ease. “With such a good maid as myself.”

——No matter what he did, he couldn’t manage it——Koichirō was perplexed. Thereupon, he tried saying once more: “No, no—even if I return to Edo, I shan’t be entering my father’s residence. I’ll rent a house and set up a household. Indeed, a swordsmanship dojo where rough men will come and go.” Upon hearing this, the girl Kimie replied delightedly and brightly: “Well now, that sounds splendid! In that case, as your little sister, I shall manage the kitchen affairs.”

From the very beginning, this girl had taken me aback—and it seemed she would keep doing so until the very end. Even Isshiki Koichirō couldn’t help but offer a wry smile.

Twenty

But Isshiki Koichirō understood Kimie's heart. "She's madly in love with me."

And this was by no means unpleasant for Koichirō. No—rather, it was even pleasant. "No matter how you put it, she's an eccentric girl indeed. Having a household with this girl and setting up a townhouse residence—I might just end up living some surprisingly amusing days." Even so, Koichirō could not forget Lady Kikyō. "The beauty of Lady Kikyō was, so to speak, a rarity beyond compare. Kimie is no comparison," he thought, though now there was nothing he could do about it. "Still—why did Lady Kikyō accept my affections yet refuse to come away with me and remain at that Insect Museum?" He found this utterly dissatisfying. "Was parental love more appealing than a lover's?" He had no choice but to interpret it that way. "Young women—I'd always thought until today that even if they kick aside their parents' love, they'd come to their lovers. But well, this time I failed." He found this utterly unacceptable.

Suddenly, Koichirō burst into stifled laughter atop his horse.

"What a ridiculous thing... When you think about it, after going through all that trouble to find the Insect Museum, all I gained in the end was that 'knight' remark—that's all there was to it." He couldn't help but grow self-mocking.

“What are you laughing at?” Kimie asked with a slightly quizzical look. “Knight! Knight! Ha ha ha! I’ve learned this word now.” “What a beautiful word.” “But its insides are hollow.”

“What could that mean?” “It’s a Western word for a samurai who kneels before his lover, receives her dear hands, only to have those very hands trample him and leave him wretched. In other words, someone exactly like yours truly.” “Poor, poor, poor knight!” “Poor, poor, poor me!” “But I would never betray you.” “And besides, I won’t be kneeling before you.”

“I adore you—precisely that kind of person.” “…You who torment women without acknowledging them!” “You’re a true man indeed.”

Their journey continued.

Suddenly, Koichirō noticed something.

“Your parents are aware, I presume? That you’re living with me?” “I didn’t take that into consideration.”

“Ah…” Koichirō let slip a sigh. Then he muttered under his breath. “Everything’s opposed—both that Lady Kikyō and this Kimie.”

It was February.

The fields were cold. The withered grass rustled as if in battle. The mountains hunched dark and rigid. Flowers were nowhere in bloom. No travelers could be seen. All was hushed and still, simply desolate.

Clang, clang, clang... Thud, thud, thud—only this sound echoed around them. The two fell silent. They walked on and on toward Edo. But if they were to enter Edo as they were now, one would have to say it was an ordinary journey with nothing strange or unusual.

However, an incident occurred. It happened when they approached the forest—what seemed to be a dead leaf came fluttering down, a single leaf dancing through the air. It was a completely unconscious act—Koichirō swiftly extended his right hand and caught it in his palm with a snap. And then, the falling leaf—now settled on his palm—... And then—look! A butterfly! Out of season!

“Hmm,” Koichirō looked at its wings. “There are markings!” “Those markings!” He then let out a long breath.

“Ah, this is indeed the Eternal Butterfly!”

Now, precisely because he had obtained this butterfly, Koichirō—having entered Edo—encountered various perils and demonstrated in full measure why he was worthy of being called a swordsman.

21

Spring came and spring departed, and the towns of Edo turned to early summer.

There, near Fukagawa Upper Bridge and close to Nakasu Crossing, stood a modest town dojo. The master of the dojo was Isshiki Koichirō, who lived there with Kimie. They had a manservant named Jin'kichi. A modest residence with no live-in disciples—you might call it that, but that wouldn’t be quite right, for various people had begun to gather there. Ronin, pleasure-seekers, second sons of minor hatamoto, friendly companions from the Tayasu household, low-ranking samurai and street toughs, shop clerks with a passion for swordsmanship, and daring firefighters.

Shōkan-ryū swordsmanship instruction. A signboard hung at the gate. Though the clack of bamboo swords could occasionally be heard, idle chatter and raucous laughter rang out far more often. Rather than a swordsmanship hall, it was more akin to a club. "Money comes from Father—why would I need tuition fees or monthly payments?" This was Koichirō's mindset. Father Kiyozaemon had declared: "You're a second son after all. You must either be adopted or establish a branch family—neither seems suitable for you. Had you been born in the Warring States era, you might've become lord of some minor castle. Your temperament ill suits these modern times. Become a chivalrous rogue if you will. Open a town dojo. Live with some girl you fancy. In time, such a life might even prove beneficial to the Tayasu household. Mingle with all sorts and gather comrades. I'll manage the household finances. You won't bankrupt me, I trust."

Such was the backing he had. Koichirō, being who he was, could not help but rejoice. However, Isshiki Koichirō was not such a shiftless man as to idly take advantage of his father’s generosity and while away his days in carefree play. "I must unravel the secrets of this Eternal Butterfly I’ve obtained—by all means!"—he was consumed by this endeavor.

Now, as for that Eternal Butterfly—it was truly a mysterious thing. Indeed, it was alive. It was breathing and had a pulse. However, from its wings to its limbs, it was completely different from an ordinary butterfly. It wasn’t soft like an ordinary butterfly. It was made of steel. No—it was crafted from such a uniquely hard material that one could only describe it as being made of steel, constructed with exquisite precision. It could indeed do such things.

—An artificial butterfly possessing life!

Even if placed in fire, it showed no signs of burning; even if submerged in water, no hint of drowning; even when tucked into one’s bosom and clutched tightly, it neither crumpled nor perished. It drank water and ate sugar, flitting about the room to alight on an outstretched finger—only to then stay motionless in one spot for days on end. At times as skittish as any common butterfly and exceedingly sensitive; the next moment, as unresponsive as lifeless matter. It had to be deemed a bizarre entity.

“But really—is this butterfly male or female?” This weighed on Koichirō’s mind. “If it’s male, it’s stolen from the Insect Museum; if female, released by its master.” Yet he couldn’t discern its sex. “The master said wing patterns matter crucially—but why?” The butterfly he possessed indeed had map-like markings on its wings.

"The wing patterns said to belong to the stolen male butterfly—ones I had been shown by the Insect Museum master in his chamber—bore striking resemblance to these." "Is this then a male specimen?" "But recall—the master himself stated even female specimens carried identical markings." "This could well be female..." "...A grave oversight on my part—I should have scrutinized those male wing patterns more thoroughly when presented." "A mere glance was all I stole." "No clear memory remains." "Thus I cannot declare these markings definitively male." "As for female specimens—never laid eyes upon one." "But," Koichirō concluded— "—Male or female matters naught." "What demands pursuit now is securing another specimen."

However, ever since obtaining this butterfly and establishing his dojo, one strange incident after another—as listed below—began occurring to Koichirō.

(1) Unknown individuals constantly prowling around Koichirō’s house late at night. (2) An incident where unknown individuals attacked Koichirō during a nighttime outing. (3) An incident where unknown individuals attacked Koichirō’s house during his absence, committing extreme acts of vandalism.

(4) Each time, a mysterious beauty would appear and rescue Koichirō from peril. (5) That among the enemies there was a beauty who had been giving orders.

Twenty-Two

The first case was as follows. Late at night, when people had returned home and all was quiet, several individuals would stealthily prowl around the house, whispering to each other and exchanging signals, showing clear signs of attempting to infiltrate the building. On one such night, the tightly fastened wooden storm shutters had just slid open with a soft whoosh when a long white cloth came fluttering in as though alive—only to vanish in a flash. There were also times when a window would suddenly open. Then from there, a bag-like object would nimbly let its "face" peek out. Then there would be times when he heard a young woman's voice reciting sutras. Though that "sutra" was an incomprehensible, spell-like thing...

The second case was as follows.

One night, Isshiki Koichirō was walking near Ochanomizu when seven or eight warriors in tailor-made black outfits suddenly swarmed out from the tree shadows and charged at him with drawn swords. “Who goes there?” he demanded, but received no reply. Forced to retaliate, Koichirō drew his own blade and struck down two or three assailants with the flat of his sword. Then a youthful woman’s voice rang out—“Leave this to me”—and a long white cloth came fluttering toward him. The moment he noticed it, his vision swam and he collapsed to the ground. The warriors seemed to search his unconscious form. “He doesn’t have it,” came a woman’s voice laced with disappointment. “What a shame.” Time blurred until he sensed someone tending to him. When his eyes finally focused, five or six black-clad warriors stood nearby—their demeanor suggesting they meant no harm.

“We have tended to you.” “You’ve had a terrible ordeal. Do take care.”

With these words, they turned and left. Indeed, among them there seemed to be a woman standing amidst the group.

The third case was as follows. ——

One night, a message came from one of his friends proposing they share drinks, so he went to the appointed teahouse. Yet his friend never arrived. He ordered sake and summoned women, waiting until deep into the night, but still his friend failed to appear.

“Ah!” Realizing what had happened, Koichirō hurried home to find his house ransacked to the extreme. There stood Kimie, her eyes wide with shock, who began explaining: “Samurai in black outfits stomped into the house, saying ‘Where is it? Where is it?’ while searching for something.” “Then, at that moment, a woman’s voice could be heard from outside.” “She called out.” “Then, from among the samurai in black outfits as well, a woman’s voice sounded, and it seemed to answer that call.” “Then, in a panic, they all hurriedly left.”

“Ah!” Koichirō muttered to himself. “They’re searching for the Eternal Butterfly.” When I was attacked at Ochanomizu the other day, I’d mostly figured it would be something like this. Tonight, since I’d carried it in my pocket when going out, they fortunately didn’t take it—but things did get rather hairy. ...Putting these two incidents together, there seem to be two factions—one trying to steal the butterfly, another attempting to protect it. What sort of people are they? And how do they know I’ve got the Eternal Butterfly? ...Either way, getting attacked like this constantly—even I can’t keep up forever. “So what should I do?”

Isshiki Koichirō had reached his limit. “Maybe I should just let it go since it’s such a hassle.” He had even begun to think in such a way.

But for some time after that, there were no notable incidents, and peace prevailed for the time being. However, Koichirō did not let his guard down; when going out, he would place the Eternal Butterfly in his pocket, and at other times leave it at home when departing. As before, various people came and went to Koichirō’s dojo. Playboys with full-body tattoos done beautifully also came by. Bold and cheerful, with a flair for style and even possessing a playboy’s mentality—such was Koichirō. He was suddenly tempted by tattoos.

"Alright, alright—I'll have myself carved too."

So he set out for the shop of Tsutagen, the renowned tattoo artist in Asakusa at the time, and had himself inked. "With this, it seems I too have become a full-fledged rogue samurai." Ahahaha, how amusing. After all, this floating world never goes as one wishes. Might as well indulge myself to my heart's content. ……But lately, it seems my very nature has changed somewhat. "It must be because Lady Kikyō rejected me."

Languid early summer days seemed set to persist.

However, one night, Koichirō was once again attacked by enemies and lost his prized possession, but in its place, he fortuitously obtained an even more precious and marvelous treasure.

That night, Koichirō left home almost nonchalantly.

It was a perfectly round, splendid moonlit night; the roofs of the houses and the streets were pale as if frosted over. With the Ōkawa River to his left and rows of houses to his right, he arrived at Onoe Riverbank—a place he had come to without any particular purpose, having been lured out by the bright moon. He suddenly came to a halt and peered intently ahead.

23

A single samurai clad in black attire, one whom he recognized, emerged from the shadow of a house and blocked his path.

“Mr. Isshiki,” said the samurai. That is, it was Nanbu Shūgorō. “We meet again—this makes the third time.” “Mr. Nanbu?” Koichirō swiftly scanned his surroundings. “You’re not alone here, are you?”

“That’s right,” said Shūgorō, adopting a feigned innocent tone. “For now, I’m alone.” “You claimed it was our third meeting, but this marks the fifth time you’ve attacked me.” “Not at all—this is the third time.” “The other night at Ochanomizu’s streets—the one who attacked me must have been you.” “Ah, caught on, have you? …You were quite weak back then, Mr. Isshiki—unlike your usual self.” “The attack on my house while I was away—that was your gang’s doing as well, wasn’t it?”

“Perceptive, perceptive. Exactly right.”

“So this makes five times, counting tonight.”

“As you command!” Shūgorō laughed mockingly. “They say the third time’s the charm in common parlance, but since that’s stretched to five times, tonight will be decisive. I won’t let you escape, Mr. Isshiki—best resign yourself fully.” “Yeah, right,” Koichirō replied in a cocky tone, though his eyes kept darting warily around them, not relaxing his guard for an instant. He thought to himself: “I’ll keep him talking and see how things play out.”

Thereupon, he calmly began to speak. “Be that as it may, Mr. Nanbu—you managed to escape the flood quite well.”

“Ah, that incident,” said Shūgorō with a deliberately nasal voice, “No—truly even I was overwhelmed by Kodama Forest’s great flood on Miura Peninsula. We all got swept into a valley—gulped down water like madmen.” “But thanks to what you’d call divine protection—two or three injuries aside—no lives were lost.” Nanbu Shūgorō sat composedly at ease—uncharacteristically calm—as if holding some advantage. “And what of **you** during that affair?”

“Well, thanks to what you might call divine protection, I didn’t drown and came through hale and hearty—as you can plainly see.” “How fortunate,” said Shūgorō with mounting sarcasm, “and moreover, it seems you’ve graced the Insect Museum with your presence.” At this, Koichirō couldn’t suppress a flicker of surprise. “You’re remarkably well-informed. How did you uncover this?” “Because you possess the Eternal Butterfly.” “You’re remarkably well-informed. How was this discovered?” “The female sorceress Madam Toad—her true name being Reizei Hanako—revealed it through her clairvoyance.” He puffed out his chest boastfully. “Madam Hanako proclaimed: ‘Within fifty ri of Edo—where the Eternal Butterfly once dwelled—one specimen has entered the city.’ Thus we commenced our search… and lo, we discovered your dojo.” “Listed as ‘Isshiki Koichirō, Instructor of Shōkan-ryū Swordsmanship,’ you’ll recall.” “Ah-ha! We connected the dots immediately. Then through careful probing, we ascertained—beyond doubt—that you indeed hold the Eternal Butterfly.”

“So in trying to steal that Eternal Butterfly, you’ve attacked me again and again, have you?” “Exactly!” Shūgorō said mockingly once more. “How about this—if you were to obediently hand it over?” “Well then…” said Koichirō, ostentatiously tilting his head. “Were it anyone else, I might hand it over. But to **you**? Never!” “Hmph, I see—because we’re rivals in love.” “Speaking of that ‘rival in love’—it just reminded me. Now, Mr. Nanbu, Mr. Shūgorō—after hearing that beautiful voice in Kōme Batake, I met its owner, confessed my love, and she accepted right away! So you see, she’s already given me her hand. Must be jealous, eh? How’s that for you?”—in a tone screaming “Take that, you bastard!”—Koichirō ranted.

When Shūgorō heard this, he grunted “Hmm,” but the sound carried an unsettling edge. “Either way—you broke into the Insect Museum and stole the Eternal Butterfly. I take it you’ve stolen a maiden’s heart too.” “How dare you!” Koichirō snapped. “I didn’t steal it—I came by the Eternal Butterfly through pure chance!” “Is that so?” Shūgorō’s voice dripped venom. “Now, now—let’s set that aside.” “Yes, never mind that.” “What matters is you possess the butterfly—that fact remains.” “You storming in here alone gives us no quarrel.” “So tell me—has this vaunted romance with your ‘beautiful-voiced lady’ borne fruit?” “To phrase it plainly—have you wed her yet?”

“What wedding?!” Koichirō blurted out, stumbling over his words in shock, “Well—a wedding? No, not yet.” “Then when might that be?” “Sometime… eventually…” “How pitiful.” “What’s that supposed to mean?!” With a derisive “Pfft,” Shūgorō suddenly burst out laughing.

“It seems you remain unaware that Lady Kikyō—the Insect Museum Master’s daughter with that exquisite voice—has descended from the mountains and recently entered Edo.” “What?!” Koichirō blurted out, stunned. “Is that true?!” He lunged forward. “You thick-skulled swordsman!”

“What?! “…That’s a lie!” “Fine then,” Shūgorō said with a mocking grin. “Think they’re all lies if you want. In the meantime—we’ll snatch her away.” “Speak!” Koichirō roared, his voice thunderous. “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Where is she?!” “Somewhere… being sheltered.”

“How did you know?” “Clairvoyance—clairvoyance!” “Have at you!”

With rage fueling his usual booming voice, Koichirō let out a bestial roar—then twisted his waist and unleashed a draw cut. He drew his Ichikanshi Tadatsuna sword, split the moonlight with a horizontal slash, and with a thunderous crack—cut through Nanbu Shūgorō’s left torso and waist support. But Shūgorō, who had crossed blades with him, parried with a clang at the sword’s guard. Yet as he staggered back, he cried out in a panicked voice, “Come forth, all of you! Come forth!” In response to the voice, about twenty samurai swarmed forth from the shadow of the house.

Twenty-Four

Surrounded, Koichirō had already steeled himself. He wouldn’t so much as flinch. As was his custom, he positioned his sword in a low stance and lowered his posture into a defensive stance, but regrettably, the terrain was against him. Behind him was a large river; retreat was impossible. In front were twenty enemies, all with their swords held at mid-level, utterly silent without a battle cry, forming a semicircle as they inched closer inch by inch? They inched closer inch by inch.

"A bit challenging," Koichirō couldn't help but think. "They seem stronger than those I crossed blades with in Kodama Forest." Their motionless stance made it clear. "Hmph... Just as expected," he sneered mentally at Shūgorō holding back among his men. "This one's desperate tonight too... Now what?" His thoughts churned like whirlpools. Then came remembrance of Lady Kikyō. Blood roared through his veins. "They say Lady Kikyō's in Edo." "Is it true?" "If she's here—I must meet her." "I must find her by any means..." Suddenly Koichirō wanted to flee. "The Eternal Butterfly means nothing." "I could give it to Nanbu's lot." "No complaints if I hand over the butterfly." "Fighting these curs and getting wounded? Pointless." "Maybe I'll just toss away this Eternal Butterfly."

All the while, the enemy kept closing in. The enemy’s swords held at mid-level absorbed the moonlight, their glittering tips moving up and down like countless fireflies dancing in the air. The semicircle gradually tightened. Back, back—Koichirō had no choice but to retreat. "What am I to do? What am I to do!" Koichirō’s anxiety grew. The sword stance he had drawn low began tilting upward. Then—something flickered at the edge of his vision. Behind the enemy ranks, beneath eaves untouched by moonlight, stood a slender figure staring fixedly his way. A black hood concealed its face. A black long-sleeved kimono draped its form. The hem blurred hazily, likely from its patterned fabric. Unmistakably a woman. Her left shoulder gleamed pale—what hung there? Something like a bag.

And then—a voice rang out from there. “Kindly release the Eternal Butterfly.” It was the woman who had spoken to Koichirō. “I am Reizei Hanako.” “Ah—so this is the one.” In that instant, Koichirō realized. “The female Taoist sorceress—Madame Toad! “…As if I’d release the Eternal Butterfly!” All the while, the enemy force pressed forward inch by inch—silent yet menacing. Guided by their advance, Koichirō retreated back, back, back. “This is bad—the cliff’s edge!” Koichirō broke into a full-body sweat. The heel of one foot now hung halfway over the great river’s precipice. He could retreat no further. One more step back meant certain death.

Again, a woman’s voice rang out. “Kindly release the Eternal Butterfly.”

With a groan of “Ugh,” Koichirō thrust his hand into his pocket—then yanked it out and hurled something high into the air! Something! Jet-black! Butterfly! Spinning through the moonlight, it tried to dance away! It tried to dance away! The moment he did, the woman stepped forward. With a thud, she threw the bag-like object—it flopped flat onto the ground, then what do you know—it heaved up its back like a living thing! Next, a large mouth opened. And then—from there—a strip of white cloth smoothly spiraled upward like mist toward the sky and chased after the fleeing butterfly.

What cowardice! In that very instant, Nanbu Shūgorō lunged at Koichirō without so much as a warning. “You bastard!” Koichirō shouted. He barely parried the strike, but his foot slipped with a heavy thud—Damn it all! Damn it all! He plunged into the Ōkawa.

Shiiin—the shore was quiet. Nanbu’s gang seemed to have left. The one struggling was Koichirō; now he was on the verge of drowning. Koichirō had mastered water training. However, his entire body was exhausted. When he fell, he had sprained his arm. And so, he could not swim.

"No regrets! I'll die! It's over!" He sank and surfaced, surfaced and sank. No help seemed to be coming from anywhere.

But at that moment, from downstream came such a shout.

“Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”

Next appeared a small boat. It was an oddly shaped light craft with seven men and women aboard. There were six oars. It resembled the treasure ship of the Seven Lucky Gods. At the bow was a dragon carving. From its tip hung tassels. Illuminated by moonlight, they appeared hazy. It moved fiendishly fast—so fast! Six people rowed with oars. One gripped the helm. It was when they reached Koichirō's side.

“Whoa, stop! Stop the boat! There’s a man here blub-blubbing, about to turn into a drowned corpse! Help him! Help him! Think of the good karma!” The woman gripping the helm shouted these words. By the time they all cried “Understood!”, the boat had already jerked to a halt. Then—hands reached out from the vessel and with a GRUNT hauled up Koichirō’s sodden form! “Now tend to him at Idaten speed!” When one of the men called out “Hey now” and began wringing out Koichirō’s drenched clothes—

“Well, he’s a fine-looking samurai—hope Sister Benten doesn’t fall for him.”

“What are you talking about? That’s absurd!” The woman at the helm called Benten chuckled, “Come now, row! Hurry, hurry!” With a chorus of “Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”, the boat raced upstream.

It was precisely at this juncture.

The Ōkawa River changed its name to the Sumida River, with Mitsumine Shrine on the opposite bank and Kinryūzan on this one. At a certain spot on Kinryūzan stood a grand mansion built jutting out over the water. Deep within that mansion’s recesses, a man and woman conversed in hushed tones. “It’s about time they arrive—hasn’t the water gate opened yet?” It was a man who muttered this. Could he be over a hundred years old? He appeared that ancient, yet his complexion glowed like a youth’s. He wore a hollyhock-crested robe. “That said—when you suddenly graced our house with your presence—even I was rather startled.”

"My apologies." The one who smiled while saying this was the daughter of the Insect Museum master. That is to say, it was none other than Lady Kikyō.

25 "Ah now truly—when you suddenly appeared here, I was rather taken aback. But having heard news of your father after so long, it brought me both joy and nostalgia." "But this does present some difficulty." "That he won't even permit his own daughter near him—to grow so despondent, shutting himself alone in his room, devoting himself entirely to research..." "Ah... So it's because he lost both those precious Eternal Butterflies? That's what changed him so?" "Scholars are queer creatures indeed." "I can't comprehend how losing a few peculiar butterflies could alter a man's very nature." "Though I suppose they were valuable research specimens... Be that as it may, meeting you has been a blessing." "No need for reserve—none at all." "Consider this house your own home—live as freely as you please." "After all, we're uncle and niece, you and I." "My lovely niece has come." "This dreary house shall grow brighter henceforth... Far better for you than dwelling in Miura's mountains among insects, beasts, and cripples." "Edo suits you infinitely better." "But idling about would surely bore even you." "You ought to study something. Given your father's scholarly stature, you must be learned yourself." "Doubtless you've no need for academic pursuits." "Perhaps take pupils instead—impart your own knowledge... No, wait—there's another matter. You should learn flower arrangement and tea ceremony." "You've lived in the mountains—such arts must be foreign to you." "Tea ceremony! Flower arrangement! You'll begin learning them at once!"

“What? You’re saying you know them?” “No false modesty now—no putting on airs.” “You—raised in the mountains though you were—though I must say you’re quite beautiful—how could you possibly know anything about tea ceremony or flower arrangement?” “What? You truly know them?” “Hmm... I see. That’s impressive.” “Perhaps so.” “Perhaps so. At first glance, you appear refined and seem to have mastered all the usual feminine arts and etiquette.” “What do you mean ‘a little’? You seem to have thoroughly mastered them! In that case, this poses a problem.” “What should you learn? Ah! I’ve got it! There’s just the thing—learn thievery!”

The hollyhock-crested samurai, dignified and voluble in his cheerful chatter, finally came out with such a statement. He told her to learn thievery. At this, even Lady Kikyō—one might have expected her to be surprised—showed no astonishment. With eyes like glistening dewdrops and a voice of entrancing beauty, she matched his cheerfulness as she declared: “Uncle, what a splendid idea—I shall learn thievery!”

“Huh?” This time, it was the uncle—the hollyhock-crested samurai—who seemed astonished instead. “Is it true? Do you truly intend to learn… the trade of thievery?” “Yes, yes—I shall learn it! I shall learn it with great delight!” “Well, you see—it’s necessary.” Lady Kikyō had spoken with utmost seriousness.

“Well, well,” the hollyhock-crested samurai seemed utterly dismayed. “You’ve got nerve. “Admirable nerve. “What necessity could that be? “Go on, tell me?” Then Lady Kikyō, with even greater seriousness yet an impossibly cheerful air, bluntly came out with these words. “There is someone I wish to find—an exquisitely beautiful samurai. “It may be somewhat ironic, but that very quality makes him all the more splendid and endearing… He is someone with whom I’ve exchanged vows… someone I’ve loved and been loved by. “…He is certainly residing in Edo at present. “By all means I must find him and meet him… How splendid thievery is. “You can sneak into any place you please, meet anyone you wish—how truly splendid it is! “But dear Uncle,” she cooed, “might there be a good teacher who can skillfully instruct one in thievery?”

“Wait!” Uncle—the hollyhock-crested samurai—widened his eyes and waved his hand. “I know no such girl!” “I’m shocked—left utterly speechless.” “Modern girls are utterly impossible to let one’s guard down around.” “To plant her uncle squarely before her and declare she has a lover—!” “What a niece I’ve ended up with!” “I apologize profusely! I apologize profusely!” “……Even so, it’s amusing.” “After all, bloodlines cannot be denied—rebellious spirits and chivalrous hearts overflowing; defied the Tokugawa main family; deemed Japan too small and crossed seas to foreign lands—the blood of our ancestors flows through your father, through me, and through you as well. Hmm!” But then—the hollyhock-crested samurai suddenly made a strange expression before bursting into hearty laughter. “A teacher... why, a thief!” “Of course there is—right here!” As he spoke, he extended his hand, bent his wrist to stretch out his index finger, and pointed emphatically at himself. Then he declared.

“Great Thief! I plunder even foreign lands! Such an instructor of thievery am I!”

And there he laughed heartily again.

Twenty-Six

At the loud, hearty laugh—as if startled—a peony flower arranged on the floor had a single petal plop down onto the floorboards.

A diptych depicting the Toad Immortal and Iron-Crutch Immortal—possibly attributed to Yan Hui—hung spread out across the floor. Precisely because it was a masterpiece, it could have covered an area of some thirty tatami mats. In that vast room drifted a dark, indescribable azure aura of ancient mystique. Indeed, it was a masterpiece. Both figures appeared vividly alive. Both had disheveled hair. Both were barefoot. Thus both were wrapped in tattered rags and seated on rocks. However, the Toad Immortal held an azalea flower in his left hand and carried a toad on his right shoulder—a whitish giant toad resembling an enormous sack. From its grotesquely gaping mouth issued cloth-like white vapor, its bulging eyes gleaming fiercely. Meanwhile, the Iron-Crutch Immortal wore a large gourd at his waist, planted his staff between his legs, formed a grotesque mudra with his left hand, and emitted a single thread of black vapor from pursed lips into the air. At the terminus of this black vapor ran another Iron-Crutch Immortal of identical form, depicted as small as a bean. They were performing a secret technique. The Iron-Crutch Immortal had a topknot; the Toad Immortal had none. Thus the former appeared as an old man, and the latter as an old woman.

Both were unspeakably repulsive.

For a short while, the entire room was quiet. The light from the paired paper lanterns illuminated the lacquered armrest adorned with makie designs. The face of the hollyhock-crested samurai leaning back leisurely against it bore a striking resemblance to that of the Insect Museum Master. A broad forehead, sunken eye sockets, an exceptionally tall and noble nose—yet there were also differences. The Insect Museum Master had white hair, yet this one’s was a glossy black. As for the Insect Museum Master’s eyes, they were like spiritual wisdom itself, but these eyes were willful and heroic. He stood taller than the Insect Museum Master and was even more corpulent. His physique seemed the very embodiment of health. The Insect Museum Master, as a scholar, was utterly serious and utterly earnest, whereas this hollyhock-crested samurai had a carefree, easygoing manner and a mocking air.

But indeed, what name did the hollyhock-crested samurai bear? People respectfully referred to him as Lord of Sumida. Since he wore hollyhock-crested garments, there could be no doubt he belonged to the Tokugawa collateral lineage.

With Lord Sumida seated before her, Lady Kikyō sat with perfect composure—pure, beautiful, free, innocent, an image as if sculpted from the very essence of maidenhood. The contrast between these two could truly be said to resemble a painting. The two remained silent.

And then, from who knows where—despite all the shutters being closed—a single firefly came flying in. Flap-flap-flap-flap into the snow lantern it went.

“They’re late,” Lord of Sumida muttered as if to himself. That seemed to catch Lady Kikyō’s attention. “Who might you be waiting for!” “Ah, the ones we’ve been waiting for—my thieves!” Lord Sumida played the fool. “I am a tremendous thief. “And I have many underlings.” “I’m waiting for those underlings, you see.” He seemed to find it amusing to tease the innocent and adorable Lady Kikyō. “Oh my, is that so?” Lady Kikyō showed no sign of surprise. “I shall await them as well.”

“Do you have business with my subordinates?” “Yes yes, I have plenty! When they come, I shall seize them and learn the art of stealth.” “Ah! So that’s where this leads? You mean to learn stealth arts and go search for that sweetheart samurai of yours?” “Yes yes, exactly so! But Lord Uncle—to speak truthfully—there’s another important matter I seek through this search. That samurai called Lord Isshiki.”

“Well, well,” said the Lord, his eyes widening. “The name of that beloved man seems to be Lord Isshiki, you see.” “Lord Isshiki Koichirō.” “And what might this important matter be?” He seemed to have taken an interest. “I wish to deliver the important important important item I received from my Father.”

“What?” said the Lord of Sumida, looking somewhat surprised. “Then—does your father know of this Isshiki person as well?” “When he visited our residence, the Insect Museum, Father also met him.” “And then Father also came to like that gentleman very much.”

“Hmm,” he said, growing solemn. “I hadn’t known this—I thought your lover talk was mere fancy.” “Mmm... So it’s truth then?” “And this important thing would be?” “Yes—this here.”

When she was about to take something out from her obi, a voice came from the direction of the Sumida River.

“Heave-ho, heave-ho, heave-ho, heave-ho” That was the sound of their voices. As these chants gradually drew nearer only to abruptly cease before Lord of Sumida’s estate—followed by the faint yet distinct sound of a sluice gate opening—the tale’s course began unfolding anew from that very moment. First came Lord of Sumida’s remark—“They’re here”—as he stood up, then addressed Lady Kikyō: “You come along too! “You’ve got grit. “Might as well show you now… Let me introduce you to some odd fellows. “Rogues they may be, but useful rogues.”

And then he exited the room into the corridor. Complying with his instruction, she stood up; Lady Kikyō followed from behind. After walking a short distance, they came to a staircase. It was a spiral-shaped staircase. At the bottom of the stairs was a pond. It appeared to be a pond created by diverting water from the Sumida River. A small inlet! Or rather—a small boat basin! That would be more accurate. Water lapped against the stone steps with soft splashes, small waves rippling restlessly. On both sides of the stone steps stood niches. Pale lamplight glowed. Illuminated by that light were the Treasure Ship of the Seven Lucky Gods, a vessel crafted in its image, weapons and ammunition piled high aboard, and seven peculiar sailors boarding it.

No—there was one more person. It was a samurai drenched in water. “Ah, you are Lord Isshiki!” “Oh! It’s Lady Kikyō!”

27

Now, it was the next day.

Isshiki Koichirō was secluded in his own house, in his own room. He closed the sliding doors, sat in silence, and stared fixedly at his lap. The setting sun shone through the west-facing window, and despite the room being quite hot, he seemed unaffected by it. On the lap where his gaze was directed lay a small silver key. But judging from Koichirō's expression, he didn't seem to be thinking about the key—rather, something else entirely. From the direction of the dojo came the thwacking sound of bamboo swords. The disciples must have been practicing.

From the direction of the kitchen came a clattering sound of utensils colliding. Kimie must have been washing dishes. "What a pitiful thing, that Kimie." Koichirō suddenly muttered. I met Lady Kikyō. My one true love. To be honest, Kimie had become someone I no longer needed. It could also be said that she had become a hindrance. But putting that aside, last night was truly unexpected. Attacked by Nanbu, letting the butterfly escape, tumbling into the great river—just when I thought I’d drawn nothing but losing tickets, this time I met my beloved Lady Kikyō. "That’s what they call ‘the old man losing his horse,’ you know." A feeling akin to wanting to smile welled up within him. "And then—good grief—I got introduced to a whole bunch of odd characters all at once." To someone like the formidable Lord of Sumida and seven peculiar ruffians. ……The mansion’s structure was also peculiar. ……Could this be the dwelling of evildoers? "If Lady Kikyō is left in a place like that… will her safety truly be ensured?" This was a source of anxiety for Koichirō. But however, he immediately dismissed it. "He had been wearing robes adorned with the hollyhock crest." "Then, the person known as the Lord of Sumida must indeed be of noble status."

And then Lady Kikyō had been calling that person 'Uncle, Uncle.' Then they must be related by blood. In that case, I can consider her safety assured.

One after another, memories of the previous night came flooding back to Koichirō’s mind. Being helped ashore and tended to after leaving the boat, having his soaked garments dried for him, being able to converse alone with Lady Kikyō in a separate room for a while...

“I have not forsaken our promise at the Insect Museum.” This is what Lady Kikyō had said. “Father grew despondent. ‘I wish to research alone. Daughter, you must go to Edo! Go behold the world of men,’ he declared, sending me down from the mountains with attendants to escort me here.” This is what Lady Kikyō had said. “At that time Father stated: ‘Mr. Isshiki is a man of worth. I gladly permit your association with him—therefore seek him out and deliver this key without fail. Should Mr. Isshiki obtain both male and female Eternal Butterflies, and should they bear offspring, this key may prove indispensable.’ Thus I present it to you.” This is what Lady Kikyō had said. He recalled these words among others. “Mr. Isshiki—or whatever you style yourself—should leisure permit, visit me at times. But know this beforehand: you must never disclose aught of my mansion’s design or my undertakings to the world. From my observation, you appear a true gentleman of chivalry. In due course I shall share my designs and sentiments with you. Do come visit when occasion allows. Moreover, as my niece Kikyō seems to hold you in affection, you’d do well to call upon us.” —Thus he recalled the words spoken by the one called Lord of Sumida.

“Not just occasionally—I’d go every day if I could to talk with Lady Kikyō.” Koichirō could not bear his longing. “I’ll go today too—right now.”

He stood up casually and donned his swords. But somehow, he felt a pang of guilt. "Poor Kimie." There, he stealthily muffled his footsteps, slipped on his setta sandals at the entrance, and—wryly smiling at the thought "This feels like sneaking off for an affair"—ducked through the gate. Skillfully evading Kimie’s notice, he stepped out into the town bathed in evening sunlight. The place he reached was Ōkawabata, and he started walking briskly toward Sumida’s estate. The beauty of the dusk hour lingered—the waters of the Ōkawa glowed beneath a cargo boat gliding across its surface. On the opposite shore, white walls burned crimson under the setting sun. Seagulls flew in a flock, soaring up and fluttering down as their wings caught the fading light. Beyond the roof tiles, smoke could be seen—it seemed there had been a daytime fire too. The sound of people cursing reached him: "Fire! Fire!" "What a spectacle!" The smoke soon vanished; the flames must have been contained as a minor incident. The ferry boat was packed with people.

The bridge too was crowded with people passing through. The voices of street vendors filled the air. Edo's dusk was lively.

“I’m terribly happy.” Koichirō muttered to himself like this. “I’m loved by Lady Kikyō and loved by Kimie too. That’s what they call a fortunate ladies’ man.” "But wait," he pondered. “No matter how you look at it, this just won’t do. I met with Lady Kikyō just last night. Yet if I go waltzing over there today, I’ll look like too much of a reckless fool. Even Lord Sumida, who carries himself like a great man, might not fail to see through my ulterior motives. Moreover, happiness isn’t something that comes just because you keep chasing after it nonstop. If I get carried away and go to see her, only to be met with a strange look, I’d be done for. Moreover, happiness—when you embrace that happiness and savor it alone—is something that makes you feel twice as happy. I’ll refrain from going today. “Instead of that, I’ll go to a quiet place and think of something enjoyable.”

At that, Koichirō veered off to the side.

He had come to the coast of Shinagawa where night now fully reigned, a perfectly round moon suspended in the sky. Scarcely anyone passed through. He wandered without purpose. The sea waves appeared calm. The scent of young leaves hung sweetly fragrant. "How happy... How happy I am." Muttering thus, he drifted onward.

But would Koichirō's happiness truly remain happiness? When he reached the inn at Samezu—when a single palanquin came flying from Edo's direction, dashed past him, then raced down the nighttime Tōkaidō like a phantom—when something fell with a thud from that palanquin onto the ground—when Koichirō, finding it strange, picked it up—his happiness was overturned.

What he picked up was a hairpin. A piece of paper was wrapped around its stem. On it were written characters. Probably someone had bitten off their little finger. Written in that blood—vivid red—it read as follows:

"I have been abducted by villains. Please, someone help me." And then "Kikyō" was written there.

Koichirō groaned—"Mmm—" and shuddered violently, but then instinctively shouted at the top of his voice, "Stop that palanquin—!" However, the palanquin finally sped away, and of course, it was nowhere to be seen. It was nothing more than a spirited shout.

“I can’t stay like this!”

Gripping the sword hilts as if embracing them, he pressed them firmly to his chest. With one hand hiking up his garment's hem, he raced down the moonlit highway like a swirling whirlwind.

Twenty-Eight

But even so, by whom had Lady Kikyō been abducted? Where had she been taken? Even though Lady Kikyō had been kept securely protected in a castle-like grand residence by such an eminent personage as Lord Sumida, by what means had she been abducted?

And would Isshiki Koichirō truly manage to catch up to the palanquin and retrieve her?

Now, the moonlit Tōkaidō was quiet, with no passersby.

At that moment, from the direction of Edo, a shout was heard. "Heave-ho, heave-ho, heave-ho, heave-ho!"—the rhythmic chant grew steadily closer. Soon there emerged in the moonlight a group of deformed figures. Six hunched youths pressed their bodies tightly together, interlocking six arms to form a skillfully crafted "hand-palanquin"—upon which rode a single woman—keeping rhythm with their free hands as they came dancing forward. They were mysterious thieves known as the Seven Lucky Gods Gang, greatly feared by the hatamoto and daimyō of that era. Wherever their heave-ho cries resounded—whether on water or land—victims would invariably be left in their wake. Yet they never assaulted commoners, women or children, nor stole trifles like garments or furnishings—their plunder consisted solely of gold, weapons or ammunition. The town magistrates had labored to capture them without success. "It’s because some splendid noble protects them from the shadows—" So ran whispers in certain circles. According to magistrates’ investigations, their names were Ebisu Saburōji, Hotei no Ichiwaka, Fukuroku no Rokuobei, Bishamon no Monta, Jurōjin no Hoshinoemon, Daikoku no Jirō, and Benten no Matsuyo—with Benten no Matsuyo being their leader, said to be a beautiful young woman. When traversing waterways they used treasure-ship styled skiffs; on land they employed these unique hand-palanquins—such were their methods of movement.

The mysterious thieves known as the Seven Lucky Gods Gang now came running. The hand-made palanquin was indeed a strange contraption, but in essence, it was simply a human palanquin they had devised so that all seven of them could unite their hearts and bodies and act together—hardly something of deep significance. However, since the seven united their minds and bodies and acted in perfect concert, unfettered movement and swift walking were undoubtedly possible. What speed! They came running!

Suddenly, a woman's voice rang out. “Hey, wait! Stop! Stop right there!” “Understood!” The group came to a halt. Simultaneously, the hand-made palanquin collapsed with a clatter, and a woman fluttered down—her hair in a traditional updo, wearing a patterned kimono of yellow-hachijō silk with long swinging sleeves. It was Benten no Matsuyo, their leader. She reached out and swiftly scooped something up from the ground. Holding it up to the moonlight, she exclaimed, “Just as I thought!”

“Huh?” the six men called out in unison while craning their necks. They wore arm guards, leggings, and belly bands—an outfit of utmost agility. They were all uniformly attired. “Lady Kikyō’s silver hairpin was lying here, see? The moonlight made it glint so brightly that I spotted it.” “So then, just as you planned, Boss—she’s been brought here after all.” It was Ebisu Saburōji, the sub-leader with an Ebisu tattoo on his arm. “Then there’s gotta be a piece of paper somewhere with Kogiku’s blood writing on it.” The one who said this was a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old boy with a forelock. This was Hotei no Ichiwaka.

"But it doesn't seem to be anywhere." The man who had been looking around restlessly in all directions—a slender-faced fellow who appeared a year or two past thirty—was none other than Fukuroku no Rokuobei.

“Oh come now, come now! The wind blows—it must’ve been carried off somewhere.” The one who said this was an elderly-looking little man—none other than Jurōjin no Hoshinoemon. “The item we picked up earlier in Asakusa—is this too Lady Kikyō’s belonging?” “A blood message wrapped around a tortoiseshell comb!” “And here’s a silver hairpin!” “If that’s the case, it appears they’ll keep dropping objects at crucial points from here onward.” The one who said this thoughtfully was a large man in his forties—none other than Daikoku no Jirō.

“Let’s just get moving!” The bearded man spoke up: “Standin’ around ain’t gonna help.” This was Bishamon no Monta. “Right you are—let’s go!” Benten no Matsuyo declared with vigor.

“This ain’t the time for thinking! Lady Kikyō’s a virgin. A moment’s delay could leave her beyond saving. Then there’d be no tears left to cry! But really—who in blazes did this? Outsmarted the Seven Lucky Gods Gang and pulled this mad stunt! But raging about it won’t fix a thing. We’ve gotta track ’em down!... Come on—assemble the hand-palanquin!”

Twenty-Nine

In response to her command, the six men swiftly extended one hand but immediately linked shoulder to shoulder. A sturdy hand-palanquin had been constructed. “Step right in. Come on, Boss!” “Heave-ho, heave-ho! There we go—get on!”

Fluttering her hem in what seemed a blazing kick-off—it appeared as though flames would erupt—Benten no Matsuyo boarded with perfect composure. “Hurry up with it! Let’s go!” “Understood!” “Heave-ho, heave-ho!” Even in such circumstances, they remained cheerful; even in such circumstances, they stayed united, kicking up moonlight as they broke into a run.

It was just around this time.

In a completely different direction, another incident was unfolding.

Here in a corner of Akasaka Aoyama stood a single grand mansion. It appeared to be the secondary residence of a great daimyo. Grand in scale and heavily fortified, surrounded by earthen walls with tiled roofs extending beyond them, a dense grove of trees grew thick and lush. This was the secondary residence of one of the Three Tokugawa Houses—the Tayasu Chūnagon House.

The back gate opened without a sound, and a group of people trickled out. Clad in black attire with black hoods—their clandestine garb nothing out of the ordinary—all samurai, fifteen or sixteen in number. Yet among them was a single exception: a young woman in a black kimono and black hood, blending into their midst. Seeing how everyone showed them respect, this group must be their leaders. She was tall and slender, yet possessed a certain indescribable dignity. It might be more accurate to call it an eerie aura. Or perhaps it should be called a supernatural aura. There was something ethereal about her. The hem of her robe blurred hazily, as though she were treading through mist? It gave the impression she might be treading through mist.

A single palanquin was carried out.

“Lady Iron Crutch, please enter.”

A samurai bowed.

She nodded but made no move to board. Keeping one hand resting on the palanquin’s roof, Lady Iron Crutch, the female Taoist sorceress, tilted her neck back and gazed at the sky. “We’ve finally been outmaneuvered and lost one Eternal Butterfly to the Hitotsubashi family—but this time we must strike first and seize that forest girl called Kikyō for ourselves.” “Yet if we bungle this carelessly, we’ll end up scalded again.” “After all, she’s already been snatched away.”

She murmured with concern. "But we know their destination." "That’s our one remaining edge." "And if they stick to the highway, it’ll take them ages." "If we take the shortcut, it’s no trouble at all." Lady Iron Crutch called rhythmically, "Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"

The samurai who had just bowed responded with a “Hah!” and stepped forward. “From Kanagawa Post Town toward the sea—all the way to Serizawa Village jutting out there—take the shortcut through.” “Understood.”

“I’ll guide the way. Ah, that’s right—from inside the palanquin, you see. Now open the door.” With a clunk through the opened palanquin door’s gap, the female Taoist sorceress slipped smoothly inside. “Proceed now—without a sound.” The Tayasu family samurai enveloping the palanquin broke into a pattering run—heading mistakenly toward Tamagawa—and soon vanished from sight.

Only the moon illuminated the rear.

A deep hush fell over the vicinity. Not just the vicinity—indeed, all of Edo must have been quiet.

Not merely within Edo—indeed, it was night across the entire nation of Japan. At least it must have been quieter than daytime.

Yet this was merely superficial, for beneath the surface—especially under cover of night—evils might be unfolding even more than during the day. Evil was indeed being committed.

On the coast of Serizawa Village stood a mysterious building.

It was within that place that such evils were being carried out.

How bizarre the building was!

Thirty

The mansion built facing the sea was, in a word, Chinese in style. It appeared to be divided into several buildings. Tile roofs with steep slopes, reminiscent of crane wings, glowed faintly white in the moonlight. However, the mansion was surrounded by earthen walls and further enveloped by a dense, forest-like thicket of garden trees, making it impossible to discern any details. One side of the mansion faced the sea. Waves were washing up against the shore. Like white-robed ascetics dancing, the tips of the plants shone whitely. The three sides of the mansion faced open fields. Groves, hills, marshes, and rocks lay still, drenched in moonlight. Far in the distance stood houses. It was the shabby village of Serizawa.

Just then, from the direction of the village, a single palanquin came rushing. Two or three samurai were guarding it. It rushed toward the mansion. It was when they reached the rear gate that voices engaged in a few exchanges—some inside, some outside—could be heard.

With that, the gate opened soundlessly, and the palanquin slid in without a noise. Only the moon remained behind. Not even a shadow of anything stirring remained. From the mansion too, there was no sound whatsoever. In the marsh, some drowsy waterbirds flapped their wings noisily for a time, but soon even that subsided.

But before long, a lone figure appeared atop the hill. The figure seemed to be looking toward the mansion. And then, he raced down the hill. When the moonlight revealed his face, it was none other than Isshiki Koichirō. “They must have gone in here.”

Along the earthen wall, Koichirō began to circle around the mansion. "Hmm, there’s a back door here." He gently tried pushing the back door, but it didn’t even budge. And then, he began to walk slowly again. Eventually, he came to the front gate. He tried pushing it, but it still didn’t budge an inch. And then, he began to walk slowly again. There were no entrances or exits left anywhere. "Well, what should I do now?" Leaning his body against the earthen wall, Isshiki Koichirō sank into deep thought.

I finally spotted the palanquin that took Lady Kikyō outside Kanagawa’s inn and chased it all the way here, but I never imagined they’d be taken into such a strange building. What kind of place is this? But his chest tightened painfully. His breathing came in heavy gasps. He’d been running nonstop. I should rest. Deal with everything after that. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Koichirō steadied his mind.

"No—I can't just sit here like this." Koichirō suddenly stood up.

"There’s no telling what dangers might be looming over Lady Kikyō." "I'll sneak into the mansion and check on the situation above all else." He pressed his body against the earthen wall—but with agility honed through martial arts—leaped over the ten-foot height and landed with a soft thud on the other side. He jumped down without making a sound. He pressed his chest flush against the ground and crawled on his belly to observe. The garden trees grew thickly in pitch darkness. Here and there, mottled patches of moonlight filtered through leaves shone down. In the deepest part ahead stood a single building.

"First, I'll start by investigating that."

Thereupon rising slowly, Koichirō began to walk stealthily.

“Our duty here is done.”

Suddenly, a voice reached his ears. It was a gruff man’s voice. “Wasn’t exactly a grateful duty, I tell ya.” This was a rough voice. “Well, it was a beauty kidnapping after all.” “Well, that’s just it,” another voice chimed in. “Make them spill their secrets, and once they’ve talked, Mr. Nanbu aims to take possession—that’s the plan.”

Three figures appeared.

“To have such a beauty in his grasp—it’s infuriating, yet enviable too.”

“Let’s head back to the guardhouse and have some sake.” All three were samurai. On the opposite side of the vast garden stood another building, which appeared to be their guardhouse. Threading through the grove and over the artificial hill, unaware that Koichirō was watching, they made slow clacks with their garden geta as the three walked in that direction.

That Isshiki Koichirō felt rage surge from his heart upon hearing this was only natural. So it was Nanbu Shūgorō’s gang that abducted Lady Kikyō. Hateful bastards—what am I supposed to do? Though normally a man of careful deliberation, his rage had stripped even that from him. I’ll cut down three as a blood sacrifice—then carve my way into that mansion and take Lady Kikyō back. Flattening his body and crouching low, he moved along the dark shade of trees—circling ahead to intercept them.

There was an artificial mound with a cluster of rhododendrons thriving at its base. Countless buds adorned them. Having concealed himself in the shadows, Koichirō snapped open his sword’s collar, slowly drew the blade, raised his left hand, and hid the sword in his right hand behind his dangling sleeve—his posture naturally slanting into the Shōkan-ryū’s *Irimachi-gake* stance, known as *Hibari*. "Come on!" he screamed inwardly. "One strike, one man! Three strikes, three men! I’ll cut you down! Not even a gasp!"

As he clenched his breath, a single figure suddenly appeared.

Seeing this, Koichirō flashed a diagonal stance, cut straight ahead while extending his elbow, stepped forward, and unleashed a horizontal slash! The surrounding grove was dark, so not a glint of light shone, but his aim didn’t waver in the slightest—with a single stroke, he cleanly lopped off the head from below the ear.

The samurai who had been struck—in that spot where moonlight now shone—stood for a fleeting moment before collapsing face-first. By now, Koichirō swung his sword around behind him and returned to his original position, concealing himself. “Hey, what happened to you?” A voice called out, and the second figure appeared. “Did you trip? Did you fall? No life in you, eh? Get up, get up!” With a thud, he stopped and looked down at his colleague’s corpse—though unaware it was a corpse—when, exactly as before, Koichirō stepped forward, extended his elbow, and swiftly delivered a horizontal slash. This one was the same—the enemy whose head had been severed stood motionless for an instant before collapsing face-first with a thud.

“Ah!” cried the third samurai. “An intruder! A villain!” He twisted around and tried to flee. Koichirō, who burst out fiercely, bathed his entire body in moonlight— “Quiet!”

He stifled his acrid breath! The instant he did so, he swung down his longsword—splitting the man from crown to nosebridge with a brutal cleave—then lightly withdrew the blade. A pungent metallic stench billowed up! Within that spreading pool of blood lay three corpses, felled like timber.

Isshiki Koichirō, looking down, gave a violent shudder—a tremor born of bloodlust and warrior’s fervor both.

“Well, three down… And Lady Kikyō? Where is Lady Kikyō?” As Koichirō lowered his bloodied sword and tried to run toward the mansion, the rain shutters of a guardhouse-like building clattered open, revealing several samurai. Their silhouettes wavered dimly in the lamplight spilling from within. “What manner of disturbance is this?”

A samurai called out. He leaned forward at the head of the group and stood on the veranda. It was indeed Nanbu Shūgorō. Koichirō, having swiftly perceived this, ignited a fresh wave of rage and rushed forward with a cry of “Shūgorō!” “’Tis me! ’Tis me—Isshiki Koichirō! …You craven, villainous, clinging samurai wretches!” “How dare you kidnap Lady Kikyō!” “Yield her! Yield her now!” “Release Lady Kikyō!” He thrust out the blood-smeared Ikkanshi Tadatsuna and pressed forward aggressively.

“Oh! Thou art indeed Isshiki! “Gentlemen!” shouted Shūgorō in an astonished voice. “Isshiki Koichirō, a retainer of the Tayasu house, has infiltrated our secret dojo! Engage him! Engage him! Cut him down!”

Several buildings stood. The doors of those several buildings were kicked open in response to the voice, and samurai bearing spears, half-bows, and arrest tools swarmed forth like billowing clouds, surrounding Koichirō in the very next instant.

“Damn it!” Koichirō groaned. But he didn’t even know the layout of the stronghold. The enemy was overwhelmingly numerous. They even had projectile weapons. There was nothing he could do. “Hmm… Regrettable. That was reckless.” He slid back in retreat. Backing against an earthen mound, using the grove as a shield, kneeling in a low stance—Koichirō readied himself for battle, yet victory seemed nowhere in sight. Because the moon was bright, he could see the enemy forces. His own figure would be visible as well.

A sharp snap rang out. It was the twang of a bowstring. It seemed one of the enemies had shot; a war arrow, threading through the moonlight, came flying with a whizzing sound.

Narrowly dodging it, Koichirō raised his sword and deflected it, but immediately another arrow followed! Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, dangerous! But at that moment, the faint metallic ring—"riiin"—that reached his ears... what in the world could have caused it?

31

This was a room in the mansion.— A woman lay collapsed.

Her hair hung limp and disheveled. The hem of her robe lay disordered in a lewd manner. She lay motionless as if dead, yet was not dead in the slightest. Faint breaths escaped her lips. She appeared to have fainted. Who could this woman be? It was none other than Lady Kikyō. Then Lady Kikyō opened her eyes.

“Oh… What has become of me?” After murmuring this, she adjusted her robes. “My, what a strange room.”

She looked around. What caught her eye was the large cauldron. It stood at the front of the room. Three large men linking hands could barely carry it—such was its immense size. Steam rose from it. Boiling water seemed to fill it. Beneath lay a furnace. Flames roared fiercely within. The cauldron's shape was cylindrical, flaring open like a flower at the top with surrounding carvings. This was no Japanese-style vessel—it belonged to ancient Tang design. The furnace too followed Tang style, shaped like a severed lion's head forcibly attached. A gaping maw! This monstrous mouth formed the fire chamber opening. The crimson flames burning within appeared to hold actual blood.

Behind the furnace and cauldron stood a large shelf. Not one—three. And the front room's wall was entirely filled with shelves. The shelves had several tiers. On the tiers sat jars. There were countless jars. And their shapes differed from one another. Square ones, round ones, diamond-shaped ones, conical ones—there were also octagonal ones. And their colors too differed. Some jars were purple. Some jars bore celadon hues.

They appeared to be jars filled with medicine. Before the medicine shelves, beside the cauldron stood a statue. It was life-sized. It looked exactly like a living human. So vivid was its lifelikeness. It seemed on the verge of speech. Yet its lips remained sealed. The beauty of those lips' hue! Their redness resembled applied rouge. But its complexion was pallid. It bore the face of a beautiful woman. If opened, how magnificent they would be—such eyes seemed to whisper. Eyes inviting such imaginings lay lightly closed. A nose sharp as a thorn gave it rather a fearsome mien. The blackness of hair cascading over shoulders! No—not just the hair. The robes it wore too were deepest black. Yet their cut was not Japanese in style. Embroidery graced the chest. Embroidery adorned the hem.

The sleeves were long, covering the fingertips, and their shape was cylindrical. It was a Taoist robe meant to be worn by a Taoist sorcerer—a servant of the Tao. The statue there was none other than that of a female Taoist sorcerer. In one hand, it held a staff. Good heavens—that was gold! It was holding a golden staff.

It was indeed a beautiful statue of a woman, but there was something intensely spectral about its entirety, something that sent shivers down one’s spine.

It was a statue! It didn’t move! But if that were to move, it would likely seem even more terrifying.

The entire room was filled with smoke. It was suffused with a hydrangea-colored haze. That said, it was not that smoke was filling it. It was due to the play of light. A domed coffered ceiling stretched above, from which hung a niche. It was a niche adorned with jeweled pendants. Now, its size? As large as a man could embrace! From there emanated rays of otherworldly hydrangea-hued light. The room's four walls were paneled with boards. These board-covered walls had been painted pure white. To the left of the installed cauldron hung a brocade curtain. This was likely the doorway leading outside the room. It formed deep folds. The recesses of these folds cast shadows, while their crests gleamed.

Her feet were icy cold. Lady Kikyō looked at the floor. The floor was paved with stone. A checkerboard of white and black—it was laid out in that pattern. Hiss, hiss, hiss went the sound of boiling water! That was the only sound.

But there was another sound. It was a thudding sound—thud, thud. It was the sound of waves crashing against the shore. It echoed faintly from very far away.

Then there was another sound. It was a thump, thump, thump, thump sound. It was the sound of a waterfall cascading down.

There were no other sounds. The room was eerily quiet.

Even the brave and innocent Lady Kikyō seemed to find this scene terrifying.

“Where on earth is this place?” She muttered in a trembling voice.

Immediately, a voice rang out. “This is the alchemy chamber. This is the room of Madame Toad, the female Taoist sorcerer—her true name being Reizei Hanako. …The location is the coast—Serizawa Village… It is not within Edo. …The one who built it was Lord Hitotsubashi! And your ladyship is a prisoner here—even should you attempt to flee, escape is impossible. …And I am that Hanako. But there’s no need to fear. I will not harm you needlessly. …Now then, kindly answer the questions I am about to ask!”

The statue had spoken.

Thirty-Two

The female statue that had been standing beside the cauldron—it had spoken. No, no—it had not been a statue after all. It was Madame Toad—Hanako.

She had apparently been waiting until Lady Kikyō regained consciousness from her faint.

And Hanako took a step forward. The eyes that had been closed were now wide open. The tightly closed mouth had slackened. In the eyes was a needle-like light. Even the teeth visible through snarled lips held a stinging, icy gleam.

With a chime, a sound rang out. She thrust the golden staff she held against the stone-paved floor. “To the daughter of the Insect Museum master—to Lady Kikyō—I humbly inquire: “Of the male and female pair of Eternal Butterflies, one has been obtained—indeed, it is I, Hanako, who has done so!” “Now then, do tell me where the other Eternal Butterfly is.”

She took another step forward and thrust the golden staff once more. With a beautiful chime, the sound spread through the room. Given the unexpectedness of the situation, it must be said that it was only natural for Lady Kikyō to innocently gape open her mouth, innocently widen her eyes in astonishment, and remain unable to speak for some time. Of course, she gave no reply. Of course, she did not even twitch. She could only stare in stunned silence.

Lady Kikyō’s attitude in that moment could, depending on one’s perspective, be seen as brazen or even fearlessly bold. That seemed to have angered Hanako. She abruptly changed her demeanor.

“Hey,” she said, but her voice carried none of a gentlewoman’s grace—it was the rasp of a cruel hag. “How brazen for a virgin—hmph! So that’s your game? Very well, very well—play it as you will.” “But you’ll regret this soon enough—you’ll tremble in fear, you’ll scream in terror, and then you’ll beg for mercy—I can see it now, I can see it all!” “Now!” With that, Reizei Hanako slowly, deliberately swung her golden staff upward at an angle.

“I won’t strike you.” “Strike you? I’ll do something far, far worse.” “…Behold!”

This time, she sneered. With that, she spun around sharply and slithered closer to the cauldron. Then, in one swift motion, she thrust her raised staff diagonally into the cauldron with a forceful plunge. In an instant, steam swirled up, but she immediately pulled out the staff. A mercury-colored droplet dripped from the tip and fell onto the stone pavement—and in the blink of an eye, lo and behold, a small hole had been deeply burrowed into a spot on the pavement! The mercury-colored droplet seemed to contain a dreadfully potent corrosive power.

As Hanako extended her arm, she thrust out her staff with a hiss. She stopped when the staff was a mere foot away from Lady Kikyō’s face. “I’ll bore a hole in that pretty face of yours!” “The Taoist alchemy that transmutes lead into gold—the Rinsha Liquid used in it. A single drop will make flesh and bone melt away like a sea cucumber... Now then—where shall I apply it?” “Should I choose your forehead or your cheek?” “If it touches your eye, your eye will burst! If it grazes your nose, your nose will tear off! If it brushes your ear, your earlobe will fall away like a leaf!” “Now, now, now! There, there, there!”

Slowly, she thrust out her staff. She had closed the distance to five inches.

“Speak!” Hanako said. “You are the daughter of the Insect Museum master—you must know where the Eternal Butterfly is! “The other one—come on, where is it?” She slowly, deliberately extended the staff. The tip of the staff and Lady Kikyō’s face were on the very brink of touching—again and again, they teetered at the edge of contact. The tip of the staff was trembling. As a single drop plopped from its tip onto the floor. A faint sizzling sound! A wisp of smoke rose—thread-like! Another small hole had been opened.

It had to be called an uncanny spectacle.

The otherworldly light streaming from the shrine; the female sorceress standing within it; the lion-shaped brazier burning behind her; the massive cauldron roiling above it... and glittering intensely, the golden staff shone. And from the tip of that staff fell a mercury-colored droplet—as it fell, smoke rose, boring a hole into the checkerboard-patterned stone pavement.

It had to be called an uncanny spectacle.— To Lady Kikyō, it seemed like a dream. Or rather—it would be more accurate to say she was ensnared in a nightmare. She could not comprehend what was happening. What she understood were these facts alone. That evening, after leaving her uncle’s estate and gazing at the Sumida River’s flow, she had been suddenly gagged from behind with a monkey-muzzle, forced into a palanquin that came rushing up, and abducted—or so it was said. That she had realized her kidnapping, bitten off her little finger to let blood drip, written of her plight on kaishi paper, fastened it to her belongings, and scattered several along the way—or so it was said.

33

So then—was I kidnapped to make me reveal where those two Eternal Butterflies are? …But I don’t know their whereabouts. As for the female butterfly，Father released it from the Insect Museum—and with that，Lady Kikyō grew perplexed. Yet even so，she could not remain silent. If she remained silent any longer，she would be jabbed in the face with the tip of the staff. If she were stabbed，it would pierce a hole in her face. Her face would be melted slowly and thoroughly. It was then that Lady Kikyō spoke.

“I do not know.” Then she continued honestly. “Of the two butterflies—male and female—the male has been stolen.” “We searched extensively but could not locate it.” “As for the female butterfly, it was Father who released it.” “...As for the two Eternal Butterflies—male and female—I do not know where they are at present....” Then she pleaded, “Uncle must be waiting—please let me return home.” “I have no recollection of having done anything wrong.” “Please do not torment me.” “I truly do not know.” “I know nothing at all.” “I would never tell a lie.” “I truly do not know where the butterflies are.”

Her demeanor was sincere. Her manner of speaking was sincere. And she remained calm. Yet all of this could be seen in reverse when viewed from the opposite angle. In other words—it could be perceived as brazen. The female Taoist sorceress Reizei Hanako apparently saw it from that opposite angle. “You’re lying!” she snapped. Instantly withdrawing her golden staff, she angled it upward and thrust it back into the cauldron with a clang. When she withdrew it—mercurial droplets trickled! Keeping those droplets dripping, she steadily pressed its tip forward. “Speak!” she said with venom. “It seems true he let one escape. “But it was I who obtained it! “Fine—I’ll grant that. “I refuse to believe it was stolen. “The Eternal Butterfly isn’t some trinket to be carelessly pilfered—and that museum master of yours is no common thug who’d let his treasures be snatched! Understand?” “Listen!” she snarled, baring her teeth. She laughed—a cruelly piercing cackle. “Your father—the Insect Museum Master—is a peerless scholar and fearsome figure. The mere fact he never revealed the museum’s location until recently proves this. “How could such a precious Eternal Butterfly ever be stolen by others?”

“You and your father conspired in secret and hid it somewhere without a doubt.” “Speak!”

With that, she smoothly thrust the golden staff forward. A droplet plopped down, and white smoke billowed up, forming yet another small hole.

Lady Kikyō remains silent. She simply stares at the tip of the staff. She has nothing to say even if she wanted to.

She remained composed and still.

The sound of waves could be heard. The sound of a waterfall falling could be heard. The room remained quiet.

Then, for some reason, Reizei Hanako abruptly changed her demeanor. First she pulled back the thrust-out staff, planted one knee on the ground and craned her neck forward, her eyes filled with an ingratiating smile as she peered at Lady Kikyō’s face and began speaking in a honeyed voice. “What an admirable resolve you have.” “It could not be otherwise.” “That is precisely why you are the Insect Museum Master’s daughter—I am truly impressed.” “Since you’ve resolved not to speak, if you don’t carry it through to the end, you can hardly be called a true heroine.” “My attempt to intimidate you into talking was a mistake on my part.” “There’s no need for any more of that.” “But Lady Kikyō—though you may say that—I too am Reizei Hanako, a female Taoist sorceress.” “Once I set my mind to something, I will surely see it through and show you.” “For example…” Reizei Hanako’s voice grew even gentler. “For example, I am the one who brought you here from Lord Sumida’s mansion. And I am also the one who discovered that you had descended from the Forest of Tree Spirits in Miura Misaki and come to Edo.” “To be precise, those who directly carried it out were my subordinates—a samurai named Mr. Nanbu, a retainer of the Hitotsubashi family, and his gang—but it was I who gave the order. No—it’s not just that.” “I still know many things.” “The closure of the Insect Museum—how all the villagers left—I investigated and knew everything.” “If I wish to know something—whatever it may be—I will surely find out.” “And…” Reizei Hanako smiled a contradictory smile—calm yet eerie, polite yet threatening—then continued, “No matter how you hide it, no matter how tightly you seal your lips—in the end, I will make you tell me where that single butterfly is.” “In other words, for you, it is only a loss to keep hiding.” “If you persist in stubbornly hiding it forever—though I take no pleasure in this—I shall truly use the Corrosive Mercury Liquid this time to make you behold your beautiful face and hands burned to ruin.” “Well, well,” Hanako gave a wry smile. “It seems my nasty habit of threats has surfaced again."

“No threats, no threats—for you are not the timid Lady Kikyō who would yield to intimidation… Far from threats, I humbly beseech you.” “Please reveal it to me, please tell me—where in this world could that single Eternal Butterfly be?”

No matter what was said, Lady Kikyō could not respond. Because she truly did not know the location of the Eternal Butterfly. Lady Kikyō hung her head and could only repeat. “I do not tell lies.” “I know not where the Eternal Butterfly may be.” “Please do not torment me.” “Please return me to my lord uncle’s mansion.”

She pressed both sleeves to her face—likely trying to hide her tears. Before long, a sob escaped. Her shoulders rippled in fine waves; the hair at her nape, brushing against her earlobe, began to tremble increasingly.

34

After watching for a while, Reizei Hanako clicked her tongue and stood rigidly. She took up the golden staff, pulled it close and retreated, then swiftly swept back to the side of the boiling cauldron in one motion. "I see!" she said—but in a ferocious voice! "Ah, if you're this stubborn, you won't reveal it even if killed." "...You woman!" "Perish!" "I'll grant you death!" "Torture you to death—starting like this!" A low, eerie hum rang out. She thrust the staff into the cauldron. Steam swirled up. Diagonally through it, a golden line was drawn. That is to say—the golden staff. Slowly and deliberately, it was pulled up. Then the tip of the staff appeared. When its tip, drawing an arc, was extended into the room's space, a single mercury-colored drop dripped onto the stone pavement with a plop. What rose hazily was smoke. What formed on the stone pavement was a small hole. While trembling faintly, the tip of the staff extended.

In front of where it stopped crouched the figure of Lady Kikyō, her face hidden behind both sleeves. Connecting it with her golden staff, the female Taoist sorceress Hanako stood facing her endlessly. Clad in black Taoist robes and standing perfectly straight, Hanako’s figure resembled a thick, round pillar of ink standing solitary. At its summit was a white object. Her face was as calm as a mask. The lips curled back, exposing the upper front teeth. Two eyes, resembling dull silver pearl shells, were fixedly staring at a single point.

“Now, Lady Kikyō—remove both sleeves from your face.” It was a commanding voice—a voice imbued with hypnotic power. A voice that seemed to declare resistance impossible—such was the impression it gave. “Yes.”

It was Lady Kikyō who had spoken. With that, Lady Kikyō removed her sleeves. Her face appeared - washed by tears and growing ever more radiant - looking both pitifully lovely and beautiful. "What a beautiful face you have." While pointing the golden staff toward her, Hanako said coldly. "Shall I burn your left eye first? Or shall I burn your right eye first? With a thud, two pitch-black holes would form on your face. A mouth and nose remaining while both eyes disappear - what an amusingly strange face that would make."

She gradually brought the tip of the staff closer. Lady Kikyō was staring. Her eyes had a vacant stare. She could not tear her eyes away. The golden staff had a magnetic force, and as if drawn by it, she could not tear her eyes away. But in her heart, she was clearly thinking such things. “I will never be killed. I won’t even get injured. Because I haven’t done anything wrong. Reizei Hanako must be joking. She must be toying with me.”

But had Lady Kikyō raised her eyes and glimpsed even once at Hanako's face, such thoughts would have vanished.

Hanako’s face was expressionless. It was a thoroughly businesslike face. No emotion could be seen anywhere. Those with cruel minds often adopt expressionless faces when committing cruel acts. That cruel, expressionless face was now Hanako’s face.

The tip of the staff slowly extended. From its tip, the Corrosive Mercury Liquid—now on the verge of dripping—shimmered with a quivering light. And then, the tip of the staff extended all at once toward Lady Kikyō’s left eye.

At that moment came a voice from outside: "Isshiki Koichirō of the Tayasu household has infiltrated our secret dojo! Engage him!" "Engage him!" came the shout. "Ah! Then that means Lord Isshiki has—!" It was Lady Kikyō who stood up with a cry.

And then came a particularly shrill clang—a high-pitched metallic ring. In other words, Hanako had thrust her golden staff onto the stone pavement. Having deflected the first and second arrows and narrowly escaped peril, Koichirō positioned himself with an earthen mound at his back and a grove before him, as was his custom, holding his sword in a low stance. At this moment, he let out a sigh of relief—but with what must have been a hundred enemies surrounding him on all sides, there seemed to be no gap through which to slip away.

And from both sides, two enemies came rushing in, cutting through the moonlight. With a groan, Koichirō struck at one enemy on his left, shifted his stance in an instant, and then struck at another on his right. The enemy on the left had his shoulder split open, while the one on the right was cleaved straight down the head; both arched backward like drawn bows. As if trying to grasp the moon itself, they raised both hands high—only to collapse lifelessly to the ground. As Koichirō swiftly stepped back, a spear came thrusting after him.

What one might call a reverse motion. Instead of dodging, Koichirō leaped forward—again employing that reverse motion—neither swinging his drawn sword nor gripping the hilt wrapping, but thrusting both hands forward in a lunging strike as he plunged in with a grunt. The one who screamed was the spear wielder; remaining with the spear thrust forward, he stood enduring for a moment, but eventually let the spear drop with a clatter and collapsed backward to the ground. By now, Koichirō had already leaped back in a single bound, positioned his sword in a low stance once more, and shouted, "Come at me!"—but in the very next instant, he let out a startled cry.

For in the moonlit night, something snake-like traced an elliptical arc and came swooping down upon Koichirō. “Too bad! “I’m hit!” “A chain sickle!” Along with Koichirō’s shouted voice came a clattering sound. At the same instant, something flashed and darted through the air.

Thirty-Five

The stillness after the struggle! Only voices could be heard.

“The water’s reached one shaku!” “The water’s reached two shaku!” After that came a brief pause— “It won’t be long before it reaches three shaku!”

The sound of the waterfall could be heard. It was slightly different from before. Thud... thud... thud... That had been the sound until now. But now it had changed to a rushing, pouring noise - like an evening downpour.

The Female Taoist Master Toad Lady—whose real name was Reizei Hanako—her alchemy dojo was surrounded not by a grand garden, but by a densely overgrown thicket of trees.

This was the garden where, until just moments ago, Isshiki Koichirō had been engaged in a sword fight with members of Nanbu Shūgorō’s faction. In one corner of that garden stood a single building. It was not a structure made from cross-cut timber. It was a building constructed of stone. The shape was square—or rather, its height stood much taller. It should be called a rectangle. It measured about ten tatami mats in size. There was a door on one side. It appeared to be made of iron. A crossbar had been fastened from the outside. High up on one wall gaped a square window. From that window protruded a single massive rod spanning the opening. At the rod’s far end loomed a cliff shrouded in wild trees. The distance measured no more than six feet. A waterfall plunged down from the cliff. But no—until moments before, that waterfall had been cascading down the cliff face into its basin with tremendous force, though now it differed. To explain: the waterfall’s flow now traveled along that massive rod—a conduit—pouring into the stone structure—that is, Hanako’s purification chamber.

A warrior had secured a foothold on a cliff edge and was peering into the purification room through the window while shouting. It was none other than Nanbu Shūgorō. “It won’t be long before it reaches three shaku!” “It won’t be long before it reaches four shaku!” “The water will reach five shaku... six shaku!” “The room will fill with waterfall water—suffocation! That is, drowning!” He was shouting with evident delight.

Inside the purification room was a samurai. It was Isshiki Koichirō, captured.

A torrent of water cascaded down from above. The door to the room remained shut. There was absolutely no way to escape. The water outlet had likely been sealed. The water inside kept rising relentlessly.

Light streamed in through the window. The moonlight was a cold blue. And so the interior of the stone purification room became faintly visible through the dimness. "My sword got knocked away by a chain sickle. Then they all rushed me at once. I threw off two or three of them, but it wasn't enough. They grabbed my arms and legs, hoisted me up—next thing I knew, they'd thrown me into this room with a thud... And now water's pouring in! It's rising fast! The ceiling's too high! The window's way up there! The door won't budge! No way out! But I can't just stand here! If I hesitate, I'll drown! No matter what it takes—I have to escape! No matter what—I'm getting out!"

And so, Isshiki Koichirō ran toward the door. The water reached thigh level. He staggered as legs were caught. He pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

"Isn't there somewhere?! There must be an exit somewhere!" He ran to one of the rock walls. He pounded on it, but the rock wall didn't budge. It was smooth and slippery, with no footholds. He ran to another rock wall. He pounded on it again, but it didn't move. He ran to yet another rock wall. Still no good. No matter how he struck or pounded, the rock walls didn't budge an inch. No matter which wall he struck, it wouldn't shift even slightly. Every wall stood vertical, offering neither handholds nor footholds - climbing up to reach the window proved impossible.

Spla-a-ash, spla-a-ash—the water cascaded down. The water swiftly increased in volume. It reached his waist. It reached his abdomen. Finally, it reached his chest.

Soon it would reach his neck; in moments, it would reach his chin. And then it would reach his mouth. Once it reached his nose, that would be the end. Koichirō, leaning against the rock wall, shouted, "No use! Hopeless! I’ll die! Agh! Agh! Agh! Drowning! ...Lady Kikyō—agh!” he cried out.

"That's right—how is Lady Kikyō doing? That terrifying, terrifying mansion—as long as she remained imprisoned there, she would meet no good end! Her very life hung in peril! I must save her, I must save her! 'Lady Kikyō—agh!' he cried out. Thoughts swirled in a vortex. All the while, the waterfall kept falling. Thud-thud-thud-thud—the water rose relentlessly."

"I must get out—out of this room!" "...Must save—Lady Kikyō!" "...But I can’t get out!" "I can’t even save her!" "...Lady Kikyō!" "Lady Kikyō!" Spla-a-ash—spla-a-ash—the water cascaded down! The rising flood swelled relentlessly! Isshiki Koichirō would have to drown in this room.

But what had Lady Kikyō truly been doing around this time?

36

This was Hanako's alchemy room. Collapsed flat against the floor and writhing was Lady Kikyō. She covered her face with her sleeve. Her shoulders heaved with violent breaths. This proved her sobbing. Before her stood Hanako like an ink-black pillar, clad in a black Taoist robe. She held out a golden staff. From its tip fell Corrosive Mercury Liquid in a mercury-colored stream. As it dropped, small holes pocked… pocked… into the stone pavement. Smoke rose with a po—of.

Inside the Chinese lion-shaped brazier, the fire burned red-hot. A cauldron was hung over the brazier. It was an enormous Chinese-style cauldron. What rose from the cauldron was milky-white steam. The entire room was filled with smoke. The room was hazy with hydrangea hues. The jeweled canopy hanging from the ceiling, and the lamplight shining from it—these cast the haze. The utterly unchanged scene of the alchemy room! Ah, but there was one thing that had changed. The brocade curtain that had been hanging over the entrance was now hoisted high, and from the open doorway, voices could be heard faintly in the distance.

“It’s reached one shaku!” “It’s reached two shaku!” After a brief pause, “It won’t be long before it reaches three shaku!”—Nanbu Shūgorō’s voice rang out.

Hanako said. “Your lover Mr.Isshiki has been trapped inside a purification room built from rock formations.” “Mr.Isshiki, who was so concerned for your safety that he came to rescue you!” “Do you hear the waterfall’s roar!” “Can’t you hear it?! The splashing—spla-a-ash, spla-a-ash, splash, spla-a-ash—coming closer!” “It’s pouring into that purification room built into the rock formations!” “It’s reached one shaku! Two shaku! It won’t be long before it hits three!” “Do you understand the implications of this?” “It means the water has filled up. When it fills and fills until the waterfall’s flow has flooded the purification room to the brim, your beloved Mr.Isshiki Koichirō will drown!” “Now, I mean no harm. If you would just disclose the whereabouts of one Eternal Butterfly, I shall stop the waterfall’s flow.” “And then I shall save both Mr.Isshiki Koichirō and you.”

She stared fixedly at Lady Kikyō. Lady Kikyō did not respond. It was because she had nothing to say even if she wanted to. It was because she in fact did not know the whereabouts of a single Eternal Butterfly. It must be called a terrible torture. They subjected her lover, who had come to rescue her, to water torture on one front—relentlessly announcing the moment of his demise—while on the other, they menaced her by thrusting forth the terrifying Corrosive Mercury Liquid. If Lady Kikyō had known the whereabouts of even a single Eternal Butterfly, she would have revealed it without hesitation. Even if she hadn’t known, had Lady Kikyō possessed even a trace of impurity in her heart, she might have escaped this immediate peril by fabricating a false location. Lady Kikyō could not do that. To put it another way, Lady Kikyō couldn’t even conceive of a temporary excuse to escape. So pure was her heart.

I will die together with Mr. Isshiki! That is precisely my heart’s desire. I’m not sad at all. Still, how did Mr. Isshiki Koichirō manage to track down my location and come to rescue me? ...Perhaps when I realized I had been kidnapped, I bit off my little finger to let blood drip, wrote about it on tissue paper, wrapped it around combs and hairpins, and dropped several in the streets—and maybe Mr. Isshiki found one of them, then followed that clue to track down this place. If that’s the case, then Mr. Isshiki and I must truly share a profound bond. To be killed in the same place as that person, by the same band of villains, and depart this world together. Love’s divine blessing! I bear no grudge! This was Lady Kikyō’s state of mind.

She did not panic in the slightest. Even so, she felt both sad and afraid. And crying while trembling, she kept her sleeve pressed to her face.

Even during that time, Nanbu Shūgorō’s voice could be heard through the doorway. “It won’t be long before it reaches three shaku!” “It won’t be long before it reaches four shaku!” “Five shaku! Six shaku next!” “The room will be filled with the waterfall’s water.” “That means suffocation! In other words, drowning!”

Spla-a-ash, spla-a-ash—the sound of the waterfall could be heard like an accompaniment.

Once again, Shūgorō’s voice rang out: “He’s submerged up to his waist! He’s submerged up to his stomach! Oh, finally submerged up to his chest!” Spla-a-ash, spla-a-ash—the waterfall’s roar!

And once again, Shūgorō’s voice rang out. “He’s submerged up to his throat!” “He’s submerged up to his chin!”

Spla-a-ash, spla-a-ash—the waterfall’s roar!

Hanako stepped forward sharply. “Still silent?!” “You obstinate wretch!” “Speak! Speak! The Eternal Butterfly’s location!” “He yet lives! Now talk, Kikyō!” She jabbed her staff violently outward. The golden rod glinted coldly. Mercurial Corrosive Liquid trembled at its tip. Then came the final report: “Water at his mouth!” “Now his nose!” “It’s swallowed him whole!” “Gone from sight!” “Only water remains!” “Drowned—drowned! Isshiki Koichirō!” “Perish with him!” Reizei Hanako drove her staff downward. “Die! Die!” “I’ll slaughter you!”

But before that could happen, Lady Kikyō collapsed in a heap with a thud. Was it a faint or true death? Lady Kikyō lay motionless where she had fallen.

As lovers, Lady Kikyō and Koichirō seemed to have departed this world simultaneously.

So at this moment, aiming for this mansion, the Seven Lucky Gods group rushed over from the direction of Serizawa—carrying Benten Matsushiro on their hand-borne palanquin, shouting "Essa! Essa!" in staccato tones—but it must be said they arrived too late.

But the brawl began shortly after that.

37

The Seven Lucky Gods group, having rushed to the rear gate, scattered and split up there. The portable palanquin broke.

The one who alighted lightly was Benten Matsushiro, and she swiftly surveyed the mansion, but—

“Come on, it’s finally time to charge in.” “The house follows Tang-style architecture—a most peculiar design with numerous buildings.” “They seem to have considerable forces holed up inside.” “If we seven split up to search separately today, we risk being picked off.” “Let’s stick together as much as possible—all seven of us—and comb through each building one by one, like crushing lice.” “Wait—‘crush them’? That’s not our aim.” “We’re here to find Lady Kikyō and retrieve her.” “It’ll surely come to blades clashing anyway.” “Dampen your sword pins.” “Now then—the codeword is ‘Ship and Palanquin’.” “Even so, if this turns into chaos, we might get scattered.” “If that happens, no helping it—each of you act as you see fit.” “When you encounter danger, blow the signal whistle.” “One long sustained note.” “And anyone who spots Lady Kikyō—blow two short notes.” “……Come on, charge in—starting with me!” Though a woman, she commanded the gang with flawless planning; gripping the earthen wall, she fluttered lightly over to the other side.

The remaining six were not to be outdone; they too leaped over the earthen wall.

A grand garden spread out. Trees and artificial hills towered. There seemed to be ponds and streams as well. And interspersed among them, buildings stood everywhere. The moonlight was illuminating them. From one building, voices could be heard. One building was silent.

The Seven Lucky Gods group, having crawled on their bellies across the ground, observed the situation for a while, but— “Hey,” Matsushiro said first. “Let’s check the nearest building first.” It was six people who answered, “Understood.” Of course, they were hushed voices. Before their eyes stood a single building. It was securely shuttered with storm shutters. That was the Phantom Thief Seven Lucky Gods Group. They had run that far with such speed, yet their stealth was so devout that they made neither a rustle of leaves nor a single footfall. Then, Matsushiro pressed her ear tightly against the storm shutters.

“This must be the library,” “I don’t sense any human presence.” “It just reeks of silverfish and old paper.” She had likely sensed this through some sixth sense. “Come now—let’s move to that building over there.” The seven crept forward and reached another structure. Benten Matsushiro pressed her ear against the storm shutters. “Four or five men inside,” “but no women.” “I can feel sword auras lingering here.” “This is definitely an armory.” “They’ve stockpiled quite the arsenal.” “Were this any other night, we’d never let such loot go untouched.” “We’d smash our way in and claim it all—but not tonight.” “We’ve greater prizes to seize... Now then—onward!”

Ahead of them was a grove. That said, it was a maple planting. It was as thick as a forest. Blocking out the moonlight, it was dark. There was a building to its right.

“First, let’s hide in the bushes.” It was Benten Matsushiro who said this. “Understood,” the six nodded.

As the seven stealthily moved forward and quickly concealed themselves in the bushes, the rushing waterfall sounds that had been echoing since earlier now seemed closer—their volume louder, somehow more intense—when from the direction of the cascading water came a lone samurai trotting forward with moonlight glinting off his shoulders. He appeared to be heading toward the building on the right.

Noticing this, Benten Matsushiro whispered “Hey” again. “A samurai’s coming. “Likely one of the mansion’s residents. “Two or three of you rush out together—grab him without warning and haul him back here. “We’ll get Lady Kikyō’s location out of him. “But mark me—don’t let him make a sound!” “Here he comes!” answered Ebisu Saburōji, their lieutenant. “Then we’ll pitch in too.” It was Daikoku no Jirō who spoke.

“Sounds fun—I’m coming too.” It was Hotei no Ichiwaka who said this—a handsome man with a pompadour.

Thirty-Eight That samurai, still unaware of them, passed by the bushes. The moment he did so, Hotei no Ichiwaka—nimble as a hunting dog—sprang out and pounced from behind. At the same time, he hooked his left arm around the samurai’s neck—likely to prevent him from crying out.

“Well done, Ichiwaka!” cried Daikoku no Jirō, then sprang out in a flash, swung his arm for an eye gouge, and struck at the samurai’s eyes. Just when it seemed the samurai had been captured without resistance, the result turned out quite the opposite. Hotei no Ichiwaka was thrown heavily to the ground first, and then Daikoku was kicked down. He seemed to be highly skilled in martial arts. But who could this samurai be? It was none other than Nanbu Shūgorō—a master of Ittō-ryū. Even if the Seven Lucky Gods group were phantom thieves and swift in action, they were not yakuza who could be captured so easily by such means. He was a man whose skill matched even Isshiki Koichirō’s in combat.

The purification room had filled completely with waterfall water, and now that Isshiki Koichirō had completely submerged and vanished from sight—drowned beyond any doubt—he descended from the cliff to report this to Reizei Hanako, hurrying over to this spot.

“Who’s there!” shouted Shūgorō. He then looked all around. Strangely enough, there was no one. He had indeed thrown down and kicked two men, yet for some reason their figures were nowhere to be seen. It was only natural that they couldn’t be seen. When it came to the members of the Seven Lucky Gods, their swift movements and nimbleness were truly astonishing. As for Hotei and Daikoku—the moment they were thrown down and kicked, they sprang up like bouncing rubber balls; at the peak of their leap, they twisted sideways and dove into the heart of the maple bushes that reigned over the darkness with their thick growth, vanishing from sight.

“This is strange...” muttered Shūgorō, keeping his hand on his sword hilt while warily scanning his surroundings—though he must have sensed something amiss. He fixed his gaze on the maple thicket. Staring intently, he froze in shock. For there in the darkness—made deeper still by their presence—loomed the shadowy forms of six or seven strangely attired figures lying prone on the ground, their sickle-shaped heads raised as they trained their focus on him.

At that, Shūgorō let out a loud voice. “Hear me, all of you! Pray assemble at once! “To our secret dojo—once more, someone has infiltrated! “Moreover, this time there’s not just one—there must be six or seven of them! “They’re all suspicious-looking characters in strange garb! “Pray cut them down! “Pray cut them down!” He drew his sword and shouted, “Come out, you lot!” Clatter-clatter-clatter! The clatter of doors being thrown open and the pounding of stampeding footsteps! The sound of running echoed from all directions as shadowy figures swiftly swarmed in. Thus, the samurai who had been holed up in several buildings responded to Nanbu Shūgorō’s voice, brandishing their weapons and converging all at once as if to surround the maple bushes.

“Ah, gentlemen!” said Nanbu Shūgorō. “The villains are there—in the bushes! Surround them and cut them down in a flurry of slashes! Cut them down!” “Understood!” Then fifteen or sixteen men, their drawn white blades poised in a thrusting stance, charged into the bushes.

“What’s this?!” “How strange!” “They’re not here!”

“There’s no one here!” Indeed, within the maple bushes lay not a single soul. The ever-adaptable Seven Lucky Gods group—having instantly gauged the unfavorable odds—must have scattered in seven directions through their trademark lightning maneuvers, vanishing without trace. Exactly as anticipated. The next moment brought shouts and screams echoing from every quarter. “Villain spotted here! “……Got one in my sights!” The voice rang from the artificial hill’s direction.

“What the—?!” came a voice bellowing as though violently kicking something aside, followed by another cry: “Drop dead, you wretch—!”

Next came a bloodcurdling "Wah!" of a scream! One of the Seven Lucky Gods group members seemed to have cut down a Hitotsubashi family samurai with a single stroke.

From the opposite direction of the bamboo thicket came a voice: “Another one here! Strange-looking villain!”

“Shut your damn mouth!” a voice barked back.

Immediately after came a piercing "Wah!" scream! Yet another Hitotsubashi family samurai appeared to have been slain by one of the Seven Lucky Gods members. From far across the grounds near the garden pond echoed a shout: "Intruders present!" "Intruders here!" Clang—! rang out the metallic clash of blades! Then splash—! as something heavy hit water! "Get a good look at this!" someone roared. A Hitotsubashi warrior had evidently been cut down by a Seven Lucky Gods fighter and booted into the ornamental pond.

Thirty-Nine

Clashing swords, screams, curses—all came from every direction. From the stone bridge’s direction came several voices. “Here’s another villain!” “A woman too!” “Strange attire!” “We’ve got her!” “Now we have them cornered!” “Capture them alive!” “Fools!” rang a woman’s voice—sharp as rending silk. Their leader Benten Matsushiro appeared to have been spotted and surrounded by Hitotsubashi samurai. But in that same instant came a drawn-out whistle—Huuu!—from her direction. Instantly, the vast garden’s groves shook, bushes trembled, moonlight scattering through leaves as six shadowy figures from all sides—moving with imp-like swiftness—raced toward the whistle’s source. Clang! Clang! went blades. A scream—“Wah!” The thud of a body falling. “Ship!” “Palanquin!”—the codeword! The shouts roared across the grounds before a woman’s voice cut through.

“It’s alright now!” “Now, take cover!” “Take cover and search for Lady Kikyō!”

Suddenly everything fell silent again—moonlight sent scattering through shaken trees and trembling groves—as seven black figures scattered into view. It appeared Benten Matsushiro, their leader, had blown the signal whistle to gather her six scattered comrades. Together they cut through the encircling Hitotsubashi samurai before dispersing their forces once more for free movement.

And then everything fell suddenly silent. But only for a brief moment. Various voices began to reach them. "Mmm—" ...the moan of an injured man. "Which way'd they go? Which way'd they go?" ...the voices of Hitotsubashi family samurai searching for the Seven Lucky Gods group members.

Various sounds could be heard.

"Rustle rustle rustle! Rustle rustle rustle!" The sound of them pushing through shrubs and groves as they ran about. There were members of the Seven Lucky Gods group, and there were samurai of the Hitotsubashi family. Roar—, roar—! The waterfall's roar! The waterfall’s roar kept falling even more heavily upon Isshiki Koichirō’s buried corpse. Clang——! The clang of steel! They clashed! The members of the Seven Lucky Gods group and the samurai of the Hitotsubashi family. Something glinted. The moonlight had struck the blades of swung swords and the tips of spears.

In one spot stood a cluster of rhododendrons. At the base of the thicket crouched a figure peering out through the shadows. When she rose slowly into view, a short sword hung at her side—its blade thickly smeared with blood. She gathered up her kimono hem with sharp tugs, revealing a scarlet crepe underrobe beneath and plump white calves below its edge. Her hair was styled in a musubi-wata updo secured with an onikakushi hairpin, her yellow kihachijō furisode sleeves rolled high above her elbows. This was Benten Matsushiro, their leader. Her robes and limbs were splattered crimson—not her own blood, but that of her foes sprayed upon her as she had cut down several enemies.

“Now then—what should I do next?” “Right,” she said with a nod. “The maple thicket where I hid earlier—and that single building standing to the right.” “Something about it just feels... off.” “Let’s go investigate that place.”

Perhaps she had sensed this through some sixth sense—the moment she muttered to herself, Benten Matsushiro pivoted sharply and began retracing her path toward that direction, creeping along shadowed spaces between trees.

It appeared they scattered in all directions, for not a single samurai of the Hitotsubashi family remained in the vicinity. “How fortunate,” Benten Matsushiro said, and swiftly dashed toward the building. It was a completely independent structure with a conical outer frame and a steeply sloped roof that evoked crane wings. The outer frame was vermilion-lacquered. The roof tiles were green. The moon shone on the roof tiles. Moonlight filtering through the trees cast silver patches across parts of the outer structure. The whole was profoundly mysterious. A railing encircled it completely. The railing too was vermilion-lacquered. “Where’s the entrance?” “Where’s the entrance?” Matsushiro vaulted over the railing. It was a corridor. Matsushiro circled the corridor around the building in one full loop. There stood what appeared to be an entrance—a brocade curtain hung across it, through whose gap shone lamplight in hydrangea hues. “Got it!” muttered Benten Matsushiro, leaping forward to charge in—but

“Whoa, what’s this?!” she exclaimed, freezing in place. A giant furnace was burning. A large cauldron hung above it. Hazily, steam was rising. A pungent stench assaulted the nostrils. Beside it stood a woman clad in jet-black Taoist robes. In her left hand she held a golden staff; in her right arm lay the body of a girl—whether dead or unconscious—her eyes closed and limbs limp. For a woman, she possessed monstrous strength—Reizei Hanako, the Taoist-clad woman, heaved upward the girl she held: Lady Kikyō. Glaring into the cauldron, she snarled, “I’ll melt you! I’ll melt you!” and prepared to hurl Lady Kikyō inside.

“Wait!” shouted Benten Matsushiro and leaped at her like a female leopard.

As Reizei Hanako leaped back, she reflexively placed Lady Kikyō on the floor and thrust out her golden staff. “Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?!” “I am Benten Matsushiro, leader of the world-renowned Seven Lucky Gods group! Who are you?! Who are you?!” “I am Madam Toad, the female Taoist practitioner! ...You, this ‘Benten’ or whatever—why have you come?!” Smoothly, she drew out the golden staff. Benten Matsushiro, poised with her short sword, declared, “I’ll tell you—we’re here to take back...” “...the Insect Museum Master’s esteemed daughter!” “Kikyō?!” she sneered coldly. “Here she is! I don’t know if she’s alive or dead!”

“She’s mine!” shouted Benten Matsushiro as she brandished her short sword and lunged forward. Reizei Hanako staggered back under the assault’s momentum—but in that split second, Matsushiro thrust out an arm with monstrous strength and snatched up Lady Kikyō.

“Payment later!” “…Savor this defeat!” It was the moment when Benten Matsushiro, having delivered her parting line, attempted to dash out of the room. “You thieving wench, don’t you dare!”

With this call, a samurai appeared from the doorway. He held a drawn blade gleaming coldly. "You're in the way! Move!" shouted Benten Matsushiro. "I've blocked your path!" "I won't let you escape!" "Who are you?" "I am Nanbu Shūgorō." "A samurai of the Hitotsubashi family, aren't you?" "I am one consumed by concern for Lady Kikyō!" "So it was you...!" "You're the kidnapper—" "Surrender!" As she barked, Matsushiro thrust with one hand.

With a cla-a-ang! came the sound of clashing swords—Nanbu Shūgorō effortlessly parried and deflected it. "You’re like a mantis with an axe! Drop dead, you harlot!" At that moment, a Ziiin sound rang out. Reizei Hanako swiftly thrust the golden staff into the cauldron! She pulled it out and smoothly thrust it forward. Mercury-colored drops dripped, smoke rose from the floor as usual, and a hole was bored into the floor. "I’ll melt you. With the Corrosive Mercury Liquid!" From the left, she inched menacingly closer.

Nanbu Shūgorō, who had raised his sword high, stealthily circled around from the right. “Harlot! I won’t save you! I’ll kill you for sure!” “I won’t save you!” “I’ll kill you for sure!”

Benten Matsushiro, having stepped back, glared at the enemies to her left and right—then suddenly dropped to her knees on the floor. No sooner had she released Lady Kikyō from her embrace than she hooked her index finger, placed it in her mouth—the signal whistle—and blew two long blasts.

Then came the sound of footsteps! A seething crowd had materialized—a band of six phantom thieves. “Hey, Boss!”

“You lot!” “Oh! It’s Lady Kikyō?” “They’ve spotted us!” “Got ’em! Fall back!” “Form the hand-palanquin!”

“Got it!” The six clasped hands firmly. Benten Matsushiro leapt up and effortlessly hoisted Lady Kikyō, shouting, “Through the front gate! Move, move!” They hoisted Lady Kikyō into the hand-palanquin. “Now!” With this shout, the six phantom thieves thrust their drawn blades horizontally and whispered them through the air—shishishishi—a strategy to keep enemies at bay. All their movements were like the wind. With Benten Matsushiro at the lead, they dashed away from the doorway.

Reizei Hanako and Nanbu Shūgorō were so overwhelmed by the sheer unexpectedness, the lightning-fast speed, and the method of their opponents that they stood dazed for a moment. When they regained their senses, it was Nanbu who first began chasing after them. “Hey everyone!” came his booming voice. “Those seven rascals have formed a group and dashed toward the front gate! After them! After them!” Next, Hanako sprinted out. “Everyone!” she shrilled. “They breached the secret dojo—don’t let them escape! Attack and capture them!” “One unit—circle around to the back gate!” “Cut them off ahead!” “Cut them off ahead!”

The Itsubashi forces, having split into two groups, headed for the front and back gates—but by this time, Benten Matsushiro already had both hands firmly gripping the latch of the great front gate. Clatter-clang—BOOM! The gate opened. “Come on, come on! Hurry!” “Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”

Still with Matsushiro at the lead, the phantom thieves of the Seven Lucky Gods group dashed through the gate like demons.

Chasing after them were the Itsubashi forces! But against the phantom thieves' divine speed, they stood no chance of catching up.

Yet what caused those battle cries to erupt ahead of them at this very moment? The Itsubashi family's main contingent, having thrown open the back gate and charged out, circled ahead of the Seven Lucky Gods group and now surrounded them.

Forty

But just around this time, from the direction of Ōmori along the coast, a group of figures came running. Surrounding a single palanquin were fifteen or sixteen samurai, all clad in covert attire. The female Taoist practitioner known as the Iron Crutch Lady—her true name being Kitanoji Takako—was transported in the palanquin by samurai of the Tayasu house, who formed the rescue party for Lady Kikyō. This was the group that had stealthily slipped out from the back gate of the Tayasu house that night and raced off toward Tamagawa in the opposite direction—yet by what route or means they had circled back, they now revealed themselves.

They dashed along the coast. Then Takako called out. "Hurry, hurry! Make haste!" "If you dawdle around, we won't make it in time!" "......I know, I know!" "Lady Kikyō, the daughter of the Insect Museum Master, has plunged into peril right now!" "We can't even tell if she's alive or dead!" "It's a race against time! We have no time to lose! Hurry, hurry, hurry!" "Hurry, hurry! Hurry, hurry!"

The palanquin group ran on and on.

There was a sandhill. They crossed the sandhill. There was driftwood. They leaped over the driftwood. And another sandhill had formed. They had to cross it.

“How strange… What’s happening here? An indescribable sense of unease assails me from the sea—I tell you.”

Kitanoji Takako's voice rang out. “Stop running!”

“Stop the palanquin!”

—Kitanoji Takako slid smoothly out of the halted palanquin, walked to the water’s edge, and stared intently out to sea.

But there was nothing on the sea. Blurred by moonlight, it lay shrouded in a vast, hazy mist. Yet to Kitanoji Takako, something seemed visible after all. She continued gazing uneasily.

Then, she suddenly turned around—

“Sakurai! Sakurai!” she called out.

A samurai approached with a "Hai." He was a samurai named Sakurai Kagenoshin. He bowed politely. "Ha, what is the matter?" "Look—over the sea. A ship approaches, don’t you think?" Sakurai Kagenoshin looked out to sea, but no ship was in sight.

"No, it is not visible." "Is that so?" said Takako, though her voice still carried unease. "To mortal eyes like yours—the hour being midnight, the distance great—yes, you may not see it. But a dreadful ship indeed sails this way, a single vessel under full sail."

“What do you mean by that?” “What do you mean by ‘a dreadful ship’?” “The ship itself is nothing. It’s those aboard who are dreadful.” “What manner of people would they be?” “They’re ones who hold secrets.” “What sort of secrets would those be?” It seemed Sakurai Kagenoshin remained utterly unable to grasp what Takako meant.

“They’re ones holding my secrets!” “And my rival Ms. Reizei Hanako’s secrets as well.” “What is that person’s status?” “A great one… one who holds power.” “May I ask your full name?” “How annoying!”

“Hai,” said Kagenoshin as he withdrew.

“If that one were to appear now, of all times... I couldn’t bear it!” “Everything will be ruined—everyone and everything!” “Hah! If that’s how it’s going to be, then no grudges and no love!” she muttered deliriously. “It’s not just me who’s in trouble—Ms. Hanako would be too.” “We might have to give up.”

She continued to gaze out to sea. But there was nothing on the sea. The windless sea lay calm—so utterly still that if mermaids truly dwelled beneath those waves, one might fancy them surfacing to sing in voices of crystalline beauty. Having wheeled about abruptly, Kitanoji Takako retraced her steps to the palanquin’s side, yet—

"There's no use worrying about it. "I'll see it through to the end." After entering the palanquin, she called out.

“Do it! Hurry! Give it everything you’ve got!” The samurai of the Tayasu house raced along the coast at full speed, surrounding the palanquin as they headed toward Serizawa—but inside, Kitanoji Takako muttered anxiously.

“Ship! “…That one!” “…I can’t do a thing!”

But would such a ship really come sailing across the sea, carrying such a dreadful person?

There was no error in Takako’s clairvoyance. On the far-distant sea, a single ship was sailing under full sail.

41

At the bow stood an old woman.

She gazed serenely at the path ahead. Then the old woman called out. “Now now, Shachimaru! What’s this? You mustn’t sleep—up you get! Up!”

“What nonsense!” came the immediate retort. “What do you mean I’m sleeping? Look at these big, wide-open eyes of mine!” The one who said this was a boy. He was sitting at the stern. He was a blue-haired young monk. He appeared to be just fourteen or fifteen years old. He wore a cute waistcloth. He was handling the sails. As for those sails, they were of an unusual design—some triangular, others diamond-shaped. A single T-shaped mast bore sails that hung swollen with wind, like a bird spreading its feathers. But their material was terrible—a patchwork of joined seams.

The ship’s shape was also unusual. Rather than a ship, it was a raft. To navigate mountain rivers like the Kiso and Fuji, the mountain people would lash together logs to build sturdy rafts—and that ship too was one such raft. And yet, how astonishing its speed was! The raft ship came rushing forward at full speed. A melodic sail hum resonated. Bubbles burst up from the bow. A single wake trailed from the stern, moonlit into stripes.

“Lies! Lies! What’s this about Shachimaru having his eyes wide open? No such thing!” “You must’ve been dozing off!” The old woman began saying such things. “Look—the triangular sail’s all saggy! That’s proof enough!”

"Oh," Shachimaru exclaimed in surprise. "Even though you're facing away, you seem to know exactly what's happening over here." "Do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?" "What a creepy old hag you are."

Despite his strikingly handsome features, Shachimaru had a sharp tongue.

However, the old woman’s nature appeared generous, lighthearted, and open-hearted, and she showed no sign of rebuking him for it. “Eyes behind and eyes before, eyes on my legs and hands, eyes on my chest and back—my entire body is covered in eyes.” “That’s not even half of it!” “The brain! “The brain! “You see, the brain—the brain itself is eyes.” “That’s why I can see anything… That’s why this time I’m descending the mountain and entering Edo.” The old woman began to say such things.

“You’re really becoming an insufferable old hag!” The blue-haired young monk Shachimaru wielded his sharp tongue like a blade. “We finally make it into Edo—build this raft ship, hoist the sails, struggle up the Sumida River—and just as we’re about to slip through that mansion’s grand watergate, you suddenly wheel us about shouting ‘Shachimaru! Change course! ‘Serizawa Village!’ ‘Serizawa Village!’ ‘Enough already! That way! This way!’ Driving us frantic with your endless commands till you’ve raced us clear out here!” “Who knows what those accursed eyes of yours spied? We helmsmen are worn to the bone!” Clearly, Shachimaru nursed grievances. “What devil’s purpose sends us to such a place anyway?”

“Well, you see…” said the old woman, her voice growing more solemn now. “We’re going to save someone.”

“To help someone? Sounds fishy.” “A beautiful, beautiful girl.” “Hmph. How should I know?” “Then we go to scold them!”

“It’s getting more and more unclear.” “Though they are my retainers, those two have betrayed me and done wicked deeds—I’m going to scold them! …Shachimaru!” Her voice suddenly turned fierce. “Steer the raft ship toward land!” “Bring us closer to the highway!” “Yes,” he replied meekly. Shachimaru yanked the rope—hard. Flap-flap-flap, flap-flap-flap—the several sails, their direction changed, billowed as they caught the wind, but the raft ship swiftly altered course and slid out toward the highway.

And before long, the highway—the shadow of Tōkaidō's land—came hazily into view in the distance.

“Shachimaru,” she commanded again, “Now, light the pine torch!” Click! There was the sound of a flintstone being struck. Immediately, the fire whoooshed to life. Shachimaru lit the pine torch. “Hand it over,” said the old woman. Taking the pine torch, she held it aloft and swirled it in circles two or three times. And then—what do you know?—in response, a single pink torchlight flickered into view from the shore.

It appeared someone was there. But this was no ordinary gathering—it was a full procession. Though their hair wasn’t shaved but cut short to shoulder length, thirty to forty nuns moved in perfect formation. Clad in plain mouse-gray robes with waistcloths wrapped about them and kesa stoles draped over their shoulders, they advanced at a brisk pace.

It was a group of nuns with their hair uncut.

The old woman aboard the raft ship was dressed in exactly the same manner. She wore a plain mouse-colored garment and had wrapped a black waistcloth around herself. And she had draped a kesa over herself. That kesa alone was made of gold brocade. Reflected in the pine torch's light, it shone with dazzling beauty. Speaking of beauty, her face too was remarkably striking - a masculine high nose, a large gallant mouth drawn tight, long elegantly arched eyebrows, but most distinctive were her eyes: large sunken eyes blazing with intensity that embodied the very essence of "mystery," eyes whose fierce cruelty paradoxically enhanced their captivating arched beauty. Her complexion glowed youthfully unlined. Yet she remained unmistakably aged - for the hair cascading over her shoulders shone platinum-white, as did even her eyebrows.

Chapter Forty-Two

The white-haired nun extinguished the fire with a breath and barked again, "Shachimaru!"

“This will do—change course!” “Full speed ahead for Serizawa!” “Break through, break through, now break through!”

The raft ship, having changed direction, began moving with sails resounding—shin-shin-shin-shin—through the night.

Who was this white-haired nun?

What manner of people could this procession of nuns running along the highway be? Of course, it was unclear now.

That said, the two groups appeared to be allies. And so, both groups' destination was undoubtedly Serizawa Village.

In any case, working in concert across land and water, a bizarre procession of nuns ran onward through the moonlit late night.

This was Serizawa Village. The seven eccentric thieves of the Seven Lucky Gods group found their path blocked by the Itchūbashi forces. A roar erupted—a battle cry. It was the unified battle cry of the Itchūbashi family’s warriors. Simultaneously, something glinted in the moonlight— the swords they had drawn. “Form a solid line and advance!” “You shall not pass!” They took their combat stances. “They outmaneuvered us first—how vexing!” “But why should we cower?!” It was Matsushiro who barked these words.

“Come on, everyone! Use the usual tactic! Swastika Formation! Push through, break their line, and cut our way out!” “Understood,” said the six subordinates, then began spinning around and around. What was this Swastika Formation? It was their distinctive tactical formation. They placed Lady Kikyō onto the hand-carried palanquin and gathered like a sculpted group. The six members of the Seven Lucky Gods group began rotating while remaining clustered together. First they spun around and around to the left. Then they spun around and around to the right. Then once more to the left they turned, and once more to the right they turned. They would repeat this endlessly. And so, spinning in that manner, they pressed ever forward. Even as they spun and advanced, they thrust their right-hand swords forward, shaking them up and down to fend off the enemy, striving to keep them at bay.

However, only their leader Matsushiro stood apart from the group at the forefront, barking orders like “Turn left! Turn right!” as she directed them.

Now they began spinning around and around.

What a strange spectacle this was!

The moon shone from above. Blades glinted. Lady Kikyō, atop the palanquin, exposed her pale face to the moonlight and spun as she was turned. Her long, drooping sleeves fluttered with each rotation, catching the wind to flap noisily. It resembled a bat flapping its wings. Behind them rose the mansion. Its jet-black silhouette suggested some foreign sorcerer’s tower. To the right stretched the sea—moonlight-blurred and mist-shrouded.

What could that be—those red things glimmering here and there to the left? They were the lamplights of Serizawa Village.

Ahead still stood the Itchūbashi forces, lined up with drawn blades at the ready.

Surrounded by those forces, on the vast midnight field, the sculpted group kept rotating.

And so they pressed onward. One could not help but call it a strange spectacle. Then, Matsushiro shouted. “Come on, now! Turn right!” The sculpted group began turning to the right. “Left this time! Turn!”

The sculpted group began turning to the left. White blades glinted, feet fell in step, and the sculpted group whirled in a vortex.

“Forward, forward! Come on, forward!” It was Benten Matsushiro’s command. Rotating, the sculpted group advanced. There stood Matsushiro’s gallant figure. She had hitched up her hem with taut precision. Both sleeves were knotted at her shoulders. From beneath crimson hakama trousers spilled her shins—shins streaked with blood. Arms emerged from rolled-up sleeves, bared up to the upper arms. Those too bore bloodstains. In her grip gleamed a naked blade. Assuming middle stance, she pressed onward.

The spinning sculpted group! Advancing sculpted group! Benten Matsushiro ran forward while commanding! Tap, tap, tap, tap they pressed forward. It was only natural that the warriors of the Itchūbashi family lost their nerve. Never before had they seen or heard of such tactics.

They wanted to charge in, but there was simply no way to do so. Even if they tried to restrain them, there was simply no way to do so. If they were to charge in recklessly, in the end, several of the six swords would undoubtedly come down simultaneously. Even if they tried to restrain them, the sculpted group’s movements were too swift—they couldn’t be easily suppressed. They attempted to block them relying on their superior numbers, but could not advance at all, uniformly retreating step by step. The Seven Lucky Gods group advanced. The Itchūbashi forces retreated.

What would be the outcome? Even so, it wasn’t as though the Itchūbashi family’s warriors were entirely without brave men. Sure enough, a single warrior sliced through the moonlight and charged fiercely into the sculpted group. But the result was brutal. Seizing the moment, the Seven Lucky Gods group raised their swords in unison—but these were sweeping strikes executed mid-rotation—and swung them down with a whoosh. Immediately came a scream. Next came the thud of a body collapsing! A warrior of the Itchūbashi family—his skull split open by one sword, his shoulder sliced by another, his ribs hacked off by a third short sword—screamed and collapsed.

“This is how it’s done!” came a cheerful voice. It was Benten Matsushiro who spoke. “Overcome it! Overcome it!” “Press onward!” She nimbly leaped over the corpse. “Understood!” they cried in unison. They were six subordinates. They too leaped over the corpses and pressed forward with a tap, tap, tap, tap. The sculpted group advanced. The sculpted group continued to spin round and round.

Lady Kikyō's face was pale. Her face was exposed to the moonlight. Her sleeves fluttered. It was as if bats were flapping their wings. Lady Kikyō was rotated on the palanquin, spinning ceaselessly. It remained unclear whether she was alive or dead. She was left completely at their mercy.

43

Relentlessly running—relentlessly running—the Seven Lucky Gods group! They dashed headlong toward Serizawa Village! Would the Seven Lucky Gods group succeed in rescuing Lady Kikyō in this way? No, no—that seemed utterly impossible. Having witnessed one of their own struck down before their very eyes, the warriors of the Itchūbashi family seemed instead to erupt in fury; four or five of them raised a coordinated cry and lunged forward in unison.

But the result was futile.

When the six members of the Seven Lucky Gods group raised their six swords in unison and swung them down with a whoosh in sweeping strikes mid-rotation, several screams erupted at once, followed by the sound of bodies collapsing. Four or five corpses lay scattered across the field; blood gushed from them and sprayed like misted droplets, its haze billowing smokily to veil the moonlight. Haloed by this crimson fog, the moon momentarily turned red—as if a colossal Chinese lantern plant had been hung in the sky—and Benten Matsushiro, shouldering that vision,

“This is how it’s done! Did that surprise you?” “The Seven Lucky Gods group’s Swastika Formation—your Kainade tactics can’t break it!” “We’ll take you on—come at us a thousand times!” “...Over them! Over them!” “Press onward!” She leaped over the corpses to the far side. “Oh, got it! “Let’s move!” The rotating formation maintained its shape as it followed Matsushiro and vaulted over the corpses. They turned left. They turned right. And so they pressed forward.

Gradually, the Itchūbashi forces were pushed back and back. But at that moment, when a thunderous battle cry erupted from behind them—what in the world happened?

From the front gate, fifty or sixty warriors of the Itchūbashi family came running and finally caught up at this moment. By this point, the Seven Lucky Gods group now found themselves surrounded by enemies on both fronts. Then, several twangs of bowstrings sounded from behind, and a number of war arrows came flying.

The six swords that had risen in an instant flashed, glittered, glittered, glittered—likely because they had parried the arrows. But a second twang of bowstrings! But a third twang of bowstrings! As the incessant twanging continued, the war arrows that came whirring through the air gradually grew thicker in number. The Itchūbashi family forces approaching from behind were deliberately avoiding close combat and attempting to strike them down with projectile weapons.

Realizing this, Benten Matsushiro made her voice ring out shrilly.

“Alright everyone, lie down! “Take a breather! Take a breather!”

At her command, the six subordinates suddenly vanished. Of course, this did not mean they had disappeared like smoke. Scattering the pale moonlight, the sculpted figures of the Seven Lucky Gods group—who had been rotating in their Swastika Formation—split apart in an instant and pressed themselves flat against the ground. Lady Kikyō lay on the ground. Beside her, Matsushiro crouched low. With the two at the center, Matsushiro's six subordinates formed a wide circle, pressing their bodies flush against the earth. Thus their forms became indistinguishable.

However, the warriors of the Itchūbashi family apparently did not interpret it that way. They seemed to have assumed that [the Seven Lucky Gods group] had all been struck down by the volley of war arrows they had loosed and perished. The forces from both front and rear let out a thunderous war cry, but acting rashly and impulsively, they charged toward the Seven Lucky Gods group. It was exactly what they had been waiting for—Benten Matsushiro sprang up.

“Perfect timing! Take them down!” “Now!”

The six subordinates shouted in unison and leaped up fiercely. “You fools!” “Drop dead!” “Take that!” They roared and plunged into the fray.

Clangs of swords! Thuds of falling bodies! Screams followed by groans! And then human figures scattered in all directions—but these were the routed Itchūbashi forces fleeing in retreat. The Seven Lucky Gods group, riding their momentum, pursued to press their advantage—but Matsushiro grew concerned. “Don’t pursue them too far!” “Fall back!” “Gather round, gather round—to one spot!”

However, drowned out by the sounds of footsteps, battle cries, and clashing swords, Matsushiro’s voice did not carry through.

The six subordinates chased and chased, running past each other and cutting them down.

The panicked Itchūbashi forces, likely intending to take refuge in the mansion, gathered their scattered numbers into one group and began running toward the front gate.

Forty-four Just as that group arrived, a tightly clustered force emerged from the front gate. Positioning Reizei Hanako at their center and Nanbu Shūgorō at their head, a fresh contingent of approximately thirty men from the Itchūbashi family emerged, pushing back their own allies who had been attempting to flee into the mansion. “What is the meaning of this, men?!” The one who had shouted this was Shūgorō. “The enemy are verminous thieves—mere seven or eight men! They should be no trouble to cut down! To retreat into the mansion now would be the height of disgrace! Turn back, I say! Turn back!”

Encouraged by this, the Itchūbashi forces swung around, let out a war cry, and surged back like a great wave. “Encircle them! Strike them down! Take no prisoners!” “Don’t let them escape! Don’t let them escape! Capture them!” Swirling round and round, they encircled them. Surrounded on all sides, the Seven Lucky Gods group—however agile their movements—stood no chance against enemy forces outnumbering them tenfold; against such overwhelming odds, resistance proved impossible. “Damn it!” “We’re done for!”

“What do we do now?!” “Just gather in one place!”

"What about the leader?" "What about Lady Kikyō?" They called out and warned each other, but being separated and cornered, they could neither regroup nor locate their leader Matsushiro or Lady Kikyō.

“There’s no helping it now!” “Die! Die! Cut them down and die!” Thereupon, they split into six men charging six directions—dashing in to cut down foes, then wheeling back to cut them down again.

It became utter chaos.

The moonlight grew increasingly sharper. The surroundings grew bright and hazy.

Amidst this, a chaotic brawl raged. There a cluster, here another—shadows locked in combat could be seen.

With a whoosh, a group dashed out. With a whoosh, a group gave chase. Groups clashed against groups. A whistle sounded sharply. A figure dashed toward that spot!

And then—immediately, the clang of swords! Chaos! Chaos! Chaos! Chaos!

Forty-five

Time gradually passed. As time passed, it was only natural that the Itchūbashi forces grew increasingly emboldened while the Seven Lucky Gods group, in contrast, began to lose heart—or so one might say. Thus, before long, the Seven Lucky Gods group would be annihilated to the last man.

But at that very moment, an unexpected incident abruptly erupted. First came a fearsome war cry, then soul-shaking clangs of swords resounded, and a section of the Itchūbashi forces crumbled away in mere moments.

The warriors of the Tayasu family arrived and charged into the Itchūbashi forces’ flank at this moment. Thus, an even fiercer battle was unleashed. And then, breaking through the chaotic battlefield, a single palanquin came flying in. Reizei Hanako, guarded by her retinue, had come within a few ken of that spot when the palanquin halted—and something slid out smoothly from within. “Hanako-san!” It was Takako who had called out. “I’ve come to take Lady Kikyō!”

“Ms. Takako?!” Reizei Hanako stepped forward in apparent surprise. “Go ahead and take her as you please.” “I don’t know.” “What of its survival?!”

“I’ll take something else while I’m here.” Takako stepped forward. “The Eternal Butterfly! Hand it over!” “No!” Hanako rebuffed. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” “Then I’ll take it,” Takako declared. “By force.” “How amusing.” Hanako’s lips curled. “Try if you can.” “Watch me.” At this challenge, Kitanoji Takako rummaged near her waist—then with a sharp whoosh, flung something skyward. The object resembled two minuscule wheels joined by a rod—or perhaps more accurately, a gourd-shaped device.

It spun round and round in the air. And what a marvel—from Reizei Hanako’s bosom, something spiraled up into the air. It was the Eternal Butterfly. “Oh!” It was Reizei Hanako who shouted, and she flung down the sack-like object she had slung over her shoulder with a heavy thud. And then its back swelled and bulged; no sooner had it gaped its mouth wide open than a fluttering breath came wafting out.

By then, the wheel-like object had fallen from the sky to the ground, but now faced the sack-like object and began spinning like a top. In the empty space between them, the butterfly spun round and round. It appears unable to go anywhere. It appears unable to fly away. The two Taoist women—Kitanoji Takako and Reizei Hanako—who were watching this scene did not so much as twitch a muscle. It was truly a bizarre spectacle, one could say.

However, unrelated to that spectacle, the melee continued unabated.

And then, breaking through the chaotic battlefield, a single woman wandered aimlessly.

It was Lady Kikyō, who had regained consciousness from her faint.

She walked on, staggering unsteadily.

She seemed utterly devoid of consciousness. She appeared to be in a frenzied trance. Something was being muttered beneath her breath. "What’s happening? I don’t understand! ...They’re cutting each other down! Horrifying! ...What should I do? ...I must flee! I must flee! ......”

She walked on, staggering unsteadily. Where was she trying to go? She didn’t even seem to understand herself. Where was the proper place to go? She didn’t even seem to understand herself.

She walked toward the mansion. She walked toward the back gate. This was clear proof she was out of her mind.

What a terrifying, terrifying mansion this was! Wasn’t this the mansion where the enemy who had captured and tormented her lived! Yet she tried to go there. She walked on, staggering unsteadily. Why wasn’t anyone stopping her? What was Benten Matsushiro doing? Benten Matsushiro appeared to still be fighting.

Lady Kikyō walked on, staggering unsteadily. She finally slipped through the back gate.

Swoosh... swoosh... went the sound. It was the sound of a waterfall cascading down.

Lady Kikyō walked toward that direction.

“What a beautiful waterfall! It’s cascading down… Oh…” Standing still, Lady Kikyō gazed out.

There was a stone building. There was a window in one spot. From there, a waterfall was cascading down. The water that had entombed Isshiki Koichirō and filled the purification room to the brim was now cascading down from the window.

“It’s cascading down… Oh… What a beautiful waterfall!” —And just then, a voice called out. “Lady Kikyō! Lady Kikyō!”

The voice came from within the waterfall. *Someone’s calling me!* At that moment, a figure staggered unsteadily into view, parting the waterfall’s waters. His entire body was soaked. Oh—a water ghost! “Oh... You?” “I am Koichirō!” “Mr. Isshiki?!” “Lady Kikyō!”

The moment they embraced, a war cry resounded outside the mansion—but then screams could be heard. “It’s the Mountain Nuns! Mountain Nuns! Mountain Nuns!”

And then from the back gate came swarming in the Hitotsubashi forces. "You!" shouted one of them as he struck at Isshiki Koichirō. "You're still alive?! How did you escape?!" Koichirō barely twisted his body unsteadily and said in a strained voice,

“N-Nanbu?! Shūgorō!” “Shūgorō!”

Lady Kikyō staggered off unsteadily.

“Lord Koichirō! Lord Koichirō! You must escape! You must escape!”

Staggering, staggering, she exited through the back gate.

“Lady Kikyō!”

Koichirō, unsteady on his feet, attempted to pursue her. From behind, Shūgorō delivered a single sword strike aimed at the shoulder!

A month had passed.

A single samurai was traveling on a horse led by a female horse handler.

Forty-Six

In the middle reaches of the Chichibu mountain range, the samurai was Isshiki Koichirō, and the female horse handler was Kimie; on that same day, a group of eight travelers walked with purpose toward Miura Misaki.

With Lord of Sumida guarded front and back, the members of the Seven Lucky Gods group were walking secretly in inconspicuous travel attire. But had one looked closely, they would have noticed over two hundred companions—disguised as carpenters, merchants, mountain ascetics, farmers, komusō, rōnin, and such—who guarded Lord of Sumida while feigning indifference, sometimes walking ahead and sometimes behind him.

In other words, one must recognize that Lord of Sumida—bearing the semblance of a hero—was leading his subordinates and traveling in secret toward Miura Misaki.

Lord of Sumida was, as usual, engaging Benten Matsushiro with a leisurely and carefree attitude, exchanging playful banter. “Well now, well now—what a predicament! Here I am at this advanced age, forced to trudge off to Miura Misaki in straw sandals like some common wayfarer… Not that I can complain about the view.” “On one side lies the coast, on the other a field—and how beautifully the autumn grasses bloom!”

He wasn’t wearing any hollyhock-crested garments. He wore a plain unlined kimono with a split-back haori thrown over it and carried a natural wood cane. Probably disliking having his face seen, he wore a woven hat pulled deeply over his eyes.

“Even so, this might turn into quite an uproar.” “I detest commotions.” “Particularly squabbles within this tiny land of Japan... Yet try as I might, I can’t seem to abandon this one...” “After all, my own brother—the Insect Museum Master—is about to be undone...” “That said, this journey holds some interest for me.” “It’s been so long since I’ll meet my brother.” “...And you’ll all find enjoyment too—you’ll see an unusual building.” “The Insect Museum.” “But should we err, a truly gruesome battlefield—a mountain of corpses and river of blood—will unfold.” “Ah well—if it comes to that, you’ll be our strength. Wield your blades without restraint.”

“As you command.” It was Matsushiro who had said this. She wore a travel cloak from whose hem peeked a Kai silk armor covering. In the attire of a samurai’s daughter on a journey, her gait remained refined. “If it be for your lordship’s sake, I shall undertake any task whatsoever.” Her tone stayed thoroughly deferential. “The term ‘your lordship’ won’t do.” “Call me Grandpa instead.” “We’re traveling to avoid prying eyes.” “Very well then—Grandpa.”

“That’s better. Now then, lass.”

They continued conversing in this manner. Thus the entire group would first reach Sekiyado, then part through the forest and climb toward the Insect Museum—but during this period, Koichirō and Kimie were tracing their way upward, ever higher, along that same Chichibu mountainside.

“As usual, your position is truly pitiable, isn’t it?” It was Koichirō who had said this. To this, Kimie replied. “It’s not so bad, really.”

The sound of horse hooves clopped rhythmically, and the jingling of bells rang out. A summer sun tinged with a hint of autumn brightened the deep green leaves. With no passersby, it was lonely—but for that very reason, one might call it tranquil.

“Even if you insist it isn’t so, it still seems that way.” Koichirō’s tone was light, though that lightness was forced—his true feelings weighed heavily. “Since we’re going to locate Lady Kikyō—” “Yes, yes, precisely so!” Kimie’s tone too was light. And hers seemed an untainted lightness, springing genuinely from the heart. “Since we’re going to locate Lady Kikyō.” “And therefore we must absolutely find her.”

"But," Koichirō said sympathetically, "suppose we do find Lady Kikyō—what will become of your position?" "What change could there possibly be? "I’ll stay right where I’ve always been." Kimie showed not the slightest perturbation. She spoke without hesitation. "Is that truly how it stands?" Koichirō was the one who looked worried. "I do believe it will change." "What change could there possibly be?" Kimie seemed confident. "My heart won’t change."

"As for my feelings in that regard, they haven't changed from the past. That is to say—from days of old until this very day, I have loved Lady Kikyō so dearly." "What would I do not knowing that? I've known that all along." "Well, you see—Lady Kikyō also loves me." "And that too is something you've told me repeatedly, I should think." "So, if Lady Kikyō is found, what would happen then?"

“No matter what result may come, it has no relation to me.” There was no change in Kimie’s tone, as if it truly had nothing to do with her. “As for me, I love you—that is all there is to it.” “However,” Koichirō said somewhat gloomily, “it might turn into a competition.”

“It will turn into a competition eventually.” Kimie remained unchanged. “It would be a competition between two women over you.” Her tone made it sound like someone else’s affair. “Well now, I wonder which one will win.” Contrarily, it was Koichirō who appeared anxious. “Yes, I will win.” “You seem quite confident.” This time, Koichirō found himself amused. “If I lacked such confidence, why would I accompany you and willingly embark on this journey to find Lady Kikyō?”

“Admittedly, this is perfectly reasonable.”

The conversation came to an end there.

Kimie went, holding the reins. Koichirō rode on, swayed by the horse. At first glance, it was a peaceful journey.

Where were they heading? If they kept going straight, they would reach Kirikubo. So, were they heading to Kirikubo?

And yet, how had Isshiki Koichirō managed to escape from the water-filled purification room in Reizei Hanako’s dojo that had been built in Serizawa Village? That very thing was nothing at all. He had escaped through the high window. Until the water flowed out from the window, Koichirō had been treading water in the purification room. And along with the flowing water, he had exited through the window. If the window hadn’t been large, he wouldn’t have been able to escape. Fortunately, the window was large. And so, he had managed to escape. Had Nanbu Shūgorō been even more cautious and pulled the drain plug before the water reached the window, he would not have managed to escape. Nanbu Shūgorō seemed to be in a panic. And so, leaving the drain open, he ran to inform Hanako. And what occurred after that was that fierce brawl, and during that brawl, the water reached the window.

And then, what did Koichirō do?

Barely escaping the scene of the brawl, he returned to his own residence. However, when escaping the scene of carnage, he heard such a cry. “The mountain nuns are taking Lady Kikyō!”

After returning to his residence, Koichirō—while nursing his wounded body—needless to say investigated both the nature of these mountain nuns and their whereabouts, yet he could not discover anything. However, when he left his residence and paid a visit to the Lord of Sumida, he was unexpectedly able to learn of it.

47

It was because the Lord of Sumida had said this. “I hear the mountain nuns took Lady Kikyō.” “No—Benten Matsushiro, who knows everything, told me.” “Not at all—there’s no need to worry.” “Lady Kikyō is probably safe. But that doesn’t mean we can abandon her... For the hatred between spouses invites terrible consequences... The most unfortunate one would be the Insect Museum Master... But well, that’s neither here nor there.” “I’ll take care of it. …At any rate, Lady Kikyō is safe. …But putting myself in your shoes, you can’t rest easy.” “You want to know who these mountain nuns are, don’t you?” “Then I’ll explain it simply for you.” “They’re a group of mountain-traveling nuns. But they’re no ordinary nuns.” “They’re a special kind of wanderers.” “They even know mysterious arts.” “They also possess a violent nature.” “……As for their whereabouts, I don’t know.” “They live in tents.” “However, I can make a rough estimate.” “They’re likely in Kirikubo in the Chichibu Mountains.” “……I can’t tell you any more than this.”

And so, Isshiki Koichirō, relying solely on those words, had set out to search for Lady Kikyō.

Kimie went, holding the reins. Koichirō rode on, swayed by the horse. A nuthatch was singing in the woods. The wild grass swayed in the wind.

The two continued on their journey.

Would Isshiki Koichirō truly manage to locate the mountain nuns' hideout and retrieve his lover, Lady Kikyō? A forest appeared. Then, from beyond that forest, came the sound of many voices. "Hmm?" he wondered, tilting his ear—perhaps the wind had shifted direction, for now the voices could no longer be heard. Yet despite this, Koichirō appeared deeply unsettled. The voices had sounded familiar to him.

“Even so, surely not them…” he muttered under his breath. “What the—this must be my imagination.” No—no, that was no mishearing. For Koichirō, a terrifying enemy was indeed walking on the other side of that forest at that very moment. Reizei Hanako rode in a mountain palanquin, which Nanbu Shūgorō and his gang protectively surrounded as they proceeded while talking.

The sliding door of the mountain palanquin was open. Hanako was peering out from it. She was likely gazing at the scenery. Accompanying her nearby was Shūgorō, dressed in elaborate travel attire. Numbering over thirty people, they were walking in the same direction. "Do you think we will truly be detected?" It was Shūgorō who said this. He seemed vaguely uneasy.

“I do believe they will be found,” It was Hanako who had said this. Yet despite that, she still showed signs of unease. “Finding the mountain nuns’ whereabouts isn’t particularly difficult." “It’s what comes after locating them that’s difficult.” “In other words, retrieving the stolen Eternal Butterfly will be difficult.” “We’ve been through hell,” With these words, Shūgorō gave a bitter smile. “After finally capturing one butterfly, it was snatched away from us.”

This time, Reizei Hanako formed a bitter smile at her lips. “If my glare hasn’t gone astray, having that girl Kikyō taken from you seems more painful than losing the Eternal Butterfly.” To this, even Shūgorō seemed overwhelmed. “To speak frankly, that is indeed the case—that was truly regrettable." “But even so—for what purpose would those mysterious mountain nuns have snatched away both the Eternal Butterfly and a girl like Kikyō?”

“That I do not know... Still, considering how renowned the Eternal Butterfly is—and how whoever dissects its secrets could grasp all at once the longevity, fortune, and glory spoken of in Taoism—it’s only natural Kōzōni, leader of those mountain nuns, would covet it.” “Regarding Kōzōni—what manner of relationship does she bear toward your excellency and Kitanoji Takako?” To Shūgorō, this line of questioning felt dubious.

“She was our former master... I can’t say more than that.” “...Once that person appears, there’s no turning back—whether it’s me or Ms. Takako, we’d be utterly helpless.” “Hmm,” said Shūgorō, though parts still didn’t quite add up for him. “Even so—what a spectacle! That Eternal Butterfly couldn’t reach your side nor Takako’s—fluttering midair one moment, then darting straight into Kōzōni’s sleeve the instant she appeared.”

“Because she possesses such formidable power.” “What manner of power would that be?” “It’s the same sort of power that I and Ms. Takako hold.” “Merely ten times stronger—that’s all.” The group marched steadily onward.

As expected, their destination seemed to be Kirikubo in the mountains of Chichibu. The mountain nuns' location appeared to be their destination. The reason Shūgorō muttered "Hm?" and tilted his head slightly was that he had heard the jingling of a horse bell coming from beyond the forest. "It seems travelers are passing through." The vague unease he felt stemmed from this being a pathless field—a place where travelers crossing the mountains rarely ventured.

“It seems I heard the jingling of a horse’s bell,” he called out to Hanako. “Ah, I heard it too.” “They seem to be heading in the same direction.” “It does indeed appear that way. But they’re likely mere travelers.” Surprisingly, this didn’t seem to trouble Hanako. “However, this journey of ours must remain absolutely secret. Having our figures observed would hardly be advisable.” “Needless to say, you’re quite right.” “Hence why we deliberately avoid mountain passes and traverse these pathless fields.”

“That way is safer.”

“There’s a chance we might be spotted by travelers beyond the forest.” “Since we’re heading the same way, we’ll inevitably meet them somewhere.” “Should those travelers reach inhabited areas and spread rumors about us, it would cause complications.” “Yet we can hardly forbid people from traveling by force.” “At any rate, we ought to investigate what manner of travelers they are.” “Indeed—that precaution alone may prove essential.”

“We shall send someone to the other side of the forest and have them observe.” “Very well, proceed with that.”

“Mr. Yamamoto! Mr. Yamamoto!” he called out to one of the samurai.

The samurai who approached with a “Yes” was twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old. “Go to the other side of the forest and discreetly observe the travelers passing by on horseback.” “Understood,” he said curtly, then pushed through the forest and ran off.

And so, the group proceeded onward.

Hanako’s mountain palanquin led the procession at the head of the column. Accompanying it was Shūgorō. Following them, thirty-some samurai in solemn travel attire trailed along. They were samurai of the Hitotsubashi family.

To the right was a dense forest. To the left were undulating hills. Ahead lay several more forests. There were also long stretches of woods. There were small hills and valleys, and a river seemed to flow. Shrubs and thickets were scattered about. The mountain formed a slope, but the climb was not particularly steep. Small birds flew across the sky. Atop the distant mountain peaks, cumulonimbus clouds loomed. The clear sky looked as deep as the sea—a sky characteristic of mountainous regions.

The group advanced steadily onward. After walking about half a kilometer or so, the forest gave way to woods. While skirting the left side of the woods, the group continued onward. And now, it became a small hill. It was a small hill hunched like a tumor on the mountainside. While circling the base of the small hill, the group pressed onward. Then, from the opposite side of the small hill, the sound of horse bells was heard once more.

What continued to gnaw at them, however, was that Yamamoto, the samurai who had gone out to scout, still hadn’t returned. “What’s going on? This is strange, isn’t it?”

To Shūgorō, it was unbearably strange.

“It seems Mr. Yamamoto has not returned.” He said anxiously to Hanako. “Hmm, I wonder what’s happened.” Blocking out the sunlight, the palanquin’s interior hung dim and hazy, within which Hanako’s face bore a faint trace of unease. “He’s neither a child of ten nor fifteen—not likely to have gotten lost—yet still he takes too long.”

“Moreover, the sound of travelers’ bells can be heard on the other side of the small hill.” “Send another scout.” At the sound of someone calling, “Mr. Hojo! Mr. Hojo!”, a young samurai named Hojo immediately came running from the rear of the column. “What might the matter be?” He was a samurai of twenty-five or twenty-six years old. “As you’ve heard, the sound of horse bells can be heard on the other side of the small hill.” “What sort of travelers are passing through—kindly go and investigate.”

“Understood.” The samurai named Hojo galloped away but immediately disappeared beyond the mountain. The group pressed steadily onward.

Forty-Eight Though called a small hill, it was more like a modest mound—unremarkable in height, but its expanse was remarkable. And so, while following its base, the group continued steadily onward. The sound of bells could still be heard. They appeared to be walking leisurely, and the sound of their bells remained steady. But just as those bells abruptly ceased, voices erupted in mutual curses—followed at once by a blood-curdling scream—and simultaneously, the bells clashed into discordant chaos, ringing shrilly. From that instant onward, the situation transformed entirely.

“A scream was heard—how utterly bizarre!” It was Shūgorō who groaned out. “Hmm,” Hanako also groaned, “you gallop up the hill and observe the situation on the other side.”

“Understood!” “Then let’s move at once!” The small hill grew shrubs upon it, though no tall trees stood there. Shūgorō ran up and reached the summit, shielding his eyes with a hand as he peered down the mountainside. There in the grass at the mountain’s base lay Yamamoto—unmistakable even at this distance—face down in death. His shoulder had been cleaved open with brutal force, blood streaming forth to glint strangely clear in the sunlight despite the intervening space.

“Oh! He’s been taken out!” “Ugh! What a waste!” “But even so—where are those travelers?” Shūgorō swept his gaze across the terrain and quickly spotted the travelers. A lone samurai in traveling attire, mounted on a horse led by a female handler, was urgently galloping toward where the small hill gave way to a valley, driving his steed as if flying. Though he saw only the man’s back, Shūgorō recognized him. “That’s him! No mistake!”

As he growled out these words, the samurai on horseback turned around. “Well, we meet again. Mr. Nanbu! “I am Isshiki Koichirō. Though regrettable, I’ve had to cut down your two subordinates with my own hands—not that I’d call it unreasonable.” “They obstructed my path… and you’ll be next.” “You won’t casually let me escape!” “You’ll come at me with your whole mob, I suppose.” “No need for courtesy—bring it on!” “But I’m mounted.” “Your lot seems to be afoot.” “You’ll never—never catch me!”

The distance between them was considerable, but whether due to the crisp plateau air or the absence of ambient noise, his voice carried through with crystalline clarity. And once again, Koichirō resounded with a mocking voice. “That stone and egg are no match—I am the stone and you the egg! No matter how many times we clash, I shall prevail—or did I not declare as much long ago at Komame Field?” “Come now, Mr. Egg, Mr. Egg! Bring it on, bring it on!” “Not coming at me? Then I’ll take my leave!”

When Koichirō swiftly turned around, he appeared to say something to the female horse handler. At that very instant, she let go of the reins she had been holding, stretched her hand to the horse's back, and nimbly leaped on. On horseback, the man and woman clung tightly to each other as if their lives depended on it—then came a sharp tug! They pulled the reins taut! Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! Kicking wildflowers aside and churning up dust, they dashed forth at full speed! It was Shūgorō who felt both rage and astonishment in that moment. Standing atop the hill's crest, he stamped his feet in frustration to no avail—then whirled around sharply,

“Hear me, all of you—this is an emergency! The notorious Isshiki Koichirō has cut down and cast aside Mr. Yamamoto and Mr. Hojo! “The traveler’s true identity is Koichirō! Since he heads the same way, I believe he too seeks the mountain nuns’ hideout—just as we do! “They’re driving their horse toward the valley—now galloping at full speed! “Pursue them! “Strike them down! “Surround the valley without a single gap—search every nook and cranny—and cut them to pieces!”

After calling out this way, Shūgorō chased after Koichirō and raced down the hill at full speed.

When thus called out to, it was only natural that the Ikkoku forces were thrown into disarray. The thirty-odd men encircling Reizei Hanako’s mountain palanquin at its center likewise began rushing toward the valley, but by this time, Isshiki Koichirō was already concealed behind a large rock on the valley slope alongside Kimie.

Forty-Nine “Crossing swords would be easy enough, but there’s another important objective.” “The enemy are many; we’re only one.” “You’re a woman and useless—if you get hurt, it’ll be a disaster.” “Though I’ve made such grand declarations, I do hope we can cleanly escape this peril.” In a tone that revealed some concern, Koichirō addressed her in a low voice.

“I have an idea.” It was Kimie who said this. “Let us release Kage.” “Ah, the horse? Hmm—why?” “As you can see, the trees are dense and the valley lies dark. Moreover, these are all large trees—even if Kage were to run off, it would likely remain unseen.”

“Hmm, indeed. That likely won’t be seen.” “The hoofbeats will be heard.”

“Ah, now I see! That explains it.” “So by making the horse run to let them hear its hoofbeats, you aim to mislead the Ikkoku-ke samurai bunch, is that it?” “Might this not go smoothly?” “Will Kage return?” “I will give it instructions.” “It will surely be all right, you’ll see.” “He is a clever horse, you know.”

Around the large rock was a grove of trees. Their hiding place was shadowy. In that dim spot stood a horse quietly. It was eating green grass. This was Kimie's beloved horse Kage. The horse had been brought from Miura Misaki's family home with Koichirō riding it to Edo, where it had since been kept behind Koichirō's residence. Kimie stood up and approached, gently stroking its muzzle with her hand. "Kage," she said in a tender voice, "This is crucial for us—we entrust this to you. Go now—run down to the valley floor! Then dash around the valley floor! Gallop far into the distance! Return when you're weary. I'll be waiting here forever if need be. Come now!"

As she said this, Kimie slapped the flat of her horse’s neck. Whether because it had understood Kimie’s words or because it had been startled by being struck, the horse let out a neigh and galloped down toward the valley floor.

It could be said their prediction had hit the mark. The horse’s figure could not be seen. Only the sound of hooves could be heard. “Hmm, this should do.” “It should go smoothly, I believe.”

When the two smiled and exchanged glances, a voice called out from above the valley.

“Hoofbeats! I hear them!” “I hear it! I hear it!” “There! Chase it that way!”

Then came the sound of a large group rushing down, parting trees and grass as they went. They were likely samurai of the Ikkoku-ke. They seemed to be chasing toward the direction from which the horse’s hooves sounded. “The plan’s a success! Yes! Got them!” Though he smiled, Koichirō never let his guard down. Having cut down two samurai, he kept his blood-soaked greatsword drawn and pulled it to his knee, concealing his entire body behind the large rock as he knelt on one knee to watch. A single shaft of sunlight filtered through the trees. It illuminated the blade. That spot alone blazed fiercely. But the rest remained hazy. The one sitting close behind him was Kimie in her horse-handler attire. She gripped the hilt of the dagger she had prepared at her obi, poised to slash wildly should they be discovered—even as a woman.

The sound of hooves grew distant. The footsteps of the pursuing samurai also faded away in turn.

It seemed the danger had finally passed—the very moment they thought so. Voices came from directly above them, and footsteps running down could be heard. “This is bad—we’re about to be spotted!” Just as Koichirō, startled, readjusted his drawn blade with a fluid motion, five or six samurai came galloping down. And one of them climbed smoothly to the top of the large rock. Above Koichirō’s upturned eyes, separated by a mere six feet, the hem of the samurai’s field hakama fluttered in the wind. He seemed to be staring intently toward the direction from which the hoofbeats could be heard. If that samurai had turned around and looked down behind the large rock, he would have been able to spot the figures of Isshiki Koichirō and Kimie.

“Hirabayashi! Hirabayashi! What are you doing?” “Come now—let’s give chase!” A voice rang out from beyond the great rock. Five or six Ikkoku-ke samurai appeared to be gathered there.

“Chasing blindly won’t get us anywhere.” The samurai on the rock countered. “And another thing that puzzles me. “The hoofbeats are too light. “They don’t sound like a horse carrying a rider.” “Hmm... Yes, you’ve got a point.” The voice came from beyond the rock. “Something’s off here.” Then another voice chimed in.

“What if that Koichirō bastard released the horse and is hiding somewhere?”

Then another voice spoke, “Hey, look at this ground.” “The grass is torn up everywhere.” “Looks like the horse tore it up by biting.” “Then that Koichirō bastard must’ve rested his horse around here.” It was the voice of the samurai on the rock. “Might’ve even let the horse go free….” “Could be that bastard’s hiding right here somewhere.” “Then let’s search the area.” The voice came from beyond the rock.

“Agreed,” several voices said in unison. Then came the sound of footsteps slowly circling around the large rock toward them.

Fifty “This is hopeless,” Koichirō steeled his resolve. If I were alone, I’d charge out and die fighting without a care—but Kimie was with me, a kind and loyal girl. Letting her perish alongside me was unthinkable. So Isshiki Koichirō suppressed his surging impulses. Until spotted and challenged, he’d stay hidden, stay hidden… Pressing himself flush against the great rock, he continued observing the situation. At that moment, once again, voices of several people rang out overhead. Then came the sound of someone galloping down. They seemed to be charging straight down toward the large rock.

Guarding the mountain palanquin carrying Hanako, four or five Ikkoku-ke samurai descended.

Thus, Koichirō and Kimie found themselves beset by enemies both front and back.

They would undoubtedly be spotted. If spotted, they would have to fight. There were over thirty enemies. Koichirō was alone. There was also Kimie—a hindrance. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. The swordsman Isshiki Koichirō would likely have to lose his life. But at that very moment, from a mountain far beyond the crossed valley, a thunderous battle cry roared up.

First, a single mountain palanquin appeared, followed by twenty to thirty samurai emerging like black ants. They were looking down into the valley.

“Oh, that’s the Tayasu faction!” Such a voice reached their ears. It was Reizei Hanako’s voice. She seemed to have shouted from inside the mountain palanquin. “The one riding in that mountain palanquin is undoubtedly Ms. Kitanoji Takako.” Thus, the Tayasu and Ikkoku-ke factions came face to face—but even so, for what purpose had the Tayasu faction brought Kitanoji Takako in a mountain palanquin to such a place?

There was no need for explanation. They too had undoubtedly come to pinpoint the mountain nuns' whereabouts and reclaim the Eternal Butterfly. Once more, a chaotic melee would erupt. They would clash until the Chichibu mountains ran red with blood. Yet even so—could the band of mountain nuns sought by Koichirō, Shūgorō, Reizei Hanako, and even Takako truly be in a place like Kirikubo within these very mountains?

This was a section of Kirikubo.

The basin spread out wide. Warding off the late summer sunlight, countless tents stood. Inside a particularly large tent, there was an amusingly contrasting man and woman talking in a perfectly peaceful manner. "'Nemu-nemu-go, nemu-nemu-go,' thus he spoke." "He was such an amusing master,"

The one who said this was Shachimaru. “Sleepy-sleepy snore, sleepy-sleepy snore—what an amusing phrase! Whatever could it mean?”

The one who said this was Lady Kikyō. "Then again, my Master would say things like this." "Shachimaru, oh Shachimaru! Open those eyes wide!" "Shachimaru, oh Shachimaru! Open those eyes wide!" "Oh my, now it's 'open those eyes wide'—whatever could that mean?" Lady Kikyō asked cheerfully. "Then again, my Master would say things like this." Once again, Shachimaru launched into his impression. "Scrub-scrub-snort! "Scrub-scrub-snort!"

Finally, Lady Kikyō burst out laughing. "It keeps getting more puzzling," she said. "From 'sleepy-sleepy snore' to 'wide awake,' then 'scrub-scrub-snort'... I simply can't make sense of it at all." "It's nothing at all, I assure you," Shachimaru replied, finally launching into his explanation. "'Sleepy-sleepy' means 'go to sleep,' and 'snore' refers to making loud breathing sounds—so together it means 'Go to sleep and snore away!' When I stay up too late, my Master says this. Then 'wide awake' means the opposite—I should open my eyes properly. And if I oversleep," he continued, "'scrub-scrub-snort' means I must go wash my face vigorously at the mountain stream, splash noisily, then blow my nose sharply. There now—it's all perfectly simple!"

Indeed, upon hearing the explanation, it turned out to be nothing serious—yet there was Shachimaru in his mouse-patterned outfit and hakama trousers, this endearing figure in exquisite pale-blue fabric speaking with perfect solemnity. To Lady Kikyō, it proved utterly comical. Just as her bright laughter peaked, as though quelling that very radiance, a gloomy and ominous temple bell tolled from somewhere within the basin.

Fifty-One

“The revival of the Insect Museum exists for the disciples of the mountain nuns.”

Thus it was recorded in an ancient document.

The Insect Museum had been closed by the same group of mountain nuns, but for it to be reopened once more, there must have been a significant reason.

The tolling bell from the depths of the valley within the mountain nuns' settlement in the Chichibu Mountains served as the summons to assemble. Innumerable nuns came pouring from their tents, flooding toward the valley floor—a spectacle worthy of awe. Their cropped hair fluttering in the wind and hakama billowing behind them, hundreds of nuns pressed forward. Upon a massive boulder at the valley's base stood a solitary mountain nun—none other than High Priestess Kōzōni.

“A report has come from our scouts. At the Insect Museum, they have gathered a force and are preparing for battle. Therefore, we cannot let this go unchecked—let us storm the Insect Museum.”

This was High Priestess Kōzōni’s command.

The march that followed was a truly remarkable spectacle. They loaded High Priestess Kōzōni into a single mountain palanquin, and the tonsured nuns, surrounding it, set out to traverse the Chichibu Mountain Range toward Miura Misaki.

Meanwhile, at the Insect Museum, an incident had occurred. Though in truth it was nothing extraordinary—they were simply making preparations for battle. Lord of Sumida’s subordinates and the Seven Lucky Gods group were dashing about, making these preparations. “Now dig trenches! Build abatis! Construct barricades! Set up cover! Drive in stakes! Bundle fascines!” “Tend to your weapons! Tend to your weapons!” “Sharpen the spears! Polish the swords! Clean the gun barrels!” “…One unit advances to the forest’s edge.” “Establish an encampment there.” “Another unit advances to the forest’s depths.” “Lay landmines there. …Mind the gunpowder sacks.” “Ensure the ignition sequence remains flawless.” “…Build a bridge over the mountain stream. …Scouts! Scouts! Dispatch the scouts!”

The one in command was Lord of Sumida, seated on a camp stool brought before the Insect Museum building. People scurried in every direction. Messengers darted out to all quarters. The distant report of gunfire echoed. Likely test shots being fired. Then came a thunderous roar— the sound of rushing water. They must have pulled the lever. The dammed lake water surged forth, cleaving through the forest as it flowed.

And then, from the direction of the foothills, a group of people came climbing up. It was a crowd of ugly cripples. They had been at the Insect Museum long ago and left when it was closed, but upon hearing of the Insect Museum's crisis, they had now gathered. The Insect Museum, once quiet and desolate, had now come to life with activity—though rather than activity, it would be more accurate to call it a murderous aura. But amidst this murderous scene, there was one person who remained utterly indifferent, watching sidelong and not working at all. It was none other than the one-legged Kichiji.

“Stir up trouble! Make some noise! Rouse the rabble!” “But me? I won’t lift a finger.”

He stood before the waterfall cascading down from the rocks and glared into the plunge pool.

Then, a voice called out “Mr. Kichiji,” and a woman popped into view. It was none other than Benten Matsushiro. “Yo. Is that you, Ms. Matsushiro?” Kichiji smirked. Among the crowd that had gathered, the one Kichiji liked best was Benten Matsushiro. “Ms. Matsushiro, you’re as beautiful as ever.”

“Ah, that one’s always been beautiful too.” Matsushiro stood beside him and said, “Why aren’t you working?” Her tone held reproach. “With one leg, I can’t even work.” “Yeah, that’s true enough.” “Perfectly reasonable.”

“And we don’t approve of it.”

“What do you mean, ‘We don’t approve’?!”

“All this reckless, noisy bustling about.” “But isn’t a battle about to begin?”

“Well, I hate this war.”

“It’s turned out as it was meant to, so there’s nothing to be done about it now.” “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” “Those mountain nuns want the Eternal Butterfly, don’t they? But when it comes to one of them—the stolen male Eternal Butterfly—no matter what they do, they can’t find it.” Kichiji gave a strange laugh. “Since it’s you, Ms. Matsushiro, I’ll share a little secret—there’s one person who knows where the stolen Eternal Butterfly is.”

Fifty-Two “Huh, now who could that be?” Matsushiro asked with genuine curiosity. “Well now, who on earth could know?” Kichiji was still laughing. Then, abruptly changing the subject, he said, “And I hear Lady Kikyō has been taken as well.” “It was the mountain nuns who took her away.” “So they took her as a decoy, then.”

“Huh? What do you mean by ‘decoy’?” “In other words, those mountain nuns intend to say that since they’ll return Lady Kikyō, we should hand over the Eternal Butterfly.”

“Ah, those mountain nuns…” “In that case, Lady Kikyō finds herself in pitiable straits, does she not?” “Pitiable indeed—but truth be told, Lady Kikyō’s discernment soared too loftily. A terrible ordeal now and then might do her good.” “Is high discernment not preferable?” “I wonder… I wonder…” Kichiji seemed vaguely discontented. “Yet those of keen discernment seldom accept others’ sentiments.” “Oh?” Matsushiro regarded this as peculiar. She fell silent and studied Kichiji.

The waterfall cascaded coolly. It was a small, small waterfall. The plunge pool's surface bubbled. Sunlight shone sideways, creating an indescribably beautiful rainbow in the waterfall's spray. "Well, that's true, but hey, Ms. Matsushiro—we like you." He blurted this out. He looked somewhat embarrassed.

“Oh?” she thought again, but Matsushiro replied with deliberate nonchalance, “I like you too.” “Hmm… How would I know?” Though he said this, he looked pleased. “I like that you’re not trying to be charming.” “By the way, we like how you don’t put on airs.”

“I’m not in any position to put on airs.” “And we’re hardly in any position to play at allure either.” “Wouldn’t it be fun if we lived together?”

“Huh,” said the one-legged Kichiji as he stole a glance at Matsushiro’s face. “You mustn’t tease me. You mustn’t tease me.” “What reason would I have to tease you?” she replied. “I’m telling the truth”—though her tone suggested she was indeed teasing him. “Hmm… I wonder… I wonder…” Kichiji stared blankly before continuing. “We’re just ugly cripples women never glance at twice. We figured as much ourselves. But that haughty woman wouldn’t even acknowledge us… That’s why we did it.” His voice hardened. “Still, we’ve got money now. Put some thought into it and we could make piles more. Half’s already in our grasp… That Eternal Butterfly survives even underwater, see…”

“If there’s money, that’s even better.” “After all, you could live so comfortably… But do you really have any?” Her tone was probing.

“If we just put our minds to it, we can get our hands on a fortune.” “Hey, Mr. Kichiji,” she said, sidling up. “Mm,” said the one-legged Kichiji, but he continued staring fixedly down at the plunge pool. A beautifully warped dramatic spectacle! That might be one way to put it. One was a one-legged ugly man. One was a bewitching female bandit. They leaned against each other, peering into the plunge pool.

Behind the large rock, voices could be heard. Noises of battle preparations could also be heard.

But there alone was quiet. The rainbow still hung there.

Fifty-Three

That afternoon, in a room of the Insect Museum, two old men were talking.

“Brother, you would disagree, wouldn’t you?” The one who said this was Lord Sumida. “Since matters have progressed this far, there’s likely nothing to be done about it.” The one who said this was the Insect Museum Master, a troubled expression on his face. “Your marital relationship remains an utter mystery to me.” Lord Sumida said.

“It wasn’t like that from the beginning, but that’s how things turned out.” The Insect Museum Master was melancholy. “Is that also because of the Eternal Butterfly?”

“Ah, yes,” said the Insect Museum Master, his expression growing increasingly troubled, “the root of it is a difference in approach.” “You might call it a difference in perspective.” “To immediately put that creature to use—that was her way of doing things.” “I opposed that.” “First, we should keep nurturing it and watch how matters develop—” “Either way, reconciliation would be preferable.” Lord Sumida interjected abruptly.

“To suggest reconciliation now is absurd,” he said with a bewildered look. “After all this battle preparation?” Lord Sumida laughed. “I prepared for both war and peace. This world demands such duality.” “I’ve no desire for conflict either,” the Insect Museum Master countered. “But their tactics are vile… My daughter bears no guilt.”

“They’re parent and child,” said Lord Sumida. “They just wanted to meet. That’s probably why they took her along.” “I don’t see it that way,” the Insect Museum Master shook his head. “They’ll use her as a tool for intimidation. They’re trying to use her as a decoy to steal the Eternal Butterfly.” “Now about this Eternal Butterfly,” Lord Sumida pressed, “you must have examined it thoroughly, Brother.” “And yet I still don’t understand.” “You won’t figure it out even if you investigate now.” “No... I suppose I might not.”

“Then let’s just give it to them.” “But haven’t they already captured one?” “They say they captured it in Serizawa Village.” “The whereabouts of the other one are unknown. It’s unknown where it went.” “Hmm, is that really true?”

“I’m not lying—it seems to have been stolen.” “Then it would seem best to inform them of that matter.”

“I informed them, but they refuse to believe it.” The Insect Museum Master made a bitter face but added, “They insist it remains somewhere in this land.”

The room remained unchanged from the past. It was decorated in Dutch style. On the wall hung a tapestry. Embroidered insects adorned its surface. Frames were placed here and there. These depicted illustrations of insects. Patterns had been drawn on the ceiling as well - those patterns too were insects. Windows faced the outdoors. Their frames were intricately carved with insect motifs. Through them one could see flowers blooming in the front garden's beds, their faint fragrance wafting inside. A sofa, tables, armchairs, bookshelves and similar furnishings were arranged about. A carpet woven with insect patterns covered the floor, its base color a pale green.

On the ebony-worked table were placed several insect boxes. And as usual, countless insect boxes were also hung from the ceiling. It was exactly as it had been in the past. It had only grown somewhat aged. And if one were to speak of what filled this room, it was an academic silence. That, too, remained unchanged from the past. Then suddenly, the Insect Museum Master stood up from the chair he had been sitting on and peered into one of the insect boxes, "The sensitive musk insects began to stir." "...The mountain nuns' group must finally be closing in."

Having said this, he moved to the window—a gesture that, too, was just as it had been in the past.

Around the time these events were unfolding, in one part of the Chichibu mountain range, an unusual incident was taking place.

Isshiki Koichirō, mounted on his horse, had the female horse handler Kimie hold the reins and was making her walk along the valley floor. On the left ridge of the valley above them, the same group that had surrounded the mountain palanquin was advancing in the same direction. It was Reizei Hanako’s group. Meanwhile, on the right ridge of the valley, a similar group was making their way. It was Kitanoji Takako’s group. “What an interesting journey this is!” The one who said this was Isshiki Koichirō, who wore a cheerful smile. “A close call—we can’t keep this up anymore.” “Just when I thought that, the Tayasu family’s forces showed up, you see.” “Thanks to their restraint, the Hitotsubashi forces couldn’t attack us either, and with both houses guarding our flanks, we’ve managed to travel in such balance.” “The floating world truly is an ironic place.”

“That’s quite the irony.” “It’s precisely because such ironies occur from time to time that we’re truly saved.”

It was Kimie who had spoken. Kimie’s demeanor also seemed cheerful. “If the Hitotsubashi forces descend into the valley to attack us, the Tayasu family’s lot will come down to save our skins.” “If we try climbing up to join the Tayasu crowd, the Hitotsubashi bunch will come chasing.” “So no matter what we do, if we want to keep going, we’ll have to keep creeping along this valley floor forever.” “What an amusing situation we’re in.” “Sandwiched between two great powers yet acting all high and mighty—that’s us through and through.”

“If we make even the slightest misstep, this equilibrium will shatter instantly.” “Yet if we stay composed like this, the status quo could hold indefinitely.”

“Therefore, one could say it’s quite dangerous.” “It’s precisely because it’s dangerous that it becomes interesting.” “Kimie, you never fail to say something intriguing.” “It’s only to be expected.” “Yet putting that obviousness into words proves rather difficult.”

The path along the valley floor was difficult to traverse. But the two of them pressed on.

Fifty-Four The valley floor was quite difficult to traverse. Large rocks were heaped up here and there. Thickets and shrubs were overgrown. A mountain stream flowed in a single path, its waters sending up sporadic sprays. A troop of monkeys, famous in Chichibu, leapt from branch to branch, shrieking eerily as they watched the two of them. And then, they came out to a place as dark as night. Tall trees were covering it. The two of them proceeded ahead. At that moment, a thunderous war cry erupted from the right ridge of the valley. The Tayasu family’s forces seemed to have challenged the Hitotsubashi family’s forces. Then, from the left ridge of the valley, an answering war cry erupted. It appeared that the Hitotsubashi forces had responded.

In this way, war cries rose two or three times, but no incident worthy of note occurred.

“Interesting,” said Koichirō. “How delightfully cheerful!” —And so, the three groups of forces pressed onward, further and further ahead. Their destination was one and the same. That is, it was the mountain nuns’ hideout. They pressed onward, further and further ahead.

But the path ahead did not continue.

In the far distance, a basin came into view where several tents stood white against the sunlight. That was indeed the mountain nuns' settlement. The mountains flanking both sides of the valley sloped toward the basin and ended where they met it. The valley too terminated at the basin. By nature's course, both the Tayasu and Hitotsubashi forces—and with them Kimie and Koichirō—were fated to converge in that basin.

In a large tent at the center of that basin, Lady Kikyō and Shachi Maru were talking. Only about a dozen mountain nuns guarding Lady Kikyō remained, while the countless other mountain nuns were nowhere to be found in the Chichibu mountains. They had galloped off toward the Insect Museum. “It’s become terribly quiet around here.” The one who said this was Shachi Maru. “It truly has become so quiet, hasn’t it?” Lady Kikyō seemed somehow listless.

Sunlight was streaming into the tent. It illuminated Lady Kikyō’s face and shone upon the hollow at the base of Shachi Maru’s skull. “I wonder where they could have gone?” The bell had resounded from the valley’s direction, the mountain nuns had run toward it and hurriedly descended the mountain—these facts alone Lady Kikyō had understood, but beyond that she understood nothing. “Since they’re such an incomprehensible bunch, who knows where they could have headed off to.” Shachi Maru said in a precocious tone.

“By the way, might this High Priestess Kōzōni be a good person?” Ever since being abruptly taken by High Priestess Kōzōni during the Serizawa Village skirmish and coming to this land, Lady Kikyō had received nothing but kindness—yet the nun’s true nature remained unclear to her. “A nagging old crone,” came the reply. Shachi Maru’s tongue remained as sharp as ever. “But a fine old lady all the same,” he added, this time offering praise.

"Even so, what do the people here do to make a living?" After residing there for over a month, the mountain nuns' lifestyle still made no sense to Lady Kikyō. Chanting sutras every morning and evening was a natural duty for nuns, but there were times when the entire group would suddenly gather and set off to parts unknown. It was thought they might be going on alms rounds, but there were aspects that suggested otherwise. Their discipline was thoroughly orderly, and there was also an aspect reminiscent of a women's military unit. Come to think of it, they even stockpiled weapons.

They were now in the mountains of Chichibu, but it was said they had previously been in Shinshū, Jōshū, Mino, and Hida as well. It was an incomprehensible group.

55 Thereupon, she asked Shachi Maru. However, Shachi Maru’s reply was indeed a simple one.

“It’s a gathering of nuns who despise people from the villages.” “The reason they sometimes obscure their whereabouts is because they go out to plunder those villages.” “And as for the High Priestess’s background—they say she’s descended from rebels.”

Having been told this, Lady Kikyō found herself even more unable to comprehend the nature of the mountain nuns.

But more than that, Lady Kikyō could not stop worrying about Isshiki Koichirō’s well-being. Since parting in Serizawa Village, she had heard no news of him whatsoever. Was he dead? Was he alive? Even that much remained uncertain. More than anything else, Lady Kikyō yearned unbearably for Koichirō. Here I am in these mountains. The whereabouts of my lover Koichirō remain unknown. I might never see him again. This is unbearably sad. Even so, what possible reason could there be for the mountain nuns to abduct me into these mountains? What do they plan to do now? Will they keep me in the mountains forever without ever returning me to human settlements?

Thinking this, Lady Kikyō felt unbearably anxious. However, Lady Kikyō’s anxiety turned into joy in an instant. For at the edge of the basin came a bloodcurdling scream—as though two factions of warriors had clashed—and when the clang of swords could be heard, a samurai on horseback followed by a female horse handler came galloping toward Lady Kikyō; upon reaching the tent, he nimbly leaped down from his steed.

“Oh, Lady Kikyō, you’re here!” “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Koichirō!” “I’ve come to rescue you! Quick, onto the horse!”

And so, having placed Lady Kikyō on the horse and sent Kimie ahead, Isshiki Koichirō raced down to the foot of the mountain in one go. However, at that moment, an obstacle arose. Somehow having circled ahead unnoticed, Nanbu Shūgorō emerged from the shade of the trees with two or three others and swiftly blocked their path. “I won’t allow this, Isshiki!”

He charged in with a slash. “Shūgorō, is it?” He drew his sword and swung at the groin—! He sliced deep.

“Agh!” What a scream! It was Shūgorō. Having been cut, he collapsed messily onto his knees— “I’ll spare you! At least your life!” “At least your life!” “…Now!” “Kimie!” “Yes!” With that, Kimie spurred the horse. The horse galloped down at full speed. Lady Kikyō’s sleeves fluttered as she rode, her disheveled hair whirling into a vortex.

Still gripping his bloodied sword in one hand, Isshiki Koichirō charged after them—likely cowed by his relentless advance, not a soul dared give chase. Meanwhile in another quarter of the basin, Tayasu retainers crossed blades with Hitotsubashi forces.

"The revival of the Insect Museum was for the sake of the mountain nuns."

But to tell the truth,

“The revival of the Insect Museum is for Benten Matsushiro’s sake.” This had to be stated. For when the mountain nuns’ faction and Insect Museum faction stood poised to clash, Kichiji—the one-legged man—stole the male butterfly, was lured out from the waterfall basin through deception, had it wrested from him, dashed into the Insect Museum to deliver it to its master, who then handed it over to the mountain nuns’ faction, thus averting war before it could erupt.

The story of the Mysterious Insect Museum was also brought to a grand conclusion by adding several explanations. Had the strange mystery possessed by the Eternal Butterfly been solved? The mountain nuns’ followers had taken it away. And then—where had the mountain nuns gone? Their traces were lost completely. The mystery of what became of the Natural Eternal Butterfly also remains unclear.

Having escaped persecution from the mountain nuns, the Insect Museum returned to its former state, and the Insect Museum Master continued living there and conducting his research—but what manner of man was this Insect Museum Master in truth? According to one legend, he was descended from the legitimate bloodline of Suruga Dainagon—who had been destroyed by Iemitsu—while the Lord of Sumida sprang from an illegitimate branch of that same lineage; both were men feared by the shogunate. As for the woman called Kōzōni, she was said to be a princess born of Honda Kozuke-no-suke's bloodline—that very Honda Kozuke-no-suke who had labored to overthrow Suruga Dainagon. How then could the Insect Museum Master and Kōzōni, sworn enemies, have once been husband and wife? This indeed merits questioning, but even the legends preserve no detailed accounts of it.

By the way, what kind of life did Isshiki Koichirō lead afterward? It is said he married Lady Kikyō. But wasn’t Kimie to be pitied? No—she was an eccentric woman and an optimist at heart; thus, without lamenting her fate, she took the reins of that beloved horse and returned to her hometown.

As for the Lord of Sumida, it is said that he continued residing along the banks of the Sumida River and devoted himself to some grand scheme.

As for Kitanoji Takako and Reizei Hanako, their subsequent whereabouts have not been clearly recorded.