Pathway to Japanese Literature

1 “A samurai…” The actress Bandō Koshino smiled subtly and said. “You must be strong.” “I consider myself plenty strong.”

The one who answered thus was Isshiki Koichiro: twenty-three years old, a master of the Kanamaki-ryu school, whose father had been the highly respected Kizaemon, a retainer of the Tayasu family. However, Koichiro had not taken an official position. It was because he detested being constrained—he was by nature a wanderer. Prominent eyebrows; a nose that jutted out sharply; outer eyes sharply upturned—a faint aura of swordsmanship lingered about him, though not quite reaching the point of menace. He was of medium build and height, with a fair complexion. His nature was bright yet sarcastic.

“No matter how strong you may be, you’ve never actually cut down a human, have you?” Bandō Koshino began.

"It's a peaceful era—how could I cut someone down?" "Then how can you know?...Are you truly strong or weak?" "In Kanamaki-ryu, I've attained full mastery. Becoming a master at twenty-three—well, that makes me plenty strong, aren't I?" Isshiki Koichiro bit his lip and smirked slyly. "A samurai must be strong."

“So look, I’m telling you I am strong, aren’t I?” “Hey, you,” Bandō Koshino began in a coaxing tone.

"They say those who've cut down even one person prove their mettle." "So they claim." "A samurai needs courage." "Obviously," Koichiro scoffed, turning away. "Do you actually have any?" "I do! I do! More than enough!"

“And yet you’ve never even cut down a person.” “Koshino!” Koichiro said, glaring slightly at her. “You seem to have some scheme in mind.” “What’s this, what’s this? How could that be?” Koshino laughed as usual—a subtle smile tinged with something vampiric. “Hey, you—this humble one simply wishes to say: when a man shows his mettle, all women pounce upon him at once.”

“Hmm… Falling in love, you mean?” “Yes, yes—that’s exactly it, you see.”

“I see,” said Koichiro, though he seemed to ponder listlessly. Then—he abruptly changed the subject.

“By the way, hey Koshino—you think Nanbu Shūgorō will show up?” “He does invite me quite often.” “He’s quite the persistent one, isn’t he?” “Ohoho, just like you.” “That’s right, I’m quite persistent too. ...By the way, Koshino—which one do you prefer?”

“Lord Nanbu said the same thing—‘Between Mr. Isshiki and this unworthy one, which have you fallen for?’ or something like that.” “So, which one have you fallen for?” “Which of you might be stronger?” “Hmph—so you’d sway toward the stronger one, then?” “That would be the case.” Koshino smiled seductively.

“I see.”

Upon saying this, Isshiki Koichiro abruptly stood up. “Koshino, let’s meet again then.”

“Are you leaving already?” “Yeah.”

With that, he left the room.

This was an inner chamber of the Kikyo Tea House in Fukagawa.

Left alone, Bandō Koshino murmured to herself. "I told Mr. Nanbu the same thing. Go cut someone down. ...For this humble one’s sake, a samurai strikes down an innocent human! How wonderful that would be! If they don’t fall for this humble one to such an extent, then this humble one won’t go falling for them either. Hmm, which one of you two will fulfill my wish, I wonder? What a fine show this will be. I’ll wait and see."

Koichiro walked on through his thoughts after leaving Kikyo Tea House. That woman Koshino—I like her. Beautiful yet cruel. That's what makes a complete woman. A woman without cruelty isn't a woman at all—just a female... Still... she's one hell of a tough one. Have I really been pursuing her for half a year? And still she won't consent... Then she goes and shows her true colors—telling me to cut people down. ...Even for her sake... I can't bring myself to slice through some innocent. ...But if I don't cut someone... I'll never have her... And while I'm dithering about... that Nanbu bastard—my rival—might just steal her away. What a damn nuisance he is. "...Wait—where am I now?"

Looking around, he found himself in Koumebatake fields; under the starry moonlit night of the tenth day of the Twelfth Month, thickets and groves stood.

II

“This is astonishing,” said Koichiro, involuntarily halting in his tracks.

Even though I was walking while deep in thought—I ended up at Koumebatake fields! Have I been tricked by a fox?

No—that didn’t seem to be the case. "It’s freezing! Let’s hurry back." He started walking but thought again. "But really—swordsmanship with bamboo swords clacking tip-to-tip isn’t worth a damn in real combat... To slice through a human—!" The resistance against the blade! The smell of blood! A shrill scream! The sound of thrashing! ...Not bad... Not bad at all. "...I want to try roadside ambush just once." Suddenly Koichiro felt tempted. "Even if I cut someone down—no women or townspeople." Only the most stubborn samurai!

He walked on, lost in thought. Then, ahead was a thicket rustling violently in the wind. It was when he reached its edge. “Hmm, this is suspicious.” Koichiro swiftly stepped back and peered intently into the thicket. Nothing had changed. But Koichiro seemed to sense it. He tilted his head slightly. “Someone’s here!” “Draw your sword!”

The sword energy at close quarters pierces solid rock; one who perceives this through the mind's eye embodies valor—the profound essence of Kanamaki-ryu. He seemed to sense that sword energy. And remained perfectly still.

Suddenly, Koichiro raised his left hand and thrust out his tachi along with its scabbard, but when he moved his hand to the hilt, he drew it about two inches and produced a sharp clang from the tsuba.

And then, circling around the pitch-black thicket, a single human figure appeared. “As expected of Mr. Isshiki Koichiro. It seems you have detected this unworthy one’s presence.” “Oh! So it’s you, Mr. Nanbu!”

“Indeed,” said Nanbu Shūgorō, taking two steps forward. “I’ve been following you from Fukagawa.” “Ah—so that’s it? What brings you here?” Koichiro maintained his guarded stance. “I’ll speak bluntly! “I request our duel…” “Hmm,” he uttered while Koichiro formulated a plan. “Then you too were goaded by Bandō Koshino?” “And you as well?” retorted Nanbu Shūgorō with palpable disillusionment.

“This makes it all the more fitting—I won’t let you escape! Draw your blade!” “Indeed—you shan’t slip away now”—Nanbu suddenly chuckled darkly. “Still... how bushido has decayed.” “Why do you say that?” Koichiro sighed. “In Genki and Tenshō times, we’d never cross swords over some woman.” “Ah! You’ve grasped it at last!” Nanbu laughed bitterly.

“Ahahaha! Such are the blessings of this era!” “Well now—Tenpō Year 10 it is—from Bunka through Bunsei—the samurai have grown soft indeed,” he declared with deliberate composure. “Now now, Mr. Isshiki! What nonsense you spout! Enough trivialities!” “A fight to the death—come at me!” The one growing increasingly impatient was Shūgorō.

“I’m well aware!” Koichiro continued with deliberate composure. “I—who once aspired to be a wandering swordsman—served no lord and dwelled in a single chamber at twenty-three. There I laid aside my long sword and meant to journey a thousand leagues. Yet in the end, I tumbled headlong for that Koshino—a riverbed beggar of all creatures.”

“Draw!” declared Nanbu Shūgorō with ferocious intensity. “You’re trying to trick me! Utter cowardice!”

“Even a swordsman can fall for a woman,” Koichiro continued undeterred. “Oh, come now—this is utterly worthless.”

Shūgorō clicked his tongue with a "Tch."

“You’ve lost your nerve, Isshiki Koichiro!” “Women hold more appeal than swords.” “What nonsense! So what?” “Therefore, I shall commit fully!” “Huh?” Shūgorō took a step back.

“Koshino’s words telling me to cut people down—I’ll follow through on them completely! I’ll cut people down! I’ll cut you down! I’ll take the woman! I’ll commit evil deeds! I shall commit fully to villainous swordsmanship! Here, Shūgorō!” he lunged forward. “You’ve charged right in—perfect timing! I’m here! Right here!” he advanced again. “I’ve been waiting! An opponent for a crossroads slaughter! ...Here I come!” he called out. The first great sound crossed the wild field and, like a giant rod, pierced the darkness of the night.

Simultaneously leaping back, Koichiro swung the drawn sageo with a whizz—in one motion, swiftly tying it into a cross-strap! His sleeves rolled up as two pale arms jutted out sharply, followed by the rasp of a scabbard sliding free. Suddenly his body plunged downward: right foot stepping forward, left knee bent to plant his leg, waist lowered like a coiling dragon! With the sword hilt positioned two sun above his bent knee—angled like spreading branches—he opened his stance into Kanamaki-ryu's gedan hassō, the lower eightfold guard! Should an opponent charge head-on, he'd parry and repel; should they thrust forth, he'd entangle and bring them down—a stance of fluttering adaptability. The blade tip flickered like starlight carving constellations, gleaming cold blue. He shifted constantly to avoid settling. Sword energy whooshed from his posture—in the darkness, it seemed a rainbow might burst forth.

III But Nanbu Shūgorō—this man was no ordinary opponent either. A formidable practitioner of Togun-ryu, he too leaped back and thrust forth abruptly, pulled the drawn sword’s hilt to his lower abdomen, drew both elbows in as he settled into his stance—the conventional middle guard.

“I see,” muttered Koichiro．“Quite impressive skills．But you’re no match for me． “Very well,” he said，and began to taunt．

“Now then, Mr. Nanbu—come at me!” “Merely standing there isn’t skill!” “Swing that clunker of yours!” “Let’s make those stars shine!” “Circle around to the right!” Then I circled to the left.

And then—the two men clashed. And then—Clang——! A single clash of blades! "I won’t give you a second exchange—this’ll be settled in one!" "Of course you'll lose." "A stone against an egg—no contest." "The Tang people occasionally come up with clever sayings." "If a stone and an egg collide, undoubtedly the stone will prevail." "I am the stone and you the egg—come now, Mr. Egg! Bounce right in!" he continued chattering while thinking. "I was unexpectedly bold—tonight was my first real battle, yet I wasn’t scared or terrified." "Right—with this, I could cut down a human." "Alright, alright… I’ll press in from here."

Forming his toes into a viper and carving into the earth with a grinding motion, he advanced straight forward without circling.

Shūgorō gradually retreated, overwhelmed by the momentum—his sword tip threatening to rise involuntarily. The moment it rose, the thrust would come. There he pressed calmly, pressed calmly, mustered his strength, and took a step forward. And Koichiro took a step back. And Shūgorō took another step! And Koichiro took a step back. “Got him,” thought Nanbu Shūgorō—unaware that his opponent was retreating with a feint—as he snorted sharply, gathered his breath into his abdomen, and lunged in simultaneously. Extending both elbows, he raised his sword to aim at Koichiro’s right shoulder—then slashed diagonally leftward in one swift motion!

“That won’t work,” Koichiro barked. In an instant—a resounding clang of blades! Following this, a single vast ellipse traced across the starry sky. In other words, Isshiki Koichiro parried the enemy’s sword, twisted his body to deliver a one-handed slash, and sent the large blade soaring into the air. If this were to fall, Nanbu Shūgorō’s head would have been sliced diagonally from the ear.

At that razor-thin moment, a woman’s voice rang out.

“Would you happen to know of the butterflies?”

It was a beautiful, serene voice. The murderous evil energy slipped away from Koichiro’s heart.

And then, the woman’s voice sounded again.

“It is the Immortal Butterfly.” “...Would you happen to know of the butterflies?”

Where could she be—the owner of that voice? There were groves, there were thickets, and beyond that—the wind-swept Koume rice paddy. There was no sign of the woman anywhere. Yet the woman’s voice came from right beside him. “If you should know of them,” came the words, “deliver them to the Insect Museum.”

And then—what happened next? Following that, an old man’s voice came through. "My child, it’s no use. How could such people ever find the Immortal Butterfly?"

It was a voice brimming with authority. It came from nearby. But still, their figures remained unseen.

“How could those who seek to kill ever hope to find the mysterious butterfly that lives eternally?” The old man’s voice came through again. “Come now, my child—it’s time we depart.”

"Yes, Father," came a woman’s voice. "Then let us proceed elsewhere." Then she gently repeated: "Please refrain from violence... Sir Samurai... As for killing... Farewell."

That was all he could hear now. There were no departing footsteps either. Only the voice suddenly emerged from the earth and seemed to vanish swiftly into the sky.

The wind seemed to grow slightly stronger. The thicket began to rustle.

With his sword still raised aloft, Isshiki Koichiro listened intently and then let slip 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 as he sheathed his sword, Koichiro declared, “I bid you farewell,” and strode off toward town.

"What on earth is this Immortal Butterfly?" Koichiro pondered as he walked. "What on earth is the Insect Museum?" He couldn't make sense of any of it. "Still... it was a beautiful voice." "My heart was 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, Koichiro heard an unexpected story.

IV

The one who told this unexpected story was none other than Seizaemon.

“As you well know,” he began, “the Tayasu and Hitotsubashi families have competed over every trifle these days—brewing such distasteful rivalry—but now they’ve finally begun contesting something truly absurd.” He continued in this vein: “To speak plainly—within fifty ri around Edo stands a structure called the Insect Museum, housing two butterflies known as the Immortal Butterfly: male and female. They bear a mysterious legend.” “It’s said that whoever obtains these two butterflies, makes them mate and spawn offspring, shall gain immeasurable treasure.” “The one who proposed this was a female mystic—that Tekkai Fujin you know.” “And now His Lordship’s household strains their wits trying to obtain those butterflies.” “But this is pure folly.” “What is immortality? To live without end.” “Yet butterflies perish within a year.” “An Immortal Butterfly cannot exist.” “The fault lies with whoever started this rumor.” “Mystics are by tradition expounders of Taoism—they should embrace emptiness and tranquility, revere Laozi’s philosophy, and remain free from desire.” “But that Tekkai Fujin woman—she’s neither desireless nor tranquil.” “Observe how she pushes alchemy here, elixirs there—wealth and longevity—urging them zealously upon His Lordship! That creature is no mystic—at best a mere conjurer dabbling in elementary ninjutsu.” “It’s His Lordship’s misfortune to employ such a woman—yet even this springs from their rivalry.” “For the Hitotsubashi household first retained a female mystic called Madam Tekkai and boasted extravagantly of her.” “And rumors say that since this Madam Tekkai proposed similar notions there too, His Lordship now labors mightily to obtain it as well.” “Today again, the mansion was in uproar over their deliberations from dawn till dusk.” “A vexing affair.” “Such delusions…”

Needless to say, Koichiro felt both surprise and interest upon hearing this. He leaned forward and asked.

“So then—Father—whereabouts might this Insect Museum be located?” “Didn’t I tell you? Within fifty ri of Edo as the center.” “So the exact location remains unknown?”

“That’s right—they say they haven’t figured it out.”

“If Madam Tekkai is a sorceress, then using her mystic arts, she should be able to locate the Insect Museum’s whereabouts right away.” “So there you have it—that woman’s a fake sorceress.” At this point, Seizaemon frowned but continued, “Though that fraud did say this:” “‘A peninsula with dense trees, land elevated and dry—this suits the Immortal Butterfly,’ she declared.” “Ah ha ha ha! What nonsense!”

“Who owns the Insect Museum?” “An old entomologist, apparently.” “Might he have a daughter with a beautiful, cool voice?” “Huh?” Seizaemon’s eyes rounded in surprise.

“No—this is just my own line of thought.” Although he had deflected like this，Koichiro thought to himself. How strange... Truly mysterious. The Immortal Butterfly at Koumebatake too! Even when he returned home—the Immortal Butterfly! The Insect Museum here，the Insect Museum there—everywhere! Wait a minute——he sank into deeper thought. The two voices he had heard at Kome——one was an old man’s voice，so divine it was awe-inspiring. Whether a scholar，religious figure，or sword saint——in any case，only a person of profound wisdom could produce such a voice. Ah，right——they were searching for the Immortal Butterfly! Could it be that the owner of that voice was none other than the proprietor of this so-called Insect Museum?... No——that didn’t seem right. Koichiro continued to think. After all，if he were the owner of the Insect Museum，there would be no reason for him to search for the Immortal Butterfly. After all——if he had the butterfly——then they must be entirely different people... or so he thought. "...No... that doesn’t seem right either."

Once again, Koichiro thought.

"I distinctly remember hearing a girl’s voice at that time clearly say: ‘If you know of its whereabouts, please deliver it to the Insect Museum.’ If that’s the case, then the owners of those voices must be considered to have some connection to the Immortal Butterfly and the Insect Museum." He thought even more deeply here.

"If something like an Immortal Butterfly truly exists in this world, I absolutely must obtain it. If something like an Insect Museum truly exists somewhere out there, I would absolutely want to go see it. But more than anything—more than all that—I absolutely want to meet the owner of that beautiful, cool voice who yanked out the violent malice from my heart in one smooth motion. That voice was truly wonderful. Someone with such a splendid voice must undoubtedly be a remarkable beauty. Alright—I'll go search for her!"

The year turned over, and the new year arrived. On the 10th day of the 1st month of Tenpō 11, on that clear morning, Isshiki Koichiro departed from the mansion.

With a deep woven hat, hemmed field hakama, large and small swords in wax-coated sheaths secured in hilt covers, and neat travel attire, he stepped onto the Tōkaidō highway and set out on his swordsman's journey.

"When I think about it, this is a rather precarious journey." Koichiro found it somewhat amusing. "I'm setting out to search for its owner, relying solely on the voice of a girl I heard just once—after all."

He walked along peacefully at a steady pace.

Five

It was when he arrived at Kawasaki's inn.

“Sir Samurai, please ride this horse.” A lovely girl’s voice rang out.

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

“Indeed, you may ride.” “I am most grateful for this. How far shall I accompany you?” “Hmm… Where should we go?” “I will accompany you anywhere.” “Well now... where should we go? Hey horse handler—where do you think we should head?” “Hm-hm-hm-hm,” she laughed, “Kyoto and Osaka are but places of deception.”

“That’s a bit far,” Koichiro thought with a laugh, then said, “Hey horse handler—there’s something I want to ask you. A high, dry peninsula with dense trees and a large pond—does such a place exist?” Then, for some reason, the horse handler shot a sharp glare—but immediately regained her composure. “Sekijuku in Miura Misaki would be a suitable place, I believe.” “Ah, I see. That place would be suitable. Then take me to Sekijuku.”

Koichiro nimbly mounted the horse. "Giddy-up, giddy-up, giddy-up," the horse handler called out. Clip-clop, clip-clop went the horse as it started walking. Jingle-jangle-jingle went the bells. The journey began to take on the feel of a real journey.

“Master,” the female horse handler spoke while pulling the reins. “Is this a pleasure trip, Master?” “Well, roughly that area.” “It’s rather chilly for a pleasure trip.” Her tone carried a hint of sarcasm. “The cold doesn’t faze me.” “Indeed it is, Master.” She chuckled softly and spoke. “A high, dry peninsula with dense trees and a large pond. “In such a land, Master, you are searching for something there—”

“What?!” Koichiro exclaimed, thoroughly startled. “Why’re you asking that?!” “Because lands like that hold countless mysteries,” she replied with practiced calm. This horse handler’s suspicious. The realization struck him mid-stride. He studied her anew—that robust frame carrying itself with uncommon poise. Milky skin framed by lustrous hair; features too refined for roadside labor. Those eyes especially arrested him—not just their beauty, but their smoldering intensity that seemed ready to incinerate reason itself. The mole gracing her upper lip didn’t mar that face; rather, it lent a roguish charm.

"She’s no real horse handler," Koichiro thought to himself. "Could she be some sort of female bandit?"

Then the woman called out. “There’s no need to worry, Master—this girl means you no harm.” “Ugh,” Koichiro was overwhelmed. “What nonsense are you spouting? Such trivial matters!” “Even though you were thinking it in your heart yourself.”

This too left Koichiro overwhelmed.

“Can you understand a person’s heart?!” “If it’s your heart, Master, then I understand.” “This is astonishing! How do you know?” “Because you’re someone dear to me.” “Huh?” Once again, Koichiro found himself utterly overwhelmed.

“You like me?!” “I fell for you at first sight.” “Good grief,” Koichiro said with a wry smile. “This has become utterly preposterous.” “The heart of the one you long for can only be understood by a woman in love.” “Muleteer! Don’t startle me so much!”

“Oh ho ho ho! Do forgive me.” Koichiro couldn’t make heads or tails of it. What on earth was this woman? So he decided to investigate her background.

“By the way—what’s your name?”

“Yes, my name is Kime.”

“Ah, Kime. How old are you?”

“Yes, I am eighteen.” “And do you have parents?” “Yes, they are in good health.”

“And where is your home?”

“In Miura Misaki’s Sekijuku.”

“Huh?!” Koichiro was startled once more. “This—you shouldn’t tease so much.” “No no, it’s true.” The muleteer’s voice was earnest. “My home is in Miura Misaki, Sekijuku.” “Therefore, I intend to take you, Master, to my home.” “What in the world is the meaning of this?”

“We’re in the inn business, you see.”

“Ah—an inn.” “……Then why’s an innkeeper’s daughter working as a muleteer?”

“I was searching.” “Hmm... And who might that be?” “A lover.” When she said this, the muleteer smiled. “And today at last, I’ve found the one I long for.” “Master—it’s you.”

And so it came to pass that Isshiki Koichiro, the chivalrous swordsman, through his mere encounter with this muleteer, found himself colliding with unexpected incidents one after another—flitting between love and rancor, wicked blades and righteous steel, darkness and illumination, superstition and wisdom, the mystical realm and the world of reality.

VI

Exactly five days had passed since that day.

Kime’s home in Miura Misaki—its house name being Kado-ya—was an inn of splendid construction. Emerging nonchalantly from that gate was none other than Isshiki Koichiro, with a faint smile playing on his lips. "The girl called Kime hadn’t lied. Indeed, her home was an inn, and her parents were hale and hearty. And they were kind to me. Speaking of kindness—that Kime truly seemed to love me. It was a bit troubling, but not unwelcome. She was bright, lively, and without reservations. A renowned flower blooming wild and solitary, indeed. Even so—for this man of mine—there existed another woman I loved. Though I’d yet to see her form—that woman whose voice alone I’d heard during the clash at Koume Tanbo. I must find her and meet her at all costs... But putting that aside—why wouldn’t Kime let me venture into the forest with the great pond?"

He stopped and surveyed his surroundings. A winter-blighted village of half-farmers and half-fishermen lay stretched out in lonely desolation. Beyond it lay cultivated fields. Beyond the fields rose a great forest where towering cypress and cedar trees scraped against the crystal-clear sky. He glanced back almost absentmindedly. "Why had he muttered 'Hmm?'" It was because fifteen or sixteen samurai—all in splendid travel attire—were approaching briskly from behind.

“For so many samurai to come pouring into a backwater like Sekijuku—this isn’t normal.” “Strange…” he muttered, hiding behind cover to observe. The samurai passed by obliviously, their noisy chatter continuing. “First—to the forest no matter what!” “There might be an Insect Museum there.” The bearded samurai who said this added, “If not, we’ll head toward Izu next time.”

“In other words, we’re the advance party—all we need do is probe the area.” The one who said this was a samurai with a prominent nose bridge.

“The Immortal Butterfly! “The Immortal Butterfly!” “Could there truly be such a thing?” The one who said this was a samurai with a red birthmark.

“The Insect Museum and the Immortal Butterfly hold no purpose for this unworthy one.” “The owner of that beautifully cool voice I heard at Koume Tanbo—I must meet her at all costs.” The one who had spoken these words was none other than his romantic rival, Nanbu Shūgorō. They hurried off toward the forest.

Koichiro, emerging from his hiding place, could not help but be astonished. “Those are Hitotsubashi clan samurai bastards!” They must have come under Lord Hitotsubashi’s orders to locate the Insect Museum... As for the one he loathed—Nanbu Shūgorō—he had once again become his romantic rival. The owner of the voice he had heard back then must be connected to the Insect Museum—and that bastard seemed to have caught wind of it too. ……He couldn’t just stand by like this. No matter who tried to stop him, he would push into the forest—he had to locate the owner of that voice before those bastards did, or he’d never rest easy.

Koichiro darted off as if to pursue them—but just then, a girl popped out from Kado-ya’s gate.

“Ah!” cried Kime. “Father! Something terrible has happened!”

“What’s wrong?” came the voice of a distinguished man in his fifties who appeared—Eigorō, Kime’s father and the local leader of these parts. His hair was half-gray, his jaw rounded and sagging, his countenance gentle—yet in his eyes burned a resolute spirit.

“Lord Koichiro has gone into the forest!” “Oh! He’s gone?!” “This is troublesome...” “Father!” “Father!” “We must do something…” “Can he actually be saved?!”

“Ah! If something were to happen to Lord Koichiro… I would die! I would die!” “I would die! I would die!”

“Alright!” Eigorō resolved. “First we’ll gather the lads and comb every inch of the forest by splitting up!” “...But this Forest of Tree Spirits lives up to its name—a cursed place where once you enter, there’s no escaping!” “Just pray they lay eyes on him before it’s too late...”

At the edge of the depths of the Forest of Tree Spirits, a single rock towered. From its base, a spring was gushing forth.

Nearby, a man and a woman were talking. One was a beauty of about twenty years with an air of maturity, and the other was a one-legged ugly man.

“Is the Director still in ill humor today?” The one who inquired was the one-legged ugly man.

“Oh, Yoshi, it’s been so troubling—Father has been in such a foul mood lately…” The beauty said. “That must be because he had his precious male butterfly stolen from him.”

The one-legged man’s name was Kichiji, and the beauty’s name was Lady Kikyo; their relationship appeared to be that of master and servant.

Seven Lady Kikyo was around twenty years old—slender and tall, wearing a bellflower-colored furisode that lived up to her name and a satin obi tied high, yet her hair alone was carelessly gathered at the nape and left to hang down. Yet because of this, she appeared all the more divine. No, it wasn’t just her hair that was divine. Her face too was remarkably divine. Particularly divine were her eyes. Window of the soul! Exactly so! They were eyes that made one want to say exactly that.

She could not be thought of as some mountain-dwelling girl. Yet she differed from city girls too. She was the sort of girl about whom one might say—a noble princess who had inherited an illustrious lineage, exiled to the mountains for some reason—there she dwelled. Eternal Maiden! That would be the proper way to put it. Her manner of speaking was bright and frank, and her unaffected nature made it all the more appealing.

In stark contrast, Kichiji was rather ugly and sinister. He had a low nose, thick lips, and on top of that, one leg. Yet he appeared strangely intellectual. He seemed to possess considerable erudition. He wore a tube-sleeved kimono, donned Iga hakama trousers, and used a crutch. He was probably around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old.

Lady Kikyo was the daughter of the Insect Museum Director; Kichiji was the director’s assistant. “Kichiji, that’s right. Ever since Father lost that male butterfly, he’s been in such a foul mood.” Lady Kikyo’s voice sounded troubled. “I find it utterly perplexing.” Kichiji shifted his crutch. “But isn’t that precisely the issue? It’s no ordinary butterfly, yet it’s vanished without a trace...”

“But it’s true, so there’s nothing to be done. After all, there’s no butterfly here now.” “According to the Director’s words, it seems to have been stolen—but is that truly the case?” “Well… even this unworthy one cannot quite grasp it clearly.” “Young Mistress, do you truly believe that? When it comes to that Immortal Butterfly—it’s not something that can be stolen. After all, we are guarding it so rigorously. Moreover, the mountain is an impregnable stronghold—sneaking in is simply impossible!”

“However, it seems I can’t say that’s entirely the case.” Growing increasingly uneasy, Lady Kikyo continued, “Lately Father has been muttering to himself—‘A terrible enemy has appeared’—and he’s said such things two or three times now.”

“Huh? Such a thing? “That’s news to me.” “And just what sort of enemy is it?” “At present, I do not know… That aside, as this unworthy one…” Having said this—for some reason—Lady Kikyo fixedly stared at Kichiji before continuing: “Ah yes. Even were there no terrible enemy as Father claims… should anyone truly wish to steal the Immortal Butterfly, this unworthy one believes any person at all could do so.” “Hmm… Is that truly so?” Kichiji uneasily pressed.

“You could steal it too—and this unworthy one could also steal it.” This was a suggestive statement. "What are you saying, Young Mistress!" Kichiji took a step back.

“If it’s someone from among our own people, they could steal it.” “Ah, so then Young Mistress—are you saying there’s a traitor among our associates, and that they stole it?” “I’m not stating it that explicitly.” “A traitor could steal it—that’s all I’m stating.” “There’s no such thing as a traitor!”

“Truly, truly—this unworthy one does wish that were so.” Here, they both fell silent. Kichiji stared at his feet. There stood a rock basin brimming with springwater— A circular stone vessel large enough to hold a person. How exquisite the contained water appeared! It should have been transparent to its depths. Yet those depths lay shrouded in darkness. Extraordinarily deep it must have been. The sky mirrored upon its surface. A small bird must have crossed that reflected sky—its shadow momentarily rippling across the water. Then gone in an instant. Kichiji’s gaze remained fixed— Upon that rock basin’s watery plane!

Then, from behind a large boulder, a voice called out.

“Kikyo? Kikyo? Are you there, Kikyo?” “Yes, Father. I am here.”

The one who appeared around the rock was a peculiar sort of old man. The garment he wore was not Chinese in style but rather Dutch-inspired—with embroidery adorning both collar and sleeves. The color was black, the fabric woolen cloth, with embroidery adorning the hem as well. Peeking out from beneath its hem were similarly Dutch-style shoes. The hat he wore was also Dutch-style—the sort a Puritan might wear, with a wide brim that curled up at the edges.

VIII The white hair spilling from his hat—how beautiful it was! It gathered and billowed on his shoulders. A broad forehead, sunken eye sockets, eyes gleaming with spiritual intellect from within! He was undoubtedly a great scholar. An exceedingly noble, high nose—of a Greek type rare among Japanese people. Will! Strong indeed! As if proclaiming this, his slightly thick lips parted to occasionally reveal impeccably aligned teeth—one would not think him an old man. His angular jaw also bespoke determination. His complexion was ruddy, with not a trace of fine wrinkles. He was tall and well-built, his back ramrod straight. He had the air of a Japanese person who had long resided in Europe and recently returned to his homeland. Despite bearing immense suffering, he suppressed it through sheer force of will and deliberately comported himself with apparent cheerfulness. He bore an air that seemed to declare—

“So here we are—Kikyo. And Kichiji’s here too.” “I’ve decided to give up after all.” He sat down on a section of rock and began speaking in this manner. “If it’s gone, there’s nothing to be done.” “We searched thoroughly by dividing tasks, but since it couldn’t be found, there’s no help for it.” “And besides,” he continued with mild sarcasm, “even if someone obtained a male butterfly, not only would it prove utterly useless, but the person who acquired it would actually suffer misfortune.” “They’d likely panic and let it escape without fail.” “If released, the butterfly would return.” “Ah yes—to this mountain.” “So let’s wait for it.” “Even if they never return permanently, we’ll be fine as long as we hold onto the remaining female butterflies.” “The mysteries of the divine are not meant to be unraveled.” “That said, I’ll naturally remain vigilant and continue searching constantly.” “What I mean to say is this.” “Focusing solely on the lost male butterfly while neglecting the females would be counterproductive—that’s my point.” “Kikyo, what do you think?” He stroked his chin beard.

"That is most reasonable." Lady Kikyo’s voice carried delighted tones.

“You’ve reached an admirable decision.” “Truly, that is indeed so.” “It will surely return in time.” “Let us wait patiently, Father.” “...And thus I pray you may regain your former cheerfulness and dedicate yourself fully to your research.” “Ah yes—let us resolve it so.” “There’s no profit in sour moods.” “This floating world rarely bends to our whims—such is its nature.” “Henceforth I shall resume being that jovial soul, laboring diligently at my tasks.” “Kichiji—what say you?”

Kichiji also spoke with evident relief, “I find this most agreeable. “For if the Professor were to become melancholy, we would be utterly at a loss as to how to proceed.” “Ah ha ha! Of course! If I, the master, were angry, everyone would find their work difficult indeed.” “Alright, alright—let’s proceed cheerfully from here on out.” “Always keep that bright smile.” There, he laughed again—a contrived, artificial-sounding laugh. “Come now, Kichiji, work, work! You go and direct everyone.” “Let’s see—today’s greenhouse maintenance.” “Let’s see—then installing the incubators, let’s see—then manufacturing beehives, busy busy, terribly busy… Hmm?”

At these words—though why remained unclear—the Insect Museum Director cocked his ear. He seemed to be listening intently. The wind through the forest, water dripping from rocks—nothing else could be heard... Yet apparently the Director detected another sound. His face hardened instantly, eyes narrowing in displeasure. “Stay away! Don’t come making trouble!” “How dreadfully noisy,” remarked Lady Kikyo, furrowing her brows in kind.

“From which direction does it come?” The one who asked this was Kichiji. “From the foothills—from Sekijuku.” “I’ll drive them off with our usual methods.” Kichiji raised his pine-needle crutch with a brisk motion.

“Very well, Kichiji—drive them off!” “By your leave.”

With that, he started running. His running was extraordinarily agile—far surpassing the movements of two-legged humans.

“Kikyo, let’s go to the room and have some tea. …How noisy these people are—coming here to disturb our residence from time to time!”

“Truly quite noisy, isn’t it?” "They won't even let me research properly. Those vulgar types are utterly insufferable, disgusting creatures. They’re simply consumed by curiosity. And for their own satisfaction, they care not 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.

The spring’s steady drip-drip-drip played a subtle melody. The chirping of small birds could be heard. The winter sun shone brightly. It was quiet, pure, and peaceful.

However, as if to shatter this tranquility, a massive brawl erupted shortly thereafter.

Nine

Pushing through the Forest of Tree Spirits, Isshiki Koichiro walked on.

"I must locate the Insect Museum before those Hitotsubashi samurai—my pride won’t allow otherwise. But it’s just so damn hard to walk here..." Tall trees towered straight upward. Their branches and leaves blotted out the sky. Though it was daytime, no sunlight pierced through. The surroundings lay dim as twilight, thick with shrubs and tangling vines. They clawed at his feet as he walked. A colossal fallen tree blocked his path, forcing him to halt. A boulder like a small hill lay tumbled across his way. Here and there stood ancient ponds. Something white burst forth suddenly— A flock of pure snow rabbits. Something rustled through the branches overhead— A troop of wild monkeys. A harsh caw-caw echoed— Neither fully bird nor beast. It was January in this great forest, the air biting cold enough to freeze bone. The wind whistled and moaned— Rushing through treetops far above. But within the forest depths, choked by dense growths, no breeze could penetrate.

The ground appeared frozen beneath a carpet of decaying leaves. With each step came a squelch as his feet sank into the muck. Isshiki Koichiro pressed upward along the slope, his pace quickening with restless urgency. Yet he consciously channeled energy into his dantian, steadying his breath against exhaustion.

"If I think about it, this is rather precarious," Koichiro thought to himself. "Even if I keep blindly climbing upward like this through an unfamiliar forest—in this haphazard manner—will I actually manage to reach that large pond they say exists here? And then—would the Insect Museum truly be there by the large pond’s edge? Even if I were fortunate enough to locate the large pond and the Insect Museum, would I be able to discover the owner of that beautiful voice? ……But well, I shouldn’t dwell on that. Just keep walking! Keep walking! Just keep moving! Keep moving!"

There, he pushed forward resolutely. As the forest trees thinned, he emerged into a small open space. A massive boulder towered.

"Hmm?" At that moment, Koichiro stopped in his tracks and strained his ears—human footsteps echoed off the large boulder. From beyond the rock, they seemed to approach this way. Not one or two people. Fifteen or sixteen in total. "Ah—the Hitotsubashi samurai have come at last." "What should I do now?" With matters thus, no other options remained—flee or clash. "What will come of it? I'll clash with them!"

Having swiftly made up his mind, Isshiki Koichiro quickly scanned his surroundings—likely to assess his footing. "There's a large boulder right here—perfect. "I'll use this as a shield right away—why hesitate? I'll cut them down!"

He waited in a half-crouch, but the group on the other side of the rock remained unaware, chattering noisily as they approached. At that moment, Koichiro called out.

“Beware!” he shouted first. Then declared with martial dignity.

“Ah! So you’ve come all this way—Lord Nanbu Shūgorō at your head, with Lord Hitotsubashi’s esteemed retainers in tow. “Your aim being to search for the Insect Museum—isn’t that exactly right?” Here he broke off his words and gauged their response.

At this, they seemed utterly shocked—the footsteps stopped and the voices ceased. But immediately, Nanbu Shūgorō’s imposing voice rang out.

“And who might you be?” “Indeed, we are retainers of the Hitotsubashi clan!”

There, Koichiro raised his voice. “Mr. Nanbu—I recognize that voice. “I am Isshiki Koichiro—to you, a man you resent. “And I resent you in turn. “At Koume Field, our duel was interrupted by unexpected circumstances. “Today we’ll conclude what began that night.” Then Koichiro raised his voice further: “Honored retainers of Hitotsubashi—though we share no personal enmity, I serve the Tayasu house while you serve Lord Hitotsubashi. As all know well, our lords compete in every affair these days.” With that, Koichiro shifted to a dismissive tone.

“The rivalry between lords becomes the rivalry between retainers! When that brings us face to face, it becomes a fight! A quarrel’s end is a decisive duel! This is already settled! So fight! So duel! It’s a showdown A——”

He shouted threateningly. Then he strained his ears intently. There was no response from the other side. But there was a certain restlessness. They seemed to be preparing.

"The enemy is numerous—I stand alone. Some trickery seems unavoidable." Having resolved thus, Koichiro deliberately adopted a stern tone. "I am positioned behind this large boulder." "I shall maintain this stance indefinitely." "Approach from left or right as you will." "You may even assail me from both flanks simultaneously." "Come round the rock then—have at me!"

When he smoothly drew his sword and slid along to the left corner of the large boulder, he dropped to his stomach upon reaching it.

Ten Having dropped to his stomach, Koichiro pressed his ear to the ground—listening intently to discern how many Hitotsubashi retainers approached from this direction through their footsteps. Then came the sound of footsteps—stealthily crushing rotten leaves as they drew near. "Hmm... Seven or eight men," he assessed internally. "...Ah! Then another seven or eight must be coming from the opposite flank too." Just as planned. They meant to encircle him—attack from both front and rear. "Good," he kept listening. "Three ken... two ken... They've halted." "...Moving again—timidly now... Here they come!"

Koichiro jumped up—but by the time he did, he was already leaping out. With a raised single stroke—the rhythm of a one-handed slash—he unleashed a guttural roar aimed at the throat and sliced through with a swift hiss. A scream—“Gah!”—escaped as the first to fall was the hook-nosed samurai who had charged ahead, his skull split diagonally from the right down to the inner corner of his left eye.

The samurai with the red birthmark—who had advanced second—let out a “Gah!” but stood frozen like a startled heron upon witnessing his comrade’s spectacular death from Koichiro’s fearsome kiai and brilliant swordsmanship. Aiming for this opening, Koichiro regripped his longsword—twisting the hilt as he stepped forward while lowering his stance—then targeted the left flank at an upward angle between the fifth and sixth ribs, executing Kanamaki-ryu’s araginbarai with a brutal upward sweep that carved deep. The birthmarked samurai let out a guttural moan and dropped his sword with a clatter, then arched his entire body like a bow before lurching forward unsteadily.

With suppressed breath, Koichiro swiftly drew his sword back to his side. The enemy he dragged down thudded heavily; blood gushed out in torrents; below lay rotten leaves—it all seeped in. In an instant, two of their number had been cut down; the Hitotsubashi clan samurai, now unsteady on their feet, began to retreat hesitantly— With a shout of "Here I come, Zo—!" he jerked his right foot forward—a display of relentless pursuit. Cowed, the Hitotsubashi clan samurai drew their swords and in one breath fled back the way they had come.

Koichiro pretended to give chase before twisting around and leaping back to the rock's edge—he strained his ears for an instant, muttered "They're here," and lunged. Sure enough, seven or eight men stood there. The samurai with cheek whiskers stood at the forefront, but when Koichiro suddenly leaped out at him, startled, he took a step back— With his trademark booming roar—"Bring it on, Zo—!"—he first issued a battle cry, then sprang forward like a ball. In the same motion, he pressed his sword's pommel against an enemy's chest while retracting his shoulder—then with a "Hmph!" unleashed a two-handed thrust that found its mark! Exactly! To the enemy's throat! But in that instant, another enemy swiftly slashed in from the right. No time for shock—Koichiro leapt back as one foe, missing his strike, stumbled forward two or three steps under his own momentum with heavy thuds. Lowering their stance, their right shoulder—poised as if to strike—swung within three shaku before Koichiro's eyes. Seizing the opening, Koichiro raised his sword and swept it sideways—a swift, clean cut that bit deep.

His right arm severed at the shoulder, he let out a scream and spun wildly like a top two or three times—first his waist crumpled limply before he immediately collapsed sideways.

Here too, Isshiki Koichiro had instantly slain two men. The Hitotsubashi clan samurai—two of their number now fallen—retreated with blades still raised, gradually backing away until they reached the rock's edge. There they turned their backs and withdrew en masse into the boulder's shadow. Having driven enemies on both flanks to their respective sides, Koichiro—now solitary—was no unskilled warrior to catch his breath here. He pressed his back flush against the massive stone and glared fiercely forward at his foes, then abruptly stilled his body and stepped out with his right foot—knee bent low, left foot planted firm. Positioning his sword hilt two sun above the bent kneecap, he spread his stance like branching limbs to set his blade. His signature posture: gedan hassō—Kanamaki-ryu's lowered guard. A certain-kill technique born from the staff-fighting "kaitē" of Kanamaki tradition. Then with deliberate slowness he turned his head to survey his right flank. Yet as anticipated, the Hitotsubashi samurai emerged round the rock's edge—wisened perhaps by prior defeat—taking a circuitous path before straggling into formation several ken ahead in a single battle line.

“Ah, they’ve come,” he muttered, but Koichiro turned his head and slowly looked to his left. Just as he’d anticipated, the Hitotsubashi clan samurai—having circled around the rocky corner after their initial retreat—similarly took a detour and straggled into position several ken directly ahead, forming a single line.

A samurai abruptly stepped forward and called out, "Mr. Isshiki." It was none other than Nanbu Shūgorō.

It was Nanbu Shūgorō—a man of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, ruddy-faced, burly and obese, with a tall torso that gave him an imposing presence. His eyebrows were thick, eyes round, nasal bridge long, and mouth large. Two vertical wrinkles between his eyebrows gave him a sinister appearance. He called out “Mr. Isshiki” once more but continued mockingly: “What an ill-fated bond we share, you and I! “Not only did we clash over some riverbed outcast at Komatsubata fields—now we must compete over an unseen siren whose voice alone enchants.” “Though perhaps”—he sneered—“you remain blissfully unaware.” “One might attribute our rivalry to Bandō Koshino or that mysterious Insect Museum... but no—such notions hold no water.” “Hear that voice from Komatsubata but once—such beauty—and no mortal could resist its pull.” “In fact”—Shūgorō leered repulsively—“in fact”—he repeated—“this unworthy one too felt compelled to seek its owner here.” “And you—you’ve surely come hunting that melodious phantom yourself.” “Madness, you say?” “What piercing insight!” “...Yet meeting you here of all places—most unexpected.” “Now ‘ill-fated bond’ rings truer than ever.” “…Enough prattle.” “...Gentlemen!” Shūgorō turned to his forces.

Eleven

Shūgorō, having turned to his forces, spoke in a cautionary tone. "Mr. Isshiki here is a master of Kanamaki-ryu, possessing such remarkable skill that he cut down four men in an instant." "He's far beyond our match in single combat!" "Gather together as one, form a semicircle, steadily press in, and let us draw him into a storm of blades!" “Don’t let him slip through—is that clear?”

“...Mr. Isshiki!” Shūgorō now called out to Koichiro. “Come now—bounce right in!” “Should you strike at the center—this unworthy one shall face you—while my left and right wings envelop and cut you down.” “Turn left and the right wing counters; turn right and the left wing counters—either way, we’ll envelop and cut you down.” “If you mean to cower forever with your back to that rock—very well! We’ll press in steadily and shower you with twelve blades at once—like rain! ...Gentlemen!” Shūgorō turned again to his forces. “Shall we commence this human feast?”

In response to the voice, the Hitotsubashi clan samurai fanned out to both sides, formed a semicircle, and inched forward relentlessly.

Meanwhile, Isshiki Koichiro remained motionless in his gedan hassō stance with the rock at his back. Yet in his mind, he calculated. "If I strike at the center like Nanbu said—those flanking wings would close in instantly. No chance if they envelop me. Whether I attack right or left—same outcome. Better hold position here. Let them come as close as they dare. Then burst out—slice that bastard Nanbu first. Two-three more down—they'll break... Closer... Closer... Twelve against one—tricky odds. Nah! No sweat! None at all!"

He pressed his body down and gradually leaned his upper torso forward—preparing to leap into action.

The interval gradually narrowed. Now, both sides remained silent. Twelve swords slickly advanced through the dusk-like forest toward a single sword. The single sword that met them swayed up and down like a wagtail’s tail, its blade flickering incessantly with a pale blue gleam.

It was a silence thick with killing intent. Startled by the killing intent, dozens of sparrows streaked in a straight line from one end of the forest to the other, passing through without uttering a single cry. Withered leaves scattered by flapping wings fluttered down, fluttered down, fluttered down upon the crossed swords.

But at that very moment—what was this?—a deep, hollow blast of a bamboo conch shell resounded from the foot of the mountain. Following this, the voices of a great many people calling out in unison came echoing through, rousing the tree spirits.

“Lord Isshiki!” “Lord Koichiro!” “Hey! Hey!”

“Hey! Hey!”

Sekijuku's chivalrous figure Eigorō and his over a hundred foster sons—with his daughter Kime mixed among them—the entire party searching for Koichiro were now advancing upward through the great forest.

At the forefront was Eigorō, with Kime accompanying him. “Father, are you all right?” Kime's voice trembled. “Well, I don’t know about that.” Eigorō's voice sounded uneasy. “This forest is a cursed place, you see... There might be screams from crowds of people, or a boulder suddenly comes rolling down, or a flood rushes in without warning. Dozens of disabled persons might appear hand-in-hand—then again, a heavenly beautiful girl could be leaning against a tree all alone, lost in thought… Or a divine old man carrying an insect cage might perch on a branch like some god… Nothing but eerie things happen here… That’s why this forest detests ordinary folk venturing in, you see...”

Twelve "That is precisely what this girl did tell you, Father."

Kime spoke in a trembling voice. “Lord Koichiro! Lord Isshiki! You must not enter that forest.” “It is a terrifying cursed place.” “Once you enter, danger will surely befall you.” “No! You mustn’t!” “If he enters—yet despite that—he slipped through like one possessed, gliding straight into its depths.” “Father! Father—we must hurry!” “Quickly! Let us find him!” “...Please stay safe...” “...I’m trembling so...” “...My chest grows tighter by the moment!”

“That’s right—we must hurry! If we don’t find him soon, it’ll be too late! Hey! You lot—shout out loud! Call out! Call out!” At that, the entire group began shouting: “Lord Koichiro! Lord Isshiki!” Voices echoed through the forest. “Lord Koichiro!” came the reply. “Lord Isshiki!” returned the answer. Kime joined them in calling out—her voice rising highest of all, for it was the desperate cry of a young girl searching for her lover.

One of them droned hollowly on a bamboo conch horn. Only the tree spirits echoed back hollowly.

Thudding onward, they pressed upward. How difficult the path was—how difficult! Then Ichisho Forest broke off, and a small open space appeared. There stood a massive boulder. Before it stood a single samurai—none other than Isshiki Koichiro, his sword tightly gripped. Surrounding him in a semicircle stood twelve samurai at the ready. It was an utterly unexpected scene. Eigorō, Kime, and all the foster sons gasped and froze as one.

It was then. Koichiro leapt forward. What glinted must have been his sword. A single scream pierced through the forest. A samurai collapsed. But in the very next instant, the eleven samurai swiftly encircled Koichiro at the center.

“Father!”

“Kime!” The parent and child pair staggered unsteadily—likely because they thought Isshiki Koichiro had been cut down by the eleven samurai. But that fear proved groundless. Several clashes of blades rang out; screams followed—two samurai collapsed. Then the remaining warriors broke formation, scattering left and right. From their disordered ranks, a samurai burst forth like a bouncing ball. Koichiro—back pressed to a boulder, seemingly unharmed and unwavering—stood poised with his sword at guard.

“You bastards!” Eigorō bellowed for the first time in a thunderous voice. “Finish them off from behind!” “Slaughter them all!” “Three pins!” Over a hundred foster sons armed with bamboo spears, clubs, travel swords, and their weapons of choice let out a thunderous battle cry. With Eigorō at the forefront and even Kime joining in, they charged into the group of samurai.

However, what a strange thing occurred at this very moment!

From deep within the forest came two distinct eerie, fey-like screams. “Do not defile the mountain!” “Do not defile the mountain!” Then came a thunderous roar. Then a deluge surged forth. More waterfall than river, it rolled boulders and felled trees, tore shrubs from their roots, and swept away every human in its path. What had become of Koichiro? What of the Hitotsubashi samurai? And Eigorō with Kime’s group—where were they now?

Now, several days had passed since that day.

This was the depths of the forest. Was its circumference perhaps half a ri? A large pond lay there. Along its shore stood houses here and there.

The particularly large wooden house was utterly unconventional in style. In a word, it was Dutch-style, with insect motifs carved into the pillars, walls, and doors. It was midday; the sun beat down.

And then, the entrance door opened, and a single samurai appeared. Why, it was none other than Isshiki Koichiro! He began to stroll aimlessly through the front garden.

What a fine view—such an unconventional scene, he thought. It didn't feel like a Japanese landscape.

He muttered these words under his breath.

“Lord Koichiro.”

A voice called out, and from behind the house appeared Lady Kikyo, her face bearing a smile. “How are you feeling, my lord?” “Thanks to you, today my mind has cleared up.” Koichiro cheerfully laughed back. “What a dreadful flood that was, indeed.” “On the contrary—thanks to that flood—I was able to reach the Insect Museum. This outcome fulfills my deepest wish. On top of that—I was able to meet you, the owner of that beautiful voice.”

"Oh," said Lady Kikyo, turning her gaze toward the flower bed. From behind the ever-blooming roses, someone had been peeking. As if eavesdropping on their conversation.

Thirteen “What’s the matter?” Koichiro asked, gazing at Lady Kikyo’s face. “No, it’s nothing at all.” It was Lady Kikyo who spoke these words, her demeanor tinged with unease.

But the owner of those peering eyes swiftly disappeared from view.

A clack clack sound echoed. The sound of a crutch. The one who had been peeking was likely Kichiji. He apparently went around the flower bed and left.

Thereupon, Koichiro and Lady Kikyo began walking toward the large pond. “I was astonished by that flood,” Koichiro said with a laugh. “Fortunately, since I was in the shadow of a rock, I wasn’t swept away—but the others must’ve all been carried off without exception.” “But truth be told,” he continued, “I was forced to gulp down quite a lot of water and put through quite an ordeal myself.” “How dreadful for you.” Lady Kikyo smiled beautifully. “It must have been fate. Somehow this unworthy one grew concerned and—contrary to my usual habits—went with servants to inspect that great boulder. There lay a handsome young samurai”—she gestured at him—“you—lying unconscious. Though we rescued you promptly, Father was most displeased.”

“Your father, the Insect Museum Director, is a bit of an eccentric, isn’t he? Ah hah hah!” He laughed. “Seems like a misanthrope—as scholars often tend to be. …But speaking of which, I hear that flood was artificial?” “All it takes is moving a single lever,” she replied, “and the water from the great pond will gush forth and flow out.” “What a dreadful lever that is!” Koichiro exclaimed cheerfully. “No no—for driving away common rabble, it’s quite an excellent device! From what I’ve heard, there are apparently various other defenses as well.”

"Yes," said Lady Kikyo though she seemed reluctant to speak about it. She abruptly changed the subject. "What a disagreeable person you are." She came out with this. "Huh?" He was momentarily flustered. "Who might this 'disagreeable fellow' be?" "I would never use such a term"—with a look that seemed to chide him for his choice of words Lady Kikyo glared momentarily but— "What a disagreeable person you are."

“Oh? It seems you’re referring to me?” “Yes yes, precisely so!” “So...” Koichiro put on an exaggeratedly sorrowful expression—clearly feigned—and said, “It seems you disapprove of me offering my devotion to a young lady with such a beautiful voice.” “It doesn’t suit my tastes at all.”

Lady Kikyo also played along with deliberate foolishness. “There exists a proper method for devotion in love.” “I shall accept it—this devotion?” “One must kneel properly.” “Ah! Then like this—” Suddenly Koichiro knelt down, raising both hands in offering as he declared: “Pray accept my love!” “O Knight,” Lady Kikyo said laughing. “You must refrain from wantonly swinging your blade in places like the great boulder’s shadow or Koume’s rice fields.” “Ah! So when you spoke of ‘that disagreeable lout,’ you meant this matter?”

“As for the one I called a disagreeable person—” “Understood—I’ll be careful! So—Young Lady—what of my love?” “Stand up! My knight!” Then she deliberately extended one hand. Koichiro gripped her hand and stood up, now truly letting out a cry of joy. “Ah, you are mine!” Then he thought to himself: “I never imagined this love would take root so swiftly.” But Lady Kikyo said uneasily, “It seems it will follow us. A terrible, terrible danger! Ah—somehow in our love—!”

“Please believe me,” Koichiro said, pointing at his own chest. “I will protect you. With this shield.” Then he extended both arms. “Believe in these arms!” The two of them tried to embrace each other tenderly.

It was a path leading to the large pond. Both sides of the path were flower beds. Early spring flowers were blooming. Golden-yellow flowers of striped narcissus, purple blossoms of winter jasmine, camellias, cold red plums, Galanthus—here and there shrubs stood. The white plum tree thrust out its branches. It was bearing shell-like flowers. The midday sun spilled onto the path. The laid sand glittered brightly. Two shadows fell. Ahead lay the water of the large pond, shining as though gold leaf had been laid upon it. Behind them stood the Insect Museum, its entrance door open. The window curtains were drawn. The sunlight also shone upon the insect patterns carved into the pillars and plank walls.

Then, a voice called out from there.

“Kikyo, Kikyo! Come here for a moment!”

When the curtains were drawn open, what appeared was the face of the Insect Museum Director.

14

After parting with Lady Kikyo, Koichiro began walking toward the large pond. His heart was filled with happiness. “Take a good look at this, Nanbu Shūgorō!” He muttered to himself like this: “I won! I won! I found the Insect Museum first, and even Lady Kikyo—the owner of that beautiful voice—I got her before you did. Though for now, it’s just her ‘heart’. But I’ll make sure to get her body too. What happened to that bastard Shūgorō anyway? Maybe he got swept away by the flood and died tumbling into some ravine.” Then he muttered again: “Take a good look too, Bandō Koshino! I’ve got no use for a woman like you!” Here, he grew somewhat melancholy: “But what about Kime? What about Mr. Eigorō? They definitely came in force that time trying to save me... Probably got swept away by the flood too. Might’ve died falling into a ravine. If so, that’s a shame.” However, Koichiro resolved to abandon these thoughts: “I won’t dwell on such things. I’ll immerse myself in my present happiness.”

Having reached the shore of the large pond, Koichiro spread dried grass and gazed out. It was no extraordinary pond. Black rocks—likely volcanic—completely encircled the water. The elliptical shape showed slight artificial modifications but appeared fundamentally natural. The water's blue verged on blackness—typical for early spring. Not a single ripple stirred. This meant no wind blew. The surface resembled spread tanned leather. It shone like an expanse of gold leaf. The sunlight's angle must have caused this effect. Several waterfowl floated motionless. Aquatic plants swayed freely in the current. Staring at this scene soothed his heart until he fell into trance.

Around the pond stood many houses, dotted here and there. Even so, their construction was not unusual. They were small wooden Japanese houses. However, all were single-story buildings, their shoji screens glowing whitely in the sunlight. The residents here seemed fond of flowers; in each house’s front garden were flower beds where early spring blossoms bloomed.

Encircling the pond and houses as if standing guard, a towering forest with trunks as sturdy as rusted iron and leaves as black as obsidian completely surrounded them—it could truly be called a magnificent sight. Thus, the scenery of this place could be described as follows. Within a cylindrical space formed by the great forest, a tranquil pond, charming houses, and beautiful flower beds were completely enclosed and arranged, and there a great number of people were working with apparent cheerfulness—

Truly, 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 in circles. There were men and women, elderly and children. Laughter, chatter, and singing blended into a pleasant chorus that wafted toward the large pond. What could they be working on? They seemed to be performing their respective tasks for the Insect Museum Director. Perhaps because it was surrounded by forest, no cold winds blew in. The season was indeed January, but in terms of climate, it felt like March. It was a fine day; the surroundings were bright, with small birds singing in every direction. A Peach Blossom Spring! A realm apart! But it was also a society of disabled people.

For among all these many people working away, each was missing an ear or a leg, was blind or visually impaired, mute or deaf—there was not a single unimpaired person among them. It seemed the learned Insect Museum Director had gathered society's disabled people, built a separate community here, and was engaged in some kind of enterprise. But when viewed from afar, they didn’t appear to be disabled people. They all looked like healthy individuals.

"Peaceful, tranquil, and beautiful. A fine setting. It looks like a pleasant place to live." While entranced, Koichiro thought such things. "How I wish to wed Lady Kikyo, have that scholar as my father-in-law, and live here forever."

A slight drowsiness began to creep in. He tried to lie down. But just then, he sensed someone approaching—a palpable human presence. With a clack-clack of crutches moving around the base of the shrub thicket, the one-legged Kichiji appeared. Stopping before Koichiro, he insolently looked him up and down with his eyes, but— “Knight,” he said. Then he burst into hoarse laughter. When his laughter subsided, he spoke. “Here in this mysterious Insect Museum, there exists something strictly forbidden—and it appears you remain unaware of it, Mr. Isshiki.”

"What an unpleasant fellow," Koichiro thought, rousing himself from his pleasant drowsiness—his nature being both cheerful and sarcastic. He retorted without backing down.

"I'm but a newcomer here—truly, I haven't the faintest inkling of the Insect Museum's rules." "So it seems," declared the one-legged Kichiji, his demeanor growing ever more insolent—"Defile her not! The Queen! Romance with Her Majesty is forbidden!" "Hah! Is that so? How very proper." Isshiki Koichiro said this—though he had already deduced exactly who the Queen was.

Fifteen

Thereupon, Koichiro spoke.

"I shan't defile her—only worship," he declared. "That's exactly what's forbidden," countered the one-legged Kichiji. "Worship ever leads to defilement—such is man's nature."

“What a profound saying,” Koichiro laughed. “Your observations of human emotions seem remarkably thorough. Well, I’ll humor it for now.” “You will obey!” Kichiji pressed with an insistent voice, launching into a rebuke. “Why don’t you simply leave the Insect Museum!” “Hmm,” Koichiro said, feigning a troubled expression. “Do you suppose Her Majesty the Queen would permit that?” “Now, now—that’s precisely the issue!” This time Kichiji spoke reprovingly: “There’s no granting or denying—the rule forbids surface-world humans from entering the Mysterious Insect Museum at all. That you alone were permitted residence here after breaking it was solely through Lady Kikyo’s exceptional mercy.”

“So,” Koichiro said coldly, “that Lady Kikyo declares she has no intention of releasing this unworthy one.” “So,” Kichiji shot back. “That merciful Lady Kikyo—you mustn’t love her, mustn’t hold her hand, hmm, and mustn’t kneel before her.” “Aha! You’ve been spying!” “I’ve been watching—don’t get cocky!” “It was Lady Kikyo who made the first move.” “That’s because you coerced her!”

“I just confessed my love.”

"Hey!" Kichiji spat venomously. "Among those in this Insect Museum, there's not a single person who doesn't love Lady Kikyo. They just haven't said it out loud!" "So I was the one who said it." "That's right—you outsider fiend!" "Fiend, very well! The victor in love!"

“I won’t permit this!” Kichiji abruptly raised his crutch and stepped forward. “You won’t permit? Well I will!”

But to Koichiro, it all seemed utterly irrelevant. "Just who the hell are you? Brother? Younger brother? Or Lady Kikyo's...?" "I am the Queen's most loyal servant in all the world!" This was Kichiji's retort. "Is that so?" Koichiro guffawed. "Then I'll promote you myself—this very me! When I become the Queen's consort!" One might have expected anger, but the opposite proved true. The one-legged Kichiji lowered his voice, speaking in a fawning, pleading manner—his words uttered in a whisper.

“Now, now, Lord Koichiro—let us cease this conspicuous behavior.” “After all, neither of us stands to gain anything worthwhile.” “So this time—a consultation—no, rather a humble request I bring forth.” “To put it plainly—as I mentioned earlier—there is not a single soul among those who dwell in the Insect Museum who does not both love and revere the beautiful Lady Kikyo.” “She is indeed, quite literally, Her Majesty the Queen.” “That is precisely why she alone must remain an eternal virgin—otherwise, order cannot be maintained.” “If someone were to try monopolizing her, every last one of them would fly into a rage.” “Moreover, you are an outsider—even without that, everyone watches you with suspicion.” “If someone like you were to monopolize her, it would be as clear as day that the Insect Museum residents would all raise a commotion—this is what worries me…” “Therefore, I earnestly beseech you to depart from the Insect Museum with all haste.” Here, Kichiji fixed him with a stern glare but then lowered his voice further: “If you say you find that disagreeable—very well—reside here.” “However—please take thorough care never to approach Lady Kikyo’s side again.” “Then—” he said cunningly, tapping his eyelids two or three times— “then please tell Lady Kikyo this: ‘I believe that gracious gesture you bestowed earlier must have been some sort of mistake.’” “‘...and say—As for myself—I must regrettably decline any romantic involvement with Your Ladyship on this occasion.’... For thus shall this village maintain its peace eternally.”

When told this, even Koichiro had no choice but to give the matter consideration.

"I see. That might be how it was," he muttered to himself. "The claim that every last resident of the Insect Museum reveres Lady Kikyo... seemed to hold true. If I, an outsider, were to monopolize her, they would surely find it displeasing. The hard-won peace would likely be shattered. There was nothing to be done now. Though she was a precious lover, I would abandon Lady Kikyo and leave this place. And then I would first return to Sekijuku and inquire after Sumiya’s well-being. And then I would return to Edo." But wait—Koichiro scrutinized Kichiji's face. "Despite his homely features, he seemed cunning. And that cunning appeared to be of a wicked sort. Can I really take this bastard’s words at face value?" He suddenly grasped this crucial point.

And already, the one-legged Kichiji seemed to have read Koichiro’s thoughts. Nimbly leaping back two or three steps, he abruptly transformed his demeanor.

Sixteen With a derisive “Hmph,” the one-legged Kichiji began by unleashing a venomous laugh. “Do you accept? Or do you refuse? What’ll it be? What’ll it be?” “If,” he said, hopping out about two steps, “if you refuse, be prepared!” “A terrible danger will befall you!” “And it’s immediate!” “Well? Give me your answer!” As he spoke, he oddly began leaning his entire body toward his single, sufficient leg, inch by inch.

“So this bastard really is a schemer after all!” Having seen through this, Isshiki Koichiro thrust him away forcefully. “You won’t abandon love! Nor will you leave this place! Ahahaha! How pitiful!” “You sure?!” Kichiji leaned his entire body increasingly onto his single leg. Then, slightly hunching both shoulders, he thrust his head forward and glared upward, aiming at Koichiro’s jawline. “Don’t look down on me—this Kichiji!”

“Don’t underestimate me—Isshiki Koichiro!”

The instant he spoke, a guttural roar—“Ungh!”—erupted from Kichiji’s throat as his crutch whistled through the air in an upward arc. At its tip gleamed a steel ring—no ordinary weapon—encased in countless razor-sharp metal spikes. An unorthodox armament, executed with lethal precision—a combat style transcending martial arts itself! The one who cried “Agh!” was Koichiro—had that strike shattered his jawbone, sent teeth flying, severed his tongue mid-bite as he vomited blood and collapsed backward, he would have been branded a thug masquerading as samurai. But what manner of samurai would Koichiro be to succumb thus? In the split-second of his cry, he had already vaulted two ken backward in a single fluid motion.

Though he had placed a hand on the hilt, he did not attempt to draw it, instead calmly observing Kichiji’s movements. Then Kichiji, standing on his single leg, swung his crutch high overhead—his posture so magnificently rooted it resembled an oak tree growing straight from the earth. Slowly, inch by inch, he began lowering the crutch downward. Thrusting it down with a thud and leaning against it, he began to speak. “Magnificent! As expected of Mr. Isshiki—you dodged my strike splendidly! Not even one in a hundred should have managed that. But…” he said, then hopped around. “There’s a second strike! A third! Fourth, fifth—I’ll assail you endlessly! I won’t let you escape! You think I’ll let you get away?! If you flee, that’s cowardice—I won’t let you call yourself a samurai! Draw! Draw! You too—draw!”

About six feet ahead of Koichiro, the one-legged Kichiji—having closed in to that distance—leaned his entire body leftward as was his habit, supporting himself on his single leg, then began raising his crutch steadily higher and higher. Where was he aiming? He couldn’t tell! It just kept rising relentlessly. "That’s… impressive," Koichiro thought while glaring. Leg? Torso? Cheek? Or the chin again, like before. ...If I took that strike head-on, I’d be shattered into dust—bones and flesh blown away... This bore no resemblance to any martial art I’d trained in. Precisely what made it so hard to counter. "There’s no reason I couldn’t cut him down… But my opponent’s a cripple—and the Insect Museum’s own man. They’d condemn me if I were to cut him down."

He had been overwhelmed by indecision. All the while, the crutch kept rising higher and higher. One foot, two feet—now three! With a whoosh, he swung it down. The spiked ring glinted. Sunlight flashed across its surface in dazzling bursts—like some exquisite jewel. Then Kichiji stood frozen on his single leg, motionless. As always, he resembled an oak tree rooted deep in earth. And then—impossibly—Kichiji kicked off with that lone leg, hurtling forward until he stood three feet before Koichiro.

Simultaneously, as a familiar groan—“Ungh!”—burst from Kichiji’s mouth, Shhhiinnn—the crutch descended straight down toward Koichiro’s skull from directly above. Koichiro dodged rightward—Kichiji, pursuing the fleeting target with a swiftness utterly inhuman, far, far, far faster than any two-legged man. “H-how’s thaa—?!” Kichiji swung his crutch to sweep Isshiki Koichiro’s legs.

Narrowly, turning left, Koichiro leapt aside—and made his decision.

"I can't hold back anymore—I'll cut him down!"

As he twisted his waist, a voice called out, “Mr. Isshiki!” Then, “Kichiji!” came the same voice.

It was the pure voice of Lady Kikyo. Lady Kikyo circled around the flower beds and approached the two.

“I wish to speak with you—my father awaits.” “Please do come, Mr. Isshiki.”

She turned her face toward Kichiji.

“Please go feed them sugar—you mustn’t let the bees starve.”

Seventeen

This was the Insect Museum Director’s room, decorated in Dutch style. Hanging on the wall was a wall hanging. It was adorned with insect embroidery. Frames hung here and there. Pictures of insects were drawn. The ceiling too had patterns drawn upon it. Those patterns too were insects. Facing the outdoors were two windows, their frames also exquisitely carved with insect designs. Through the windows could be seen flowers blooming in the front garden's flowerbeds, their subtle fragrance wafting in.

A sofa, table, armchair, hearth, bookshelves, Dutch-style chest, and various other furnishings and implements maintained their positions in an orderly manner. The most notably large were the bookshelves. Width: one ken, height: one and a half ken—three such massive bookshelves stood side by side. Yet even these seemed insufficient, for there stood lacquered bookshelves, and a crimson drape embroidered with insects hung limply, its folds cascading down. Yet even these seemed insufficient, for two stylish revolving bookcases were placed in a corner of the room. Now, as for those bookshelves, Japanese books were exceedingly scarce; they were filled to bursting primarily with Western books and Chinese texts.

Crackle crackle crackle crackle went the sound. It was the sound of fire burning in the hearth. The flowers placed atop the hearth were Triteliya, said to bloom in May. They were undoubtedly greenhouse flowers.

On the floor was spread a carpet. It too bore insect patterns, its base color a pale green.

It was undoubtedly ebony—on the supplely crafted table were placed several insect boxes. But these were not the only insect boxes. Nearly countless more hung from the ceiling by silk cords. Thus, anyone entering this room would have to bow their head somewhat—or else bump their forehead against those insect boxes and sustain minor injuries.

On one wall was a door. It appeared to be a door leading to the adjacent room. "Thou shalt not 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, and needless to say, insect designs were carved upon that door as well.

Sunlight streamed in through the window. Illuminated by that sunlight, the writing desk shone brightly, casting light on a single design. It was less a formal design than a simple pattern—a butterfly motif with simple yet subtle mottling. It might be better to call it a painting. The Insect Museum Director sat leisurely on the sofa as he spoke, toying with a quill pen between his fingertips. He seemed to be in quite a good mood.

“...You are truly an admirable person. With someone of your character, I would never raise objections. Please remain at the Insect Museum indefinitely. Yet I imagine this must all seem rather puzzling to you—my way of life here, this society we’ve built... First and foremost, if you exclude myself and Kikyo from our residents, every remaining soul being a disabled person must appear most peculiar.” “Yet this too holds no mystery. Convention dictates that those with impaired bodies must harbor impaired minds—a grievous fallacy. The truth stands diametrically opposed. Precisely because their bodies bear limitations, their hearts cultivate humility rather than arrogance. They seek not to hate, but to earn affection through service.” “Yet common society fails to grasp this truth. They scorn the disabled for their physicality alone—a poisonous mindset breeding resentment among my charges. Thus I declare: Those blessed with sound bodies often nurse crippled souls, while maimed frames may house the purest spirits.” “This revelation birthed my design—to gather these disabled souls into an independent society where they might labor freely while I pursued research... Having heard this explanation, you surely recognize our institution’s organization as neither strange nor fanciful, but eminently rational.” “And rational it remains... Now regarding my research—it too follows simple principles. Being fond of insects, I resolved to study their living conditions through rigorous scientific inquiry. Through such study I sought universal laws applicable to human existence... This endeavor proved successful.” “By observing the communal lives of bees and ants—these twin exemplars—I discerned principles governing ideal human society: loyalty to sovereigns, equitable labor distribution, perfected specialization, cooperative action—and more besides. Indeed, insect societies may surpass humankind in justice and equality.”

"And regarding that matter, I do intend to explain it to you as well, but to put it concisely, it would amount to something like this." "Loyalty to the sovereign, equitable labor distribution, complete division of responsibilities, collaborative operations—things of that nature, you see." "In truth, who can say how much more just and equitable insect society may prove compared to human existence?"

He spoke in an uninflected tone befitting a scholar. Seated across in chairs facing him was Isshiki Koichiro, listening intently with an earnest expression.

Eighteen "But Director," Koichiro ventured hesitantly. "According to rumors, there is said to be a mysterious butterfly called the Immortal Butterfly at this Insect Museum—might I ask what kind of butterfly that might be?"

Then suddenly, the Insect Museum Director assumed a somewhat gloomy expression and said, "Ultimately, even I do not understand."

“Ah,” said Isshiki Koichiro, though he felt somewhat unsatisfied. “There are two butterflies—male and female—and when they mate and produce offspring, they say one can obtain a vast treasure. That’s the legendary butterfly you’re referring to?” “They absolutely will not bear offspring.” For some reason, the Insect Museum Director stated this with utter bluntness.

“It is an artificial butterfly, you see.”

“Ah, I see… So it’s artificial?” “But it remains alive nevertheless.”

This was beyond Koichiro’s comprehension. “So through human means, can life truly be created?” “Ah, that too remains unclear,” the Director grew increasingly melancholic. “But in any case, that butterfly is an artificial creation made in ancient times. “But it is still alive. “Yet they absolutely do not bear offspring. “Though by some chance, they might bear offspring. “Even so, it would differ from what is commonly called offspring, you see. “They hold secrets of antiquity. “But that mystery cannot be solved. “It’s a mystery that even I couldn’t solve. “Moreover, in my carelessness, I myself allowed the male butterfly to escape.”

“Ah, so you went to places like Koumeiden in search of that male butterfly.” “Still... Why was it that back then, we could only hear your voice but not see your figure?” “Because I was in the thicket, you see.” When put this way, it was nothing out of the ordinary. Rather, it was almost anticlimactic. For a time, the room was quiet. The singing voices of the Insect Museum residents, likely singing as they worked, came drifting through the window. It was a song of peace and joy.

Then, suddenly, the Insect Museum Director pointed to the design on the desk— “This is it, Mr. Isshiki—the male butterfly that went missing.” His voice abruptly took on an air of authority. At this, Isshiki Koichiro fixed his gaze upon the design. The mottled patterns on the wings appeared particularly strange to Koichiro. They were not the mottled patterns of an ordinary butterfly. That was a map-like mottled pattern. One could well call it a peculiar pattern—the sort that would make any human who glimpsed it exclaim “Oh?” in surprise.

“These are rather peculiar mottled patterns.” “Indeed,” the Director nodded, “the other butterfly’s wings bear similar mottled patterns. According to my theory, they may well represent a map of some sort.”

And once again, the room fell silent. Still, the singing voices could be heard. The fragrance of flowers wafted in through the window. It did not feel like early spring at all. It was warm enough to bring a sweat. It was as if spring had reached its peak, regardless of all else. "Even so," Koichiro inquired suspiciously. "How did you come to obtain such butterflies, Professor?" "Well..." said the Insect Museum Director, but here he fell silent. Then he began lightly. "In the capital of Holland, Brussels—I happened to obtain it there." Then he continued speaking without dwelling on it.

“I may not look it, but I come from an esteemed lineage—by birthright, a branch of the Tokugawa clan. Though my house was destroyed during the era of the third shogun due to… certain circumstances, the bloodline persists to this day. I myself am its direct descendant. In my youth, I crossed over to Europe, where I studied entomology in full, and only recently returned.” “But—ah, that’s neither here nor there. Now, regarding the male and female butterflies in question—they are by no means foreign-made. They were undoubtedly created in Japan, then passed through Korea and China before reaching Holland.” “There are various pieces of evidence, but as that belongs to a specialized field, even if I were to explain it, you likely wouldn’t understand.” “…This is absurd!”

And the Insect Museum Director abruptly stood up from the sofa.

“The sensitive musk beetles have begun to stir.”

He slithered over to the window and exclaimed, “This is troubling! Something is about to happen! I can tell—a major event is about to occur!”

It was exactly around this time.

A one-handed little man was riding a horse through the great forest from the direction opposite Sekijuku, ascending higher and higher as he raced toward the Insect Museum. He appeared to be in utter panic. He seemed gripped by terror. "This is terrible—absolutely terrible! I must alert the Professor immediately!" "They're coming! Attacking—those bastards are attacking!"

He muttered these words under his breath. His horsemanship was exquisite; weaving through the trees, he broke through the treacherous path and came rushing. Before long, this dispatch rider would come galloping to the Insect Museum, and then something would surely be told. May no disturbance arise in this beautiful, peaceful Insect Museum because of it.

The dispatch rider arrived. The little man shouted.—

“Please be on your guard! The disciples of the mountain nuns have begun pouring in!”

Nineteen

“The closure of the Insect Museum was due to the disciples of the mountain nuns.”

Thus it is recorded in the ancient documents.

What exactly were these mountain nuns? Was this another name for what they called mountain witches? That much remained unclear. In any case, they appeared to be a type of mystical human beings living in the mountains. Why would disciples of such mountain nuns have closed the Insect Museum? That too remained unclear. However, it was rather the director himself who had closed the Insect Museum.

“The disciples of the mountain nuns are attacking!”—no sooner had the dispatch rider rushed to inform the Insect Museum than the following events occurred.

“(1) ‘The terrifying enemy I had been fearing has finally attacked. If we fight, we will lose. They’re trying to make me relinquish the Immortal Butterfly. I must release this no matter what.’ While declaring this, the Insect Museum Director released the one remaining female butterfly high into the sky. “(2) ‘The Insect Museum will close. The residents may leave freely.’ With these words, the Insect Museum Director retreated into the building, causing the many gathered disabled persons to abandon the museum and depart.”

(3) However, only the assistant Kichiji stubbornly remained behind alone.

(4) That Lady Kikyo had also secluded herself inside the Insect Museum alongside her father, the Director.

(5) Thereupon, Isshiki Koichiro turned back to Sekijuku and reunited with Eigorō and Kime, who had escaped the water disaster.

The alternate society known as the Insect Museum, which had been beautiful, peaceful, and mystical, thus transformed into a desolate world in but a single day.

Now, on a certain clear and pleasant day about ten days after that day, a samurai rode a horse while a female horse handler led the reins, making their way along the field roads of Miura Peninsula toward Edo.

The samurai was Isshiki Koichiro, and the female horse handler was Kime.

"You really ought to turn back now." It was Koichiro who had said this. Kime laughed and refused to listen. "No, I shall accompany you." “That would actually be rather inconvenient for me,” Koichiro said mockingly. Kime nodded as if understanding perfectly. "How very pitiable that must be for you." “Wouldn’t that be somewhat impolite?” Koichiro said in feigned anger. "I don’t believe that’s entirely true." Kime remained unfazed.

Clang, clang, clang went the bells; thud, thud, thud went the hooves—their journey pressed onward. “Just how far are you planning to accompany me?” At length, Koichiro posed this question.

"Yes, wherever you go, I'll leave it up to you." Kime's reply was clear. "I shall return to Edo proper." "Then I'll accompany you all the way to Edo." "Aren't you being a bit too insistent?" Koichiro now shifted to admonishment. "It's simply this girl's nature." Still, Kime showed no surprise. "Even if you accompany me to Edo, wouldn't you feel lonely returning alone?" This time, Koichiro found himself sympathizing.

“Why would this girl go back?” “Huh?” Koichiro asked in return. “This girl will always remain by your side.”

“Ha ha, indeed, well well. However, when I return to Edo, I intend to enter my father’s residence.” “I will become a live-in maid.” Kime appeared increasingly serene.

“I’m astonished,” said Koichiro, who had indeed been truly shocked. “Who asked you to be a maid?” “Ho ho ho ho, you did.” “Well, well,” Koichiro added to his astonishment, “but I most certainly will not hire you.” “You needn’t hire me at all.” Kime was completely at ease. “After all, I’m such an excellent maid!”

—This was utterly beyond handling— Koichiro found himself at a loss. So he tried again. "No, no—even if I return to Edo, I shan’t enter my father’s residence." "I’ll rent a house and set up a household." "Yes, I mean to open a swordsmanship dojo—you see—where rough men will come and go."

When she heard this, the girl Kime replied brightly with genuine delight. “Well now, how splendid! In that case, I shall manage the household as your little sister.” —From the very beginning, I was startled by this girl—and it seemed I would be startled by her right until the end.— Even Isshiki Koichiro couldn’t help but give a faint wry smile.

Twenty

But Isshiki Koichiro understood Kime’s heart. "She’s recklessly in love with this me." And this was by no means unpleasant for Koichiro. No—rather, it was pleasing. "No matter what you say, she’s an eccentric girl. If I were to set up a household with this girl and establish a proper townhouse residence, I might end up leading quite an amusing life."

Still, Koichiro could not forget Lady Kikyo. "The beauty of that Lady Kikyo was truly exceptional," he thought. "Kime doesn't even compare." Yet even so, there was nothing he could do about it now. "But why would Lady Kikyo accept my affections yet choose to remain at the Insect Museum rather than come with me?" This dissatisfaction gnawed at him. "Does parental love truly hold more allure than a lover's devotion?" He could only interpret it that way. "I always believed young maidens would cast aside their parents' love to follow their beloveds - but ah, this time I miscalculated." This left him profoundly aggrieved.

Suddenly, atop his horse, Koichiro let out a stifled laugh—Huh, huh, huff. "How utterly absurd—when I think about it, after all the trouble of finding the Insect Museum, what did I gain in the end? Nothing but that single phrase: ‘O knight.’" He couldn’t help but mock himself. “What are you laughing at?” Kime asked, looking slightly perplexed. “Knight! Knight! Hah hah hah! Because I learned such a phrase.”

“What a beautiful phrase.” “But in truth, it’s hollow at its core.” “What does that mean?” “They say it’s a foreigner’s word for a samurai who kneels before his lover, receives her hands reverently, only to have them ripped away and end up suffering miserably.” “In other words—exactly like yours truly.” “Poor, poor, poor knight!” “Poor, poor, poor me!”

“But I would never betray you.” “Moreover, I would never kneel before you.” “I adore you—precisely because you are that sort of man. …You who torment women without even acknowledging them! You are a true man.”

Their journey continued on.

Suddenly, Koichiro was struck by a thought.

“Are your parents aware of this? About you living with me?” “I did not account for that.”

"Ah..." Koichiro involuntarily let slip a sigh. Then he muttered under his breath. "Everything is completely opposed between that Lady Kikyo and this Kime."

It was February.

The fields were cold. The withered grass rustled fiercely as though locked in battle. The mountains stood solid-black and shrunken. There were no flowers blooming anywhere. No travelers were in sight. Still and quiet, simply desolate.

Clink, clink, clink... Thud, thud, thud—these were the only sounds that resounded around them. Both now fell silent. They walked on toward Edo, toward Edo. Yet were they to enter Edo as things stood now, one would have to call it a journey devoid of marvels or mishaps—utterly ordinary. However, an incident occurred. This happened when they approached the forest—a single leaf came fluttering down, likely a withered one. It was entirely unconscious—in one swift motion, Koichiro extended his right hand and caught it flat in his palm.

And so, the falling leaf came to rest upon his palm... He looked—! A butterfly!

Out of season!

"Hmm," Koichiro examined its wings. It has mottled patterns! Those mottled patterns! Then he let out a long sigh. Ah! This is indeed the Immortal Butterfly!

Now, precisely because he had obtained this butterfly, Koichiro—upon entering Edo—encountered numerous perils, compelling him to demonstrate to the fullest the very essence of what made him a swordsman.

<21>

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

This was a spot near Fukagawa Kamibashi Bridge and close to the Nakasu no Watashi crossing, where there stood a modest town dojo. The dojo's master was Isshiki Koichiro, who lived there with Kime. There was a single manservant named Jinpachi. A modest residence without live-in disciples—or so one might say, but that wasn’t the case; various people gathered there. Ronin, pleasure-seekers, second sons of minor hatamoto, friendly associates from the Tayasu family, low-ranking gokenin and street ruffians, shop clerks enamored with swordsmanship, and boisterous firefighters.

Kanamaki-ryu Kendo Instruction. A sign hung on the gate. Though bamboo swords occasionally clacked within, idle chatter and raucous laughter rang out far more frequently. Rather than a kendo hall, one might better call it a clubhouse. "I receive an allowance from my father—why would I need tuition fees or monthly payments?"

This was Koichiro’s state of mind.

Father Kiyozaemon once declared, “You are, after all, a second son." "You must either be adopted into another family or establish a branch household—but neither seems suitable for you." "Had you been born in the Warring States period, you might have become lord of a small castle." "You have a disposition slightly ill-suited to this age." “You could become a chivalrous wanderer.” “You could open a town dojo.” “You could live with a girl you like.” "And continuing to live in such a manner would not be without benefit for our lord of the Tayasu family in time." "By interacting with various people, you could make many allies." "I’ll handle the household expenses." “It’s not as though you’ll drain them dry.”

Such was the backing he had. For one such as Koichiro, he could not help but be pleased.

However, Isshiki Koichiro was not such a shiftless man as to take advantage of his father’s generosity and idly indulge in leisure. "I must uncover the secret of the Immortal Butterfly I obtained"—he was consumed by this endeavor.

Now, as for this Immortal Butterfly, it was truly a mysterious creature. Indeed, it was alive. It breathed and its pulse throbbed. However, from its wings to its limbs, it differed completely from ordinary butterflies. It was not soft like ordinary butterflies. It was made of steel. No—it was crafted from a special, hard substance so akin to steel that one could not help but describe it as such; an exquisitely wrought creation.

It could indeed do such things. —An artificial butterfly with life!

Even when placed in fire，it showed no sign of burning；even when submerged in water，no sign of drowning；even when tucked into one’s breast pocket and hugged tightly，it neither got crushed nor died． It drank water and ate sugar，then flitted about the room；if you extended a finger，it alighted there；yet at other times，it remained motionless in one spot for days on end． At one moment，it was as easily startled and exquisitely sensitive as any ordinary butterfly；yet at another，as unresponsive as an inanimate object． One could not help but deem it a “strange existence．”

"But is this butterfly actually the male one or the female one?" This was a question for Koichiro. "If this were the male butterfly," he thought,"it would be stolen from the Insect Museum. If female—the one released by its Director." Yet regrettably he couldn't tell them apart. "According to that Director—why do wing patterns matter so?" The butterfly he'd obtained indeed bore map-like mottling.

"As for the mottled patterns said to have been on the stolen male butterfly's wings—the ones I was shown by the Insect Museum Director in his room—they closely resemble these patterns here. Then does that make this one the male? But back then, the Director said even the female butterfly's wings bore identical patterns. Which would mean this could be the female... Damn it all—I should've studied those male wing patterns more carefully when he showed me! All I did was glance at them briefly. Can't recall them clearly now. Can't swear these markings match the male's for certain. And I've never even laid eyes on the female specimen." Koichiro gripped the steel-winged creature tighter. "But whether this is male or female—in the end, what does it matter? What I need right now is to find another one of these damned butterflies."

However, ever since obtaining this butterfly and establishing his dojo, one strange incident after another—like those listed below—had begun occurring to Koichiro.

(1) That someone would constantly prowl around Koichiro's house at midnight. (2) That once on a night street, someone attacked Koichiro.

(3) That once during Koichiro’s absence, someone attacked his house and committed extreme acts of violence.

(4) That each time, a mysterious beauty would appear and rescue Koichiro from peril.

(5) That even among the enemies there was a beauty, and that she had been giving orders.

Twenty-Two

The first case was as follows. When night deepened and all had returned home to sleep, several individuals stealthily prowled around the house, whispering amongst themselves and exchanging signals—their demeanor showing clear intent to infiltrate the residence. On one such night, the tightly fastened wooden storm shutters slid open as if by themselves—and then a long white cloth fluttered inward like a living thing, only to vanish in an instant. There were times when windows would suddenly open. From there, a bag-like object would abruptly peek its "face" inside. Then he would hear a young woman’s voice reciting a "sutra." Though this "sutra" resembled an incomprehensible incantation...

The second case was as follows.

One night, Isshiki Koichiro was walking around Ochanomizu. Suddenly, seven or eight samurai clad in perfectly tailored black outfits swarmed from the shadows—they drew their swords and attacked before their emergence fully registered. “Who goes there?” He demanded but received no answer. Forced to retaliate, Koichiro drew his blade and struck down two or three assailants with its back. A youthful female voice rang out—“Leave this to me”—as a white cloth fluttered toward him like living mist. The instant he tensed to react, his vision swam and he crumpled bonelessly to earth. Later came vague sensations—samurai hands roughly searching his prone form. This fragmented awareness formed Koichiro’s sole memory of events.

“You don’t have it.” “What a shame.” A woman’s voice of this sort also spoke. How much time had passed? Someone seemed to be tending to him. And when he came to, five or six samurai clad in black outfits stood lined up before him—yet they did not seem to be enemies.

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

Having said this, they departed. Indeed, he thought he perceived a woman standing mingled among them.

The third case was as follows.

——

One night, when a message came from one of his friends proposing a drink, he went to the designated teahouse. However, his friend did not arrive. He ordered sake and called for women, waiting until the night deepened, but still his friend did not appear. "Ah!" Realizing this, Koichiro hurried home to find the interior of his house ransacked, with Kime’s eyes wide open as she explained what had occurred. “Samurai in black outfits clattered into the house, shouting ‘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 too, a woman’s voice sounded, seemingly answering it.” “And then, in a flurry, they all hurriedly left.”

“Ah!” Koichiro said to himself. “They’re after the Immortal Butterfly. When I was attacked at Ochanomizu before, I had thought it was probably that. Tonight, since I had taken it in my pocket, fortunately it wasn’t stolen—but things did get rather dicey. ...When I weigh these two incidents, it seems there are two factions—those trying to steal the Immortal Butterfly and those attempting to protect it. Just what kind of people were they? How do they know that I possess the Immortal Butterfly? ...In any case, being attacked like this so often—even I can’t keep it up. "Well, what am I to do?"

Isshiki Koichiro was at his wits' end. "Maybe I should just let it go since it's such a hassle." He had even begun to think this way.

However, for some time after that, no particular incidents occurred, and peace and quiet prevailed for the time being. However, Koichiro did not let his guard down. When going out, he would put the Immortal Butterfly in his pocket, and other times he would leave it at home when departing. As before, various people continued to come and go to Koichiro’s dojo. People with full-body tattoos done beautifully, such as pleasure-seekers, also came by.

Bold and lively, with a flair for style and even a touch of the libertine—this was Koichiro. He suddenly felt tempted to get a tattoo. “Alright! I’ll get one carved too!” So around that time, he went to the shop of Tsutagendo, a renowned tattoo artist in Asakusa, and had a tattoo carved.

With this, it seems I've become a proper rogue samurai after all. Ahaha, how ridiculous. This fleeting world never bends to our will anyway. Let them wallow in their indulgences. ...Yet somehow lately I feel my very nature shifting. Must've been getting my heart broken by Lady Kikyo that did it.

The languid early summer days continued.

But finally, one night, Koichiro was attacked by enemies once more. Though he lost an important quarry, he by chance obtained an even more precious and marvelous treasure in its place. That night, Koichiro had casually stepped out of his house. It was a perfectly round moonlit night, the roofs of houses and streets pale as if frosted over. With the Ōkawa River to his left and rows of houses to his right, he walked until reaching Onoe Riverbank—he had no particular business there, having been lured out by the bright moon. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and stared fixedly ahead.

Twenty-Three

A familiar samurai clad entirely in black emerged from the shadow of a house and blocked his path—this was why.

“Mr. Isshiki,” said the samurai. It was none other than Nanbu Shūgorō. “We meet again—this makes the third time.” “Mr. Nanbu?” Koichiro quickly scanned his surroundings. “You’re not alone, are you?” “Indeed,” said Shūgorō, adopting a feignedly clueless tone. “For now—it’s just this unworthy one.” “You spoke of three meetings—but this marks your fifth attack on me.” “Oh please—this unworthy one has only done so thrice.”

"The other night at Ochanomizu Crossing—it must have been you who attacked this unworthy one." “Ah—caught on at last? …How remarkably feeble Mr.Isshiki seemed that time—quite unlike his usual self.” “The attack on my humble abode while I was away—that was your gang’s doing, was it not?” “Sharp, sharp! Exactly right.” “So that’s five times now—counting tonight.” “As you command!” Nanbu Shūgorō laughed mockingly. "They say the third time’s the charm in vulgar parlance, but that’s stretched to five—tonight’s the night I won’t let you slip away. Best resign yourself fully to that, Mr.Isshiki."

“Yeah, sure thing,” said Koichiro, adopting a cheeky tone, but his eyes kept darting around vigilantly, not letting his guard slip for even a moment. And so he thought to himself: I'll bide my time and observe the situation. Thereupon, he calmly began to speak. “That aside, Mr. Nanbu—you managed to escape that watery disaster quite well.” “Ah, that,” said Shūgorō, adopting a nasal tone. “Well now, even this unworthy one was overwhelmed by the great flood in Miura Peninsula’s Forest of Tree Spirits. We were all swept into the valley, gulping down water and such. But thanks to what you might call divine protection—though two or three were injured—none met any mortal peril.” Appearing to have some request, Nanbu Shūgorō—unlike his usual self—was sitting calmly and composedly. “And what of you during that incident?”

“Well then—thanks to that so-called divine protection—I didn’t drown and came through hale and hearty. As you see, in perfect health.” “Congratulations,” Nanbu Shūgorō said with escalating mockery. “And on top of that, it seems you’ve deigned to visit the Insect Museum.” To this, Koichiro couldn’t help but be slightly surprised. “You’re well-informed! How did you find out?” “Because you have the Immortal Butterfly.” “You’re well-informed! How did you find out?”

"The female mystic—the Toad Lady, whose real name is Reizei Hanako—it was through her clairvoyance that we found out." Here he puffed himself up. “Lady Hanako declared: ‘Within fifty ri of Edo—where the Immortal Butterfly once resided—one has now entered the city.’ So we began our search—and lo and behold, your dojo caught our eye." “There it was—‘Kanamaki-ryū Swordsmanship Instructor, Isshiki Koichiro.’” “Hah, we quickly realized, then began probing around and found out—oh yes—that you indeed possess the Immortal Butterfly.”

“So in trying to steal that butterfly, you’ve repeatedly attacked me.”

“As you command!” Nanbu Shūgorō said mockingly once more. “How about obediently handing it over?” “Well then,” said Koichiro, ostentatiously tilting his head. “I might’ve handed it over to someone else. But never to you.” “Heh, I see—because we’re rivals in love.” “Speaking of being rivals in love—now then, Mr. Nanbu, Mr. Shūgorō—after I met and confessed my love to that owner of the beautiful voice we heard at Komebatake Field, and she promptly accepted me, they moved against me right away.” His tone dripped with unspoken “You damn bastard!” as Koichiro launched into his tirade: “You must be green with envy—how’s that sit with you?”

Upon hearing this, Shūgorō let out a low groan—a truly foul-sounding “Hmm.” “Either way—you broke into the Insect Museum and stole the Immortal Butterfly. You must’ve pilfered that maiden’s affections too, haven’t you?”

“Such insolence!” Koichiro snapped. “I didn’t steal it! I obtained the Immortal Butterfly—by pure chance!” “Is that so?” Nanbu Shūgorō said venomously. “Now, now—that’s neither here nor there. “Exactly—that’s irrelevant.” “However, the fact remains that you possess the Immortal Butterfly.” “You come barging in here—that alone gives us no business.” “Mind if I ask—has that romance with the owner of that beautiful voice you boast about been successfully achieved just now?” “To put it another way—have you tied the knot?”

“What wedding?!” Koichiro blurted out, startled enough to physically stumble before muttering, “Hmm...a wedding? No—not yet.”

“Then when might that be?” “Sometime in the midst of that…”

“How pitiful.” “What the hell do you mean by that?!” “Pfft.” For some reason, Shūgorō suddenly burst out laughing. “It seems you’re unaware that Lady Kikyo of the beautiful voice—the Insect Museum director’s daughter—descended from the mountains and entered Edo just recently.” “Huh?!” Startled, Koichiro exclaimed, “Is that true?!” He lunged forward abruptly. “You dim-witted samurai!” “What?!” “…That’s a lie!” “Fine then,” Nanbu guffawed derisively. “Go on thinking it’s all lies.” “Meanwhile, we’ll just snatch her away.”

“Tell me!” roared Koichiro’s thunderous voice! “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Where is she?!” “She’s being concealed somewhere.” “How did you find out?” “Clairvoyance—!” “Have at you!”

With rage amplifying his thunderous voice into roaring resonance, Koichiro twisted his hips and unleashed a sudden draw. The blade drawn was Ichikanshi Tadatsuna; cleaving through moonlight with a horizontal slash, it sliced through Nanbu Shūgorō’s left flank and waist support with thunderous force.

But Nanbu Shūgorō—having crossed blades—parried with a clang at the hilt, yet kept scraping backward until he cried in a panicked voice, “Assemble! Assemble!”

In response to the voice, about twenty samurai swarmed out from the shadow of the house.

Twenty-Four Surrounded, Koichiro had already steeled himself. What was there to fear? As was his custom, he lowered his sword into a low stance and settled his posture—but to his dismay, the terrain worked against him. At his back lay the great river; retreat was impossible.

Before him stood twenty enemies—all with swords poised at mid-level, silent without battle cries, forming a semicircle as they pressed closer? Inch by inch, they edged forward. "They’re tougher than expected," Koichiro had no choice but to think. "Seems they’re stronger than those I fought in Kodama Forest last time." Their rigid stances made that clear. "Hmph—typical Nanbu skulking behind his men again." "Looks desperate tonight too... Now what?" His thoughts churned violently. Then came the memory of Lady Kikyo. At that thought, his blood boiled. "They say Lady Kikyo’s in Edo." "Is it true?" "If she’s there—I must see her." "I’ll find her no matter what..." Suddenly Koichiro remembered his earlier urge to flee. "The Immortal Butterfly means nothing." "Could just give it to Nanbu’s lot." "No complaints if I surrender it." "Pointless getting wounded over these scum." "Maybe I should chuck the damn butterfly—"

Even during that time, the enemies pressed forward. The enemies' swords poised at mid-level absorbed the moonlight and glittered as their tips moved up and down, making it appear as though countless fireflies were dancing in the air. Gradually the semicircle tightened. Back, back—Koichiro had no choice but to retreat.

"What should I do? What should I do!" Koichiro felt impatience rising within him. The sword stance he'd held low began tilting upward.

And then, at that moment, something flickered into Koichiro’s vision. Behind the enemy forces, beneath the eaves of the houses, in a spot untouched by moonlight, stood a slender figure staring fixedly this way. She hid her face with a black hood. She was wrapped in a long-sleeved black kimono. The hem blurred hazily. She seemed to be wearing a patterned hem. It was undoubtedly a woman. What was that pale thing hanging on her left shoulder? It was something like a bag.

And then, a voice came from there. “Please release the Immortal Butterfly.” That woman had spoken to Koichiro. “I am Reizei Hanako.” “Ah—so this is her,” Koichiro realized in an instant. “The female sorceress—the Toad Lady! …Release the Immortal Butterfly? Not a chance!”

Even during that exchange, the enemy forces pressed forward inexorably—menacing and silent. With that pressure, Koichiro retreated—back, back, back. "This is bad—the cliff’s edge!" Koichiro broke out in a full-body sweat. The heel of one foot now reached halfway to the cliff of the Ōkawa River. There was absolutely no retreating now. One step back would mean a fall. Again, the woman’s voice rang out. “Please release the Immortal Butterfly.”

“Hmm,” groaned Koichiro as he thrust his hand into his breast pocket, but when he pulled it out, he hurled something high into the air! Something—! Jet-black! A butterfly! Spinning through the moonlight, it tried to dance away! It tried to fly away! At that moment, the woman stepped forward. What was thrown with a *pon* was the sacred bag; it collapsed flat onto the ground, then astonishingly began to bulge and heave its back upward as though alive! Next came a gaping maw. And then, from there, a single strip of white cloth smoothly coiled upward into the sky like mist and chased after the fleeing butterfly.

What cowardice! In that very instant, Nanbu Shūgorō lunged at Koichiro without warning. “You bastard!” Koichiro shouted, barely managing to block the strike—but his feet slipped wildly. Damn it all! He fell into the Ōkawa River. The shore fell into heavy silence. Nanbu’s gang seemed to have left. It was Koichiro thrashing in the water—now on the verge of drowning. Koichiro was skilled in swimming. Yet his entire body was exhausted. When he fell, he had wrenched his arm. And so he could not swim.

"This is hopeless! I'm going to die! It’s over!"

He sinks only to surface, surfaces only to sink.

Salvation did not seem to be coming from anywhere.

But just then from downstream came a cry like this: "Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!" Next appeared a small boat. It was an unusual light craft carrying seven men and women. There were six oars. It resembled the treasure ship of the Seven Lucky Gods. The bow bore a dragon carving. From its tip hung rigging. Moonlight rendered it faintly visible. Like a demon it raced—terrifyingly swift. Six people rowed oars. One gripped the helm.

It was when they reached Koichiro’s side. “Whoa, stop! Stop the boat! There’s a man here gurgling and flailing—turning into a waterlogged corpse!” “Save him! Save him! It’s all for merit!” The one who had spoken was the woman gripping the helm. By the time they all answered “Understood,” the boat had come to an abrupt halt. And then, from the boat, hands reached out and—with a mighty heave—pulled up Koichiro’s body! “Quickly now—tend to him!” “Hey now,” said one of the men as he wrung out Koichiro’s sodden garments, but

"My, what a handsome samurai—let's hope Miss Benten doesn't take a fancy to him!" "What nonsense are you spouting? That's preposterous!" The woman at the helm called Benten chuckled lowly. "Now then, row! Hurry! Hurry!" With cries of "Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!", the boat raced upstream.

It was precisely around this time.

The Ōkawa River had become the Sumida River, with Mitsumori Shrine on the far bank and Kinryūzan on this one. At one spot along Kinryūzan stood a grand mansion built jutting out over the water's surface, and in its innermost room, a man and woman conversed in hushed tones.

“It should be about time for them to arrive, but the sluice gate still hasn’t opened, has it?” The man muttered this. Wouldn’t he be over a hundred years old? Though he appeared old enough to warrant such speculation, his complexion glowed with youthful vigor. He wore a hollyhock-crested robe. “Speaking of which, when you suddenly graced our house with your presence, I must admit I was rather taken aback.”

"I must apologize." The one who smiled as she spoke was the daughter of the Insect Museum director. It was none other than Lady Kikyo.

Twenty-Five "I must say, when you suddenly appeared here, I was quite taken aback. But on the other hand, after so long without news of your father’s whereabouts, it brought me both joy and nostalgia." "But this does present a problem." "That he’s become so despondent he won’t even allow his own daughter near him—shutting himself alone in his room and devoting himself entirely to research." "Ah... So it’s because he lost both of those precious Immortal Butterflies that he’s changed so drastically?" "Scholars truly are strange creatures." "I can’t comprehend how losing some peculiar butterflies could alter a man’s very nature." "Though I suppose they were vital research materials... Well, regardless, I’m grateful to have met you." "No formalities needed! None whatsoever!" "Consider this house your own and live here as freely as you wish." "After all, you and I share the bond of uncle and niece." "My lovely niece has come." "This place has been too gloomy until now—it should grow more cheerful henceforth... Far better for you than dwelling in Miura Misaki’s mountains among insects, beasts, and disabled persons." "Coming to Edo was decidedly wiser." "But if you were to idle about aimlessly, even you would grow bored." "You ought to learn something here. Though given your father’s scholarly stature, I presume you’re learned yourself." "Thus you’ve likely no need for academic studies." "Perhaps instead you might take disciples and teach them... No, wait—there’s another matter. You should study flower arrangement or tea ceremony." "Having lived in the mountains, you couldn’t possibly know such arts." "Tea ceremony! Flower arrangement! You’ll learn them now!"

“What? You’re saying you know them?” “No false bravado, no putting on airs.” “You, raised in the mountains—though I must say you’re quite the beauty—what could you possibly know of tea ceremonies or flower arrangements?” “What? You’re saying you actually know them?” “Hmm, I see. That’s impressive.” That might be the case. That might indeed be the case—at first glance she appeared refined, and seemed to possess all the arts and etiquette expected of a woman. Well, well—she didn’t just know the basics but seemed thoroughly versed. This posed quite a dilemma. “What should you learn? Ah yes! There’s a splendid idea—learn stealing, learn stealing, how about that?”

The dignified samurai with the hollyhock crest had been chattering away cheerfully and eloquently but finally uttered these words. He proposed she learn thievery. Even Lady Kikyo showed no trace of expected surprise at this. With eyes glistening like dewdrops and a voice mesmerizing enough to enchant, she matched his cheerfulness as she spoke. “Dear Uncle—what a splendid notion! I shall learn thievery.” “What?” Now it was the uncle—the hollyhock-crested samurai—who seemed astonished against all expectations. “Truly? You’d seriously study... this trade of theft?”

“Yes yes, this unworthy one shall learn indeed—learn most joyfully indeed! Well... there is a need for it.” Lady Kikyo spoke with utmost seriousness.

“Well well,” said the hollyhock-crested samurai, seeming thoroughly daunted at last. “You’ve got guts. Remarkable guts indeed. What necessity could drive this? Go on—tell me.”

Then Lady Kikyo, with even greater seriousness yet looking immensely delighted, blurted out bluntly: "There is someone I must find—a most handsome samurai. Though he carries a hint of sarcasm, that very quality makes him wonderfully endearing... We've shared words—we've fallen in love. He currently resides in Edo, you see. I must seek him out and meet him by any means... How practical thievery seems for this! One could slip into any place unnoticed, meet whomever they wish—truly splendid! But Uncle," she added in a coaxing tone, "might there be a skilled teacher to properly instruct me in these arts?"

“Wait!” Uncle—the hollyhock-crested samurai—widened his eyes and waved his hand. “I know no such daughter!” “I was so shocked I couldn’t utter another word!” “Modern girls these days leave no room for carelessness or vulnerability!” “To boldly position your uncle right before you and then claim you have a lover!” “What a niece I’ve ended up with!” “I apologize, I do apologize!”

"...Even so, this is amusing." "Bloodline truly cannot be denied—rebellious bones sharp, chivalrous spirit overflowing! Our ancestors who opposed the Tokugawa main family, who crossed seas to foreign lands declaring Japan too small—their blood seems to flow through your father, through me, and through you as well. Hmm!" No sooner had he said this than the dignified hollyhock-crested samurai made a strange expression, but immediately burst into hearty laughter. "A teacher for thieves? Well—" "Of course there is! Right here!" As he spoke, he stretched out his hand, bent his wrist to extend his index finger, and pointed decisively at himself. And then he declared:

“Grand Thief! A thief who steals even foreign lands! That Grand Thief—he’s your teacher!”

——And there he laughed heartily once more.

Twenty-Six

At the booming laughter that rang out boldly, as if startled, a petal from the peony blossom arranged on the tatami plopped down onto the floor.

Hanging across the entire tatami was a diptych—likely by Ganki—depicting the Toad Immortal and Iron Crutch Immortal. Precisely because it was a masterpiece, the scrolls could cover an area of some thirty tatami mats. In such a vast room lingered an indescribably ancient and sinister aura that hung heavy in the air. Indeed, it was a masterpiece. Both figures seemed alive in their portrayal. Both had disheveled hair. Both were barefoot. Both wore tattered rags and sat perched upon rocks. The Toad Immortal held an azalea flower in his left hand while carrying a gigantic whitish toad—resembling an oversized sack—on his right shoulder. From its grotesquely gaping maw billowed cloth-like white vapor that made its bulging eyes glisten unnaturally. Meanwhile, the Iron Crutch Immortal wore a large gourd at his waist, planted a staff between his legs, and formed a grotesque hand seal with his left hand. From his pursed lips streamed a single tendril of black vapor into the air. Where this dark miasma dissipated into nothingness ran another miniature version of himself—no larger than a bean—engaged in some esoteric ritual. The Iron Crutch Immortal sported a topknot absent from his counterpart, making him appear an old man contrasted against the crone-like visage of the Toad Immortal.

Both of them were grotesquely repulsive.

For a brief moment, the entire room fell silent. The light from paired standing lanterns illuminated the maki-e-adorned armrest. The face of the hollyhock-crested samurai who leaned leisurely against it bore a striking resemblance to the Insect Museum Director. A broad forehead, sunken eye sockets, an exceedingly high and noble nose—yet there were differences. While the Insect Museum Director had white hair, this one’s was a lustrous black. As for the Insect Museum Director’s eyes—they were like spiritual wisdom itself—but these eyes were imbued with heroic willpower. He was taller than the Insect Museum Director and furthermore stouter. His physique was health incarnate. While the Insect Museum Director was, as a scholar, utterly earnest and utterly serious, this hollyhock-crested samurai carried an air of nonchalance and a hint of mockery.

But what full name did this hollyhock-crested samurai bear? People respectfully referred to him as the Lord of Sumida. Given that he wore hollyhock-crested garments, there was no doubt he belonged to a branch of the shogun's family.

With the Lord of Sumida positioned before her, Lady Kikyo sat with impeccable posture—pure, beautiful, free, innocent—her very being appearing as if maidenhood itself had been scooped from the void and given crystalline form.

The contrast between these two could truly be called a painting.

The two still remained silent.

And then, from who knows where—despite all the rain shutters being closed—a single firefly came flying in. With frantic fluttering, it plunged into the paper lantern. “They’re late,” the Lord of Sumida suddenly muttered, as if to himself. That seemed to concern Lady Kikyo. “Who are you waiting for?” “Ah, those we await? Why, my band of thieves!” The Lord of Sumida put on a clownish act. “Let me tell you—I’m truly a Grand Thief! “And I’ve got loads of underlings. “I’m waiting for those underlings.”

It seemed he found amusement in teasing the innocent and lovely Lady Kikyo. “Oh my, is that so?” Lady Kikyo showed not the slightest surprise. “I shall wait as well.” “Do you have business with my underlings?” “Yes yes, there are indeed plenty. When they come, I shall seize them and learn their stealthy arts.” “Ah! So that’s where this leads—you’ll learn stealthy arts and go searching for that beloved samurai of yours?”

“Yes yes, that’s exactly right.” “But you see, Uncle, to tell the truth, there is another important matter for which I am searching—that samurai called Lord Isshiki—” “Hoh,” the Lord of Sumida widened his eyes. “The full name of that beloved man seems to be Lord Isshiki.” “His name is Lord Isshiki Koichiro.” “So, what is this important matter?” He seemed to have taken interest. “I wish to deliver a most important, important, important item that I received from Father.”

“What?” said the Lord of Sumida with a somewhat surprised expression. “Then—this Isshiki person—was your Father also aware of this individual?” “When he visited our residence at the Insect Museum, Father also met him,” replied Lady Kikyo. “And then Father came to greatly favor that person.” “Hmm,” he said, turning serious. “I didn’t know that. I thought your talk of a lover was just nonsense.” He paused, then continued: “Hmm... So it’s true? Then what is this important thing?”

“Yes, this is it.” Just as she was about to retrieve something from her obi, a voice called out from the direction of the Sumida River. “Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!” That was how their voices sounded. And so these voices gradually drew nearer, then abruptly ceased before the Lord of Sumida’s mansion—and from the moment when, faint though it was, the sound of a sluice gate opening followed, the situation of this tale began to unfold anew. First, the Lord of Sumida said, “They’re here,” stood up, and then spoke to Lady Kikyo.

“You come too! “You’ve got courage.” “Might as well show you now... Let me introduce them—some odd characters.” “They’re scoundrels, but useful ones.”

They stepped out of the room into a corridor. The Lord of Sumida rose as directed, with Lady Kikyo following behind. After walking some distance, they reached a staircase—a spiral one descending underground. At its base lay a pond fed by Sumida River waters. A small inlet! No—a boat basin! That better captured its nature. Water lapped at the stone steps with wet slaps as small waves rippled restlessly. Niches flanked the steps, illuminated by pale lamplight that revealed: the Treasure Ship of the Seven Lucky Gods; a vessel modeled after it; weapons and ammunition loaded to capacity; and seven peculiar sailors boarding the ship.

No, there was one more person. That was a water-soaked samurai.

“Ah! You are Lord Isshiki!” “Oh! It’s Lady Kikyo!”

Twenty-Seven

Now, it was the next day.

Isshiki Koichiro shut himself away in his own room within his own house. He closed the sliding doors and sat in silence, gazing fixedly at his lap. The evening sun streamed through the west-facing window, and though the room was sweltering, he seemed oblivious to it. On the lap where his gaze was directed lay a small silver key. But judging from Koichiro's expression, he did not seem to be thinking about the key, but rather something else entirely. From the direction of the dojo came the thwacking sounds of bamboo swords. The disciples must be practicing.

From the kitchen came clattering sounds of utensils colliding. Kime must have been washing the dishes.

“What a pitiful creature, that Kime.” Koichiro muttered softly.

"I met her—Lady Kikyo. My true, true lover. And to be honest, Kime has become someone I no longer need. She could even be called an obstacle now. 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 lots, I ended up meeting my beloved Lady Kikyo. That's what they call 'a blessing in disguise,' huh?" A wry smile threatened to form. "And then I got introduced to a whole crowd of strange characters at once. To someone formidable called the Lord of Sumida and seven bizarre ruffians. ...The mansion's layout was peculiar too. ...Could that place be a den of villains? Leaving Lady Kikyo there—can her safety really be guaranteed?" This unease gripped Koichiro. But he immediately shook it off. "He wore a hollyhock-crested robe. Then that Lord of Sumida must be nobility. Moreover, Lady Kikyo kept calling him 'Uncle! Uncle!' So she must share his bloodline. "Then her safety should be assured."

One after another, memories of last night flooded into Koichiro’s mind.

Having been helped up from the boat and tended to; having had his soaked garments dried for him; having conversed alone with Lady Kikyo in a separate room for some time...

“I have not broken our promise at the Insect Museum.” This was what Lady Kikyo had said. “Father had grown melancholy. ‘I wish to research alone.’ ‘Daughter, you must go to Edo!’ ‘Go behold the world of men,’ he declared, then sent this unworthy one from the mountains with an escort to Edo.” This was what Lady Kikyo had said. “At that time Father stated: ‘Mr. Isshiki is a man of substance.’ ‘I willingly permit your association with him. Therefore seek him out and deliver this key without fail.’ ‘Should Mr. Isshiki acquire both male and female Immortal Butterflies, this key may serve purpose if they bear offspring’—thus this unworthy one delivers it unto you.” This was what Lady Kikyo had said. He remembered these words again and again. “Mr. Isshiki—should leisure permit—do visit for diversion now and then. Let me forewarn you: you must never disclose my mansion’s design or my undertakings to society. From my observation, you appear a man of chivalrous mettle. Within that framework I shall share my designs and sentiments. Pray visit periodically. Moreover—as my niece Kikyo seems enamored of you—you’d do well to call upon us.” He also recalled these words from the man called Lord of Sumida.

“Not just occasionally—I’d go every day if I could to speak with Lady Kikyo.” Koichiro burned with longing. “Today too—I’ll go see her right now.”

He stood up nonchalantly and donned his daishō. But somehow felt guilty. "I feel sorry for Kime." There he stole silently toward the entrance, slipped on his setta sandals, and with a wry smile—"This feels like sneaking out for an affair"—slipped through the gate, successfully exiting into the evening-bright town without Kime noticing.

The place he reached was Ōkawabata, and he began walking briskly toward Sumida's mansion. The beauty of dusk—Ōkawa’s waters glistened. Cargo boats glided across its surface. The white walls on the opposite shore were ablaze, bathed in the light of the setting sun. A flock of seagulls flew about, soaring up and swooping down, their wings deflecting the evening sun. Smoke could be seen beyond the rooftops— there must have been a fire during the day. People’s curses reached his ears: “Fire! Fire!” “Business is booming!” The smoke soon vanished, having likely been just a minor blaze. The ferry teemed with people. The bridge too was crowded with passersby. Street vendors’ cries filled the air. Edo’s evenings brimmed with life.

“I’m so terribly happy.” Koichiro muttered to himself. “I’m loved by Lady Kikyo and by Kime. A fortunate ladies’ man—that’s what they say.” But then he paused. “No matter how you look at it, this won’t do. I only just met Lady Kikyo last night. If I go barging in again today like some fool, even someone as esteemed as Lord Sumida might see through me. Besides, happiness isn’t something that comes just because you keep chasing after it. If I get carried away visiting her and receive some strange look, I’d never recover. What’s more—when you hold happiness close and savor it alone, that’s when you feel twice its warmth. I shouldn’t go today. Better to find some quiet place and dwell on pleasant thoughts instead.”

There, Koichiro turned aside.

The place he had come to was Shinagawa Coast, and by this time night had fully fallen, with the moon hanging perfectly round in the sky. There was almost no foot traffic anymore. He wandered aimlessly. At sea, the waves seemed calm. The scent of new leaves was sweetly fragrant. "I'm happy... so happy." He wandered on, muttering to himself.

But in the end, did Koichiro's happiness remain happiness? When he had reached Samezu Inn—when a single palanquin came flying from Edo's direction, rushed past Koichiro's side, then vanished down the moonlit Tōkaidō like some spectral apparition—when something fell from that palanquin with a soft thud onto the ground—when Koichiro, mystified, picked it up—his happiness had been overturned.

What he had picked up was a hairpin. A scrap of paper was wrapped around its shaft. There were characters written on it. She had probably bitten off her little finger. She must have written it with that blood; there it was, vividly red, inscribed as follows: "I have been kidnapped by villains. Please, someone help me." And there it was signed "Kikyo."

"Mmm—" groaned Koichiro with a violent shudder before instinctively roaring at full volume, "Halt that palanquin—!" But the palanquin had already raced away, its form now vanished from sight. His shout proved nothing more than empty bravado.

"I can't just stay like this!"

Clutching the sword guards at his waist tightly against his chest, he then gathered his hem with one hand and raced down the moonlit highway like a swirling tempest.

28

But even so—by whom had Lady Kikyo been kidnapped? Where could she have been taken? Lady Kikyo—who had been kept hidden in a grand, castle-like mansion by such an eminent person as Lord Sumida—by what means had she been kidnapped?

And so, would Isshiki Koichiro truly be able to catch up to the palanquin and retrieve her?

Now, the moonlit Tōkaidō, devoid of travelers, lay quiet.

And then, at that moment, from the direction of Edo, a single shout was heard. "Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"—the sound gradually drew nearer. And soon, floating into view under the moonlight, misshapen figures appeared. Six hunched young men pressed their bodies tightly together, interlocking their six arms to form a skillfully crafted "human palanquin"—upon which rode a woman, keeping rhythm with her free hand as they ran forward as if dancing. They were known as the Seven Lucky Gods—phantom thieves who struck terror into the hearts of high-ranking samurai retainers and feudal lords of that era. Whenever their heave-ho chants—whether on water or land—swept past a place, victims were left in their wake. Yet they never attacked commoners or women and children, nor did they steal things like clothing, treasures, or household goods—they stole exclusively gold, weapons, or ammunition. Even the town authorities made strenuous efforts to apprehend them but were unable to do so. "It was because a certain splendidly noble person was secretly protecting them—" So went the rumor in certain quarters. According to investigations by the town authorities, their names were Ebisu Saburōji, Ichiwaka of Hotei, Rokubei of Fukuroku, Monta of Bishamon, Hoshinoemon of Jurōjin, Jirō of Daikoku, and Matsushiro of Benten; Matsushiro of Benten was the gang's leader, said to be a beautiful young woman. When they traveled on water, they used light boats modeled after treasure ships, and when they ran on land, they employed their unique "human palanquin"—such were their means of movement.

And now, those phantom thieves known as the Seven Lucky Gods Group came running. While this hand-made palanquin was indeed a strange contraption, in essence, it was simply a human palanquin they had devised so that all seven of them could unite their minds and bodies and act as one—with no particularly profound meaning to it. However, since the seven had united their minds and bodies and were acting in perfect unison, they could undoubtedly move freely and with remarkable speed.

What incredible speed! They were coming!

Suddenly, a woman's voice rang out.

“Wait! Halt, halt!” “Understood!” The whole group came to a halt. Simultaneously, the hand-made palanquin clattered apart, and fluttering down was a single woman—her hair in a traditional topknot, wearing a demon-spotted pattern and yellow Hachijō silk long-sleeved kimono. This was Benten Matsushiro, their leader. She reached out and nimbly plucked something from the ground, then held it up to the moonlight. “Just as I thought!”

The six exclaimed in unison, “Huh?” and craned their necks. Arm guards, gaiters, and work aprons—their attire was supremely lightweight. They were all uniformly attired. “Lady Kikyo’s silver hairpin was lying here, you see. The moonlight made it glint, so I spotted it.” “So it’s just as Big Sis planned—she was snatched and brought here after all.” This was the sub-leader Ebisu Saburōji, who had an Ebisu tattoo on his arm. “Then there’s gotta be a blood-written Komugi paper fallen somewhere around here!” The one who had said this was a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old youth with a forelock. That was Ichiwaka of Hotei.

"But it ain't anywhere 'round here." The man who'd been looking around restlessly in all directions—a long-faced fellow appearing a year or two past thirty—was none other than Fukuroku no Rokubei. "Ah, it's nothin'—nothin' at all! Wind's blowin', must've been carried off somewhere." The one who said this was a grizzled little man—none other than Hoshinoemon of Jurōjin.

“The thing we picked up earlier in Asakusa—is this also Lady Kikyo’s belonging?” “A blood-written message wrapped around a tortoiseshell comb!” “And here’s the silver hairpin!” “If that’s the case, it seems they’ll keep dropping items at key points from here on too.” The one who said this thoughtfully was a large man around forty—none other than Jirō of Daikoku.

“Anyway, let’s get moving!” The one who said this was a bearded man. “Standing around ain’t gonna help.” This was Monta of Bishamon.

“That’s it! Let’s move!” Benten Matsushiro rallied her resolve. “No time for pondering! Lady Kikyo’s virtue hangs by a thread! A moment’s delay could ruin her forever! Then even our tears would fall on deaf ears! But tell me—who’d dare pull this stunt? Outsmarting the Seven Lucky Gods Group takes gallows nerve! Raging won’t fix this now! We’ve got to track her down! … Quick—form the hand-palanquin!”

29

In response to the voice, the six men each briskly thrust out a hand and instantly locked shoulders. A sturdy hand-palanquin took shape. “Get on now! Come on, Big Sis!”

“Heave-ho, heave-ho! There, get on!” With a flip of her hem that blazed like ignited motion—one might have thought flames would erupt—Benten Matsushiro neatly boarded.

“Hurry up with it! Come on, get moving!” “Righto!”

“Heave-ho! Heave-ho!” Even in such circumstances they appeared cheerful; even in such circumstances they stayed fast friends, scattering moonbeams beneath their feet as they broke into a run.

It was around this very time.

Meanwhile, in a completely different direction, another incident was unfolding.

This was a corner of Akasaka-Aoyama where stood a grand estate with a single imposing structure. It appeared to be the secondary residence of a great daimyo. Grand in scale and formidable in construction—beyond the encircling earthen walls' roofs stretched a luxuriant grove of densely clustered trees. This was the secondary residence of that lord—the Tayasu Nakatsukasa family, one of the Three Tokugawa Branch Houses. The back gate opened without a sound as a group of people trickled out. Clad in black garments with black hoods—an unremarkable disguise for covert movement—they numbered fifteen or sixteen warriors all told. Yet among them mingled one exception: a young woman wearing a black kosode and black hood. Judging by the deference shown by all present, this group appeared to command authority there. Though tall and slender, she possessed an indescribable dignity—one might better call it a ghostly aura. Or perhaps it should be termed a sinister energy. There was something ethereal about her presence. The hem of her robe blurred hazily at its edges—could she be treading through mist? Such was the impression she gave.

A single palanquin was brought forth. “Lady Tetsukai, please board.”

A warrior bowed politely. She nodded but made no move to board. Keeping one hand atop the palanquin, Toad Lady Reizei Hanako arched her neck and gazed skyward. “We’ve finally been outmaneuvered—they took one Immortal Butterfly from us for the Hitotsubashi family—but this time, no matter what, we must strike first and seize that forest girl called Kikyo for our side.” "But if we act carelessly this time, we’ll likely end up scalded again." "After all, she’s already been kidnapped, you see.”

Reizei Hanako muttered worriedly.

“But we know their destination,” “That remains our sole advantage, I should think.” “Though if we follow the main roads, it would take considerable time.” “Taking the shortcut poses no difficulty.” “Sakurai! Sakurai!” she called out.

The warrior who had just bowed stepped forward with a “Ha.”

“From Kanagawa Station toward the sea—take the shortcut all the way to Serizawa Village jutting out there.” “Understood.” “This humble practitioner shall guide the way. Ah yes indeed.” “From within the palanquin.” “Now then, open the door.” With a clunk as the palanquin door opened, the female sorcerer slipped smoothly through the gap, “Proceed now—without making a sound.” The Tayasu family samurai enveloping the palanquin broke into a clattering run—only to dash off in the wrong direction toward Tamagawa, soon vanishing from sight.

Only the moon illuminated what lay behind. A deathly hush fell over the vicinity. No, no—it wasn’t just the vicinity; the whole of Edo must have been quiet.

Indeed, it was not just within Edo—night had fallen across all of Japan. At least it must have been quieter than daytime. But this was merely the surface; beneath it, evil deeds might have been occurring even more so at night than during the day. Evil was indeed being committed.

On the coast of Serizawa Village stood a strange building. It was inside this structure that they were being carried out. How bizarre that building was!

Thirty The mansion built facing the sea was, in a word, Chinese in style. It appeared to consist of several separate structures. The steeply sloped tiled roof, reminiscent of a crane’s wings, glistened faintly white under the moonlight. However, the mansion was surrounded by an earthen wall and further enveloped by garden trees clustered as thickly as a forest, making it impossible to examine in detail.

One side of the mansion faced the sea. Waves crashed against the shore. As if white-robed ascetics were dancing, the tips of the plants glimmered palely. The three sides of the mansion were surrounded by wilderness. Groves, hills, marshes, and rocks lay bathed in moonlight, utterly still. Far away there were houses. It was the shabby village of Serizawa. Just then, from the direction of the village, a single palanquin came hurrying. Two or three samurai were guarding it. They came running toward the mansion. It was when they reached the back gate that voices exchanged a few words—some inside, some outside.

With that, the gate opened soundlessly, and soundlessly the palanquin slid in. What remained behind was only the moon. Not even the shadow of anything stirring. There was no sound from the mansion either. In the marsh, a drowsy waterfowl flapped its wings noisily for a while, but soon that too subsided. But before long, a lone figure appeared atop the hill. He seemed to be looking toward the mansion. And with that, he raced down the hill. The face exposed to the moonlight was none other than Isshiki Koichiro.

"They must have entered here for certain."

Along the earthen wall, Koichiro began circling around the mansion. "Hmm, here's the back gate." He gently tried pushing the back gate, but it didn’t even budge. And so he slowly started walking again. Eventually, he arrived at the front gate. He tried pushing it, but it still didn’t budge an inch. And so he slowly started walking again. There were no entrances or exits anywhere now. "Now, what am I to do?" Leaning his body against the earthen wall, Isshiki Koichiro pondered deeply.

"I finally spotted the palanquin that took Lady Kikyo outside Kanagawa's post station and chased it all the way here, but I never imagined they'd be pulled into such a strange building. What kind of place is this anyway?"

But his chest was terribly tight. He was extremely short of breath. It was because he had been running nonstop.

I'll rest. Everything else can wait until after that. Sitting down on the ground and crossing his legs, Koichiro steadied his mind. No, I can’t stay like this. Koichiro suddenly stood up. There’s no telling what dangers might befall Lady Kikyo. I'll sneak into the mansion and check on the situation above all else. He pressed his body against the earthen wall, but with his martial-trained agility, leapt over its ten-foot height and landed soundlessly on the other side.

He landed without making a sound. He pressed his chest flush against the ground and belly-crawled to survey his surroundings. The garden trees clustered densely in the blackness. Here and there like mottled stains, leaf-filtered moonlight fell through. Far ahead in the deepest front, a solitary building rose.

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

Thereupon rising slowly, Koichiro began to walk stealthily.

“My role here’s done.”

Suddenly, a human voice could be heard. It was a gruff man’s voice.

“Wasn’t exactly what I’d call grateful work,” came a gravelly voice. “Well, ’twas kidnapping a beauty after all.”

“That too,” another voice chimed in. “Make her talk and spill her secrets, and once she does, Mr. Nanbu intends to take possession of them—that’s why.”

Three figures appeared. "To obtain such a beauty... It's infuriating, yet enviable." "Let's return to the guard post and drink some sake."

All three were samurai.

On the opposite side of the vast garden stood another building, which appeared to be their guard post. Threading through the grove and crossing the artificial hill, unaware that Koichiro was watching, they made slow clacking sounds with their garden geta as the three walked in that direction.

It was only natural that fury welled up from the depths of Isshiki Koichiro's heart upon hearing this. "So it was Nanbu Shūgorō's gang that abducted Lady Kikyo after all." "Detestable bastards! What should I do with them?" Though Koichiro was normally thoughtful, his anger had robbed him even of that composure. "I'll slaughter all three as offerings, then cut through into the mansion and take back Lady Kikyo!" Flattening himself and crouching low, he moved along the dark tree shadows—but he circled ahead to intercept them.

There was an artificial hill, and at its base, a cluster of mountain azaleas grew thickly. Countless buds adorned them. Koichiro, having concealed himself in the shadows, snapped open his sword’s scabbard with a click, slowly drew the blade, raised his left hand, and hid the sword in his right hand behind the dangling sleeve of his lowered arm—his posture naturally tilting into Kanamaki-ryu’s lying-in-wait stance, known as the “Crack Crawl.”

"Come!" he screamed inwardly. "One strike per man! Three strikes for three men! I'll cut them down without letting them utter a word!" As he held his breath taut with fury, a lone figure emerged from the shadows. Koichiro caught the movement—flashing into a diagonal stance, he sliced forward while extending his elbow, stepped in decisively, then unleashed a horizontal slash! Though the surrounding grove's darkness swallowed any glint of steel, his aim held true to the last fraction—with one fluid stroke, he cleanly severed the head from beneath the ear.

And as for that samurai who had been cut—only there did the moonlight shine—he stood within it for a brief moment before toppling forward. By now, Koichiro had swung his sword around behind him and returned to his original position to conceal himself. “Hey, what happened?” A voice called out, and the second figure appeared. “Did you trip? Did you fall? No fight in you, eh? Get up, get up!” Thud—the guard stopped and looked down at his colleague’s corpse (unaware it was a corpse)—then Koichiro repeated the exact same motion: one step forward, elbow extended, swiftly delivering a single horizontal stroke. This was no different—the enemy whose head had been severed stood motionless for an instant before crumpling forward.

“Ah!” cried the third samurai. “It’s a spy! A ruffian!” He whirled around to flee. Koichiro leapt out fiercely, his entire body standing fully illuminated in the moonlight— “Don’t make a sound.” With a suppressed, sharp breath! In that instant, he swung his sword overhead and split him from the crown of the head down to the bridge of the nose with a sickening crunch, then lightly drew back the blade. Whoosh—the fishy stench of blood! In that pool lay three corpses, sprawled like felled logs.

Isshiki Koichiro looked down and shuddered—a tremor that might have been from the blood or a warrior’s battle frenzy. “There—three men taken care of… Now where’s Lady Kikyo? Where is she?” As Koichiro, his sword still dripping blood, began to dash toward the mansion, the wooden shutters of what appeared to be a guard post slid open, and several samurai emerged. They were dimly outlined by lamplight streaming from inside the building.

“What’s all this racket? What is happening here?”

A samurai called out. He leaned forward at the head of the group, standing on the veranda. It was indeed Nanbu Shūgorō. Having already perceived this, Koichiro ignited fresh fury and charged forward with a cry of “Shūgorō!” “It’s me—me—Isshiki Koichiro! …You cowardly, treacherous, pathetic samurai!” “How dare you kidnap Lady Kikyo!” “Hand her over! Hand her over! Hand her over!” “Hand over Lady Kikyo!” He thrust out the bloodied Ichikanshi Tadatsuna and lunged forward, closing in.

“Oh! You truly are Isshiki!” “Gentlemen!” Shūgorō shouted in astonishment, “Isshiki Koichiro—retainer of the Tayasu family—has infiltrated our secret dojo!” “Engage! Engage!” “Strike them down!”

Several buildings stood. The doors of those several buildings were kicked open in response to his voice, and samurai wielding spears, samurai armed with half-bows, samurai bearing capture tools—swarming forth like a boiling cloud—surrounded Koichiro in the very next instant. “Damn it!” Koichiro groaned, but he didn’t even know the stronghold’s layout—the enemy was overwhelmingly numerous—they even had projectile weapons—there was nothing he could do.

“Hmm… Regrettable. That was reckless.”

He retreated with shuffling steps. With a mound at his back and the grove as his shield, kneeling in a low stance, Koichiro readied himself—yet there seemed no chance of victory. The moon was bright enough to reveal the enemy forces. His own figure must have been visible too. A sharp snap rang out. The twang of a bowstring. One of the enemies had loosed an arrow; a war arrow pierced through moonlight, whining as it flew toward him. Koichiro narrowly dodged and raised his sword to parry—but instantly another arrow followed!

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, dangerous! ...But at that moment—what could have caused that delicate, ringing tone to be heard?

Thirty-One

This was a room in the mansion.—

A woman lay collapsed.

Her hair hung limp and disheveled. Her hem was indecently disordered. She lay motionless as if dead, but she was absolutely not dead. She was breathing faintly. She appeared to have lost consciousness. Who on earth was this woman? It was none other than Lady Kikyo. Then, Lady Kikyo opened her eyes. "Oh my, what has become of this unworthy one?" She murmured and adjusted her clothes. "My, what a strange room this is."

And then, she glanced around. What caught her eye was the large cauldron. It was placed at the front of the room. It would take three or more large men linking hands to carry it—such was the cauldron's immensity. Steam rose from it. It seemed to hold boiling water. Beneath the cauldron lay a firebox. Flames raged fiercely within. The cauldron stood cylindrical in shape. Its top flared open like a blossom. Carvings adorned its circumference. This was no Japanese-style cauldron. It belonged to ancient Tang design. The firebox too followed Tang aesthetics. Its form resembled a severed Tang lion's head forcibly mounted there. A gaping, gargantuan maw! This monstrous mouth served as the firebox. The crimson flames burned as though infused with lifeblood itself.

Behind the firebox and cauldron stood a large shelf. Not one—three. And the wall of the front room was entirely filled with shelves. The shelves had several tiers. On the tiers sat jars. The jars were countless in number. And their shapes each differed. There were square ones, circular ones, diamond-shaped ones, conical ones, and even octagonal ones. And their colors too differed. Some jars were purple. One jar showed a celadon hue.

They appeared to be jars filled with medicine. In front of the medicine shelf, beside the cauldron—there stood a statue. It was a life-sized statue. It was as if it were a living human. It was such a vividly lifelike statue. It looked as though it might speak at any moment. However, its lips were sealed. The beauty of her lip color! Their color was red as if rouged. But her complexion was pale. It was the face of a beautiful woman. How beautiful they would be if opened! Eyes that seemed to invite such imaginings were gently and softly closed. A sharp nose as high as a thorn—it was rather a mark of ferocity. The blackness of her hair resting on her shoulders! No, it was not only her hair that was black. The garment she wore was also jet-black. But its shape was not Japanese in style. Embroidery had been applied to the chest. The hem also had embroidery applied.

The sleeves were long, covering the fingertips, their shape cylindrical. This was a Taoist robe meant for practitioners of esoteric arts serving Daoism—meaning the statue depicted a female mystic. She held a staff in one hand. Why, that was pure gold! The statue grasped a golden staff. Though beautiful as a woman’s likeness, its entire form radiated such ghostly menace that it sent an instinctive chill through one’s body.

It was a statue! It didn't move! But if it were to move, it would seem all the more monstrous. The entire room was hazy. It was suffused with a hydrangea hue. Yet it wasn't filled with smoke. This effect came from the lighting. A coffered ceiling arched overhead, from which hung a niche. It was a niche adorned with ornamental tassels. Now, its size? Wouldn't it take a man's full embrace to circle it! From there emanated otherworldly rays of hydrangea-colored light.

The four walls of the room were boarded with wooden panels. The wooden panels were painted pure white. To the left of where the cauldron was installed, a brocade curtain was hung. It was likely the doorway leading outside the room. They formed deep pleats. The troughs of the pleats created shadows, while the crests of the pleats shone brightly.

Her feet were icy cold. Then Lady Kikyo looked at the floor. The floor was laid with stone paving. A black-and-white checkered pattern—it was laid out in this design.

Sss, sss, sss—the sound of boiling water! That was the only sound.

But then, another sound came. It was the sound of booming, booming. It was the sound of waves crashing against the shore. It sounded very distant.

Then came another sound. It was the sound of boom, boom, boom, boom. It was the sound of a waterfall crashing down. There were no other sounds. The room was eerily silent. Even the resolute and innocent Lady Kikyo seemed to find this scene terrifying.

"Where on earth am I?" She muttered in a trembling voice.

And immediately, a voice sounded. "This is the Alchemy Chamber. "This is the chamber of the female esoteric practitioner known as Toad Lady, whose true name is Reizei Hanako." "...The location is the coast, Serizawa Village... It is not within Edo." "...The one who built it was Lord Hitotsubashi!" "And thus Your Ladyship is a prisoner—even should you attempt escape, you cannot flee." "...And I am that very Hanako." "But there is no need to fear." "I won’t harm you needlessly." "And now, answer me—to what this humble one shall ask!"

The statue had spoken.

Thirty-two

The female statue that had stood beside the cauldron—it had spoken. No—it was no statue at all. This was none other than the Toad Lady herself: Hanako. She had apparently been waiting for Lady Kikyo to regain consciousness from her faint. Hanako took a step forward. Her previously closed eyes were now wide open. Her tightly sealed lips had parted. A needle-like light gleamed in her eyes. Even the teeth visible through her curled lips held a stinging cold radiance. A metallic clang resounded. She had struck the stone-paved floor with the golden staff in her hand.

“To Lady Kikyo—daughter of the Insect Museum Director—I pose my inquiry.” “Of the two Immortal Butterflies—male and female—one has been obtained! Truly it is so—by this very Hanako!” “Now disclose to me the whereabouts of the other butterfly.” Once more she stepped forward; once more she struck the golden staff. A clear, beautiful ringing spread through the chamber. That Lady Kikyo—astonished by this turn—innocently let her mouth fall agape and innocently stared wide-eyed, remaining speechless for a time—this could only be called natural.

Of course, she returned no reply. Of course, she did not so much as twitch. She could only stare blankly. Lady Kikyo’s demeanor in that moment could, depending on one’s perspective, appear either brazen or daringly fearless. That seemed to have angered Hanako. Her demeanor had abruptly changed. “Hey,” she said, but her voice was not that of a gentle woman—it was the voice of a cruel old hag. “You’re quite brazen for a virgin—hmph! So that’s how you want to play? Fine, fine! Keep up that act if you will.” “But you’ll regret it soon enough—you’ll tremble in fear, you’ll scream in agony, and then you’ll beg for mercy! I’ve seen it all before—I’ve seen it all!” “First!”

At this, Reizei Hanako slowly, deliberately raised the golden staff diagonally upward.

“I won't strike you. “There's no need for striking—something far more terrible I shall do. “…Behold!” This time she sneered.

With that, she swiftly pivoted and glided toward the cauldron—no sooner had she reached it than she thrust the diagonally raised staff deep into its contents. Steam billowed up instantly, yet she withdrew the staff at once. Almost before one could blink, a mercury-colored droplet fell from its tip onto the stone pavement—and there! A small hole had been bored deep into the very spot! The silvery droplet seemed to hold a dreadfully potent corrosive power.

Then Hanako extended her arm and thrust the staff forward with a whoosh. When she brought it to within a foot of Lady Kikyo’s face, she halted. “I’ll pierce a hole in that pretty face of yours!” “The Taoist art of alchemy that turns lead into gold—the mercury used in it... One drop will melt flesh and bone like a sea cucumber... Now then—where shall I apply it?” “Shall I put it on your forehead or your cheek?” “If it touches your eye, your eye will burst! If it touches your nose, your nose will tear off! If it touches your ear, your earlobe will fall like a leaf!” “Now, now, now! There, there, there!”

She slowly thrust the staff forward. She closed the distance to six inches.

“Speak!” Hanako demanded. “You’re the Insect Museum Director’s daughter—you must know where the butterfly is! The other one—where is it now?”

Slowly, steadily, she extended the staff. The tip of that staff and Lady Kikyo’s face were now—now—on the verge of meeting. The tip of the staff trembled. And from its tip, a single droplet plopped down onto the floor. A faint yet distinct hiss! A thread-like smoke wafted up! A small hole opened once more.

It could only be called a grotesque spectacle.

The otherworldly light streaming from the shrine niche; within it stood the female sorceress; behind her burned a lion-shaped brazier; above it roiled a massive cauldron... And glittering, glittering—the golden staff shone. From the tip of that staff, a mercury-hued droplet fell; as it fell, smoke rose, and a hole was bored into the checkerboard-patterned stone pavement. It could only be called a grotesque spectacle.— To Lady Kikyo, it felt like a dream. It would be better to say she was under a nightmare. She couldn’t make sense of anything. What she knew was the following:

In the evening, after leaving her uncle's residence and gazing at the Sumida River's flow, she suddenly had a gag forced into her mouth from behind, was placed into a palanquin that came rushing up, and had been kidnapped—so it was told. Having realized she had been kidnapped, she bit off her little finger, let the blood drip, wrote of the matter on kaishi paper, tied it to her belongings, and dropped several of them—so it was told.

Thirty-Three

"So then, was this unworthy one kidnapped to make me reveal the whereabouts of the two male and female Immortal Butterflies?... But this unworthy one doesn't know where they are." "As for the female butterfly, Father released it from the Insect Museum"—and with that, Lady Kikyo grew perplexed. Having said that, she couldn't remain silent. If she remained silent any longer, she would be stabbed in the face with the tip of the staff. If she were stabbed, a hole would be pierced in her face. Her face would melt into a gooey mess.

At that point, Lady Kikyo spoke. "I do not know." Then she blurted out honestly. "Of the two Immortal Butterflies—male and female—the male was stolen. "We searched extensively but were unable to locate it. "As for the female butterfly, Father released it." “...As for the male and female pair of Immortal Butterflies—where they might be at this very moment, I am afraid I do not know...” Then she implored, “Uncle must be waiting—please let me return home. “This unworthy one has no recollection of committing any wrongdoing whatsoever.” “Please do not torment me.” “I truly do not know.” "I know nothing at all." "I would never tell a lie." “Where the butterflies might be—I truly do not know.”

Her attitude contained no falsehood. Her speech contained no falsehood. And thus, her demeanor remained calm and composed. However, all such qualities could just as well be perceived in the opposite manner when viewed from the opposing perspective. In other words, they could be seen as brazen.

The female sorceress Reizei Hanako apparently viewed it oppositely. "You’re lying!" she barked. Instantly pulling back her golden staff, she raised it diagonally and thrust it into the cauldron again with a thud. When she withdrew it, a mercury-colored droplet dripped! Letting the droplet trickle down, she slowly thrust its tip forward. "Speak!" she said venomously. "It seems true one was let escape." "It was this humble practitioner who obtained it!" "Fine—I’ll believe that much." "I refuse to believe it was stolen." "This is no ordinary Immortal Butterfly to be carelessly stolen! Nor is its museum director some gangster fool who’d let it be taken!" "Listen!" she snarled, baring her teeth. She laughed with cruel sharpness. "Your father—the Insect Museum Director—is a peerless scholar and fearsome man. The mere fact he kept the museum’s location hidden until recently proves this!" "How could such a precious Immortal Butterfly be stolen by outsiders?" "You and your father must have conspired to hide it somewhere!" "Tell me!"

As she spoke, she smoothly thrust the golden staff forward. A droplet plopped down, white smoke wafted up, and yet another small hole formed. Lady Kikyo remained silent. She merely stared at the tip of the staff. She had nothing to say even if she wanted to.

She remained composed and motionless.

The sound of waves could be heard. The sound of the waterfall falling could be heard. Still, the room remained quiet.

Then, for some reason, Reizei Hanako abruptly changed her demeanor. First, she pulled back the thrust-out staff, knelt on one knee, stretched her neck—her eyes filled with a forced smile—peered at Lady Kikyo’s face with those eyes, and began to speak in a coaxing voice. “That is a commendable resolve you have. “Otherwise, it would not do.” “That is precisely why this humble practitioner must express admiration for you—the Insect Museum Director’s daughter.” “Since you have resolved to remain silent—unless you carry this resolve through—one could hardly call you a true heroine.” “It was this humble practitioner’s error to attempt intimidation.” “There remains nothing more to be done.” “But Lady Kikyo—that being said—this humble practitioner remains Reizei Hanako—a female sorceress.” “Once resolved—this humble practitioner shall most certainly carry matters through.” “For instance…” said Reizei Hanako—softening her voice further—“it was this humble practitioner who brought you here from Sumida mansion…who discovered your descent from Miura Misaki’s Kijin Forest to Edo.” “Though directly executed by subordinates—Hitotsubashi retainer Mr.Nanbu and his gang—the order came from this humble practitioner…No—that is not all.” “This humble practitioner knows many things.” “The Insect Museum’s closure…the villagers’ departure…all were uncovered.” “Should this humble practitioner wish knowledge—any knowledge—it shall be obtained.” “And…” Reizei Hanako smiled—calm yet eerie—polite yet threatening—“no matter your concealment…no matter your silence…this humble practitioner shall make you reveal that butterfly’s location.” “For you—persistence brings only loss.” “Should obstinacy continue—though unpleasant—this time…with true Rinsha Liquid…this humble practitioner shall show your beautiful face and hands…burned…festering…” “Oh dear…” Hanako gave a wry smile. “It seems this humble practitioner’s detestable habit…of threatening…has surfaced again.”

“No, I shan’t threaten—I shan’t threaten, for you could never be such a cowardly Lady Kikyo who would have her lips coaxed open through intimidation… This is no threat at all—it is a plea from this humble practitioner.” “I beseech you to reveal it—I implore you to inform me—where in the world could that one Immortal Butterfly be located?”

No matter what was said, Lady Kikyo could not respond. Because she truly did not know the location of the Immortal Butterfly. Lady Kikyo, who bowed her head, could only repeat herself.

“This unworthy one does not speak falsehoods.” “I truly do not know where the butterfly could be.” “I beg of you—please do not torment me.” “Please return me to Uncle’s mansion.”

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

Thirty-Four

After watching for a while, Reizei Hanako clicked her tongue and stood up abruptly. The one she picked up was the golden staff; pulling it close, she stepped back and swiftly retreated to the side of the boiling cauldron in one smooth motion. “So be it!”

“Very well!” she roared—her voice now bestial. “If you’re this obstinate, you’ll take your secret to the grave. ...Woman! Die! Let me grant you death! I’ll torment you to extinction—starting like this!”

An eerie whine reverberated. She inserted the staff into the cauldron. Steam swirled up. A golden line was drawn diagonally through it. That was the golden staff. Slowly it was pulled up. The tip of the staff appeared. When tracing an arc through the air into the room's space, a single mercury-colored drop dripped onto the stone pavement. Hazy smoke rose. A small hole formed in the stone pavement. The staff's tip extended forward with faint trembling. Before its halted point crouched Lady Kikyo's figure - face hidden beneath both sleeves. Connecting them via golden staff stood Hanako the female sorceress, endlessly facing her.

Clad in black Taoist robes and standing perfectly straight, Hanako’s figure resembled a thick, round pillar of ink standing upright. At its summit was something white—a face as calm as a mask. From her curled-up lips, her upper front teeth lay exposed. Like dull silver pearl oysters, two eyes that appeared as such were fixedly staring at a single point.

“Now, Lady Kikyo, remove both sleeves from your face.”

It was a commanding voice; it was a voice imbued with hypnotic quality. It would be impossible to resist—it was a voice that seemed to suggest as much.

“Yes.”

The one who had spoken was Lady Kikyo. And Lady Kikyo removed her sleeves. Washed by tears, Lady Kikyo’s face appeared ever more delicate—both lovely and beautiful.

“What a beautiful face you have.” While pointing the golden staff, Hanako said coldly.

“Shall I burn through your left eye first? Or perhaps start with the right? With a sickening thud, two gaping holes would appear on that pretty face. Imagine—a mouth and nose intact, but both eyes vanished! What an amusingly grotesque visage that would make.”

She gradually brought the tip of the staff closer. Lady Kikyo stared vacantly. Her eyes held a glassy gaze. She couldn't look away. The golden staff exerted a magnetic pull—she couldn't tear her eyes from it as though drawn by invisible force. Yet in her heart, she thought with perfect clarity: I will not be killed. I won't even be harmed. I've done nothing wrong. Reizei Hanako must be joking. She's only toying with me.

But if Lady Kikyo had raised her eyes and caught even a glimpse of Hanako's face, such thoughts would have vanished.

Hanako’s face was expressionless. It was a thoroughly businesslike face. There was no trace of emotion to be seen anywhere. When owners of cruel minds perform cruel acts, their faces often become expressionless. That cruel, expressionless face was now Hanako’s face. The tip of the staff gradually extended. From its tip, on the verge of dripping, the mercury-colored rinsha liquid trembled and glowed. And in one swift motion, the tip of the staff lunged toward Lady Kikyo’s left eye.

At that moment, a voice came from outside: "Isshiki Koichiro, retainer of the Tayasu family, has infiltrated our secret dojo! Engage him!" "Engage him!" came the voice. "Ah! Then Lord Isshiki—!" The one who stood up with a shout was Lady Kikyo.

Then came a piercingly high-pitched clang—*reen*—that reverberated sharply. That is, Hanako thrust her golden staff against the stone pavement.

Having deflected the first and second arrows and narrowly escaped harm, Koichiro stood with his back to an earthen mound and trees before him, his sword held in his customary low stance as he let out a sigh of relief. Yet with what appeared to be a hundred enemies surrounding him on all sides, there seemed no opening through which to slip away. Then two enemies from both sides came flying in, slicing through the moonlight. "Ugh," Koichiro groaned as he directed his sword toward the enemy on his left, then instantly shifted his stance and swung at the one on his right.

The left-hand foe had his shoulder split; the right-hand enemy had his skull cleaved straight down. Both arched backward like drawn bows—then—as if grasping at the moon itself—thrust their hands skyward before toppling forward motionless. As Koichiro swiftly pulled back, a spear came thrusting after him. So-called reverse motion. Instead of evading, Koichiro lunged forward—again employing reverse motion—neither swinging his blade nor gripping the hilt, but driving a two-handed thrust with a forceful grunt.

The one who screamed was the spear wielder; he stood rigid with his spear thrust forward for a moment before abruptly dropping it and collapsing backward onto the ground. By now, Koichiro had already leaped back in one swift motion, positioning his sword in a low stance as he shouted, “Come at me!”—only to let out a startled “Ah!” in the next instant. For through the moonlit night, something serpentine traced an elliptical arc before lunging fiercely toward him.

“Damn!” “I’m hit!” “A chain-sickle!” Along with Koichiro’s shout, a clattering sound rang out. At the same time, something glinted and flashed through the air.

Thirty-Five

Ah, the stillness after combat!

Only voices could be heard.

“It’s reached one foot!” “It’s reached two feet!”

After a short while,

“It’ll reach three feet in no time!”

The sound of the waterfall could be heard. The sound was slightly different from before. Thud... thud... thud... This had been the sound until now. But now it changed to a rushing, pouring sound, as though a sudden evening downpour were falling.

The female alchemist known as the Toad Lady—her true name was Reizei Hanako—and her alchemy dojo’s surroundings, where trees grew thick and lush, formed a garden that lacked grandeur. Until moments ago, this had been the garden where Isshiki Koichiro had been clashing with Nanbu Shūgorō’s men. In one corner of the garden stood a single building. It was not a building made of wood. It was a building made of stone. Its shape was square—no, its height stretched much taller. It would be more accurate to call it a rectangle. It measured approximately ten tatami mats in size. On one side was a door. It appeared to be made of iron. It was barred from the outside. High up on one side gaped a square window. A massive rod jutted out from that window, spanning across. At the rod’s end loomed a cliff shrouded in thicket. The distance spanned no more than six feet. A waterfall cascaded down from the cliff. No—until just moments ago, that waterfall had been plunging down the cliff into the basin with tremendous force, but now it differed. This meant the waterfall’s water now flowed along a massive pole—a conduit—and plunged into the stone building—that is, Hanako’s purification chamber.

A samurai secured a foothold on a corner of the cliff and shouted while peering into the purification chamber through the window. It was none other than Nanbu Shūgorō. “It’ll reach three feet in no time!” “It’ll reach four feet in no time!” “It’ll reach five or six feet.” “The room will fill with waterfall water—suffocation! That is, drowning!” He shouted with evident glee.

Inside the purification chamber was a samurai. It was Isshiki Koichiro who had been captured.

A deluge came crashing down from overhead. The door to the room was shut. There was absolutely no way to escape. The drainage outlet must have been closed as well. The water in the room was only increasing.

Outside light was streaming in through the window. The moonlight was blue-tinged. And the interior of the stone purification chamber was dimly visible, faint yet hazy.

"My sword had been knocked away with a chain-sickle. At that moment, I was swarmed by a crowd. I threw two or three of them off, but it wasn’t enough. My hands were seized, my legs were grabbed, and before I knew it, I was hoisted up and thrown into this room with a thud... Water was pouring down! The water was rising! The ceiling was high! The window was also high! The door wouldn't open! I couldn't escape! But I couldn’t stay like this! If I dawdled, I’d drown! No matter what I did, I had to escape! No matter what I did, I had to get out!"

And so, Isshiki Koichiro ran toward the door. The water reached up to his thighs. His legs were dragged by the current, causing him to stagger. He pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge even slightly. “Isn’t there a way out somewhere?! “An exit somewhere?!”

And then, he ran to one of the rock walls. He pounded on it, but the rock wall didn’t budge. It was smooth and slippery, offering no footholds.

He ran to the other rock wall. He pounded it again, but it still didn’t budge. He ran to the other rock wall. Still no good. No matter how he struck or pounded it, the rock wall didn’t budge even slightly. No matter which wall he pounded, they wouldn’t budge an inch. And every wall was vertical—no handholds to grasp, no footholds to secure—making it impossible to climb the rock walls and reach the window.

Whooosh—whooosh—the water poured down. The water rapidly swelled in volume. The water reached his waist. The water reached his abdomen. And finally, the water reached his chest.

Soon it would reach his neck, then his chin in no time. And then it would reach his mouth. Once it reached his nose, it would be over. Koichiro, leaning against the rock wall, groaned, "Hopeless! Can't...! I'll die! Agh! Drowning! ...Lady Kikyo—!" he screamed. "Wait—how fares Lady Kikyo? That accursed mansion—while trapped there, her very life hangs by a thread! Must save her—must save her! Lady Kikyo—!" he roared.

His thoughts whirl in a vortex. All the while, the waterfall continues to pour down. The water surges relentlessly.

"I must get out of this room! I must save... Lady Kikyo! ...But I can't get out! I can't even save her! ...Lady Kikyo! Lady Kikyo!"

Whooosh—whooosh—the water pours down! The steadily increasing amount of water!

Isshiki Koichiro would likely have to drown in this room.

But what had Lady Kikyo truly been doing during this time?

Thirty-Six

This was Hanako’s alchemy room. Collapsed flat on the floor and writhing in agony lay Lady Kikyo. She covered her face with her sleeve. Her shoulders heaved violently with each breath—proof she was sobbing. Before her stood Hanako, clad in black Taoist robes like an ink pillar. She held out a golden staff. Mercury-colored rinsha liquid dripped from its tip. As it fell, small holes pocked the stone pavement here and there. Smoke rose with a pooof.

Inside the lion-shaped brazier, flames blazed crimson. A cauldron was hung over the firebox. It was an enormous Chinese-style cauldron. What was rising from the cauldron was milky steam. The entire room was filled with smoke. It was hazed in hydrangea tones. The canopied shrine hanging from the ceiling—the lamplight shining from it was hazing the air. The alchemy room’s scene remained exactly as before! No, no—only one thing had changed. The brocade curtain that had been hanging over the entrance was now hoisted high, and through the open doorway, a faint voice could be heard.

“One foot!” “Two feet!” After a brief pause came the call: “It won’t be long before it reaches three feet!”—Nanbu Shūgorō’s voice. And Hanako began.

“Your beloved Lord Isshiki has been confined within the rock-built purification chamber. The Lord who worried for your safety and came to rescue you! ...Do you hear the waterfall’s roar? That ‘Whooosh—whooosh—whoosh—whoooosh’ you hear? It pours into that stone purification chamber! One foot... two feet... three feet approaches! Do you understand what this means? The water rises... When that chamber fills completely, your precious Lord Isshiki Koichiro will drown! Now—I ask nothing cruel. Simply tell me one layperson connected to the Immortal Butterfly, and I’ll halt the waterfall. Then I shall save both Lord Isshiki Koichiro and you.”

And then, she stared fixedly at Lady Kikyo.

Lady Kikyo did not respond. It was because she had nothing to say even if she wanted to speak. It was because she did not actually know of any layperson connected to a single Immortal Butterfly. It could only be described as a horrifying torture. They subjected her lover, who had come to rescue her, to water torture on one front—counting down his final moments moment by moment—while on another front, they menaced her with the terrifying, corrosive rinsha liquid. If Lady Kikyo had known of a layperson connected to one of the Immortal Butterflies, she would have revealed it without hesitation. Even if that were not the case, had Lady Kikyo possessed even the slightest impurity of heart, she might have evaded this immediate peril by falsely naming some layperson. Lady Kikyo could not do that. To put it another way, Lady Kikyo could not even conceive of a temporary excuse to escape. So pure was her heart.

"I will die together with Lord Isshiki! That is precisely this unworthy one's heart's desire. Not in the least am I sad. Still, how did Lord Isshiki Koichiro manage to locate where I was and come to rescue me? ...Perhaps realizing I had been kidnapped, I bit off my little finger, let the blood drip, wrote of my plight on writing paper, wrapped it around combs and hairpins, and dropped several in the streets - and perhaps Lord Isshiki found one of them, then followed that thread to track down this place. If that were the case, then it would mean that Lord Isshiki and I are truly fated. To depart this world in the same place as that noble soul, killed at the same time by the same gang of villains. What ill-fated love! I bear no grudge!" This was Lady Kikyo's state of mind.

And she remained utterly composed. Even so, she felt both sorrowful and terrified. And sobbing while shuddering, she never once lifted her sleeve from her face. All the while, Nanbu Shūgorō’s voice continued to be heard through the doorway. “It won’t be long before it reaches three feet!” “Four feet won’t be long now!” “Five feet—six feet—it’ll keep rising!” “The room will be filled with the waterfall’s water!” “Then comes suffocation! That is, drowning!”

Whooosh—whooosh—the sound of the waterfall could be heard, like an accompaniment.

And once again, Nanbu Shūgorō's voice rang out: "Waist level!" "Stomach level!" "Oh—chest level now!"

Whooosh—whooosh—the waterfall’s roar! And once again，Shūgorō’s voice sounded. “It’s reached his throat now!” “It’s reached his chin now!”

Whooosh—whooosh—the waterfall’s roar!

Suddenly, Hanako stepped forward. “Still won’t speak?! “You stubborn wretch!” “Speak! Speak! Speak! The layperson connected to the Butterfly!” “You can still be saved! Speak now, Kikyo!” She thrust her staff forward with a sudden— A glittering golden staff! The mercury-colored rinsha liquid was quivering at its tip.

But at last, it came. “It’s reached his mouth now!” “It’s reached his nose now!” “The water’s over his whole body now!” “He’s vanished!” “It’s all water!” “He’s drowned! Drowned! Isshiki Koichiro has—!” “Isshiki Koichiro has—!” “Perish with him!” Reizei Hanako thrust her staff forward in one motion. “Drop dead! Drop dead! “I’ll kill you!” But Lady Kikyo collapsed with a thud before that could happen. Had she fainted, or was this true death? The collapsed Lady Kikyo did not move. As lovers, Lady Kikyo and Koichiro seemed to have departed this world at the same time.

Therefore, at this very moment, the Seven Lucky Gods group came rushing toward the mansion from the Serizawa direction—Benten Matsushiro riding atop their hand-assembled palanquin as they chanted “Heave-ho! Heave-ho!” in a brisk rhythm—but it must be said that they arrived too late.

But it was not long after that the brawl began.

37

The Seven Lucky Gods group, having rushed to the rear gate, scattered and disbanded there. The hand-carried palanquin broke.

It was Benten Matsushiro who alighted lightly, scanning the mansion with a sharp gaze— “Now, now—it’s finally time to charge in. A structure modeled after Tang-style architecture—utterly bizarre in design—and the number of buildings seems quite substantial. They seem to have a considerable number holed up inside. If we seven scatter and split up to search separately, we risk being picked off one by one. Let’s stay together and comb through each building systematically. No no—we’re not here to crush anything. We’re here to find Lady Kikyo and take her back. Blades will clash regardless. Moisten your sword pegs. The code phrase is ‘Ship and Palanquin.’ Even so—should chaos erupt, we might scatter. If that happens, fight as you will. When in danger, blow your whistle—one long note. If anyone spots Lady Kikyo—two short blasts. Now charge—I’ll lead!” Though a woman, she commanded the gang flawlessly; having issued orders, she gripped the earthen wall and fluttered over like a leaf.

The remaining six were not about to be outdone; they too vaulted over the earthen wall. A vast garden sprawled before them. Trees and artificial hills towered. There also seemed to be both a garden pond and a stream. Interspersed among them, buildings stood everywhere. Moonlight illuminated it. From one building came voices. Another building was silent.

Having crawled flat on their bellies across the ground, the Seven Lucky Gods group observed the situation for a while, but—

“Hey,” Matsushiro said first. “Let’s investigate the nearest building first.” Six voices answered, “Understood.” Of course, they were hushed voices.

Before them stood a single building. It was heavily armored with storm shutters. There stood the Phantom Thieves Seven Lucky Gods group. They had run that far with such speed, but their infiltration was conducted with utmost stealth—not a rustle of leaves nor a single footfall sounded.

Matsushiro pressed her ear tightly against the storm shutters. “This seems to be the library. No human presence can be felt. Only the musty smell of booklice wafts out.” She must have sensed this through some sixth sense. “Now then—let’s move to the next building.” The seven resumed their stealthy advance until they reached another building. Benten Matsushiro pressed her ear against the storm shutters again. “There are four or five people here. But no women among them. I sense blade auras. This must be the armory. They seem to have quite a stockpile. If this were our usual job, we’d never let this slide. We’d storm in and take everything—but tonight’s different. We’ve got bigger prey... Now then—let’s head over there.”

Ahead lay a grove of trees. Though called a grove, it was a planting of maple trees. The maple trees grew thickly like a grove. The maple thicket blocked out the moonlight; it was dark. There stood a building to its right.

“First, let’s hide in the thicket.” This was said by Benten Matsushiro.

“Understood,” the six nodded. As the seven stealthily advanced and concealed themselves in the bushes, the waterfall’s rushing sound—which had been echoing since earlier—now seemed closer, its roar growing louder and more menacing. From the direction of that cascading noise came a samurai, moonlight glinting off his shoulders as he hurried forward. He appeared to be heading toward the building on the right.

Benten Matsushiro, having quickly assessed this, whispered “Oi” once more. “A samurai’s approaching alone. “He must be one of the mansion’s residents.” “Two or three of you rush out at once, capture him without a word, and drag him back here.” “We’ll get him to tell us where Lady Kikyo is.” “But listen up—no matter what happens, don’t let him make a sound, got it?” “Oh, here he comes!” was the reply from Ebisu Saburōji, the sub-leader. “Then we’ll lend a hand too!”

It was Daikoku no Jirō who said this. “Sounds fun—I’ll go too!” It was Hote no Ichiwaka who said this—a handsome man with a forelock.

38

Or perhaps, unaware, that samurai passed by the bushes.

The moment he passed, Hote no Ichiwaka dashed out and pounced on him from behind with the agility of a hunting dog. At the same time, he bent his left arm into a hook and wrapped it around the samurai’s neck—likely to stifle any cry. “Nice work, Ichiwaka!” Daikoku no Jirō exclaimed, then leapt out in a flash, swinging his short arm for an eye-gouging strike that smacked the area around the samurai’s eyes. Just when it seemed the samurai had been subdued without resistance, the outcome proved quite the opposite. Hote no Ichiwaka was first thrown heavily to the ground, then Daikoku was kicked down. This samurai appeared exceptionally skilled in martial arts. But who could he be?

It was none other than Nanbu Shūgorō, a master of Ittō-ryū. Even if the Seven Lucky Gods group were phantom thieves swift in action, he was no common yakuza to be carelessly captured by such means. He was a man whose skill matched even Isshiki Koichiro in combat. Having fully confirmed that the purification chamber now overflowed with waterfall water and Isshiki Koichiro had vanished beneath its surface, he descended from the cliff to report this to Reizei Hanako and came hurrying this far.

“Who’s there?!” Nanbu Shūgorō barked. He then glanced around sharply. 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.

This was only natural—they couldn’t be seen. When it came to the Seven Lucky Gods group, their swift movements and astonishing agility were truly remarkable. As for Hote and Daikoku, the moment they were thrown and kicked down, they sprang up like bouncing balls; as they leapt upward, they twisted sideways and plunged into the center of the maple thicket shrouded in darkness, concealing their figures. “How strange,” muttered Nanbu Shūgorō, his hand resting on his sword’s hilt as he vigilantly scanned his surroundings—though perhaps he had instinctively detected their presence. He fixed his gaze on the maple thicket. He stared intently but was appalled. For there, in the darkness, he could make out six or seven strangely attired figures lying prone with their heads raised like serpents, their forms intensifying the blackness as they took aim at him.

Thereupon Shūgorō let out a loud shout. “Ah, everyone, come forth! Once again, someone has infiltrated our secret dojo! Moreover, this time it’s not just one—there must be six or seven of them! They’re all suspicious characters in strange attire! Slay them all! Slay them all!” Drawing his sword, he barked, “Come forth, you there!”

Clatter-clatter-clatter! The sound of doors clattering open and stomp-stomp-stomp! The sound of running footsteps echoed from all directions as shadowy figures swarmed together. In other words, the samurai who had been holed up in several buildings—responding to Nanbu Shūgorō’s call—all at once gathered while clutching their weapons to surround the maple thicket. “Gentlemen!” Nanbu Shūgorō said. “The enemies are there—in the thicket! Surround them and cut them down in a flurry of blades—slay them all, slay them all!”

“As you command!”

Then fifteen or sixteen men, their drawn blades held in thrust stance, charged into the thicket.

“What the—?!” “This is strange!” “There’s no one here!” “Not a single one!” Indeed, within the maple thicket, there was not a single person. The Seven Lucky Gods group members, adept at tactical maneuvering, must have swiftly assessed the unfavorable situation and scattered in seven directions with their signature lightning-fast maneuvers, slipping away covertly.

That was indeed the case.

The next instant, shouts and screams erupted from all directions.

“Here’s an enemy! …Spotted one!”

The voice came from the direction of the artificial hill. "What?!" snapped a furious voice, followed by another roar: "Die, you bastards!"

Next came a bloodcurdling "Gah!"—a scream! One of the Seven Lucky Gods group members had apparently cut down a Hitotsubashi clan samurai with a single stroke.

From the opposite bamboo thicket came a shout: “Here’s another one! A strange-looking rogue!” “Shut the hell up!” came a defiant voice!

Immediately following came a “Gah!”—a scream! It seemed yet another Hitotsubashi clan samurai had been cut down by one of the Seven Lucky Gods group members. Then, from a distant direction where the garden pond lay, a voice shouted, “There’s an enemy here!” “There’s an enemy here!” Immediately came the clang of clashing swords! Next followed a loud splash—! “Take a good look, bastard—!” came a voice. A Hitotsubashi clan samurai had apparently been slain by one of the Seven Lucky Gods group members and kicked into the garden pond.

Thirty-Nine The clang of swords, screams, and curses echoed from all directions. Then from the stone bridge’s direction came voices: “There’s another enemy here!” “A woman too!” “Strange attire!” “We’ve got them now!” “Now we’ve trapped them!” “Take them alive!” “Fools!” came a woman’s voice sharp as rending silk. Benten Matsushiro, their leader, appeared to have been spotted and surrounded by Hitotsubashi clan samurai.

But in the very next moment came a drawn-out whistle—Huuu—from that direction. At once, six figures shook the groves of the vast garden, rattled shrubs, scattered moonlit foliage, and darted toward the whistle’s source with imps’ haste—too swift for eyes to track—when clang-clang! came sword strikes! A “Gah!”—a scream! The thud of a fallen body! “Ship!” “Palanquin!” shouted the code phrase! The thunderous clamor echoed, then a woman’s voice pierced through.

“We’re safe now! Now hide! Now go search for Lady Kikyo!” Suddenly everything fell silent again. Then came movements that sliced through moonlight, shook trees, rattled groves—seven pitch-black human shadows could be seen scattering. It appeared their leader Benten Matsushiro had blown a signal whistle to gather six scattered comrades, joined forces to cut down the surrounding Hitotsubashi clan samurai, then dispersed the six again to grant them free movement.

And then, suddenly, it fell silent. But it lasted only a moment. Various voices could be heard.

“Mmm…” came the groan of an injured man. “Where’d they go?” “Where’d they go?”—the voices of Hitotsubashi clan samurai rang out as they searched for the Seven Lucky Gods members.

Various sounds could be heard. "Rustle rustle rustle! Rustle rustle rustle!" It was the sound of them pushing through shrubs and groves as they ran about. There must be members of the Seven Lucky Gods group here, and Hitotsubashi clan samurai there. Whoosh—whoosh—! The waterfall’s roar! They had buried Isshiki Koichiro, and now the cascade crashed down even more heavily upon his corpse. Claaang—! The clash of blades! They had clashed— The Seven Lucky Gods group members and the Hitotsubashi clan samurai.

Something glinted. Moonlight struck the swung swords and spearheads.

In one place stood a cluster of rhododendrons. A figure was crouched at the base of that thicket, peering out to assess the situation. When the figure rose smoothly, she held a short sword at her side. It was thickly soaked with blood. She sharply gathered up the hem of her kimono. Beneath showed a scarlet crepe underrobe, while below the hem peeked plump white calves. Her hair bore a yuiwata coiffure with an onikakko hairpin, her body wrapped in a yellow Hachijō silk furisode. Yet both sleeves were rolled up. This was Benten Matsushiro, their leader. Her garments and limbs bloomed crimson—not her own blood, but that of her foes. She had evidently cut down several enemies and been drenched in their gore.

“Now then—what should I do?” “Hmm,” she said with a nod. “The maple thicket where I hid earlier... and that single building standing to the right.” “Somethin’ about this don’t sit right.” “Best go scout it out.”

Perhaps she had sensed this through some sixth sense. No sooner had she muttered this than Benten Matsushiro swiftly turned her body and, creeping along the shadowy spaces between trees, retraced her steps in that direction.

They appeared to have scattered in all directions, and not a single Hitotsubashi clan samurai remained in the vicinity. “How fortunate,” said Benten Matsushiro as she darted toward the building. It stood completely independent—a structure with a conical outer frame and a steeply pitched roof that recalled crane wings. The outer frame glowed vermilion. The roof tiles shone green. Moonlight bathed the tiles. Dappled through trees, silvery light patterned the outer frame. The whole structure was utterly mysterious. A railing encircled it completely. This railing too gleamed vermilion. “Is there an entrance? Is there an entrance?”

Matsushiro jumped over the railing. It was a corridor. Around the building’s corridor, Matsushiro circled all the way around. There was an opening that appeared to be an entrance—a brocade curtain hung—and through its gap shone a hydrangea-colored lamplight. “Got it!” muttered Benten Matsushiro as she leapt forward and rushed in—

“Wh—what’s this?!” she froze in place.

A gigantic furnace burned. A large cauldron hung above it. Hazy steam rose. A pungent—the foul odor stabbed sharply at the nose. Beside it stood a woman clad in jet-black Taoist robes. In her left hand was a golden staff, and in her right she cradled a girl's body—whether dead or merely unconscious—her eyes tightly shut, her form limp and stretched out. Despite being a woman, she possessed monstrous strength—the woman in Taoist robes, Reizei Hanako, heaved the girl she held—Lady Kikyo—high up with a grunt. She glared into the cauldron—"I'll melt you! I'll melt you!"—and was just about to hurl Lady Kikyo inside.

“Wait!” shouted Benten Matsushiro, lunging like a female leopard.

With that, Reizei Hanako leapt back, instinctively laying Lady Kikyo on the floor and thrusting her golden staff forward as she demanded, “Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?!” “I am Benten Matsushiro, leader of the renowned Seven Lucky Gods group! Who are you?! Who are you?!” “I am the female alchemist Toad Lady! ...So you’re this ‘Benten’! What brings you here?!” She smoothly drew out the golden staff. Benten Matsushiro, gripping her short sword, declared, “I’ll tell you why—to take back what’s ours! The Insect Museum Director’s daughter!” “So it’s Kikyo you want?!” she said coldly. “She’s right here! 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. Overwhelmed by the onslaught, Reizei Hanako staggered back—but even as she lashed out with monstrous strength, Matsushiro swept Lady Kikyo into her grasp. “You’ll get your thanks later! …Mark my words!” It was just as Benten Matsushiro, throwing her parting line, tried to bolt from the room.

“You female thief—don’t even think it!”

With that call, a samurai emerged from the doorway. He carried a glaring naked blade. “Out of my way! Move!” shouted Benten Matsushiro.

“I’ve sealed your path! You won’t escape!” “Who are you?” “Nanbu Shūgorō.” “A Hitotsubashi retainer, then?” “I’m the one consumed by devotion to Lady Kikyo!” “So it was you…” “You’re the kidnapper—!” “Surrender now!” With that shouted command, Matsushiro lunged with a one-handed thrust.

With a clang—the ringing of blades! Nanbu Shūgorō effortlessly parried and deflected it. “A mantis swinging an axe at a warrior! “Drop dead, harlot!”

At that moment, a zzzziiinnn sound rang out. Reizei Hanako swiftly plunged the golden staff into the cauldron! She pulled it out and thrust it forward smoothly. Mercury-like drops dripped, smoke rose from the floor as usual, and a hole was bored into it. “I’ll melt you! With rinsha liquid!”

Reizei Hanako pressed forward slowly and menacingly from the left. Shūgorō, having raised his sword high, circled around stealthily from the right. “Harlot! “I won’t save you!” “I’ll kill you for sure!” Benten Matsushiro, having retreated backward, glared at the enemies to her left and right—then suddenly dropped to her knees on the floor. No sooner had she released Lady Kikyo than she curled her index finger into a hook, put it to her mouth—a signal whistle—and blew two long, piercing notes.

And then—the sound of approaching footsteps! There was a swarming, tangled mass of people. They were the six-member band of phantom thieves. “Hey, Boss!” “You all!”

“Oh! Lady Kikyo?!”

“They’ve spotted us!” “Got ’em! Fall back!” “Assemble the hand-palanquin!” “Righto!” The six firmly linked their hands. Benten Matsushiro leapt up and effortlessly lifted Lady Kikyo. “Let’s go through the front gate! Move, move!” They placed Lady Kikyo into the hand-palanquin.

With a shout of "Now!", the six phantom thieves thrust their drawn blades horizontally and swished them swish-swish-swish-swish—a calculated maneuver to keep their enemies at bay. Their every motion flowed like the wind. With Benten Matsushiro leading, they whooshed through the doorway and vanished.

Reizei Hanako and Nanbu Shūgorō stood dumbfounded for a moment, utterly stunned by the sheer unexpectedness, blinding speed, and tactics of their opponents. But when they came to their senses, it was Shūgorō who first dashed off in pursuit.

“Hey, everyone!” came a booming voice. “Seven rascals have banded together and are fleeing toward the front gate! After them! Don’t let them escape!” “After them! After them!”

Then Hanako started running. “Men!” came Hanako’s shrill voice. “They who breached the secret dojo must not escape! Cut them down! “Have one unit circle around to the back gate!” “Have them cut off their retreat!” “Cut off their retreat!” The Hitotsubashi forces, having split into two groups, headed toward the front and back gates—but by this time, Benten Matsushiro had already firmly placed both hands on the latch of the main front gate. Clatter-boom—! The gate opened.

“Hurry, hurry!” “Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”

With Matsushiro still at their head, the phantom thieves of the Seven Lucky Gods group rushed through the gate like demons.

In pursuit came the Hitotsubashi forces! But against the phantom thieves' godly speed, they stood no chance of catching up. However, what had happened when a battle cry arose ahead at this very moment? The Hitotsubashi family’s unit of forces, having opened the back gate and rushed out, circled around ahead of the Seven Lucky Gods group and now surrounded them.

Forty

However, at that very moment, a group of figures came running along the coast from the direction of Ōmori. Surrounding a single palanquin were fifteen or sixteen warriors, all clad in covert attire. The female alchemist referred to as Toad Lady—her true name being Kitōji Taeko—had been placed in the palanquin by Tayasu family warriors; these formed the rescue party for Lady Kikyo. This was the group that had stealthily slipped out through the Tayasu family's back gate that night and raced off toward Tamagawa in the opposite direction—but having wound through unknown paths, they now revealed themselves at this precise moment.

They dashed along the coast. Then Taeko called out: "Hurry, hurry! Move faster! Dawdle and we'll be too late! I know... I know it all! The Insect Museum Director's daughter Kikyo has fallen into peril this very moment! Her life hangs by a thread! This is a race against time! Faster, faster! Move!"

The palanquin group ran headlong.

There was a sandhill. They crossed a sandhill. There was driftwood. They leaped over driftwood. Then another sandhill had formed. They had to cross it. "This is strange... What's happening? An indescribable sense of unease is sweeping over us from the sea."

Kitōji Taeko's voice rang out.

“Stop running! Halt the palanquin!” From the halted palanquin, Kitōji Taeko slid out smoothly, walked to the water’s edge, and stared intently out to sea.

But there was nothing on the sea. Hazed by the moonlight, it lay enveloped in nothing but a vague, misty shroud. But to Kitōji Taeko, something seemed visible. She kept gazing anxiously out to sea, indefinitely. She suddenly turned around— “Sakurai! Sakurai!” she called out.

“Ha,” responded a samurai as he approached. He was a warrior named Sakurai Kagenosuke. Bowing courteously at the waist, he asked, “Yes? What might be the matter?” “Look—out to sea. A ship approaches, does it not?” Sakurai Kagenosuke scanned the waters but saw no vessel. “No, it remains beyond sight.” “I see,” said Taeko, though her voice still carried unease. “To ordinary eyes like yours—the hour late, the distance vast—perhaps invisible. Yet a single fearsome ship sails here under full canvas.”

“What do you mean by that? When you say ‘terrifying ship,’ what do you mean?” “The ship itself is nothing. What’s terrifying is the one aboard.” “What manner of person might that be?” “The one who holds the secrets.” “What secret might that be?” It seemed that Sakurai Kagenosuke simply could not comprehend Taeko’s words. “The one who holds my secrets! And the secrets of my rival, Ms. Reizei Hanako, as well.”

“What is their standing?” “A person of high standing—one who wields power.” “What is their honorable name?” “You’re being tedious!”

“Ha!” With that, Kagenosuke withdrew.

“If that one were to appear now, it would be disastrous! “Everything will be lost.” She muttered deliriously. “Nah, if it comes to that—no room for grudges or love! “It’s not just I who’ll be troubled—Ms. Hanako will face difficulties too.” “We may have to abandon everything.”

She continued gazing out to sea.

But there was nothing on the sea. The windless sea lay calm; indeed, if creatures like mermaids truly dwelled within its depths, one could almost picture them emerging upon the waves to sing with voices of crystalline beauty.

Swiftly changing direction, Kitōji Taeko turned back to the palanquin’s side, but— “There’s no use worrying now. We’ll see this through to the end.” She called out as she entered the palanquin. “Do it! Hurry! With all your might!” Along the coast at full speed, the Tayasu family warriors—surrounding the palanquin—raced toward Serizawa. But inside the palanquin, Kitōji Taeko muttered anxiously.

“Ship! ...That One! ...I can’t do a thing!”

But was there truly such a ship—carrying such a terrifying figure—crossing the seas? Taeko’s clairvoyance had not erred.

In the far-off sea, a single ship was sailing.

Forty-One

At the bow stood an old woman.

She gazed calmly ahead.

And the old woman called out.

“Now now, Shachihiko! What’s this? You mustn’t sleep. Wake up, wake up.” “That’s absurd,” came the immediate retort. “What do you mean I’m sleeping? My eyes are wide open right here, aren’t they?” The speaker was a boy. He sat toward the stern. A blue-haired young acolyte. He appeared to be about fourteen or fifteen years old. He wore an endearing loincloth. He was maneuvering the sails.

The sails boasted an unconventional design—some triangular, others diamond-shaped. From a solitary T-shaped mast, they spread like avian plumage swollen with wind. Yet their fabric proved wretched—a motley assemblage of patched rags. The vessel's form too defied convention. Or rather, it was no ship at all, but a raft. Like those lashed together from logs by mountain folk navigating the Kiso and Fuji rivers' torrents, this too stood as such a craft—sturdy in construction yet crude in aspect.

Even so, how astonishing its speed was!

The raft ship came swiftly onward. There was a song-like sound from the sails. Foam burst forth from the bow. A single wake trailed from the stern, illuminated by the moon to appear like stripes. “You’re lying, you’re lying! What nonsense about Shachihiko sitting there wide-eyed and awake! You must have been dozing off.” The old woman began to say such things. “Isn’t the triangular sail hanging limply as proof?”

"Oh," Shachihiko exclaimed in surprise. "Even though you're facing away, you still know what's happening here. "Got eyes in your back or something? "You're one creepy old hag." Despite his strikingly beautiful features, Shachihiko had a sharp tongue.

However, the old woman’s nature appeared generous, lighthearted, and forthright, and she showed no inclination to reprimand him for it. “Eyes in my back and front, legs and hands, chest and spine—my whole body is eyes.” “Not just that! “The brain!” “The brain!” “You see, the brain—the brain itself is eyes.” “That’s why I can see anything… That’s why we’ve come down the mountain and entered Edo this time.” The old woman said.

“You’re really the most troublesome old hag.” Shachihiko, the young acolyte, had a sharp tongue. “Entering Edo was all well and good—we built a raft ship, raised its sails, went up the Sumida River, tried to get into a mansion through its big water gate—but then suddenly you turned back and said, ‘Shachihiko! Change course!’ ‘Serizawa Village!’ ‘Serizawa Village!’ ‘Oh come on! “Go that way! Go that way!”—you kept recklessly ordering me around and made me rush over here!’ ‘I don’t know what you saw with all those countless eyes of yours, but us helmsmen are getting worn out.’” Apparently, Shachihiko was discontent. “What on earth are we going there for?”

“Well now,” said the old woman, her voice taking on a more serious tone at that moment. “We’re going to rescue someone.”

“To rescue someone?” “Sounds suspicious to me.” “A beautiful, beautiful girl.” “Hmph, how should I know what that’s about?” “And then we’ll go reprimand them.”

“This makes less and less sense.” “Though they are my retainers who’ve betrayed me and committed misdeeds, we’re going to reprimand those two... Shachihiko!” Her voice abruptly hardened.

“Turn the ship toward land!” “Draw near to the highway!” “Yes,” he replied solemnly. Shachihiko pulled the rope with a grrrip. Flap-flap-flap, flap-flap-flap—the sails shifted direction and billowed with wind as the raft ship swiftly changed course, gliding toward the highway. Soon the highway—the shadowy outline of the Tōkaidō’s land route—appeared hazily in the distance.

“Shachihiko,” she commanded again, “Quickly now—light the pine torches!”

Click! There was the sound of flint striking. Immediately, the fire whoooshed to life. It was Shachihiko who lit the pine torches. “Bring it here,” said the old woman as she took the pine torch, held it aloft, and swirled it around two or three times. And then, what do you know? In response, a pink flame from a pine torch appeared as a single point on the shore.

It appeared that someone was there.

It was no mere group of individuals—it was a full-fledged procession. They had not shaved their heads but instead cut their hair to shoulder length. Over plain mouse-gray robes, they wore black waistcloths and draped Buddhist stoles. This group of nuns moved in perfect unison—thirty to forty strong—as they ran briskly along. It was a company of non-tonsured nuns. The old woman aboard the raft ship wore identical attire. Her mouse-gray robe hung plain, a black waistcloth wrapped about her hips. Over this she had draped a kesa. This kesa alone glowed gold brocade. Reflected in the pine torchlight, it shone dazzlingly bright. If one spoke of beauty, her face too held remarkable beauty. A masculine high nose, a dignified and well-defined large mouth, elegantly arched eyebrows—but most striking were eyes that embodied the word "mystery": large and deep-set, blazing with intensity that bordered on cruelty, their very harshness enhancing their beautifully curved shape. Her complexion glowed smooth and unlined. Yet she was undeniably aged. For the shoulder-length hair framing her face gleamed platinum-white, as did her very eyebrows.

42

The old nun with hair, having blown out the fire, once again commanded, "Shachihiko!"

“This will do—change course! Head straight for Serizawa! Push through! Push through! Now push through!”

The raft ship, having altered course, began to surge forward with a resonant flapping of sails, steadily, relentlessly.

Who could this old nun with hair be?

What sort of people could this procession of nuns running along the highway be?

Of course, this was not known now.

Nevertheless, the two groups appeared to be allies.

And thus, the destination of both parties was undoubtedly Serizawa’s village.

In any case, coordinating by land and water, the strange group of nuns ran on and on through the moonlit late night.

This was Serizawa’s village.

The seven strange thieves of the Seven Lucky Gods group were intercepted by the Hitotsubashi forces. A roar erupted. It was the battle cry raised in unison by the warriors of the Hitotsubashi family. And at that same moment came glimmers—sparkling in the moonlight. Their drawn swords. With a grinding heave they formed ranks—"Come!" "You shall not pass!" and took their stance.

“They’ve outmaneuvered us! What a shame!” “But what’s there to fear?!” It was Matsushiro who had said this. “Come on, come on, everyone! Our usual tactic! “Push through in the Swastika Formation! Break through! Cut our way out!” “Understood,” said the six subordinates, and then they began spinning round and round. What was this Swastika Formation? It was their unique tactic. They placed Lady Kikyo onto the hand-carried palanquin and clustered together like a sculpted group. The six members of the Seven Lucky Gods group began rotating while maintaining their tight formation. First, they spun round and round to the left. Then they spun round and round to the right. Then they spun left once more, then spun right once more. 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, flicking the blades up and down to keep their enemies at bay.

However, only Matsushiro, their leader, separated from the group and took position at the front, directing them with commands: "Left turn! Right turn!" Now they began spinning round and round.

What a strange spectacle this was!

The moon shone from above. The blades glittered. Lady Kikyo, atop the palanquin, exposed her pale face to the moonlight and spun helplessly as she was whirled about. Her limp sleeves fluttered wildly with each rotation, catching the wind and flapping noisily. They resembled a bat furiously beating its wings. Behind them stood a mansion. Its jet-black silhouette evoked some foreign sorcerer's tower. To their right stretched the sea - hazy and blurred by moonlight.

What was that—those scattered red dots visible to the left? They were the lights of Serizawa's village. Ahead still stood the Hitotsubashi forces, blades drawn and lined up at the ready. Surrounded by these warriors on the vast midnight field, the sculpted group spun round and round. And so they pressed forward. It had to be called a strange spectacle.

And then Matsushiro called out.

“Now, now—turn to the right!”

The sculpted group began turning to the right. “This time it’s left! Turn!”

The sculpted group began turning to the left. Blades glinted; feet fell into step; the sculpted group swirled in a dizzying spiral. “Onward, onward! Come now, onward!” It was Benten Matsushiro’s command. While rotating, the sculpted group advanced. Matsushiro cut a gallant figure. She hitched up her hem tightly. She tied both sleeves at her shoulders. From crimson hakama trousers peeked shins, and those shins bore bloodstains. Her arms emerged from the rolled-up sleeves, revealing even her upper arms. Those too were stained with blood. She gripped a blade in her hand. She assumed a middle stance and pressed forward.

The swirling sculpted group! The advancing sculpted group! Benten Matsushiro, commanding and running ahead! Tap, tap, tap, tap—they pressed forward.

It was only natural that the Hitotsubashi warriors had their courage crushed. Truly, such tactics had never been seen nor heard of before. Even if they tried to charge forward, there was simply no way to do so. Even if they tried to restrain them, there was simply no way to hold them back. If they were to recklessly charge in, in the end, several of those six swords would undoubtedly come slashing down simultaneously. Even if they tried to restrain them again, the sculpted group's movements were too swift to be easily suppressed.

They had tried to block by relying on their numbers, but unable to make any progress, they uniformly kept retreating backward step by step.

The Seven Lucky Gods Group advanced. The Hitotsubashi forces retreated.

How would this end? That said, it was not as though the Hitotsubashi warriors were entirely without brave men. Sure enough, one warrior sliced through the moonlight and fiercely charged into the sculpted group. But the result was brutal. Seeing this, the Seven Lucky Gods Group all raised their swords—a sweeping strike while rotating—and swung them down with a whoosh. Immediately came a scream. Next came the sound of collapse! A Hitotsubashi warrior—his skull split by one sword, his shoulder cut by another, his ribs sliced off by a short sword—let out a scream and collapsed.

“This is how it’s done!” came a cheerful voice! It was Benten Matsushiro who spoke. “Leap over them! Leap over them! Onward!” With a thud, she vaulted over the corpse. “Understood!” they cried in unison! They were six subordinates. They too vaulted over the corpses and pressed forward—tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sculpted group proceeded to advance. They continued whirling round and round as before. Pale was Lady Kikyo’s face. Exposed to the moon. Fluttering was Lady Kikyo’s sleeve. Like a bat flapping its wings. Lady Kikyo atop the hand-carried palanquin spun round and round, swept along by the motion. It was unclear whether she was alive or dead. She was left entirely at their mercy.

Forty-Three Onward ran the Seven Lucky Gods Group! Onward they ran! They charged headlong toward Serizawa Village! Would the Seven Lucky Gods Group succeed in rescuing Lady Kikyo this way?

No, no—that seemed utterly impossible.

Having witnessed one of their own struck down before their eyes, the Hitotsubashi warriors instead seemed to erupt in fury; four or five of them raised their voices in unison and charged forward with ferocity. But their efforts came to nothing. When the six members of the Seven Lucky Gods Group simultaneously raised their six greatswords—swinging them down in sweeping arcs while rotating with a whoosh—several screams arose at once, followed immediately by the sound of bodies collapsing. Four or five corpses rolled across the field; blood spurted from them, scattering like spray where it landed—the mist-like haze obscured the moonlight, so that the moon became haloed in bloody smoke and momentarily turned crimson, as if a giant red lantern had been hung in the sky—and Benten Matsushiro, shouldering this scene,

“This is how it’s done! Surprised?” “The Seven Lucky Gods Group’s ‘manji rotation’—you won’t break through with your Kai-nade tactics!” “I’ll take you on—come at me a thousand times over!” “...Leap over them! Leap over them!” “Onward!” She vaulted over the corpses to the other side.

“Oh, got it!” “Let’s go!”

The sculpted group, without breaking formation, followed Matsushiro and vaulted over the corpses to the other side.

They turned left. They turned right. And so they pressed onward.

Gradually, steadily, the Hitotsubashi forces were being pushed back and back.

But at this moment, when a sudden war cry erupted from behind—what in the world had happened? The fifty or sixty Hitotsubashi forces who had rushed out from the front gate finally caught up at this moment. At this point, the Seven Lucky Gods Group found themselves beset by enemies to their front and rear. And then, several twangs of bowstrings rang out from behind, and a number of war arrows came flying. The six greatswords that rose in an instant glinted and flashed—likely because they had cut down the arrows.

But then—a second twang of bowstrings! But then—a third twang of bowstrings! As the incessant twanging continued, the roaring war arrows flying toward them also grew increasingly numerous. The Hitotsubashi forces advancing from behind had deliberately avoided bladed combat and were attempting to strike them down with projectiles.

Realizing this, Benten Matsushiro raised her voice shrilly.

“Now, now, everyone, lie down! “Catch your breath! Catch your breath!” In response to her voice, the six subordinates vanished abruptly.

Of course, this did not mean they had vanished like smoke. Scattering the pale moonlight as they whirled in their manji rotation, the figures of the Seven Lucky Gods Group abruptly split apart and pressed themselves flat against the ground in an instant. Lady Kikyo lay sprawled on the earth. Beside her lay Matsushiro, body pressed flat against the soil. Forming a wide circle around them both at its center, Matsushiro’s six subordinates pressed their bodies to the ground. And thus their forms became impossible to discern.

However, the Hitotsubashi warriors apparently did not perceive it that way. They seemed to have concluded that their volley of war arrows had struck down all their foes en masse.

And so, the two forces from front and rear roared out a war cry, but acting rashly without due consideration, charged toward the Seven Lucky Gods Group. It was exactly what they had been waiting for—Benten Matsushiro leapt up. “Now’s our chance! Take them down!” “Now!” With a unified shout, the six subordinates leapt up fiercely. “Fools!” “Drop dead!” “Know your fate!”

They let out war cries and charged in.

Clash of swords! Thuds of falling bodies! Screams followed by groans! And so human shadows scattered in all directions—but these were figures of the routed Hitotsubashi forces fleeing in disarray. Riding their momentum, the Seven Lucky Gods Group gave chase to press their advantage—but Matsushiro was the one fraught with worry.

“Don’t pursue them too far! Withdraw! Rally here—all to one spot!” But Matsushiro’s voice was drowned out by the clamor of footsteps, war cries, and clashing swords, failing to reach her subordinates. The six underlings chased and chased—dashing past each other, crossing paths—cutting down foes as they went. The increasingly panicked Hitotsubashi forces—likely attempting to retreat into the mansion—saw their scattered ranks coalesce into one body as they began dashing toward the front gate.

Forty-Four

And then, just as that group arrived, a force from the front gate appeared—coalescing into a rounded mass. With Reizei Hanako positioned at their center and Nanbu Shūgorō leading the vanguard, the Hitotsubashi family's fresh forces—numbering around thirty—appeared as if pushing back their own allies who were attempting to flee inside. "Hark! What's all this commotion, gentlemen!" The one who shouted this was Shūgorō. "The enemy are mere rat thieves—no more than seven or eight men! Cutting them down should be no trouble at all! To flee into cover is beyond disgrace! Rally back! Rally back!"

Embodied by this, the Hitotsubashi forces turned sharply about, raised a war cry, and surged back like a great wave. “Encircle and cut them down!” “Don’t let them escape! Don’t let them escape! Capture them!” Round and round they encircled them. Surrounded, the Seven Lucky Gods Group—no matter how swift their movements—faced enemies exceeding tenfold in number; the few against the many, they stood no chance. “Damn it!” “We’re done for!” “What do we do?!” “Anyway, let’s gather in one place!”

"What about the boss?" "What about Lady Kikyo?" They called out and warned each other, but driven apart and cornered, they could neither gather in one place nor locate their leader Matsushiro or Lady Kikyo. "There’s no helping it now! Die! Die! Cut them down and die!"

Thereupon, they split into six directions—charging in to cut down foes, then wheeling back to cut them down again. It became a complete melee.

The moonlight grew ever sharper. The surroundings grew brightly hazed.

In the midst of this chaos, a violent melee unfolded. Over there, a cluster; over here, another—shadows locked in combat were visible. A unit darted forward. Another unit gave chase. Groups collided with groups.

A whistle pierced the air. Figures dashed toward the sound! And then—immediately—the clash of swords rang out! Melee! Melee! Melee! Melee!

Forty-Five

Gradually, time passed. As time passed, it was only natural that the Hitotsubashi forces grew increasingly emboldened while the Seven Lucky Gods group conversely lost heart. Thus, before long, every last member of the Seven Lucky Gods group would be cut down. However, at that very moment, an unexpected incident abruptly erupted. First, a terrifying war cry erupted, followed by soul-rending clashes of swords, and in moments, a flank of the Hitotsubashi forces crumbled. The Tayasu family samurai had arrived and now charged into the Hitotsubashi forces’ flank at this very moment.

Thus, an even fiercer melee unfolded.

And then, breaking through the midst of that melee, a single palanquin came flying.

Reizei Hanako, guarded by her retinue—when the palanquin came to a halt a few meters before her, something slithered out.

“Hanako-san!” It was Taeko who called out. “I’ve come for Lady Kikyo!” “Taeko-san?!”

Reizei Hanako stepped forward as if startled, but—“Go ahead and take her if you want.” “I know nothing of that.” “As for whether she lives or dies—!”

“There’s something else I’ll be taking while I’m at it.” Taeko took a step forward. “The Immortal Butterfly! Hand it over here!” “No way!” Hanako rebuffed. “I’m afraid I can’t hand it over.” “I’ll take it by force and show you—by brute strength.” “How amusing. Take it if you can.” “Then take it if you can!” “Here goes.”

With that, Kitōji Taeko rummaged around her waist and—with a whoosh—hurled something into the air. Two tiny wheels—something like them connected by a rod—or perhaps it would be better to call it a gourd-shaped implement. It spun round and round as it danced through the air. And then—what a marvel—something spiraled up from Reizei Hanako’s bosom. That was the Immortal Butterfly. “Whoa!” It was Reizei Hanako who shouted, flinging the sack-like object she had slung over her shoulder heavily to the ground. Then, its back swelled and squirmed, and no sooner had it gaped open its maw than it exhaled a wavering breath.

By that time, the wheel-like object had already fallen from the sky to the ground, but facing the sack-like object, it began spinning like a top. In the void between them, the Immortal Butterfly spun ceaselessly. It seemed unable to go either way. It seemed unable to fly away either. The two female sorcerers watching it—Kitōji Taeko and Reizei Hanako—did not so much as twitch a muscle.

It could indeed be called a strange spectacle. But despite such a spectacle, having no connection to it whatsoever, the melee continued to rage on.

And then, breaking through the midst of that melee, a woman wandered aimlessly.

It was Lady Kikyo who had regained consciousness from her faint. She walked on, swaying unsteadily. She seemed to have no awareness whatsoever. She appeared to be in a daze. She was muttering something under her breath. “What’s happening to me? I don't know! ...They’re cutting each other down! How terrifying! ...What should I do? ...I must escape! I must escape! ……”

She walked on, swaying unsteadily.

Where could she be trying to go? She didn’t even seem to understand herself. Where ought I to go? Even she herself didn’t seem to understand. She walked toward the mansion. She walked toward the back gate.

This was clear proof of her derangement. What a terrifying, terrifying mansion! Wasn’t this the mansion where the enemy who had captured and tormented her resided?! Yet she tried to go there.

She walked on, swaying unsteadily.

Why was no one stopping her? What was Benten Matsushiro doing? It appeared she was still fighting after all.

Lady Kikyo walked on, swaying unsteadily. Finally, she slipped in through the back gate. Sssshhhh, sssshhhh—came the sound. It was the sound of a waterfall. In that direction Lady Kikyo walked. “What a beautiful waterfall! It’s cascading down!”

Lady Kikyo stood still and gazed out. There was a stone building. There was a window in one part of it. From there, the waterfall cascaded down. The water that had buried Isshiki Koichiro and filled the purification chamber to the brim now poured from the window. "It's falling... What a beautiful waterfall!" —And then a voice called out. "Lady Kikyo! Lady Kikyo!" It came from within the waterfall. "Someone is calling me."

—At that moment, parting the waterfall's torrent, a figure staggered into view. His entire body was soaked. Ah! A drowned man's ghost! "Ah... You are—?" "It is I, Koichiro!"

“Lord Isshiki?!”

“Lady Kikyo!”

The moment they embraced, a war cry resounded outside the mansion, followed by screams that could be heard. “Mountain Nuns!” “Mountain Nuns!” “Mountain Nuns!” Then, swarming in through the back gate came the Hitotsubashi forces. “Ah, you!” shouted one of them, lunging at Isshiki Koichiro with a strike. “You’re still alive?! “How did you escape?!”

Barely managing to twist his body away unsteadily, Koichiro—in a strained voice— "N-Nanbu?! Shūgorō!" Lady Kikyo began to walk, swaying unsteadily. “Lord Koichiro! Lord Koichiro! You must flee! You must flee!” Swaying unsteadily again and again, she exited through the back gate. “Lady Kikyo!”

And Koichiro, staggering unsteadily, tried to chase after her. From behind, Nanbu Shūgorō aimed a single sword strike at his shoulder!

And then one month had passed.

Riding a horse led by a female groom, a lone samurai was traveling.

Forty-Six

In the mid-slopes of the Chichibu Mountain Range, the samurai was Isshiki Koichiro, and the female horse handler was Kime; yet on that same day, a group of eight travelers walked with purpose toward Miura Misaki. Guarding Lord Sumida both before and behind, the members of the Seven Lucky Gods group proceeded secretly, dressed in inconspicuous travel attire. Yet had one observed carefully, they would have noticed over two hundred companions—disguised as carpenters, merchants, mountain ascetics, farmers, komusō monks, and rōnin—walking along while feigning indifference, sometimes taking the lead and sometimes falling behind as they guarded Lord Sumida.

It must be seen that Lord Sumida—bearing the traces of a hero—was leading his subordinates and traveling secretly toward Miura Misaki. Lord Sumida, as usual, maintained his leisurely and magnanimous demeanor as he engaged Benten Matsushiro in witty banter. “Oh dear, oh dear! What a predicament this is—a man of my advanced years like myself having to trudge all the way to Miura Misaki in straw sandals… Though I must say, the scenery is rather fine.” “On one side lies the coast, on the other a field—with autumn flowers blooming beautifully too.”

He wasn’t wearing any hollyhock-crested robes. He wore a plain single-layer kimono with a split-back haori and carried a cane made of natural wood. Likely disliking having his face seen, he wore a woven hat pulled low over his eyes. “Still, this time things might spiral into chaos. I loathe disturbances. Particularly detestable are these petty squabbles within our cramped Japanese islands... Though I must admit—this time I cannot simply stand aside... After all, it concerns my own brother—the Insect Museum Director—being targeted... Though from another angle, this journey holds some interest for me. ’Twill be my first meeting with him in many years. ...You all should find it diverting too—you’ll see most peculiar structures. The building called the Insect Museum. ...But should we misstep, then verily shall we witness a truly gruesome spectacle—carrion mountains and sanguine rivers—a theater of unparalleled carnage. Should it come to that, you all must become our strength—strike with full vigor.”

“Understood, your lordship.” It was Matsushiro who said this. She wore a traveling coat, from whose hem peeked an armor-like covering of Kai silk. In the traveling attire of a samurai’s daughter, her manner of walking was refined in every aspect. “If it be for your lordship’s sake, there is nothing I would not do.” Her tone carried full deference.

“The term ‘your lordship’ isn’t appropriate—you can just call me Grandpa. This is a journey to avoid notice.”

“Alright, alright, then Grandpa,” “Very well. Now then, my girl.”

They continued their conversation in this manner. Thus, the group would go as far as Sekiyado, then ascend through the forest to reach the Insect Museum; but around this time, Koichiro and Kime were climbing higher and higher up the mid-slopes of that same Chichibu range. "As usual, I can't help but feel sorry for your position." It was Koichiro who said this. In response to this, Kime replied. "Not particularly so."

The horse’s hooves clopped rhythmically as its bell jingled with each step. A summer sun tinged with autumn’s approach brightened the deep green foliage. Though lonely from the absence of travelers, this very solitude lent the scene a tranquil quality. “Even if you deny it, that’s clearly how things stand.” Koichiro’s tone carried forced levity, his true feelings weighing heavily beneath. “After all, we’re going to find Lady Kikyo.”

“Yes, yes, that’s exactly how it is.” Kime’s tone was light too. And this seemed an unadulterated lightness from the heart—genuine through and through. “Since we’re going to find Lady Kikyo.” “And by all means, we must find Lady Kikyo.”

"But," Koichiro said with feigned sympathy, "assuming we finally locate Lady Kikyo—what will become of your position?" "What could possibly change?" "It's the same position as ever." Kime showed not the slightest perturbation. She spoke without any such reservation. "Now, is that truly the case?" Koichiro was the one who looked worried. "I think it will change." "What could possibly change?" Kime seemed confident. "My heart hasn't changed, you see."

"My feelings haven't changed from before either." "That's because I've loved Lady Kikyo wholeheartedly from long ago until today." "How could this girl not know?" "This girl has known all along."

“Well, anyway, since Lady Kikyo also loves me.” “And that too is something I should have heard from you not just once or twice.” “And so, if Lady Kikyo is found, what result will there be?” “Whatever result may come of it—it holds no relation to me.” With a genuine air of detachment, there was no change in Kime’s tone. “I love you—that’s all there is to it.”

"However," Koichiro said somewhat gloomily, "it may become a competition." "It will become a competition eventually." Kime remained unchanged. "It would be two women competing over you." Her tone sounded detached, as if discussing someone else's affair. "Well, I wonder which one will win?" If anything, Koichiro looked anxious. "Yes, I will win." "You seem quite confident," Koichiro said, this time finding it amusing.

“Without such confidence, why would I willingly accompany you on this journey to find Lady Kikyo?” “Indeed, that’s only reasonable.”

The conversation came to an end here. Kime went on, pulling the reins. Koichiro went on, rocked by the horse. On the surface, it was a peaceful journey.

Where were they headed? If they kept moving straight ahead, they would reach Kirikubo. So were they headed to Kirikubo after all?

And yet—how had Isshiki Koichiro escaped from the water-filled purification chamber in Reizei Hanako’s dojo that stood in Serizawa Village? It had been no trouble at all. He had escaped through the high window. Until the water flowed out from the window, Koichiro had been treading water in the purification chamber. And then, along with the flowing water, he exited through the window. Had the window not been large, he likely couldn’t have escaped. Fortunately, the window was large. And so, he was able to escape. If Nanbu Shūgorō had been even more cautious and quickly pulled the sluice gate before the water reached the window, he would not have managed to escape. Nanbu Shūgorō seemed to have been flustered. And so, leaving the sluice gate open, he ran to inform Lady Hanako. And then came that ferocious brawl—and during the chaos of that fight, the water rose all the way to the window.

And then, what did Koichiro do? He had barely managed to escape the scene of the brawl and returned to his residence. However, as he fled the carnage, he heard someone cry out: “The mountain nuns are taking Lady Kikyo!” Needless to say, Koichiro—while recuperating his wounded body at his residence—investigated the nature of these mountain nuns and their whereabouts, but could uncover nothing. However, once he left home and visited Lord Sumida, he unexpectedly managed to learn it.

Forty-Seven

This was because Lord Sumida had spoken thus. “It seems the mountain nuns have taken Lady Kikyo.” “No, I know everything—Benten Matsushiro told me.” “No, no—there’s not the slightest need for you to worry.” “Lady Kikyo is likely safe. But that doesn’t mean we can abandon her. …For the hatred between spouses invites terrible consequences—the most unfortunate one being the Insect Museum Director… But well, that’s neither here nor there.” “I’ll take care of it. …At any rate, Lady Kikyo alone is safe. …But putting yourself in your position, you can’t rest easy.” “You must want to know who these mountain nuns are.” “Well then, I’ll explain it simply.” “They’re a group of mountain-wandering nuns. But they’re no ordinary nuns.” “A peculiar breed of wanderers.” “They practice mysterious arts.” “They also possess a violent nature.” “Now, as for their whereabouts—we don’t know.” “They dwell in tents, you see.” “However, I do have a general notion.” “They must be in Kirikubo within the Chichibu Mountains.” “…I can’t tell you any more than this.”

And so, relying solely on those words, Isshiki Koichiro set out to search for Lady Kikyo.

Kime went on, pulling the reins. Koichiro went on, rocked by the horse. A jay was calling in the woods. The field grasses were swaying in the wind.

The two continued on their journey.

Would Isshiki Koichiro truly manage to pinpoint the mountain nuns’ whereabouts and retrieve his lover Lady Kikyo once more?

A forest appeared.

And then, from beyond that forest, came the sound of numerous voices.

“Hmm?” he wondered, tilting his head—but perhaps the wind had shifted direction, for the voices could no longer be heard. Nevertheless, Koichiro appeared extremely uneasy. It was because the voices had sounded familiar. “Even so… surely not those people,” he muttered under his breath. “What the—I must’ve misheard.” No, no—that was no mishearing. For Koichiro, the terrifying enemies were indeed walking on the other side of that forest at that very moment.

Reizei Hanako rode in a mountain palanquin as Nanbu Shūgorō and his gang protectively surrounded her, conversing while making their way forward. The sliding door of the mountain palanquin was open. Hanako peered out from within. She was likely gazing at the scenery. Walking alongside her was Nanbu Shūgorō, dressed in elaborate travel attire.

Numbering over thirty people, they walked in the same direction. “Do you suppose we will truly be detected?” It was Shūgorō who had spoken. He seemed somehow uneasy. “I do believe we will be detected.” It was Hanako who had spoken. But still, she somehow showed signs of unease. “Finding the mountain nuns’ location isn’t particularly difficult, you know.” “The real difficulty comes after detecting them.” “In other words, retrieving the stolen Immortal Butterfly will be difficult.”

“We’ve had a terrible time of it.” When he said this, Shūgorō gave a wry smile. “You see—after finally capturing a single butterfly—it was snatched away from us.” This time Reizei Hanako floated a wry smile at her lips. “If my glare hasn’t gone astray, having that girl Kikyo taken seems more painful to you than losing the Immortal Butterfly.”

This seemed to leave even Shūgorō at a loss.

“To speak frankly, that is indeed the case—most regrettable.” “But even so—for what purpose would those mysterious mountain nuns have snatched away both the Immortal Butterfly and the girl Kikyo?” “That I do not know. …Yet consider—the Immortal Butterfly’s renown is such that whoever unravels its secrets could grasp at once the longevity, fortune, and glory spoken of in Taoism. Thus it stands to reason that Takakura Ni—leader of those mountain nuns—would covet it.”

"As for this Takakura Ni—what manner of relationship does she bear to Your Ladyship and Kitōji Taeko?" This seemed doubtful to Nanbu Shūgorō. "She was our former master... I can’t speak further on it." "...Once that person appears—even I and Ms.Taeko—we’d be utterly powerless." "Hah," said Shūgorō though parts still didn’t sit right. "Still—what a sight! That Immortal Butterfly fluttering midair couldn’t reach Your Ladyship or Taeko... yet when Takakura Ni showed herself—it flew straight into her sleeve!"

“Because she wields formidable power.” “What manner of power might that be?” “The same kind that I and Ms. Taeko possess.” “Only tenfold stronger.” The group pressed steadily onward. Their destination seemed to be Kirikubo in the Chichibu Mountains—the very location where the mountain nuns resided. Shūgorō tilted his head with a murmured “Hm?” upon hearing horse bells jingling beyond the forest. “Travelers appear to be passing through.” His unease stemmed from their current pathless field—a place rarely traversed by mountain-crossing wayfarers.

“It seems I heard horse bells.” He called out to Hanako.

“Ah, I heard it too.” “They seem to be heading in the same direction.” “That does seem to be the case. But they're likely just travelers.” Surprisingly, it didn’t seem to trouble Hanako.

“However, this journey of ours must remain absolutely secret.” “It would not be advisable for us to be seen by others.”

“It goes without saying—that’s exactly right.”

“So we are deliberately avoiding mountain passes and taking a pathless field.”

“It’s safer that way, you know.”

“There remains a possibility we might be observed by travelers beyond the forest.” “Since we proceed in matching course, an encounter seems inevitable ere long.” “Should those wayfarers descend to populated areas and gossip of our affairs, it would prove rather inconvenient.” “Yet we cannot rightly hinder travelers’ passage nor forbid their journeys.” “At minimum, ascertaining these wanderers’ nature would prove prudent.” “Aye—that measure alone may indeed prove requisite.”

“Let us send someone to the other side of the forest and have them observe.” “Indeed—go ahead and do that.” “Mr. Yamamoto! Mr. Yamamoto!” he called out to one of the samurai.

“Hai,” he said as he approached—a samurai of twenty-seven or eight. “I would ask that Your Lordship go to the other side of the forest and discreetly observe the travelers passing by on horseback.” “Understood in full detail,” he declared curtly, then parted through the forest and dashed away.

And so, the group pressed onward. Hanako’s mountain palanquin led the procession. Accompanying it was Nanbu Shūgorō. Following them, thirty-some samurai in solemn travel attire marched on. They were samurai of the Hitotsubashi Clan. To the right was a dense and gloomy 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 be flowing. Shrubs and thickets were scattered about. The mountain formed a slope, but the ascent was not particularly steep. A small bird flew across the sky. On the distant mountain peak, cumulonimbus clouds were gathering. The clear sky looked as deep as the sea—the kind of sky unique to mountainous terrain.

The group pressed steadily onward.

After walking perhaps five chō or more, the forest ended and became a grove. Following along the left side of the grove, the group advanced further.

Then, this time, the terrain became a small hill. It was a small hill hunched like a tumor on the mountainside. Circling around the base of the small hill, the group pressed onward. Then, from the opposite side of the small hill, the sound of horse bells could be heard once more.

However, what didn't sit right was that Yamamoto, the samurai who had gone out on scouting, still hadn't returned. "What's going on? This doesn't make sense." Nanbu Shūgorō couldn't help but find it strange. "It seems Mr. Yamamoto has not returned." He said uneasily to Lady Hanako.

“Hmm... What could this mean?” The palanquin’s interior lay shrouded in smoky dimness where sunlight could not reach, yet within that haze, Hanako’s visage held a faint shadow of unease. “He’s no child of ten or fifteen—hardly one to lose his way. Still, this delay grows excessive.” “Moreover, travelers’ bells now ring beyond the small hill.” “Dispatch another scout.”

At the sound of “Mr. Hōjō! Mr. Hōjō!” being called, a young samurai named Hōjō came running immediately from the rear ranks. “Yes, what might the matter be?” He was a samurai of twenty-five or twenty-six.

“As you’ve heard, horse bells can be heard beyond the small hill. I ask that you go investigate what sort of travelers are passing through.” “Understood, my lord.”

The samurai named Hōjō galloped away but immediately disappeared beyond the mountain. The group pressed steadily onward.

Forty-Eight

Though called a small hill, in terms of height it was unremarkable, but its expanse was striking. And so, following along its base, the group pressed steadily onward.

The sound of bells could still be heard. They appeared to be walking leisurely, and the sound of their bells was calm.

But then the bells suddenly fell silent; voices arguing erupted one after another; a soul-rending scream was heard; and simultaneously the bells began ringing discordantly—their high-pitched clangor resounding—and in that instant,the situation transformed entirely. "A scream was heard—how utterly bizarre!" It was Shūgorō who groaned the words. “Hmm,” Hanako also groaned,“I bid you ride up that hill and observe what lies beyond.”

“Understood!” “Then let’s move at once!”

The small hill had shrubs growing on it. However, there were no tall trees. Having run up, Nanbu Shūgorō stood at the summit, shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked down at the other side of the mountain. Then, in the grass at the mountain’s base, there was no mistaking the samurai named Yamamoto—lying face down, dead. It appeared that his shoulder had been slashed deeply, and despite the considerable distance, the blood flowing out and glinting in the sun was strangely clear to see. “Oh! He’s been killed!” “Ugh, what a pity!” “But even so—where are those travelers?”

Nanbu Shūgorō scanned his surroundings but immediately spotted the travelers. A samurai in traveling attire, mounted on a horse led by a female handler, was urgently dashing toward where the small hill gave way to a valley. Though only seeing him from behind, Nanbu Shūgorō recognized him.

“That’s him! No mistake!” As he growled the words, the mounted samurai turned around. “We meet again. “Mr. Nanbu! “I am Isshiki Koichiro. Though regrettable, I have slain two of your samurai—yet this was not without cause. “Because they obstructed my path…and you will be next. “You won’t let me slip away so easily! “You’ll come at me with all your numbers, I suppose. “No need to hold back—come at me! “But I am on horseback, “you all seem to be on foot. “You’ll never ever catch up!”

The distance between them was considerable, but perhaps due to the crisp plateau air and the absence of interfering noise, their voices carried through with crystalline clarity.

And once again, Koichiro let his mocking voice resound. "That stone versus egg is no contest—I am the stone and you all are eggs! No matter how many times we clash, I'll prevail—or did I not say as much long ago at the Komedano fields?" "Come on, Eggs, come at me! Come at me!" "If you won't come at me, then I'll be taking my leave!"

Koichiro whirled around and appeared to say something to the female horse handler. In that instant, she released the reins she had been holding, stretched her hand toward the horse's back, and vaulted onto it in one swift motion. On horseback, the man and woman pressed tightly together—with a sharp creak of leather, he gave the reins a decisive yank! He drove the horse onward! Tat-tat-tat! Tat-tat-tat! Kicking up clouds of dust and trampling wildflowers beneath them, they charged forward in a headlong dash!

It was Shūgorō who simultaneously felt anger and surprise. He stood abruptly atop the small hill, stamped his feet in frustration, but to no avail—then whirled around,

“Hear me, everyone—a grave matter! The notorious Isshiki Koichiro has cut down Mr. Yamamoto and Mr. Hōjō! The traveler’s true identity is Koichiro! Since he heads in the same direction, I believe he too seeks the mountain nuns’ abode! He’s urging his horse toward the valley and now dashes forward at reckless speed! Give chase! Strike them down and seize them! Surround the valley completely—leave no gaps! Scour every inch and strike them down!”

Having called out dismissively, Nanbu Shūgorō chased after Koichiro and raced down the small hill in one furious dash. Thus summoned, it was only natural that the Hitotsubashi forces fell into disarray. The thirty-odd men surrounded the mountain palanquin carrying Hanako at their center and began rushing toward the valley too—but by then, Isshiki Koichiro was already concealed behind a large boulder on the valley slope with Kime.

Forty-Nine “Crossing swords would be simple enough, but we have greater objectives at hand.” “The enemy outnumbers us—I stand alone.” “You’re a woman and of no use in battle—an injury would complicate matters.” “Though I’ve made bold declarations, I’d prefer to slip through this danger unscathed.” Koichiro spoke in a low voice tinged with concern. “I’ve had an idea.” It was Kime who broke the silence. “We should release Kage.” “The horse? “Hmm—why?”

“As you can see, the trees grow thick and the valley lies dark.” “Moreover, these trees are all large ones—even should the horse run off, its figure would likely remain unseen.”

“Hmm, you’re right. It probably won’t be seen.” “The hoofbeats will be heard.” “Oh! I see now—that’s how it works. You mean to let the horse gallop, make them hear its hoofbeats, and mislead the Hitotsubashi samurai?” “Wouldn’t it work out splendidly?” “Will Kage return?”

"I shall instruct him." "It will surely be all right." "He’s such a clever horse."

Around the large rock stood a grove of trees. Their hiding place lay in dim shadows. In that shadowed spot, a horse stood quietly, munching on fresh grass. This was Kime's beloved steed Kage - the same horse that had carried Koichiro from her family home in Miura's Misaki district to Edo, and had since been kept behind Koichiro's residence. Kime rose and approached, gently stroking the muzzle with her hand. "Kage," she said tenderly, "this is crucial for us - I'm counting on you. Go gallop down to the valley floor. Then circle around the valley bottom. Run far into the distance! Come back when you're tired. I'll keep waiting here forever. Now go!"

As she spoke, Kime struck the flat of the horse’s neck. Whether it had understood her words or been startled by the blow, the horse let out a single neigh before galloping down toward the valley floor.

It should be said that their prediction had hit its mark.

The horse’s figure could not be seen. Only the hoofbeats could be heard. “Hmm, this should do the trick.”

“It should work splendidly.”

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

“Hoofbeats!” “I hear them! I hear them!”

“Chase after that over there!” Next came the sound of many rushing down through parted trees and grass. They must have been samurai of the Hitotsubashi clan. They seemed to be chasing toward where the horse’s hooves echoed. “The plan worked perfectly! Yes! Yes!” Though a smile graced his lips, Koichiro never let his guard down. Having cut down two samurai, he kept his blood-soaked long sword drawn close to his knee while hiding his entire body behind a large rock. Kneeling on one leg, he watched. A single shaft of sunlight filtered through the trees. It illuminated the blade. That spot alone burned fiercely. But everything else remained hazy. Sitting behind him in her horse handler’s attire was Kime. She gripped the hilt of the dagger she had prepared—still sheathed at her waist—poised to slash wildly if discovered, woman though she was.

The hoofbeats grew distant. The footsteps of the pursuing samurai also grew distant in turn.

It seemed the danger had finally passed—the very moment he thought so. Voices rang out directly above them, followed by the sound of running footsteps descending.

This is bad—we’re about to be spotted! Indeed taken aback, when Koichiro fluidly readied his drawn blade, five or six samurai came charging down. And one of them nimbly climbed to the top of the large rock. Above Koichiro’s upturned eyes, separated by a mere six feet, the hem of the samurai’s hakama trousers fluttered wildly in the wind. He seemed to be staring intently in the direction of the hoofbeats. If that samurai had turned around and looked down behind the large rock, he could have spotted Isshiki Koichiro and Kime.

“Hirabayashi! What are you doing?” “Come on—hurry up and chase after them!”

A voice came from beyond the large rock. There appeared to be five or six samurai of the Hitotsubashi clan there.

“Blind pursuit is futile.” The samurai on the rock retorted. “And I can’t stop wondering about something else.” “The hoofbeats are too light.” “A horse carrying a human wouldn’t make footfalls like that.”

“Hmm, yes, that does make sense.” It was a voice from the other side of the rock.

“This seems suspicious.”

Then another voice spoke.

“Perhaps that bastard Koichiro let go of just the horse and is hiding somewhere.” Then another voice spoke: “Hey! Look at this ground.” “The grass is torn up all over.” “Looks like the horse tore it up by biting.”

“Then that bastard Koichiro must have rested his horse around here.” It was the voice of the samurai on the rock. “Then he might’ve released just the horse….” “Perhaps that bastard Koichiro’s hiding around here somewhere.”

“Well then, let’s search regardless.” It was a voice from beyond the rock.

“Very well,” came the simultaneous reply. Then, footsteps approached slowly and deliberately around the large rock toward them.

Fifty

"This is it," Koichiro steeled his resolve. Were he alone, he would have leapt out to die fighting without hesitation. But Kime—this kind, loyal girl—was with him. He couldn't let her perish alongside him. So Isshiki Koichiro suppressed his surging spirit—he would remain hidden until spotted and addressed... Pressing himself even tighter against the great rock, he continued observing the situation.

At that moment, once again overhead, the voices of several people rang out. Then came the sound of someone rushing down. They seemed to be rushing straight down toward the large rock.

Protecting the mountain palanquin carrying Hanako, four or five samurai of the Hitotsubashi clan descended. Thus, Koichiro and Kime found themselves beset by enemies to their front and rear.

They would undoubtedly be spotted. If we were spotted, it would turn into a sword fight. The opponents numbered over thirty. Koichiro was alone. There was also Kime—a hindrance. The outcome was clear. The swordsman Isshiki Koichiro too would likely have to lose his life.

But just then, from a mountain far beyond the valley they had crossed, a great shout erupted.

First, a single mountain palanquin appeared, followed by twenty to thirty samurai emerging like black ants. They were looking down into the valley. “That’s the Tayasu forces!” A voice rang out. It was Reizei Hanako’s voice. The shout seemed to have come from inside the mountain palanquin. “The one riding in that mountain palanquin is undoubtedly Ms. Kitōji Taeko.” Thus, the Tayasu forces and Hitotsubashi forces came face to face—but even so, what possible reason could the Tayasu have for bringing Kitōji Taeko in a mountain palanquin and appearing in such a place?

There was no need for explanation. They had undoubtedly come with the same intent—to locate the mountain nuns' hideout and reclaim the Immortal Butterfly. Once again, chaos would erupt.

They would stain the Chichibu mountains with blood and clash in battle. Even so—could the mountain nuns that Koichiro, Shūgorō, Reizei Hanako, and even Taeko were all searching for truly have been in a place like Kirikubo within the Chichibu Mountains?

This was a section of Kirikubo.

The basin spread out widely. Late summer sunlight glared down as countless tents stood defiantly. Amidst them all, inside the largest tent, there was an amusingly contrasting pair—a man and woman conversing with such tranquil ease.

“Sleep-sleep snore~, sleep-sleep snore~—that’s exactly what our Master exclaimed.” “He’s such a hoot, that Master of ours.”

The one who said this was Shachihiko.

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

“But then again, Master would also say this.” “Shachihiko! Shachihiko! Wide awake!” “Shachihiko! Shachihiko! Wide awake!” “Oh my, now it’s ‘wide awake.’ Whatever could that mean?” Lady Kikyo inquired with evident delight. “But then again, Master says this.” Shachihiko launched into another impression.

“Splish-splash sniff! “Splish-splash sniff!”

Finally, Lady Kikyo burst out laughing. "It keeps getting more complicated, doesn't it? From 'sleepy-sleepy snores' to 'wide awake eyes,' then 'splashy-splashy sniffles'... I simply can't follow any of it." "It's nothing important really." At last, Shachihiko seemed ready to explain properly. "You see, 'sleepy-sleepy' means 'go to sleep,' and 'snores' means snoring away - so together it's 'Go sleep and snore!' When I stay up too late, Master scolds me. That's why 'wide awake' means the opposite - he wants me to pop my eyes open like this. And if I oversleep? Then it's 'splashy-splashy sniffles' - go wash your face noisily in the stream and blow your nose with a honk! Alright alright, it's all meaningless anyway."

Indeed, upon hearing the explanation, it turned out to be nothing of consequence—but there was Shachihiko, adorable in his mouse-gray garment and hakama of gossamer fabric, speaking with a perfectly serious expression. To Lady Kikyo, it was utterly amusing. Just as she laughed brightly—as if to suppress that very brightness—a gloomy, eerie temple bell tolled from somewhere in the basin.

Fifty-One

"The revival of the Insect Museum was for the sake of the mountain nuns' disciples." Thus it was recorded in the ancient document.

The Insect Museum had been closed by those very mountain nuns, yet for it to be revived once more, there must have been a significant reason. The tolling of a bell from the depths of a valley in the mountain nuns’ settlement within the Chichibu range was a signal to gather the multitude. Countless mountain nuns came rushing out of their respective tents and ran toward the valley floor—and it was nothing short of spectacular. With their cropped hair fluttering in the wind and their hakama fluttering in the wind, hundreds of nuns ran onward.

On top of a large rock at the valley floor stood a mountain nun—and this was none other than Takakura Ni.

“A report has come from our scouts. At the Insect Museum, they are gathering forces and preparing for battle. Therefore, we cannot abandon it to their devices. Let us storm the Insect Museum.”

This was Takakura Ni’s command. The march that followed was a truly remarkable spectacle. Placing Takakura Ni into a mountain palanquin, the nuns with hair surrounded it and departed toward Miura Misaki, traversing the Chichibu mountain range.

However, on the other hand, an incident had occurred at the Insect Museum as well.

That said, it was nothing out of the ordinary—they were simply making preparations for battle.

Lord Sumida’s subordinates and the Seven Lucky Gods group were running about, making preparations for it. “Now dig trenches! Build abatis! Construct barricades! Set up cover! Drive in stakes! Bundle bamboo fascines! “Tend to your weapons! Tend to your weapons! “Sharpen the spears! Polish the swords! Clean the firearm barrels! “…One unit—go to the edge of the forest. “Set up camp there. “One unit—go to the forest floor. “Lay landmines there. …Take care with the gunpowder bags. “Ensure the ignition sequence proceeds without error. “…Build bridges over the valley streams… Scouts! Scouts! Send out the scouts!”

The one commanding was Lord Sumida, who had a camp stool brought out in front of the Insect Museum building and was sitting on it.

People scurried in all directions. Messengers darted off in all directions. In the distance, firearms barked. They were likely test-firing. Then came a roaring sound—the rush of flowing water. They must have thrown the lever. The pent-up lake water surged forth, cleaving through the forest. From the mountain's foot emerged a climbing throng—a crowd of disfigured disabled individuals. They who had once dwelled at the Insect Museum and departed when it closed now gathered anew, heeding its hour of crisis.

The Insect Museum, once quiet and desolate, had now come alive with activity—though rather than vitality, one would have to say it was charged with a murderous aura.

But amidst this murderous atmosphere, there was one person who remained utterly indifferent, glancing sidelong at the scene and not lifting a finger. It was none other than the one-legged Kichiji.

“Scramble about, scramble about! Make a ruckus, make a ruckus.” “But I won’t stir things up.” He stood before the waterfall cascading down from the rocks, glaring into the basin below.

Then, at the sound of “Mr. Kichiji,” a woman popped up. It was none other than Benten Matsushiro. “Yo. Is that you, Ms. Matsushiro?” Kichiji began to smirk. Among the crowd that had gathered, Benten Matsushiro was Kichiji’s favorite. “Ms. Matsushiro, you’re as beautiful as ever.” “Ah, I’m always beautiful.” Matsushiro stood beside him. “Why aren’t you working?” Her tone was reproachful.

“With one leg, I can’t even work.” “Well, that’s true. That’s only reasonable.” “And we don’t approve of it.” “What’re you talkin’ about, ‘don’t approve’?!” “All this reckless, noisy bustling about.” “But isn’t the battle about to start?” “Well, I hate this war.” “Since it came to be as it was meant to be, there’s nothing we can do about it now, is there?” “Huh, what’s the reason for that?” “But the mountain nuns want the Immortal Butterfly, right? But as for one of them—the stolen male butterfly—no matter what they do, they can’t track it down.” Here, Kichiji gave a strange laugh. “Since it’s you, Ms. Matsushiro, I’ll let you in on a little secret—there’s someone who knows where the stolen Immortal Butterfly is.”

Fifty-Two “Huh, who the hell could that be?” Matsushiro asked with an air of puzzlement. “Who the hell knows?” Kichiji was still laughing. Then he abruptly changed the subject: “I hear Lady Kikyo’s been kidnapped too.” “Those mountain nuns took her away.” “So they’re using her as bait, eh?”

“Huh? What’s this ‘decoy’ you’re talking about?” “In other words, they’re planning to say, ‘We’ll return Lady Kikyo, so hand over the Immortal Butterfly,’ I tell you.” “Ah, those mountain nuns. In that case, Lady Kikyo’s pitiful, isn’t she?” “Pitiful she may be, but Lady Kikyo’s discernment’s too high for her own good—she could use some suffering now and then.” “Isn’t high discernment better?” “Is that so? Is that really so?” Kichiji seemed vaguely discontented. “But folks with high discernment never accept others’ feelings, see.”

"Hm," Matsushiro found it odd. Then, she silently looked at Kichiji.

The waterfall cascaded down, looking refreshing. It was a small, small waterfall. The surface of the waterfall basin was foaming. The sunlight was shining from the side, so a rainbow spanned the waterfall’s foam, making it indescribably beautiful.

“Well, that’s true—hey, Ms. Matsushiro, we really like you, you know.” He blurted out such words. There was a bashful air about him. “Hmm,” she thought again, but Matsushiro replied with deliberate casualness, “I like you too.” “Huh—how’m I s’posed to know that?” Even as he spoke, he looked pleased. “It’s your lack of airs I like.” “And we like that you don’t put on pretenses.”

“Ain’t in no position to put on airs.” “And as for us, we ain’t in no position to be flauntin’ charms.” “Living together might be fun, don’t you think?” “Huh?” Though he said this, the one-legged Kichiji stole a glance at Matsushiro’s face. “You mustn’t tease me. You mustn’t tease me.” “What do you mean I’m teasing you? I’m telling the truth”—yet she did seem to be teasing him. “Is that so? Is that really so?” Kichiji stared vacantly for a moment before speaking. “We’re ugly cripples—women ain’t never spared us a thought. We had thought so on our part, though. But that woman was too high and mighty—wouldn’t even give us the time of day. …So we did it. But we have money. If we just put our minds to it, we can make a heap of money. We’ve already got half of it in our hands... That Immortal Butterfly can survive even underwater, you know...”

“If there’s money, that’d be even better, you know. You could live comfortably... but do you really have it?” Her tone held a probing note. “If we just put our minds to it, we can get our hands on a vast amount of money.” “Hey, Mr. Kichiji...” she sidled up close.

“Un,” replied the one-legged Kichiji, but he remained motionless, staring down into the waterfall basin.

A warped yet beautiful theatrical spectacle! One might say it was just so. One was a one-legged, ugly man. The other was an alluring female thief. They leaned against each other, peering into the waterfall basin.

Voices could be heard from behind a large rock. Noises of battle preparations could also be heard.

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

53

It was that afternoon when two old men were talking in a room of the Insect Museum. “Brother, you wouldn’t approve, would you?” It was Lord Sumida who had said this. “We’ve come this far—there’s nothing to be done now.” It was the Insect Museum Director who had said this, a troubled expression lingering on his face. “The relationship between you and your wife, Brother, remains utterly incomprehensible to me.” It was Lord Sumida who had spoken. “It wasn’t so from the beginning—but thus it came to pass.” The Insect Museum Director was gloomy.

“Would that also be because of the Immortal Butterfly?” “Ah, that’s right,” said the Insect Museum Director, his expression growing increasingly troubled. “Fundamentally, it was a difference in how to handle it. You could call it a difference in perspective. She wanted to put it to immediate use—that was her approach. I opposed that. First, we should keep it and observe—” “You should seek reconciliation regardless.” Lord Sumida interjected abruptly.

“Telling me to reconcile now is absurd—isn’t it? After having made all these battle preparations...” He wore a look of bewilderment.

Lord Sumida laughed. “We’ve prepared for both war and peace. In this fleeting world, everything must proceed this way.” “It’s not that I want to fight either,” said the Insect Museum Director. “…But their methods are underhanded.” He wore a look of bewilderment. “…My daughter has done nothing wrong.”

“They’re true parent and child. “They simply wanted to meet. “That’s most likely why they took her along.” “I don’t see it that way.” The Insect Museum Director shook his head. “They’re probably using her as a tool for intimidation. “Trying to use her as a decoy. “To steal the Immortal Butterfly.” “Now about this Immortal Butterfly—Brother, you should’ve investigated it thoroughly.” “And yet I still don’t understand.” “Even if we investigate now, we won’t comprehend.” “Ah... We might never comprehend.”

“Then we’ll concede it to them.” “But haven’t we already captured one?”

“I heard they captured one in Serizawa Village.” “The other’s whereabouts remain unclear. We don’t know where it went at all.”

“Hmm, is that really true?” “I’m not lying—it seems to have been stolen.” “Then wouldn’t it be better to inform them of that?” “I did tell them, but they don’t believe it.” The Insect Museum Director looked bitter but said, “They insist they’re still in this area.”

The room remained unchanged from former times. It had been decorated in Dutch fashion. A tapestry hung on the wall. Insect embroidery adorned its surface. Frames occupied various positions throughout the space. Paintings of insects filled these frames. Patterns had been drawn across the ceiling as well - those patterns too depicted insects. A window faced outward to the gardens. Upon its frame, insect motifs had been meticulously carved. Through this window one could see flowers blooming in the front garden's beds, their faint fragrance drifting inward. Furnishings included a sofa, occasional tables, an armchair, and bookshelves arranged about the room. A carpet covered the floor, woven with insect designs against a pale green background.

On the ebony-worked table were placed several insect boxes. And as usual, countless insect boxes were also hung from the ceiling. It was no different from the past. It had merely grown somewhat worn with age. And when it came to what filled this room, it was a scholarly silence. That, too, was unchanged from the past.

Suddenly, the Insect Museum Director stood up from the chair he had been sitting on and peered into one of the insect boxes, “The sensitive musk insects began stirring… The mountain nuns’ unit must finally be approaching.”

Having said this, he moved to the window—this too was exactly as it had been in the past.

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

Isshiki Koichiro, mounted on a horse, had Kime—the female horse handler—hold the reins and walk along the valley floor. On the ridge above the valley to their left, the same group that had surrounded the mountain palanquin advanced in the same direction. It was Reizei Hanako’s unit. Meanwhile, on the right ridge of the valley, a similar group was advancing. It was Kitōji Taeko’s unit. "What an amusing journey this is, I must say." It was Isshiki Koichiro who had said this, wearing a cheerful smile. “By a hair’s breadth—it can’t go on any longer. “Just when I thought this, the Tayasu family’s forces appeared, you see.” “Thanks to that deterrence, we weren’t attacked and captured by the Hitotsubashi lot, protected on both sides by members of both families—letting us travel in this precarious balance.” “Truly, this fleeting world is full of irony.”

“That’s quite the irony.” “Since such ironies come along from time to time, we’re truly spared.”

It was Kime who had said this. Kime’s demeanor also seemed cheerful. “If the Hitotsubashi forces descend into the valley to attack and capture us, the Tayasu family members will come down and save us. If we climb up the valley and try to join the Tayasu group, the Hitotsubashi forces will come chasing after us. So if we’re to remain as we are, we’ll have to keep making our way along the valley floor like this forever.” “What an amusing lot we’ve found ourselves in. Though pressed between two powerful nations, we are a small country strutting about—that’s what we are.”

“If we make even the slightest misstep, this equilibrium will collapse at once.” “So long as we keep our composure, this stalemate can continue indefinitely.”

“So you could say it’s quite dangerous.”

“That’s precisely what makes it thrilling.” “Kime, you never fail to amuse me.”

“It’s only natural, of course.” “That very obviousness isn’t something you can easily put into words.”

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

Fifty-Four It was an exceedingly treacherous valley floor. Large rocks were heaped up here and there. Thickets and shrubs grew thickly. A mountain stream flowed through, splattering droplets as it went. A troop of Chichibu’s famed monkeys leapt from branch to branch, screeching as they watched the two. Then they emerged into a place as dark as night. It was shrouded by tall trees. The two pressed on ahead. At that moment, a thunderous battle cry erupted from the ridge above the valley’s right side. It seemed the Tayasu forces had challenged the Hitotsubashi forces. Then from the left ridge’s heights came an answering battle cry. The Hitotsubashi forces appeared to have responded.

In this way, two or three battle cries rang out, but no real clash materialized.

“How amusing,” said Koichiro. “It’s rather lively, I must say.”

And so, the three groups' forces pressed onward, advancing further and further ahead. Their destination was the same location. Namely, it was the mountain nuns' stronghold.

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 dotted the landscape, gleaming white under the sun.

That very place was the mountain nuns’ village. The mountains that formed the valley on either side sloped toward the basin, reaching it and ending there. The valley too terminated at the basin.

Thus, by natural momentum, the Tayasu forces and Hitotsubashi forces—and indeed Kime and Koichiro too—would all have to converge in the basin.

In the center of that basin, inside a large tent, Lady Kikyo and Shachihiko were talking.

Only over a dozen disciples of the mountain nuns guarding Lady Kikyo remained; the countless other nuns were no longer in the Chichibu Mountains. They had hastened off toward the Insect Museum.

“It’s become terribly lonely.”

The one who said this was Shachihiko. “It’s grown so hushed around here.” Lady Kikyo looked somehow languid. Sunlight streamed into the tent. It illuminated Lady Kikyo’s face and Shachihiko’s nape. “Where could they have gone?” The bell had resounded through the valley—the disciples of the mountain nuns had rushed toward it and descended in great haste—this much Lady Kikyo understood, but the rest remained unclear to her.

“They’re such an incomprehensible bunch—who knows where they’ve headed off to?” Shachihiko said in a precocious tone.

"By the way—this Takakura Ni you mention—is she truly a good person?" Since being abruptly taken by Takakura Ni during the Serizawa Village riot and arriving in this land, Lady Kikyo had received nothing but kind treatment—yet even now, she still did not comprehend the true nature of this nun called Takakura Ni. "A nagging crone who won’t stop yapping." Shachihiko remained as vulgar-tongued as ever. "But she’s a proper fine old woman," he added, this time offering praise.

“Even so—how do the people here make their living?”

Having resided there for over a month, Lady Kikyo still couldn't make sense of the mountain nuns' way of life. It was only natural for nuns to recite sutras every morning and evening, but there were times when they would suddenly all gather and depart for destinations unknown. At times it seemed they were going on alms rounds, yet there were aspects that suggested otherwise. Their discipline was impeccably orderly, with an air reminiscent of a women's military corps. Come to think of it, they had 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. They were an utterly incomprehensible group.

Fifty-Five

Thereupon, she asked Shachihiko.

However, Shachihiko’s reply was brutally straightforward. "They’re a bunch of nuns who hate village folks. Sometimes they hide their tracks when goin’ out to raid settlements. And ’bout the master’s roots—they say she’s from rebel stock." Hearing this only deepened Lady Kikyo’s confusion about the mountain nuns’ true nature.

But more than that, Lady Kikyo could not stop worrying about Isshiki Koichiro’s well-being. Since their parting in Serizawa Village, she had heard nothing from him at all. Could he be dead? Or might he still be alive? Even that much remained uncertain. Yet above all else, Lady Kikyo found herself unbearably longing for Koichiro. Here I am in these mountains, she thought. My lover’s whereabouts remain unknown. I might never see him again. This sorrow felt unbearable. Still—what reason could there have been for those mountain nuns to abduct me into these peaks? What do they intend to do now? Will they keep me confined here forever, never returning me to human settlements?

At this thought, Lady Kikyo was overwhelmed with unbearable anxiety.

However, Lady Kikyo’s anxiety turned to joy in an instant.

For at the basin’s edge, a bloodcurdling scream—as though two factions of samurai had clashed—suddenly arose, and as soon as the clang of swords rang out, a mounted samurai came galloping toward Lady Kikyo from that direction with a female groom in tow. Upon reaching the front of the tent, he nimbly leapt down from his horse. “Oh, Lady Kikyo! You’re here!” “Oh! It’s you, Lord Koichiro!” “I’ve come to rescue you! Quickly—onto the horse!”

So it was that after putting Lady Kikyo on the horse and sending Kime ahead, Isshiki Koichiro raced down to the foot of the mountain in a single breath.

However, at that moment, an obstruction occurred. How had they gotten ahead so quickly? Nanbu Shūgorō, along with two or three others, suddenly flew out from the shadows of the trees and swiftly blocked their path. “I won’t let you pass, Isshiki!” He charged in. “Shūgorō, is it?”

He drew his long sword and swung at his thigh—! He sliced deep. “Ah!”

A scream—! It was Shūgorō. Having been cut, he collapsed limply to his knees “I’ll spare you! At least your life! Now! Kime!” “Kime!” “Aye!” said Kime as she spurred the horse onward.

The horse galloped down at full speed. Lady Kikyo’s sleeves fluttered as she rode, her disheveled hair swirling. They must have been terrified by the ferocity of Isshiki Koichiro, who ran in pursuit with a bloodied sword still gripped in one hand. Not a single soul gave chase.

In one corner of the basin, the forces of the Tayasu family and the forces of the Hitotsubashi clan were locked in sword combat. "The revival of the Insect Museum was for the mountain nuns' followers." But to speak truthfully,

"The revival of the Insect Museum was for Benten Matsushiro’s sake." This must be stated thus. For when the mountain nuns' faction and the Insect Museum's faction stood poised to clash, they lured Kichiji—the one-legged man who had stolen the male butterfly—out from the waterfall basin, seized it from him, rushed to deliver it to the Insect Museum’s director, then passed it to the mountain nuns' faction, thereby preventing the battle before it could erupt.

The story of the Mysterious Insect Museum will also be brought to a grand conclusion by adding several explanations. Had the strange mystery carried by the Immortal Butterfly been solved? The mountain nuns' followers had taken it away. And thus—where had the mountain nuns gone? Their whereabouts were lost. The mystery of the Immortal Butterfly also remained unclear. Having escaped persecution by the mountain nuns, the Insect Museum returned to its former state, and its director continued living there and conducting his research—but what exactly was the background of this Insect Museum director? According to one legend, he was said to be descended from the legitimate bloodline of Suruga Dainagon—destroyed by Iemitsu—while the man known as the Lord of Sumida shared an illegitimate lineage from the same ancestor; both were feared by the shogunate. As for Takakura Ni, that singular woman was said to be a princess descended from Honda Kozuke-no-suke, who had worked to bring down Suruga Dainagon. The Insect Museum Director and Takakura Ni were enemies—so how did they ever become husband and wife in the past? This was truly a question worth asking, but even the legends lacked detailed accounts.

Now then, what kind of life did Isshiki Koichiro lead afterward? It is said he married Lady Kikyo. But what of Kime? Wasn’t her situation pitiable? No—she being an eccentric woman and an optimist at heart—did not lament her fate; instead, taking the reins of her beloved horse, she returned to her hometown, or so the story goes.

As for the Lord of Sumida, he continued to live on the banks of the Sumida River and devoted himself to some grand scheme, or so the story goes.

The subsequent whereabouts of Kitōji Taeko and Reizei Hanako were never clearly recorded.