Pathway to Japanese Literature

I Itou Kihee was walking alongside the Nokodo Hall of Sensōji Temple with his granddaughter Oume. Their party included Oume's wet nurse Omaki and the physician-monk Osen. Kihee looked at Oume. “Well now, Oume, you look much better today. But even so, walking too much won’t do you good. Shall I have a palanquin prepared?” “No, no, I believe this is still preferable.” Oume had fallen ill from pining after Tamiya Iemon, a ronin who lived next to her family home. This Iemon had been cohabiting with Yotsuya Samon's daughter Oiwai in a romantic relationship, but after embezzling funds from their lord's household, Samon had forcibly separated them despite Oiwai being pregnant. The wet nurse Omaki had been instructed by Oume’s mother Oyumi to purchase toothpicks.

"I had forgotten to purchase the toothpicks. Would you care to examine them as a diversion?"

Omaki invited Oume and the rest of their party and headed to the toothpick shop. At the toothpick shop, Yotsuya Samon's adopted daughter Osode—who had been employed there since the previous day—was carving toothpicks while wearing a yukata. Kihee called out. “Hey there, girl! Gather up various ones and bring them here.” Osode pretended not to notice. Kihee was irritated. “You stupid woman! What are you dawdling for?! Hurry up and bring them out!” Osode finally looked up. “You belong to the Takano noble household, do you not?”

“That it is.” “Then I shan’t sell to you.” “What was that?” “When the time comes that it displeases your lordship’s wishes, who knows what manner of retribution may befall you? It would be wisest to make your purchase elsewhere.”

Osen abruptly emerged from behind Kihee.

“You insolent wench! I won’t let this pass unaddressed!” Naosuke, the five-mon medicine peddler from Tōhachi who had drawn near, stepped between them.

“Now, now, what’s all this? So charmless…” Then to Osen: “This one was just hired yesterday—a woman who doesn’t properly know the toothpick prices. Please don’t take offense.” Kihee restrained Osen. “Let them strike if they will—it’ll only hinder our pilgrimage.” Kihee urged Oume and the others onward and departed. Naosuke then provoked Osode. “Osode, you’re in a delicate state—you shouldn’t speak such nonsense.” “Still, when I think about it—Yotsuya Samon’s daughter becoming a hired girl at a toothpick shop—I suppose this too must be resigned to the times.” “Listen here, Osode—you must know something about this too. How about becoming my mistress or wife? Would you consider it?”

Naosuke drew near Osode. Osode scowled. “Lord Okuda Shōgen shared the same status as my father Samon. For you—who were but a page to that very lord—to lay hands on me... What insolence! How revolting!” “You’re the one who’s ended up in a place like this because of the times we live in. You’ve got no right to say such things.”

Naosuke placed his hand on Osode's shoulder.

“Fine! I don’t care anymore!”

Osode shook off the hand and withdrew. Naosuke gave a bitter smile. “I’ve never seen a woman so stubborn.”

Two

At Takue’s house, Naosuke of Tōhachi Gomon was growing impatient in the inner room. Naosuke had come after hearing from Osode’s peers that she was doing hellish work at Takue’s house, thinking that with money he could have his way. There was an andon lantern there, but since it had been covered with a cloth from above, the room was pitch-dark.

“What in blazes is going on here?”

There, Osode entered. “Oh, you came! You actually came!” Osode felt her way to Naosuke’s side. “I’ve been waiting impatiently, Miss Osode.” “Huh?” Osode was startled, for she had been going by the name Omon there. “No need to be startled—it’s me.”

It was through his voice that Osode first realized it was Naosuke. “Oh! You—!”

Osode suddenly stood up, slid open the shoji, and fled. Naosuke gave chase.

“Now, now, Miss Osode.” Naosuke grabbed Osode’s sleeve. Osode could no longer escape. “No matter how you look at it, you and this face—” “It’s only natural we haven’t met yet, Miss Osode, but you’re quite filial.” Osode covered her face with her sleeve and said nothing. “Now sit down. You’re doing this work all for your parents’ sake—I know everything.” “Y-yes.”

“So listen—why don’tcha do like I say and make today the day ya wash yer hands of this clean? If them parents o’ yours ever found out ’bout this—what with Lord Samon bein’ a man o’ old principles—” “I... I know that too,”

“You bet it is.” Taking money from his paper wallet, he said, “Well now, use this to buy Lord Samon a lined kimono or such.” Osode gazed intently at Naosuke’s face. “Forgive me.” “Nah, ain’t no need for such formalities. Instead, let’s head over there and have ourselves a proper talk.”

“But not that…” “C’mon now, ain’t no need to keep playin’ cold forever.” Naosuke yanked Osode into the room. Just then, Takue’s wife Oiro poked her head in. “Miss Omon—here.”

Osode was in a predicament. Osode immediately stood up and came out. “What is it, auntie?”

“It’s a customer.”

Oiro took Osode to another room. “He’s a quiet customer, so handle him with care.” Oiro left as she was.

Osode thought for a moment, then resolutely slid open the shoji and entered. "You've retired for the night." The customer shifted his body sluggishly. "If I wanted to sleep alone, I wouldn't come to a place like this. Get over here." Osode did not approach. "I have a request." "What?" "My family was originally of samurai status, but due to circumstances, my father became a ronin." Osode jumbled truth and lies, appealed to customers' sympathies, and received money without involvement.

“That does sound pitiful, but some become courtesans for their parents’ sake. Or do you have a fiancé?” “No, it’s not exactly like that—” “Then quit yer bellyachin’!” The customer’s hand reached for Osode. “Huh?” Osode instinctively recoiled. From the momentum, the furoshiki that had been hung on the andon fluttered down. Simultaneously, the two of them cried out.

“Ah! You’re my wife!” “You’re Mr. Yomoshichi!”

The customer was Osode's fiancé, Sato Yomoshichi. Yomoshichi had gone into hiding following the collapse of his lord's house, when its retainers and family members scattered to the winds. Yomoshichi blazed up like fire. "What's this, Osode? What state have you fallen into? Some desperate ploy for male attention?" "I'm too appalled to speak!"

Osode clenched her teeth in frustration. “That’s too cruel, Yomoshichi-san. You’re the one who currently has a wife like me, yet you come to a place like this?” Osode had nothing to feel guilty about. Their hearts immediately melted together.

Soon after, Yomoshichi and Osode borrowed a lantern inscribed "Yabunouchi" from Takue’s house and departed. At that moment, Naosuke came out, saw off the two, and had an epiphany.

"Ah! The target was the Yabunouchi lantern!"

III

Shozaburo, who had been walking along the rice field path behind Sensōji Temple disguised as a beggar, encountered Sato Yomoshichi and exchanged clothes with him. Yomoshichi also gave Shozaburo the lantern he had borrowed from Takue's house, “An outcast has no need for a lantern. Take this as well, sir.” Having said that, he left. Shozaburo examined his own appearance in the light of the lantern.

"Looking like this, if fellow beggars spot me, it'll be disastrous."

Shozaburo then went before Fuji Gongen. From the shadow of the shrine, a hooded man quietly emerged, peered closely at Shozaburo, and gouged his side with the cleaver in his hand. “Yomoshichi! This is love’s vengeance! Have you learned your lesson?” The hooded man was Naosuke. Naosuke had been targeting the lantern marked “Yabunouchi,” so he was convinced that Shozaburo was none other than Yomoshichi. “Take this! And this!”

The cruel Naosuke slashed and mutilated Shozaburo.

“There we go, there we go.”

Naosuke recalled something and threw the cleaver into the nearby hedge. Then, with the sound of clattering footsteps, a figure came rushing out. Naosuke hurriedly hid himself nearby. It was Yotsuya Samon and Iemon who came clashing swords. Iemon had encountered Samon along the way and asked him to return Oiwai, but when Samon refused, he attempted to kill him. “You old fool!” “You villain!”

Samon had been cut and was drenched in blood. Iemon pursued him and delivered another sword strike. Samon collapsed. Iemon delivered the coup de grâce.

“You stubborn old fool! That rust on your blade’s your own damn doing!”

At that moment, Naosuke emerged from the nearby darkness.

“That voice is certainly Mr. Tamiya.”

Iemon fixed his gaze on Naosuke.

“Okuda’s errand boy Naosuke? What brings you here?” At that moment, wooden sandals clattered in the distance. Iemon and Naosuke hid behind the shrine. The clattering sandals drew nearer. It was a sturdy woman in streetwalker garb clutching an itodate. “What could Father be doing out so late?” A woman bearing a small lantern came running—evidently in great haste—and crashed bodily into the streetwalker-clad woman. “My deepest apologies.”

The woman with the small lantern bowed her head politely. The woman in streetwalker attire fixed her eyes on the face.

“Ah, you’re my sister!” The woman with the small lantern was also fixing eyes on the other woman.

"You're my sister." The woman in streetwalker attire was Oiwai, and the woman with the small lantern was Osode. Oiwai had come searching for her father Samon who had gone out begging; Osode had come chasing after Yomoshichi's trail after parting ways with him en route. Osode clearly saw Oiwai's wretched form. "Oh, you're so wretched—a streetwalker of all things!" Oiwai stared intently at Osode's face. "While you have a proper husband in Mr. Yomoshichi, I hear you've been engaged in some questionable work of late."

“What? That’s—” “This too is poverty’s cruel doing. Since Father hid his begging from us both—secretly soliciting alms within Sensōji Temple’s precincts—I may walk the streets now, but I’ve kept my flesh untouched.”

“I am the same way—though I engage in shameful work, I’ve kept my body unsoiled. Moreover, precisely because I was caught up in such matters tonight—I met Mr. Yomoshichi and came along with him, but got separated on the way—I’m searching for him now.”

“I was also worried because Father was taking so long.”

At that moment, Oiwai found something on the ground. "Beside you—that's blood!" Osode raised the lantern. By that light, Oiwai discovered Samon's corpse, and Osode discovered Shozaburo's corpse. "Oh no! This is Father!" "This is Mr. Yomoshichi!" Oiwai clung to Samon’s corpse, and Osode clung to Yomoshichi’s corpse as they wept. Iemon and Naosuke, who had been watching this scene from behind the shrine, came out with deliberately loud footsteps. "There’s a woman crying—this is no ordinary matter!" Iemon said this and went to Oiwai’s side. "You’re Oiwai, aren’t you?"

Oiwai raised her face. “Ah—you’re Mr. Iemon!”

Naosuke went to Osode’s side. “Is that you there, Osode?” Osode was sobbing convulsively. “Here in the same place as Father… like this…”

Oiwai and Osode attempted to take their own lives in their overwhelming grief. Iemon was being theatrical. "You panicked fools! If you sisters kill yourselves now, who will avenge your parents and husbands?" Oiwai steeled herself there. “Then would you make even our severed marital bond a means for vengeance?” Iemon inwardly smirked at being able to claim Oiwai as his own. “Even separated, since no divorce papers were sent, we remain husband and wife. We’ll avenge both your father’s death and your brother-in-law’s.”

Naosuke persuaded Osode.

“Now that it’s come to this, I’ll make sure to back you up.”

IV

At the Tamiya Iemon residence in Zōshigaya, Iemon was conversing with Taketsu the masseur while pasting paper lanterns as piecework. The story concerned Kobayashi, an errand boy hired to assist with Oiwai’s childbirth, who had stolen the Tamiya family’s ancestral medicine called Souseiki and fled. At that moment, a hand clapped from within the folding screen. Taketsu rose to his feet. "Yes, yes, would this be the medicine?" When Taketsu entered behind the screen, Iemon clicked his tongue. "To go and drop a brat into these meager circumstances—no damn consideration at all. This is why amateur wives are such a pain."

Taketsu emerged from behind the folding screen, set the earthenware medicine pot on the charcoal brazier, and began fanning the flames. Iemon pulled a bitter face. “Is this Oiwai’s medicine or the newborn’s?” “This belongs to Lady Oiwai.”

At that moment, Akiyama Choubei came rushing in.

“Mr. Tamiya! We’ve caught the Kobayashi wretch! The medicine he stole and ran off with—it’s here!” “Most gracious,” Iemon said, tossing aside the lantern he’d been pasting. He took the cloth-wrapped bundle from Choubei. “And the Kobayashi wretch—” At that moment, Sekiguchi Kanzou and Banjo the manservant entered, dragging Kobayashi bound in coils of rope. Taketsu bore responsibility for having introduced Kobayashi. “This mess lands on me because of you!” Iemon was devising something cruel. Kobayashi shook like a leaf.

“Please grant me your forgiveness.” “Not a chance, you imbecile! I should strike off your head here and now—but since you returned the medicine and repay yesterday’s pawned money, I’ll spare your worthless life. In exchange, know this: I’ll snap every last one of your fingers!” Kobayashi’s body shook violently. “Master, show mercy—I beg you, not this!” Choubei slipped away silently. “Enough of this!” Iemon roared at the group. “Gag him properly—now!”

Urged by Choubei, Kanzou, Banjo, and Taketsu gagged Kobayashi with a hand towel and first removed his sideburns. At that moment, Omaki, Oume’s wet nurse, arrived at the entrance with a manservant carrying a sake barrel and tiered boxes. “I shall make my request.” Iemon, seeing this, ordered the three men to throw Kobayashi into the wall cupboard and, feigning ignorance, welcomed Omaki. “Please, this way, this way. While residing in the neighborhood, I always humbly keep my distance. I trust your master remains well.”

“Thank you kindly. My master Kihee and the widow Yumi both send their regards.” “I understand your wife Lady Oiwai has recently given birth. Please accept this humble offering.” Omaki presented the gift before him there. Iemon was courteous. “My, my—your customary courtesy is most gracious. I am deeply obliged. We shall return the containers from our side.” “Understood.” Then she took out a small yellowish paper-wrapped item from her pocket. “This is the retired master’s family heirloom—a miraculous medicine for women’s ailments. Please give it to Lady Oiwai.”

Iemon accepted it. "I humbly accept this generous gift. Now then, without delay—" He looked at Banjo. "Hey, you! Prepare some hot water."

At that moment，the sound of a baby crying came from within the folding screen. Omaki pricked up her ears. "Oh! Is it a boy?"

Iemon nodded.

“Indeed it is.” “Congratulations, in that case.” When Omaki’s party had departed, Choubei and Kanzou immediately opened the sake barrel, removed the stacked boxes, and began preparing the drink. Iemon smirked. Well now, what a flurry of activity.

Five

Tamiya Iemon returned from Itou Kihee’s house. When Tamiya Iemon had gone to Itou Kihee’s house to express his gratitude, a large sum of money was piled before his eyes by the household members, “You must become our son-in-law!” having been told this, “I have a proper wife named Oiwai, and there’s even a child.” Having said that, he made a socially appropriate remark. Then, as Oume pulled a razor from her obi and attempted to kill herself—just as he was reeling from this shock—Kihee now,

“Lord Iemon, please kill me.” Having said this, he explained that out of excessive fondness for Oume’s charm, he had given Omaki what was called a “miraculous medicine for women’s ailments”—in truth, a poison that altered facial features—to drive a wedge between Iemon and Oiwai. It was at that moment that Iemon had decided to take Oume as his wife and returned. Iemon went upstairs to the side of the mosquito net where Oiwai was sleeping. Oiwai, who had been nursing the infant, sensed a presence. “Did you get the oil?”

Oiwai thought that Taketsu, who had gone out to buy oil during Iemon’s absence, had returned. Iemon thrust his face forward. “It’s me.” Oiwai knew from that voice that it was Iemon.

“Lord Iemon.” “Hmm, I’ve just returned. Did you take that medicine earlier?” “Yes, when I took that medicine, I immediately developed a fever and my face hurt.” “I see... your face...” “It felt numb.”

Oiwai emerged while saying this, lifting the hem of the mosquito net. Iemon scrutinized her face. Her features had swollen purple, the left eyelid hanging in a crushed crescent moon shape. It was a visage too grotesque to bear a second glance. Even Iemon recoiled in shock. “It’s changed! Changed!” Oiwai found it profoundly strange that Iemon reacted with the same startled horror Taketsu had shown earlier when seeing her face.

“Has something... happened to my face?” Iemon hurriedly tried to cut her off. “Wh-what? In such a short time, your complexion has improved—it seems his medicine has finally taken effect.”

Oiwai felt somehow uneasy. "Even if my complexion has improved, I somehow..." she began, then suddenly grew solemn. "If I should die, I beg you not to take a new wife for this child's sake—at least for a while." Oiwai's disfigured eyes welled with tears. Iemon spat out. "A new wife? Of course I'll take one—you think I can stay alone?" "If you die, I'll take one right away." "Huh?" "That's only natural."

“Oh my, how heartless!” “I’m heartless anyway—quit clinging to this heartless bastard and go find some good man to avenge your father.” Since Kihee was supposed to bring Oume tonight, Iemon had to find a way to drive out Oiwai before then. Oiwai gritted her teeth. “What heartlessness—and with such a lovely child here!”

“What’s so cute about it? If you think it’s that precious, I’ll give it to you—take it and get out.” “You unfaithful wretch—I won’t tolerate you for another moment! Get out this instant!” “What are you saying—when have I ever committed infidelity?” “Playing dumb won’t save you—you’ve been bedding that masseur!” “That’s too much—truly too much!” Oiwai broke down sobbing. Iemon suddenly remembered something.

“Even if you say that, you’ve gone so far as to become a demon.” He darted his eyes around the surroundings, found the fallen comb and picked it up. “What a fine thing—maybe I’ll take this with me.”

Oiwai clung to his hand. “Ah! That’s my mother’s keepsake comb—please, not that one!” Iemon glared sharply. “Not allowed to take it?”

“Please... not that one!” Oiwai was desperate. Iemon reluctantly threw the comb.

“Then hand over something—I suddenly need money.” Even when told to produce something that could be converted to money, all such items had already been taken away. Oiwai thought for a moment, then stood up as if remembering something.

“Then... my...”

Oiwai untied the obi, stripped down to a single undergarment, and tearfully offered the clothing before Iemon. Iemon snatched it away.

“This isn’t enough.” “Ah! The mosquito net!” Oiwai was appalled.

“If you take that mosquito net, the baby will—”

“The baby doesn’t matter. If mosquitoes bite, it’s the parent’s job to shoo them away.” Iemon briskly removed the mosquito net and left, casting a contemptuous glance at Oiwai as she wept silently.

Six

Oiwai dragged her painful body and brought out a cracked hibachi from the kitchen. Then, while setting up mosquito repellent on it, she looked at Taketsu.

“No matter how you look at it, this is too much—with all these mosquitoes!” Taketsu fidgeted while avoiding Oiwai’s ghostly, twisted face. “What a terrible thing to do—even a man like me has run out of love and hate.” “If you won’t stay with that heartless man forever, Oiwai-san, why not be with me—”

Taketsu took Oiwai’s hand and pulled her close. Oiwai was startled and swatted away his hand. “How outrageous! You—to a samurai’s wife!”

Taketsu laughed lewdly. “No matter how virtuously you conduct yourself, Lord Iemon’s heart had turned against you long ago.” “It would be best for you to heed my words now.” “No matter how my husband may be, I remain myself—defiled.” “Though I am but a woman, I am a samurai’s daughter—to even suggest such impropriety is utterly preposterous!” Oiwai suddenly seized the sword Kodaira was wearing and drew it. Taketsu panicked.

“Ah! That’s dangerous!” Taketsu lunged at Oiwai and tried to wrest the sword away. Oiwai struggled to keep hold of it, but by some twist, the sword flew from their grasp and lodged itself beneath the transom. Oiwai staggered. “L-Let go!”

Oiwai tried to rush toward the sword. Taketsu panicked. “N-now, now—please calm yourself! Everything I said earlier was a lie.” “No matter how curious I might be, with that face of yours...” “Huh? What’s wrong with my face?” “Poor thing—the medicine he made you take without knowing anything... It was no miracle cure for women’s ailments. Here, take a look at this.”

Taketsu took out a mirror from the comb box. Oiwai hurriedly positioned her hand over the mirror to see her reflection, but unable to believe it could be her own face, she looked behind her.

“Is someone there?” There was no one behind her. “Is this... me? Is this truly my face?” Oiwai trembled and began to weep. Taketsu had to tell the real truth. “He threatened and violated you when you resisted because he had to drive you out—tonight’s wedding ceremony with Kihee’s granddaughter would be inconvenient otherwise.”

When Oiwai heard this, she became like a madwoman. "There remains nothing but death for me now," she resolved firmly. "While I still breathe, I must pay my respects to Lord Kihee. Prepare the blackened teeth dye tools—quickly, quickly!"

Taketsu was trembling. "For you in your postpartum state to apply blackened teeth dye—"

“There’s no time! Quickly, quickly!” Taketsu tried desperately to restrain Oiwai as she descended into madness but found himself powerless to stop her. Taketsu reluctantly brought the blackened teeth dye tools. Oiwai applied the dye while trembling violently, then began combing her hair—but each time she ran the comb through, clumps of hair fell out, followed by thick streams of blood dripping from her scalp.

"Ah! The fresh blood dripping from the falling hair—" Staggering to her feet, she muttered, “Should I stay true to my resolve?”

Taketsu was holding the crying infant. "Hey, Lady Oiwai! Hey!"

Taketsu approached Oiwai and placed a hand on her shoulder. Oiwai's body staggered and began to collapse. There, the sword lodged in the transom began to fall—and Oiwai's throat met its blade.

"Guh... guh..."

Dull black blood stained from Oiwai’s face down her body. Taketsu shuddered violently. “T-T-Terrible! A disaster!”

At that moment, a cat appeared from nowhere. “Damn it! A cat around a corpse is bad luck!”

Taketsu chased the cat. At that very moment, a large rat bit into the cat and emerged from above the transom, immediately dropping it onto the tatami mats. Taketsu laid the infant down and ran out front. Outside the gate stood Iemon, clad in formal samurai attire. “Masseur—has it gone well?” Taketsu was in a frenzy. “Terrible, terrible, terrible! Lady Oiwai is in grave danger!” “And a huge rat—attacking the cat!”

Taketsu ran like a madman. Iemon did not understand the reason. “What’s this? What about the rat?” “He kept shouting ‘rat, rat’ as he fled—is this a bad omen?” “Then—shall I make his servant the adulterer?” Then he went inside and called out, “Oiwai! Oiwai!” At his feet, the infant began to cry. Iemon was startled. “Ah! I nearly crushed it to death!” “Where has Oiwai gone? Hey, Oiwai!”

At that moment, his large rat came running from nowhere and bit the crying infant. Iemon swiftly scooped up the infant and darted his eyes around his surroundings. There lay Oiwai’s corpse. Iemon ran up. “Ah! Oiwai’s dead here!” He found the sword and barked, “This red sardine belongs to that wretch Kohei! So that bastard killed her?” Iemon slid open one of the sliding doors. There sat Kohei still confined in his daytime clothes. Iemon yanked him out roughly, cut his bonds and tore off the gag.

“You there, Kohei! How dare you kill Oiwai!”

“Nonsense! Until just now, both my hands and mouth were bound!”

“Even so—look! Your hands are moving now!” “Out with it! Why did you kill Oiwai?”

“If you insist on saying that, then I’ll take responsibility for killing Lady Oiwai—just please tend to his Souseiki.” “You imbecile! I already pawned his Chinese medicine at the pawnshop!” “Then... that means... it’s at his pawnshop—”

As Kohei tried to flee, Iemon drew his sword and slashed at him from behind. "Oiwai's vengeance!"

There, Akiyama Chōbee and Sekiguchi Kanzō entered. Chōbee stared wide-eyed. “Mr. Tamiya, what in blazes is this?”

Iemon was hacking Kohei to pieces. “I’ve dispensed justice upon this traitor.”

Iemon then asked Chōbee and Kanzō to throw Oiwai and Kohei’s corpses into the Kanda River.

Seven Iemon opened the folding screen and tried to approach Oume. Iemon, late that night, had just performed the wedding cup ceremony because Kihee had brought Oume with him.

“Well now, Oume?” Iemon sat down by Oume’s pillow and peered at her face, which was turned downward in apparent shyness. At that, Oume— “Lord Iemon, may we prosper together.”

At that, she raised her face—but it was not Oume; it was the terrifying visage of Oiwai. "Agh!"

Iemon drew the sword at his side and slashed. The head tumbled forward along the blade—but the fallen head was Oume’s. “It was Oume after all?”

Iemon panicked and jumped into the neighboring room. There lay Kihee, sleeping while holding the infant.

“Lord Kihee, this is disastrous!”

Iemon woke Kihee. It was not Kihee but Kohei, who had bitten the infant to death and now had his mouth smeared with blood. Kohei saw Iemon. “Master, give me the medicine.” Iemon leapt up. “You wretch Kohei! How dare you kill the child!” Iemon’s sword once again struck at that neck. At the same moment, the head tumbled down—but it was indeed Kihee’s head. So this was the work of a vengeful spirit?

Around it, ghostly blue flames flickered dimly.

Iemon swung his sword wildly as he rushed toward the entrance, but the door slammed shut of its own accord, barring his escape.

Eight

The sun set beyond the flow of Onbōbori Canal, and the evening temple bell tolled mournfully. Iemon, his face hidden under a deep woven hat, lowered the two or three rods he had been carrying on his shoulder and began fishing. Beside him was Naosuke, who had become an eel catcher, smoking tobacco as he polished a tortoiseshell comb that had recently become entangled in the eel-catching tools with straw. Iemon saw this and took out tobacco, attempting to borrow a light. “May I borrow a light?”

Naosuke calmly offered the lit tobacco pipe. “Allow me to light that for you.” Naosuke peered into the hat and said, “It’s been quite some time, Mr. Iemon.”

Iemon was startled. "So you're Naosuke, then?"

“That Naosuke is now called Gonbei the eel-catcher.” As they spoke, the float began trembling. Iemon saw this and lifted his rod—a small crucian carp had bitten. “Ah, just a crucian carp?”

Meanwhile, the other float began to move. “That’s another bite!” Iemon, getting carried away, raised his voice as he reeled it in. On it was a catfish hooked, which then fell onto the grass. Iemon hurriedly grabbed a wooden grave marker that lay nearby, pressed it down, tossed the fish into the basket, and flung the grave marker aside. The wooden grave marker fell before the unconscious female beggar who had collapsed nearby. It was Oume’s mother Oyumi. Oyumi had been searching for Iemon’s whereabouts to exact revenge on him. Oyumi picked up the wooden grave marker. On it was written the secular name Tamiya Iemon. It was what Iemon’s mother had erected to deceive society for her son who had committed the grave crime of murder.

“Ah! This name inscribed below the posthumous name—the villain who killed my husband and daughter… Could he truly no longer walk this earth?”

Iemon signaled to Naosuke, who had learned of it. There, Naosuke became Oyumi's opponent. "Why would they erect a grave marker for someone still alive? It’s been exactly forty-nine days since Iemon died." Oyumi was filled with unbearable frustration. Iemon slowly got up and went over, then suddenly raised his foot and kicked Oyumi. Oyumi was sent tumbling into the river without resistance, the water crashing loudly around her. Naosuke was impressed. "So you're the villain after all."

Iemon smirked. “This too I learned from you.” At that moment, Chōbei came along masking his face and peering around, then spotted Iemon. “Mr. Tamiya, so this is where you were.” He should not have spoken the name. “Hey now, hey now.” “Ah, I see how it is. But I cannot have you getting caught up in this. I intend to go to a distant province—please provide travel funds.” “I’d act if I could, but the authorization won’t come.” “If authorization won’t come, shall I take this to court?”

“Well, that...” Iemon reluctantly handed the authorization document he had received from his mother to Chōbei and sent him away, then raised his fishing rod and began to leave. Just then, a wooden panel came floating down the stream ahead. It mysteriously stood upright, causing the straw mat draped over it to fall off. There lay Oiwai’s water-rotted corpse, reduced to mere bones. Iemon, terrified, pushed the wooden panel in front of him. The wooden panel flipped over with a sudden clatter. On the backside lay the corpse of Kobira with algae clinging to his neck.

Nine

Osode was busily working around the shikimi roots with a mountain knife in hand.

This was at the gate of Fukagawa Hōjōin Temple in Fukagawa, a place commonly known as the Triangular Estate. Osode was with Naosuke selling incense.

At the shopfront quivering under a pale winter sunset, a single garment hung on a clothesline fluttered in the wind. Beside it at the wellside sat a washbasin containing mud-caked women's clothing soaking in water—laundry that Shōshichi, clerk of the Kaneya pawnshop, had brought to be washed under the pretense of being forfeited pledges. Osode, perhaps troubled by something, stopped circling the shikimi roots and went to the washbasin. This clothing looked familiar—this was surely her sister’s.

The garment had indeed been worn by Oiwai, but since Osode didn't know of her death, she couldn't confirm this definitively. Naosuke came back to the spot. "Hey, it's getting dark. You gonna put away the dried goods or not?" When Naosuke went into the house, Osode followed after him. "The rice seller came by with rice. Told him to come back later." "I see." Then he got an idea and pulled out his comb from the tobacco pouch in the straw sack. "They might loan us something for this comb."

Osode saw that and was surprised. "Oh, that comb—where did you pick that up?" “A couple days back, I got caught in an eel trap ’neath Sarukobashi Bridge. You recognize somethin’ about it?” “If there’s truth to this—this is the comb my sister cherished as our mother’s memento. Paired with these clothes he was asked to wash for Shōshichi-san... What in creation’s happening?” “Hey now—quit spoutin’ nonsense. World’s full o’ identical trinkets.”

Naosuke then intended to head to the pawnshop. Osode clung to his hand. “Even if the clothes are different, this comb is definitely my sister’s. Please, at least spare this one thing—” “You’re bein’ a damn fool too. In the first place, you should be fulfillin’ your duty to your dead husband—” Even when pressed by Naosuke, Osode had maintained that until Yomoshichi’s killer was found, she would not become his wife. Osode eventually went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Naosuke went out to the gate during that time to head to the pawnshop. Just then, from the clothes soaking in the basin beside him, a thin, emaciated hand suddenly shot out and grabbed Naosuke’s leg. Naosuke trembled violently and dropped the comb he held. And the hand from the basin withdrew.

“That was definitely a woman’s hand.” As Naosuke stood pondering, Osode emerged carrying a meal tray and spotted the comb he had dropped. “Even though Sis said this comb was precious, you’re treating it like this?” Osode picked up the comb, yet her mind remained troubled by the rice shop matter. “It’s not for some extravagance—lend it to me, Sis.”

With that, she tried to send Naosuke to the pawnshop. At this, Naosuke— “Right then, shall I go?”

With that, he tried to take the comb from Osode. Then from the basin emerged an emaciated hand that seized the hand clutching Naosuke’s comb. “Ah!” Startled, Naosuke flung the comb away once more. But this action remained invisible to Osode. “What are you doing in such a frenzy? Where did you throw the comb?”

“It’s in the basin—there! You take the damn thing!”

Osode peered into the basin, but nothing resembling a comb was visible. Osode briefly cast her eyes toward that area, then quietly grabbed his clothes and shook them. The water in the basin had turned into bright red, fresh blood. Osode was startled. And from within it, a rat darted out, clutching his comb in its mouth. Naosuke immediately found it. “A rat! A rat!” The rat went to the Buddhist altar, placed the comb it had been holding in its mouth, and vanished.

10

Osode was shocked to hear from Taketsu the masseur that Oiwai had been killed by Iemon and thrown into the Kanda River. Moreover, upon hearing that her sister had been accused of adultery with Kodaira and that they had both been nailed to cedar doors, she could not shed tears even when she tried to cry. Naosuke comforted Osode.

“The one to hate is Iemon. Just don’t lose heart and wait for the right time—I’ll definitely take revenge for you.” Osode poured herself a drink and offered it to Naosuke. “Here, please have a drink.” Naosuke took the sake cup and had Osode pour for him. “This is quite the treat. Even so, as a woman in your position, you probably can’t help but drink—and even someone like me, an outsider.” “It’s precisely because others press upon me that a woman like me would offer you a cup.”

“I see.” “The wedding’s already been held. Once today—the hundred-day memorial for parents and husband—passes, then starting tonight…” “Then you…” “By breaking virtue to uphold virtue—that is my heart.”

The two of them had just stepped into the standing folding screen when someone began rhythmically knocking on the front door. Naosuke raised his head. “Who’s there?”

A man’s voice answered from outside. “Sorry to bother you, but I’d like a bundle of incense sticks.” Naosuke was revolted. He spat out his words. “I’m sorry, but we’re all out.” “In that case, the shikimi branches here will suffice.” “No good—that one branch won’t go cheaper than a hundred mon. Go buy it somewhere else.”

The man outside fell silent for a moment, then immediately raised his voice in haste.

“Look, look! A thief’s making off with the laundry!”

Naosuke flew to his feet and threw open the storm shutters. There stood a man. "My apologies—I must have carelessly left this behind."

As Naosuke tried to take the laundry inside, he noticed his opponent and recoiled in shock.

“A demon! A demon!” Naosuke flew into the house and slammed the storm shutters shut, holding them fast. Osode too came out in surprise. “Where? Where’s the demon?” At that moment, a man’s voice sounded from outside.

“I am not a demon. Please open this.” “If you lay eyes on me, you’ll understand.” Osode caught that voice.

“That seems like a voice I recognize.”

Naosuke waved his hand.

“Damn it, that’s the demon!” “Even so...”

Osode tilted her head as she got up, went over, and opened the storm shutters. The man outside was Yomoshichi.

“Oh! You’re Yomoshichi!” “Osode? I’ve been searching for you, but to find you in such an unexpected place—how strange.” “Compared to me, you—on that night behind Sensōji Temple, on the rice field path—fell into someone’s hands.” “That? If it’s that, then it’s Okuda Shōzaburō.” “That night, after parting with you, I met Shōzaburō and completely changed my clothes.” Looking at Naosuke, “You are the medicine seller I’ve seen around Asakusa—indeed bearing the name Mr. Naosuke.”

“Ah!” While Naosuke stood frozen in shock, Yomoshichi looked at Osode. “And why has this person come at such an hour?”

Osode was slightly troubled but noticed the cane Taketsu had left behind. “Th-that’s a masseur’s!” Osode was at a loss where to place herself when Yomoshichi—whom she had thought dead—suddenly appeared. She had yielded her body to Naosuke to have him exact vengeance for Yomoshichi, but now found herself unable to struggle free because of it. Osode finally steeled her resolve. She whispered to Naosuke.

“Once I entrusted you with a grave matter and became your wife, then as your wife, I should have Lord Yomoshichi drink sake and lead the way myself.” Thereupon, Naosuke went outside and concealed himself in the bushes.

Thereupon, Osode whispered to Yomoshichi.

“Once you’ve given them a nightcap and put them to sleep, I’ll extinguish the lantern’s light.” So Yomoshichi too went outside. Osode measured the time there and extinguished the lantern’s light. Seeing this, Naosuke with his cleaver and Yomoshichi with his sword removed entered the house and thrust through the folding screen. At the same time, a woman’s scream rang out. The two men, thinking they had achieved their objective, knocked aside the folding screen. Inside the folding screen lay Osode, drenched in blood. At that very moment, the moon cast its light. The two men exchanged looks in astonishment.

“What is this?” “What is this?”

Osode finally raised her face.

“Yomoshichi, please forgive me.” “And then—after you’ve avenged my adoptive father and sister—please seek out the brother I was separated from as a child...tell him this story.” Osode had an older brother from whom she had been separated in childhood. With labored breaths she drew a letter and umbilical cord record from her bosom—handing them to Naosuke. Naosuke stared at the cord record. There stood written: 'Former Miyasandayu’s Daughter Osode'. Naosuke gaped at this revelation. He snatched Yomoshichi’s sword lying nearby—and severed Osode’s head with one stroke. Yomoshichi stood thunderstruck.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Naosuke thudded down into a sitting position and thrust the sword into his own abdomen. “Lord Yomoshichi, please listen.” The brother whom Osode had been searching for—separated from in childhood—was Naosuke himself. Through the umbilical cord record, he learned that Osode—with whom he had just exchanged nuptial cups moments earlier—was his sister. Moreover, the man he had killed behind Sensōji Temple while mistaking him for Yomoshichi turned out to be the son of his former master. Naosuke died lamenting his own despicable heart.

一一

Iemon went hawking accompanied by Akiyama Chōbee. As the two were chasing small birds here and there, the hawk strayed, so they went chasing after it. In the sky, the moon rose, and along the roadside fireflies flitted. There stood a house with pumpkin vines crawling along its eaves, and at the entrance of the chestnut-log gate stood bamboo poles adorned with Tanabata paper strips.

Chōbee, seeing this, went to peer inside. Inside was a pavilion-style room with an engawa veranda, where a beautiful maiden in summer-weight furisode spun thread at a wheel illuminated by the bright light of a lantern placed beside her. Chōbee informed Iemon of it. “A beautiful woman is spinning a thread wheel.” “What beautiful woman?” “That is indeed so.”

“Then why don’t you lead the way and inquire about the hawk?” Thereupon Chōbee entered the house. “The hawk strayed and we’ve lost track of it—perhaps it came this way.” The hawk was perched atop the lantern. The girl calmly gazed at the hawk. “It’s here.” Chōbee stared in astonishment. “No—this is uncanny!” Iemon entered upon being informed by Chōbee and soon took out the sake gourd at his waist to drink. Iemon found himself drawn to the girl.

“What is your name?” At that moment, a single paper strip came fluttering over, blown by the wind. The girl took it, “My name is here written.” she said and presented it. On it was written a poem from the Hyakunin Isshu: “Impatient with the rapids, the river crashes against the rocks—” Iemon tilted his head. “So this is your name?”

“The rock against which [the rapids] crash—that rock is my name.” Iemon attempted to release the girl and depart. As he did, she clutched at her sleeve—but the face that turned toward him was Oiwai’s.

“Agh!” Iemon leaped up. At the same time, the hawk that Iemon had been holding transformed into a giant rat and lunged at him.

“Such relentless hatred!” Iemon drew his sword. Then, as he slashed wildly about in his frenzy, his spinning wheel transformed into a blue fireball that began whirling round and round.

一二

“Now, now, are you troubled again?” “They’re all here! They’re all here!” Iemon started and opened his eyes. Iemon, plagued by Oiwai’s vengeful spirit, had secluded himself in a hermitage cell on Snake Mountain where a monk named Jōnen was performing prayers for him.

Outside, it was snowing. Iemon lit the lantern, then went to the flowing kanjō basin by the entrance and poured water from a bucket. "For the wife who died in childbirth—at least her future…"

Then the poured water transformed into ghostly flames and blazed, and from within it appeared the figure of Oiwai holding her infant.

Startled, Iemon entered inside the hermitage cell. Inside, the paper screens he had torn apart in his earlier frenzy lay scattered in disarray. Oiwai's ghost also followed him inside. Iemon shuddered convulsively. "Oiwai, enough already—find peace and move on!"

With that, Oiwai swayed unsteadily closer and held out the infant she had been cradling before Iemon. “I thought you were dead—so you were the one who had been raising it?”

Iemon happily took the infant from Oiwai's hands. At the same time, a multitude of rats appeared. Startled, Iemon dropped the infant he had been holding. The infant landed on the tatami mats with a heavy thud. It was a stone Jizo statue. At that moment, Ouma, his mother who was beside him, let out a shriek and recoiled. Oiwai was clamping her mouth onto Ouma's whistling throat.

“Damn you!” Iemon drew his sword and ran amok through the area, but when his senses returned, he had cut down every last one of the multitude of captors who had come to seize him. Iemon ran out from there just as he was. And then, before his eyes—

“Iemon, wait!” With that shout, someone came running out. That was Yomoshichi.

“Is that you, Yomoshichi?” Iemon stiffened and assumed a fighting stance. Yomoshichi removed his sword. "For Osode’s sake—and for my sister-in-law Oiwai’s vengeance—prepare yourself!" “What?!” Iemon attempted to cut down Yomoshichi. Then, from nowhere, a multitude of rats appeared once more and clung to Iemon’s brandished sword. At that instant, Iemon dropped his sword. There, Yomoshichi— “Damn you!” With that, he brought his sword down diagonally from the shoulder. Iemon’s body, dyed crimson, collapsed onto the snow.