Pathway to Japanese Literature

One

It was on the tenth day of the ninth month in Ansei 5 [1858], at the hour of the horse, when His Holiness departed through the rear gate of New Regent Konoe-sama’s residence—guided by the elderly Lady Muraoka—that I too accompanied him.
(Thus spoke Ōtsuki Jūsuke—attendant to Gesshō, loyalist priest of Kiyomizu-dera Jōjū-in in Rakutō—as he recounted the tale.) Now, when we exited through the rear gate and looked around, there at the gate stood Lord Saigō Kichinosuke (later known as Takamori), a familiar face.

“Lord Kichinosuke, I leave everything in your hands.”

“Lady Muraoka, it’ll be fine, I promise.”

Thus did the two exchange their brief greetings. All the while His Holiness remained silent, gazing up at the moon—its brass-like hue turned sickly beneath veiling clouds—lost in contemplation. Yet when the moment of parting came at last,

"Your Holiness, may you keep well."

When Lady Muraoka said this,

“Lady Muraoka, may you too remain safe—
“…though perhaps this may be our last in this life—”

And with deeply sorrowful words, His Holiness spoke thus.
When we had passed by and looked back, Lady Muraoka was still standing in the same place, seeing us off.
After that, the three of us settled at the residence of Lord Takehara Kohee—a devout patron of His Holiness residing in Mikuratani-chō Sanjō-agaru—where we took refuge.

Then Lord Shunsai Arimura soon came to visit.

Just like Lord Kichinosuke, he was a retainer of Lord Satsuma, one of the stalwarts of the Loyalist Movement to Overthrow the Shogunate, and a comrade of Lord Kichinosuke.

“Now then—about Your Holiness’s disguise—how should we disguise you?”

Lord Kichinosuke said this and fixed his almond-shaped eyes—larger than most men’s—upon His Holiness.

Then Lord Shunsai, who stood nearby,

"A bamboo hat and ink-dyed waistcloth—how about disguising him as a beggar monk?"

With a nonchalant smile on his sharply defined face—fierce features accentuated by closely knit brows—he addressed Lord Kichinosuke thus.

“His Holiness is too distinguished for that.
He’s divinely noble through and through.”

“True enough—he’s gentle as a woman in bearing too.”

“Keeping His Holiness in his current guise as a high priest and having him ride a palanquin would be safest.”

“What if they grow suspicious along the way and demand proof of identity?”

“We’ll say he’s a monk from Satsuma—that should suffice.”

“But his speech doesn’t match that claim.”

“His Holiness has been in Kyoto since childhood—if we say he must return to his homeland, that should suffice.”

“Indeed, if we say that, even His Holiness’s Kyoto dialect won’t arouse suspicion.”
“If there are still any who dare to question it, this Arimura will cut them down.”

“Don’t spout nonsense!”

In that instant, Lord Kichinosuke rebuked Lord Shunsai with a thunderous voice:

“His Holiness Gesshō is one entrusted to me in solemn faith by Lord Konoe!
“He is my sworn brother!
“Until we secure him in safety, no violent deeds whatsoever shall occur near his person!
“What madness speaks of cutting and stabbing?!
“I’ll have no more of your aid! I’ll escort him alone!
“Away with you! Away! You—begone!”

Lord Kichinosuke—with his large frame, said to resemble a sumo wrestler’s ceremonial curtain, habitually kept relaxed with leisurely ease; his gentle face—one that endeared him even to children—perpetually wearing a peaceful smile—was indeed such a man; yet when he chanced to grow angry, whether one might say a thunderbolt had struck or a peal of thunder had roared, the spectacle proved truly fearsome.

"What on earth will happen now?" I wondered, shrinking back in fear as I watched.

But nothing came of it. When facing Lord Kichinosuke, Lord Shunsai—docile as a younger brother—spoke thus:

“This was my fault.”
“I’ll never act so recklessly again.”
“If told to leave, I cannot simply depart. Let me escort His Holiness alongside you.”

When he offered this composed apology, Lord Kichinosuke’s anger subsided.

“I may have spoken too harshly,” he said with contrition.

Throughout this exchange, His Holiness remained silent. His face—translucently pale, its elegant beauty and gentle grace more befitting a nun than a monk—held even a faint smile as he listened to their quarrel. This stemmed from his complete understanding of both Lord Kichinosuke’s and Lord Shunsai’s natures, having discerned that reconciliation follows conflict.

His Holiness was seated in a fine palanquin, and as we three escorted him out of Lord Takehara’s residence, the eastern sky began to lighten, and a somewhat chilly wind—more brisk than refreshing—blew quite strongly.

II

We walked in the following order: Lord Shunsai advanced warily about fifty meters ahead of the palanquin, Lord Kichinosuke kept close to its side, and I followed behind.
As I trailed after them, hefting up and down the cloth-wrapped bundle of monastic belongings, even through my sleep-starved eyes I could make out constable-like figures standing at street corners and intersections—though my heart fluttered anxiously, they only stood watching the palanquin pass by, none stepping forward to challenge us.
They must have been disarmed by our composed procession.

And so they finally exited the outskirts of Kyoto and approached the Takeda Highway.
Then Lord Shunsai, who had been walking ahead, quickly turned back and came,

“There’s twelve or thirteen constable-looking bastards gathered at that teahouse over there.”

he whispered to Lord Kichinosuke.

“Is that so?” said Lord Kichinosuke, and after pondering for a while, he commanded the palanquin bearers thus: “Stop this palanquin before the teahouse. Set it down right in the middle of them.”

I was also surprised, and Lord Shunsai too appeared startled, tilting his head to one side, but he did not say anything. This must have been because Lord Shunsai thought, "Lord Saigō is not one to act recklessly; he must have some plan behind this."

The teahouse in question was a roadside teahouse—the sort commonly found at the outskirts where towns meet highways.

The palanquin was set down there.

And then, suddenly, Lord Kichinosuke—

“Since I was roused so early—ha ha ha!—this drowsiness is something else! I need to slurp some bitter tea or my eyes won’t open!”

he declared in a booming voice.

Then, without missing a beat, Lord Shunsai—

“I’m sake—cold sake! If I don’t gulp this down quick, this damn fire in my gut won’t settle!”

And this too was declared in a booming voice.

About twelve or thirteen constable-like figures and five or six travelers who appeared to have set out early were jumbled together—in the earthen-floored area, at the entranceway, outside the gate—making the teahouse crowded.

The palanquin was placed at the entranceway.

As if guarding the thoroughfare, many constables had clustered at the entranceway, but when the palanquin was set down right in their midst and Lord Kichinosuke and Lord Shunsai assumed such a demeanor, not only did they harbor no suspicion—rather, appearing nonplussed, they withdrew from the palanquin.

Thereupon, we three, having set down the palanquin right there, entered the earthen floor area and took seats on the entryway step.

The woman who appeared to be the teahouse maid, having poured tea into cups and placed them on a tray, began walking toward His Holiness's palanquin, parting through the crowd as she went.

At that moment, I heard a voice.
――

“Just hand that over here, missy.…This one’s closer, see?…Why not let me take over serving for you?”

It was a beautiful, resonant voice.

Leaning against a pillar near the entrance was a beautiful woman—thirty or perhaps twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old—wearing arm covers and leggings of Kai silk, her hem tucked up with light-blue fabric. It was she who had spoken. She was slender and tall, with skin so pale it seemed translucent; her narrow eyes bore thick lashes, her features strikingly sharp—a high, thin nose that gave her a thorny impression—yet her mouth was soft and full, and when she smiled, dimples formed on both cheeks, deep enough to sink a fingertip. Such was the woman who stood there, arresting to behold.

“Then I’ll leave it to you.”

The teahouse maid repeated this as she held out the tray; then the woman received it with one hand and, parting through the crowd, made her way toward the entrance.

She approached His Holiness’s palanquin.

A vague unease gripped me, making me gasp, but seeing how Lord Kichinosuke and Lord Shunsai appeared equally unsettled, they exchanged glances. With nothing to be done, we kept our eyes fixed unwaveringly on the scene.

When she approached the palanquin, the woman seemed to say something.
Then the palanquin door opened slightly, and His Holiness's hand emerged.
He must have been attempting to take the teacup.
It was a hand of such beauty as to defy description—white, slender, soft, with fingers so elegantly shaped that even for a woman’s hand it was exceptionally rare.

And then—would you believe it?—the woman’s hand clad in Kai silk arm covers swiftly grasped His Holiness’s fingertips.

I thought "Ah—" The moment I did, Lord Kichinosuke rose to his feet.
His hand went to his sword's hilt.

III

The events that occurred next were these: His Holiness's hand being pulled; the woman swaying her hips as she leaned against the palanquin door and peered through its gap to glimpse His Holiness's face; and in that instant, a teacup tumbling from the tray to spill tea upon the ground.

Lord Kichinosuke had charged forward to the entrance.

But by then, that woman was already returning toward us, holding both teacup and tray in her hands.

“Well, seems I made quite a blunder there.”

Upon entering the earthen floor area in a rakish tone yet with a somewhat bashful air, the woman said:

"This one overturned the teacup..."
"I may be accustomed to being served, but I'm not used to doing the serving myself... Sis, why don't you take care of this?"

And I breathed a sigh of relief and let my guard down—but just then, at my side—

“Hey, how’d it go?”

A man’s voice reached my ears in a whisper, so I quietly turned my gaze in that direction.

Was there not a man of around forty in traveler’s attire standing beside the woman who had served tea to His Holiness? Clad in a raincoat, wearing a travel sword, and with both hands tucked into his sleeves—his appearance seemed to suggest either a gambler or a traveling swindler—he was a man who gave off an unpleasant air. The three-white aspect of his eyes was equally unsettling.

“The person inside the palanquin is a lady.”

This was the woman’s reply.

The one who had arranged for His Holiness to slip out of Kyoto and make his way to Satsuma was His Highness Lord Konoe. When Lord Ii assumed the office of Great Elder, they began pursuing and arresting loyalist samurai such as Lord Umeda Genjirō, Lord Ikeuchi Daigaku, and Lord Yamamoto Shintarō—showing no sign of loosening their grip—which rendered perilous the circumstances of His Holiness, who had long served as a loyalist monk mediating between court nobles and warrior houses, obtained a copy of the secret imperial decree issued from the imperial court to Mito Domain to deliver into Lord Kichinosuke’s hands, and devoted himself to national affairs. Lord Konoe, concerned by this development, had entreated Lord Kichinosuke and sought to conceal His Holiness in a secure location. Initially, they had considered Nara—where His Holiness had many acquaintances—but as the constables’ pursuit proved unexpectedly relentless, it was decided they would instead head for Satsuma.

The incident at the roadside teahouse on Takeda Highway ended without incident, and we arrived safely in Fushimi.
Then we descended the Yodo River by boat, reached Hachikenya in Osaka by evening, and took temporary lodging at the house of a man named Jūsuke, an upper attendant.
We had remained in Osaka until the 24th, but during that time came reports that Loyalist supporters—including Lord Ukai Kizaemon, his son Lord Yukichika, Lord Kobayashi Minbunosuke of the Takatsukasa family’s retinue, and that clan’s retainer Kaneda Iori—had been successively arrested by shogunate forces, with pursuit efforts against His Holiness intensifying too severely for complacency. Thus resolving we could delay no longer, that very night we determined to depart for Satsuma by boarding a *kogura* boat below the Satsuma estate at Tosa-bori and setting sail.
Our party comprised His Holiness; Lord Kichinosuke; Lord Shunsai; myself; and Lord Hōjō Umon of Satsuma Domain—five members in total—with three lords guarding the palanquin while I alone walked half a *chō* ahead to survey our surroundings as we approached the moored vessel.

It was a clear night aglow with stars, and the willows along the riverbank swayed in the breeze, their tousled boughs recalling a woman’s disheveled hem. Then from beneath a solitary willow’s shadow emerged a woman shrouded in a Kōso hood, advancing toward me with sudden purpose—

“Mr. Jūsuke, you’ve had quite the ordeal, haven’t you?” she said.

I gasped and stiffened, immediately finding myself at a loss for words.

“His Holiness’s hand is so lovely, isn’t it?”

“……”

“Escorting His Holiness with those beautiful hands—you’re going far away, aren’t you, Mr. Jūsuke?”

“……….”

“That’s why I’m saying it’s such an ordeal.”

“Women are such strange beings—they grow utterly spent over men’s most trivial matters.”
“Take how a woman might abandon her husband and flee with someone just because the back of his heel resembled cherry blossom shells. Or discard her fiancé to cling to him because his canine teeth glistened like pearls when he smiled. Women are all like that, you see… That person’s hands—so beautiful, aren’t they?”

“……”

“The 808 tanuki may be legendary, but in Shikoku there’s supposed to be something even more fearsome that’s renowned.”
“Dog God! Ah ne! Dog God!”

“……”

“But even the Dog God can’t survive these times just by performing prayers…”
“Just like the ‘dog’ in our name suggests, we can even become covert agents.”
“……The Dog God—dismissed as a mere underling—when this one becomes a covert agent, no prey will ever escape!”

IV

I stood frozen with that woman; we weren’t exchanging words at all.
As I walked toward the riverbank, she trailed behind me and started whispering.

"But you see," the woman persisted.
"When women like us turn traitor, we become twice as dangerous... Ever since I felt those exquisite hands of his—yes, this Dog God Daughter has... Never mind that. Now listen well, Mr. Jūsuke—no matter what scum gathers yonder or what drivel those boatmen spew, keep your worries at bay... And mark this—our Dog God brethren swarm not merely through Shikoku but every crevice of Kyushu."
"Be it Fukuoka or Satsuma... Farewell then, Mr. Jūsuke. Should chance allow, whisper of me to the one with those lovely hands."
"...But tell me truly—did you grasp my meaning?"
"Do you even know what manner of woman stands before you?"

“Oh, at the roadside teahouse on Takeda Highway...”
“...at the roadside teahouse on Takeda Highway...”

“Ah yes, that woman from back then.”
“……Well then, goodbye, Mr. Jūsuke.”

Having said this, the woman separated from me and hurried off ahead.

(Should I tell Lord Kichinosuke and Lord Shunsai about this?)
(Or should I keep this sealed away a while longer?) With my thoughts still unresolved, I trudged along slowly.

Then immediately, I was overtaken by the palanquin.

Whether due to the distance between us, it seemed Lord Kichinosuke and the others had not realized that woman and I were conversing; since none of them said a word about it, I too remained silent.

We proceeded forward.

Then there stood an old willow tree, casting a thick shadow across the ground, where over a dozen people were intently watching our approach.
That appeared to be constables.

“What should we do?” Lord Shunsai whispered.

“Never mind,” said Lord Kichinosuke.

“The boat’s right before our eyes.”
“If it gets troublesome, cut them down.”

“I told you not to cut them down, but...”

“It’s about timing and situation—now’s not the time. …We’ll cut through them and get His Holiness aboard the boat.”
“Once he’s aboard, he’ll be ours.”

“I do want to cut them down,” he said. “Haven’t drawn steel in ages.”

“That’s no mindset for cutting.”

“Heh. So that’s how it is.”

We reached shadows that reeked of constables.

They stirred suddenly—five, six figures lunging forward.

Then her voice sliced through the night.

“This humble one tested your vanguard with riddles.”
“Mistaken identity. Let it lie.”
“The palanquin holds nothing but a woman.”

About two shaku above the ground, a red flame—like a vermilion seal pressed by a little finger—glowed faintly, I recall. That woman was squatting down and smoking tobacco, I saw.

At last, we safely reached the shore where the ship's mooring rope was tied.

There, we took His Holiness out of the palanquin and had him board the ship first, then we followed suit and boarded as well.

“Your Holiness, please lie down aboard the ship.”

Thus spoke Lord Kichinosuke.

When His Holiness modestly lay down in the ship’s hold as instructed, Lord Kichinosuke removed his own haori and swiftly placed it over him,

“Now, boatmen! Hurry and set sail!”

“No can do. We can’t set sail.”

Suddenly, one of the boatmen said, “C’mon, hey, you guys—ain’t that right?” turning toward his companions. Then another young boatman declared, “Carrying a priest and setting sail at this ungodly hour—that’s bad luck,” striking a note of agreement as he added, “Exactly! We can’t set sail.” “Silence!” Lord Shunsai snapped, his voice sharp yet restrained. “If you keep dawdling, I won’t let that slide. Hey! Hurry up and set sail!”

Having said this, he was already placing his hand on the sword hilt.

But the boatmen grew increasingly audacious,

“Oh? Since you say you'll cut us down.”
“But we won’t be cut down, you see.”
“On water, we’ve got the advantage—let’s see whether you drawing your sword happens faster than us diving in! Let’s put it to the test—go on, try us!”

“If we jump into the water, that’ll be our real advantage—we’ll show you how quick we can capsize this boat!”

And thus, they all said in unison.

“Alright, now now—no need to say such things.”

Lord Kichinosuke said calmly and took out three or four small coins from his pocket,

“Use this to improve your mood—this is the promised immediate drinking money,” he said in a soothing manner.

Five

But despite all that careful handling, the boatmen refused to comply and,

“It’s not that we’re saying this because we want drinking money—it’s about taking a priest aboard at midnight…”

“Having a priest aboard is forbidden, you see.”

“Moreover, taking a priest aboard at midnight—”

“Because havin’ a priest aboard’s bad luck.”

And then, for some reason, they began raising their voices louder and louder, shouting “Priest! Priest!” while looking up toward the top of the bank.

Even Lord Kichinosuke, observing this situation, must have perceived the danger—he shot a glance toward Lord Shunsai and swiftly moved his hand to his sword hilt—but at that moment, a woman’s figure appeared on the bank,

“Change your tune, boatmen. You’ve got no business with those people,” came a melodious voice. “Hurry and set sail for them.”

Needless to say, it was that woman. But even after her command—

“We appreciate your kind words, Sis, but we ain’t been asked by you...”

“We’ve been commissioned by Boss Tōbei here...”

“But Sis, currently the priest...”

They protested in unison, yet the boatmen refused to comply.

“Silence!” snapped the woman in a voice frayed with irritation. “I, Otsuna, am telling you it’s fine! So set sail already…”
“But Sis, currently the priest…”
“You brats!”

At that instant, the woman’s hand rose toward her hair.

"Gyaaagh!"

It was exactly like the scream of a beast.

The boatman who had been stubbornly opposing them from the start—a fleshy man of about thirty-five or thirty-six—screamed and covered his face, but no sooner had he bent his body like a shrimp than he plunged headfirst over the gunwale into the water.
It was no mistake of mine—from the man’s left eye protruded something like a silver thread, glinting in the starlight.
A kogatana dagger? Or perhaps a silver-shafted hairpin?
To this day I remain uncertain.

“Set sail!”

“If you don’t set sail, you lot!”

“The same fate awaits! You’ll lose your lives!”

Looking, I saw Lord Kichinosuke, Lord Shunsai, and Lord Umon surrounding the boatmen with bare blades pointed at them, berating them thus.

With a lurch, the boat moved out into midstream.

When we reached the middle of Chinu Sea, His Holiness composed a waka poem and presented it to Lord Kichinosuke.

Though thickly they grow—the reeds' tangles of Naniwa Bay—still for the world shall I offer myself.

This was the waka poem he composed.
From above pressed down the oppression of Lord Ii Naosuke, Great Elder; from below rose persecutions by constables and boatmen alike—truly, His Holiness's life had been beset by obstacles at every turn.

The Kokura ship carrying us spent eight days and nights upon the sea before arriving uneventfully at Shimonoseki, where we promptly took lodgings at Satsuma's designated inn called Miura-ya.
It was the afternoon of October 1st.
The following day saw Lord Kichinosuke declare, "I must investigate the domain's affairs," before setting out for Satsuma.
Several days later, Lord Shunsai escorted His Holiness to Takezaki, where they resided temporarily at the home of their comrade Lord Shiraishi Seiichirō; then moving onward to Hakata, they concealed themselves at the estate of a loyalist named Lord Fujii Ryōsetsu.
As for himself—growing concerned over Lord Kichinosuke's delayed reply—he ultimately returned to Satsuma.

By this time, the shogunate’s pursuit of His Holiness had grown increasingly severe—constable-like figures now swarmed wherever one went, wanted notices bearing his likeness circulated through every region, and an edict had even been issued promising that those who captured and reported him would receive a reward commensurate with their demands—such was the state of affairs. Thus, even while residing in Hakata, His Holiness would conceal his whereabouts by taking refuge in places such as the villa of Takahashi Shōsuke—a chivalrous merchant in Fukuoka’s castle town—or the hermitage in Gotamma belonging to Tōjō Ō, a renowned haiku poet.

Six

Now, this was around the time when one day I left Gotamma and went on an errand to Fukuoka’s castle town. And when evening approached, thinking to return to Lord Tōjō’s hermitage, I headed in that direction and proceeded to the outskirts of the castle town. As I was exhausted from walking, I sat down on a roadside stone and spent a while in a daze. This area was sparsely populated with houses—each small and shabby in appearance—yet the house directly before my eyes alone stood grand and imposing. The encircling earthen wall was formidable, and the several buildings within it were equally stately. But I could not help finding it strange how one structure rose conspicuously higher than the others, its roof crowned with chigi finials in shrine-like construction. Moreover, the entire mansion seemed an unoccupied vacant house, its shutters and windows tightly closed—a detail that lingered uneasily in my mind. The day’s last sunlight, resplendent as vermillion silk, struck the shutters of this chigi-topped building until they appeared aflame—toward this spectacle I gazed absently while massaging my weary knees.

“Oh?”
I found myself saying.
The shutters parted slightly, and a single hand emerged from within—seeming to discard something into the garden—before withdrawing at once, whereupon the shutters snapped shut again.

(That mansion—wasn't it supposed to be vacant?) This surprise certainly struck me, but what truly made me utter "Oh?" was rather the elegant white hand that had emerged between the shutters—a slender hand with sleeves rolled up past the elbow, even exposing part of its upper arm—which seemed somehow familiar.

(That was unmistakably His Holiness's hand...)

That hand of His Holiness—neither woman’s nor man’s, indescribably beautiful and refined, divinely elegant beyond measure—even glimpsed from afar, how could I ever mistake it?

(That was unmistakably His Holiness’s hand.
...But there’s no way His Holiness could be in a place like that.)

Tormented by this doubt, I remained at a loss for some time.

Just then, from behind me, I heard the sound of someone coughing.

Turning to look, I saw a nun of about fifty years old—dressed in ink-dyed monastic robes and a black hood, her bearing noble—quietly walking while fingering her prayer beads.

“Your Reverence,” I called out.
“My apologies for the abrupt question, but whose mansion might that be over there with the earthen wall?”

Then the nun looked at me, then turned her gaze toward the mansion,

“Ah, that mansion you speak of,” she replied in a voice of serene composure, “is the residence of a most extraordinary person—one who neither associates with common folk nor permits association from them.”

“Do you mean a special person who neither associates with ordinary people nor allows association from them?”

“Well, you see, it’s like this,”
“When that person desires something and fixes their gaze upon someone who possesses it—if they relinquish it, well and good—but should they refuse, a terrible calamity shall befall them...”

“Ah, so that’s a Tottuki then.”

“Yes—in some lands they call it Tottuki, and in some places they also say Dog God.”

“Dog God⁉” I exclaimed without thinking.
“That woman was also a Dog God!”

It was because I had suddenly recalled that woman we encountered at the roadside teahouse on Takeda Highway and on the banks of Tosa-bori.

“But that mansion has been vacant for a very long time.”

When the nun said this, I turned my eyes toward her.
The nun started walking.

“But no—the shutters opened, and a beautiful hand emerged just now,” I exclaimed as I rose to my feet.

But Your Reverence said nothing and, as if she had forgotten all about me, walked off at a slightly quickened pace toward Gotamma.

Even so, I continued to gaze at the mansion before my eyes as if reluctant to leave.
Then, near the front of the earthen wall stood a sturdy main gate, and beside it was an unassuming side gate. When that side gate opened from within, a single man emerged.

(So it wasn’t vacant after all.) Thinking this, I approached the man,

“Pardon me, I have something to ask,” I called out.

“What is it?” the man said, but he stared through my face and laughed in an oddly unsettling manner.

Seven

When I saw the face of the laughing man, a chill ran through me—for this was the very man who had called out “Hey, how’d it go?” to a woman named Otsuna at that roadside teahouse on Takeda Highway.

“What is it?” the man said, his smile vanishing as he eyed me suspiciously.

“No... Oh... It’s nothing really... But seeing as you came from that mansion...”

“Is something amiss with that mansion?”

“No... Oh... It’s nothing really... I thought the mansion was vacant, but then you emerged from the side gate.”
“…and also because I saw a beautiful hand…”
“A beautiful hand?”
“What’s that?”
“From the building with chigi finials—from the second-floor shutters of that building—a beautiful and elegant hand emerged, so...”
“What? You’re saying a beautiful, refined hand emerged from the building with chigi finials?” the man exclaimed in apparent astonishment, turning to gaze at the structure. “What foolish nonsense.… You see, that’s hallowed ground—no one but a single woman can enter there.”
“Once someone enters, divine punishment— But wait, a hand emerged from there?”
“Then that must’ve been her hand—but we were just talking with that woman in the main house of the separate building until moments ago.”

The latter part he uttered almost like a soliloquy, then turned once more to gaze at the building, but—

“Ridiculous! How could such a thing be possible!”
“By the way—Oi, Jūsuke-san—find life in Gotamma interesting?”

“Huh?” I jolted, then managed, “Ah... What do you mean?”

“Is that honorable one in good health?”

“Huh? Ah... Do you mean that honorable person?”

“It’s about His Holiness—don’t play dumb.”

“…………”

“Ha ha ha! Ah, well, never mind… You’ll be seeing us soon enough.”

After tossing out these words, the man bolted toward town with lightning speed.

As I had been lost in thought along the way, by the time I reached Lord Tōjō’s hermitage, the hour was approaching first night. I attempted to pass through the small gate.

And then—what should I hear but the sound of a whistle coming from nearby?

“Oh!” I exclaimed involuntarily.

Then—dozens of shadowy figures emerged from nowhere, swarming toward the hermitage densely enclosed by hedges and plantings.

Constables! I realized in a flash.
Constables coming to seize His Holiness!

As if confirming my very thoughts,

“Constables! Constables are here!” came the flustered shout of Lord Tōjō.

What followed were sounds of doors and paper screens crashing down, the constables’ abusive shouts—their shadowy figures could be seen dashing up into the hermitage and barging into its inner chambers.
I ran in a frenzy.

But when I reached the hermitage’s veranda, there appeared—guarded by Lord Hōjō Umon brandishing a drawn sword with roars, an unfamiliar young samurai restraining constables with a sheathed longsword in his left hand, and Lord Tōjō gone pale—His Holiness in priestly robes, seemingly dragged from the inner room by the mob of constables, materializing before us in grievous disarray.

(Oh, has His Holiness finally been captured?)

And I dizzied my eyes and collapsed to my knees on the ground.

Even through my dizzied eyes, I recognized that the man gripping His Holiness’s sleeve was the same one we had encountered at the roadside teahouse on Takeda Highway—the very man I had just met moments before in front of that suspicious mansion.

What an insolent man! Without warning, he raised his hand and tore off the black headscarf His Holiness had been wearing.

“Ah!”

I was astonished, but the constables completely lost their nerve—shouting, screaming, cursing, leaping down from the tatami room into the garden.

Suddenly, laughter erupted.

Lord Hōjō Umon brandished his drawn sword overhead and laughed while leaping up.

“Bwahaha! Now you get it?!”

“Thus did I forewarn you,” continued a samurai I didn’t recognize—his hair tied in a large chonmage topknot, wearing a black formal kimono with family crests and white striped hakama trousers—in a dignified, weighty voice that carried clearly as he addressed the constables after Lord Hōjō Umon’s laughter subsided.

“A case of mistaken identity—refrain from rash actions.”
“…Hirano Jirō Kuniomi does not deal in falsehoods… His Holiness Gesshō does not reside within this hermitage.”
“…This person before you is Lady Nomura Bōtōni.”
“In Fukuoka, there exists none unfamiliar with her name—Lady Nomura Bōtōni, a paragon of female chivalry and this humble one’s esteemed companion.”
“…We—both Lady Bōtōni and myself—gathered here solely to convene a waka poetry meeting. Yet you speak of apprehending His Holiness Gesshō? What manner of lawless farce is this?”

A heavy silence fell over everything, both inside and out.

What in the world could this mean—that person whom we had believed to be His Holiness was none other than the venerable nun to whom I had inquired about something earlier in front of that suspicious mansion!

Eight

After all the constables had scrambled away from Tōjō-an in disarray, we gathered in the inner room.
Lady Nomura Bōtōni and Lord Hirano Kuniomi had come to Tōjō-an that night—being both loyalist warriors and heroines of the imperial cause—to visit His Holiness, a fellow loyalist, and discuss matters of state.
While this matter was acceptable enough, when we heard from Lord Tōjō about an utterly incomprehensible incident that had occurred, we were astonished.
The reason being that since around noon that day, His Holiness’s figure had vanished from the hermitage.

“Not to mention within the hermitage—we thoroughly searched all conceivable places outside—but he was nowhere to be found.”

Thus spoke Lord Tōjō.

Everyone remained silent, their faces showing anxiety and dread, doing nothing but sighing.

Finally I could no longer contain myself and spoke what I had been thinking.

“At the Dog God Daughter’s mansion on the castle town outskirts—it would seem His Holiness is being confined there—that is what I believe to be the case.”

Then I reported in as much detail as possible to the four individuals that a hand believed to be His Holiness’s had emerged through a gap in the shutters of one of the buildings at that mansion.
The four individuals listened in silence with expressions of half-belief—faces that seemed to say *Surely not...*—but...

“Ah, so that explains why you inquired such things of me earlier, Lord Jūsuke,” Lady Nomura Bōtōni said. “Though I find it inconceivable that His Holiness would be at a place like the Dog God Daughter’s mansion, remaining here idle in mere deliberation seems unwise... Since Lord Jūsuke has made this claim, should we not proceed there to investigate?”

“That would be most proper,” Lord Hirano Kuniomi immediately concurred.

“It would be best to investigate what is suspicious.”

“Then I shall join as well.”
Thus did Lord Hōjō Umon also declare.

Leaving only Lord Tōjō at the hermitage, we four departed from Gotan’asa and headed toward the Dog God Daughter’s mansion—this occurred not long after that. By the time we had spent a short while late into the night, we stood before the mansion.

“I’ll go first,” declared Lord Hōjō Umon as he climbed over the earthen wall and opened a small door from the inside, allowing us to enter the compound.

“Quiet!
“…There’s someone… There are people.”
“…and a large number of them at that.”

As we made our way through the bushes toward the building with chigi roof ornaments and walked a few ken, Lord Kuniomi spoke in a hushed voice and suddenly came to a halt.

“Lord Hōjō, Lord Hōjō—you shall guard Lady Nomura Bōtōni and follow after us at a leisurely pace.”
“…Jūsuke, come here. You and I shall take the lead.”

Thereupon, I proceeded ahead together with Lord Kuniomi.
Due to lack of maintenance, the bushes had grown their branches and leaves as thickly as a forest, and the weeds had stretched up to chest height; their night-dampened touch against hands and feet was indescribably unsettling.

“Jūsuke! Danger! Get down! Lie flat on the ground!”

It was after we had advanced about ten ken that Lord Kuniomi turned back and spoke to me in a hushed voice—yet with a tone as though issuing a rebuke.

I immediately pressed myself flat against the ground.

As I lay watching, two men flashed before my eyes—leaping from the shadows of trees—pouncing upon Lord Kuniomi from both sides like panthers in unmistakable assault.

What my eyes witnessed next was this: Lord Kuniomi sprang back like a swift bird and in one motion kicked upward—likely striking a vital point—as one man groaned and collapsed backward; meanwhile, the other had already seized Lord Kuniomi from behind, only to be flung off in the next instant—and as he was thrown aside, Lord Kuniomi likely delivered another vital strike—this man too fell to earth with a groan.

“Jūsuke! Come here!”

“Yes!”

“Over there!”

Beyond the grove in the far distance, firelight suddenly blazed, and we ran toward it.

A building crowned with chigi stood there, its gates thrown open from which firelight streamed; before it loomed a dozen-odd silhouettes—their forms shouting something—that came into our view.

And behind those people there was a cycad thicket like a hill; we dashed into its shadow and watched their movements, but whether because they were preoccupied with whatever was happening inside, they did not notice us.

Nine

They were part of the constables.
They were part of the constables who had earlier rushed to Tōjō-an.
And among them was that man—the one we had encountered at the Takeda Highway roadside teahouse and before this mansion’s gate, who had torn off Lady Nomura Bōtōni’s hood at Tōjō-an—and he was calling into the building.

“Otsuna! Come out!”
“Hey! Get down here!”

But from within the building there came no reply; a serene silence prevailed.

“Aren’t you coming down? If not, I’ll go up there myself!”

The man shouted again.

However, there still seemed to be no response from within the building, which remained enveloped in profound silence.

“Go, Boss! If ya let ’em get away, it’ll be trouble.”

“Sis has changed her mind, y’know.”
“...Now she’s switched sides to the enemy.”
“So Boss, storm in there an’...”

From the mouths of the gathered constables, such shouts erupted.

“I know that, but we can’t just barge in here careless-like—it’s become sacred ground now.”

“Sacred my ass! There’s no such thing!”
“Ain’t it Sis who’s been beating us to every raid, snatching away the fugitive, and hiding ’em?”
“Even if she is your mistress, Boss…”

“You bet I ain’t lettin’ ’em slip away!”

“If you keep dilly-dallyin’ like that, we ain’t lettin’ you call yourself Sanjō no Tōbei—sworn brother of Meakashi Bun’kichi!”

“Shut the hell up!” suddenly barked the man called Tōbei.
“When you lot push me this far… Otsuna! Still not comin’ down? Fine, I’ll go up myself!”
“...You lot stay put here—I’ll go in alone.”

The figure of the man called Tōbei, charging headlong from the gateway into the building, flashed into our view.
Then came a stretch of breathless silence.
But abruptly—a panicked cry erupted from Tōbei’s underlings clustered at the entrance—the constables—and then it happened: they scattered in all directions like spiderlings fleeing a crushed nest.

“Jūsuke! Let’s go—now while there’s an opening!”

As Lord Kuniomi began to run, I too followed suit and ran.

However, when we reached the entrance of the building with chigi roof ornaments, both Lord Kuniomi and I let out an “Ah!” and instinctively halted our steps.

For there lay a man’s severed arm—torn from his shoulder—rolling on the dirt floor while he still spewed blood from his mouth.

“Don’t falter! Go!”

As Lord Kuniomi shouted this, he finally drew the sword at his waist, covered himself with his left sleeve, and flew up the broad stairs—which sloped gently upward from the entryway step straight to the second floor—so frantically that I too scrambled up after him in a frenzy.
It was when we had just reached the top of the stairs that we heard it—a bizarrely unsettling female voice, hoarse and charged with demonic intensity, that could be taken as laughing, mocking, or scolding—or anything in between—

“Still not learned your lesson?!”
“You must not come here!”

I heard those words, and then something came flying.

“…………”
I couldn’t utter a sound and collapsed.
Because a severed arm—torn from its shoulder—had struck my chest.

The terror I felt when, still crumpled on the ground, I raised my face and looked into the inner room!
Oh, how can I put this into words?!
It remains something I could never forget throughout my entire life.

A gigantic white dog was clutching a human man and ripping open his throat.

Dog God Daughter Otsuna—wearing a white pilgrim’s robe like those worn by shrine maidens, her impossibly long hair spilling past her hemline and disheveled across her face and shoulders—clutched in both hands a man named Tōbei, whose arms had been torn off and who seemed to have stopped breathing. (I later learned this Tōbei was a constable who had captured Lord Umeda Genjirō and other loyalist samurai through every manner of treachery, only to be slaughtered by those same samurai in turn; he was the sworn brother of the infamous Kyoto constable Bun’kichi and had been Otsuna’s lover; moreover, he was the man who had pursued His Holiness from Kyoto to Naniwa and all the way to Kyushu.) As she clutched this Tōbei—as she turned toward us over his shoulder, her blood-drenched mouth and face glaring with fury while ripping open his throat—the sight could only be described as a white dog devouring a human man alive.

On the tatami mats—old and faded to reddish-brown, torn in places with entrails spilling out—a pool of blood had formed like an overturned sappanwood barrel.

Oh, speaking of blood—Otsuna in her pilgrim’s robe was mottled with blood from her chest down to her abdomen and even beneath the hem.
Was streaked with blood.

Even Lord Kuniomi must have been daunted by this ghastly spectacle—he kept his drawn sword raised overhead, neither advancing nor retreating, his shoulders quivering in minute tremors.
But even in such a moment, I looked around the four corners of the room, wondering where Your Holiness might be.
Oh, Your Holiness was there.

At the far rear hung faded purple curtains and gold-bordered blinds. Tiered altar shelves—their wood grain aged beyond recognition as fresh timber—stood arranged there, where countless candles burned with brush-tip flames, their light shimmering across the vast surface of a round mirror like a moonlit lake. Before this scene lay His Holiness Gesshō, prostrate on the floor, his face buried in both sleeves to shield himself from witnessing the ghastly cruelty before him.

But how could I possibly take His Holiness out from this terrifying Dog God's prayer hall?
I could do nothing but gasp for breath.

Ten

And then, at that moment, I sensed the presence of someone passing quietly yet resolutely by my side.
It was Lady Nomura Bōtōni, who had come up behind us.
(Ah! That's dangerous!) I thought in alarm, but by the time I tried to cry out, Lady Nomura Bōtōni had already moved to His Holiness's side.
What could possibly happen next?
Letting out a roar-like cry, she flung aside the corpse of the man she had been clutching, and then the Dog God Daughter ferociously lunged toward Lady Bōtōni, who was trying to seize and spirit away His Holiness—her precious prey.
But at that very moment, two people—Lord Hirano Kuniomi and Lord Hōjō Umon—stood blocking the way, brandishing unsheathed blades.

Then came Lady Nomura Bōtōni’s voice—admonishing yet pitying, but ever dignified—immediately following.

“A woman’s heart is known by a woman. Your feelings—this Bōtō understands them well.”
“However, Your Holiness Gesshō is not yours alone.”
“He belongs to all of Japan!”

Disregarding the Dog God Daughter’s wailing voice—akin to a canine’s mournful howl—in the second-floor room of the building with chigi roof ornaments, we protected His Holiness and escaped from that mansion shortly thereafter.

After returning to Tōjō-an, His Holiness said:

“When I was in the inner room around noon today, a woman’s voice that sounded so sorrowful kept calling out to me incessantly.”

“So I went there.”

“It felt like a dream… Then, when I came to my senses with a start, there I was sitting in that prayer hall.”

“What did that Otsuna—the Dog God Daughter—do to Your Holiness?”

“She merely grasped my hand firmly and kept stroking and rubbing it.”

“Your Holiness once opened the storm shutters and put out your hand, I believe?”

“Because she kept stroking and rubbing my hand so much, I grew worried it might become damaged somehow. When that girl went downstairs, I simply took the chance to check my hand in sunlight—nothing more.”

Upon reflection, His Holiness had only been saved from constables who would have captured him at Tōjō-an precisely because the Dog God Daughter lured him out using her Inugami’s mystical powers.

But as for His Holiness’s pitiable circumstances thereafter—!
How can I describe it? There remains only tears.

His Holiness departed Fukuoka for Satsuma on the first day of the eleventh month of that same year—sent off with Lady Nomura Bōtōni’s parting waka, *“Grieve not for travel robes chilled by night; for the nation’s sake, brush dew from your grassy pillow,”* accompanied by Lord Hirano Kuniomi, with myself naturally in attendance, all while fretting over Lord Kichinosuke’s delayed messages—and arrived at Satsuma’s castle town on the tenth day of that month.

And then—what do you know?—despite Lord Kichinosuke and his men’s tireless efforts, the political climate of Satsuma Domain shifted toward the pro-shogunate faction. Not only did they tactfully refuse to shelter His Holiness within their domain, but they even resorted to enacting a most insidious method called the “Eastern Send-Off,” designed to cut him down at their borderlands.

How could Lord Kichinosuke—bound by duty and tender of heart—ever abandon His Holiness to death?
The result was that on the night of November 15th, His Holiness and Lord Kichinosuke were found embracing each other like lovers before plunging into Satsuma Bay—a tragedy where Lord Kichinosuke was revived, but His Holiness passed away as he was.

“Even if I cannot serve the great lord, my body shall sink into Satsuma’s strait.”
This is the death poem.

But—ohhh!—to my mind, was it not all the result of His Holiness being dragged into that Dog God's prayer hall by the Dog God Daughter's madness-tinged love? A place where once entered, a terrible fate would inevitably descend?
No, no—absolutely not!

But still, for me…