Pathway to Japanese Literature

What an indescribably terrifying glare!

The pirate Akagoshi Kurouemon was arrested and executed in March of Kanei 2 (1749), in Osaka's Sennichimae district, where he, his younger brother Shichirobei, and the prostitute Kashiku were all beheaded simultaneously.
The accuser was palanquin operator Juuemon.
When referring to his full name, Funakoshi Juuemon was a man who had served as accountant in the household of Lord Hachisuka of Awa Domain and was an unparalleled master of swordsmanship.

The magistrate in charge was Shimazu Nagatonokami, the East Town Magistrate on monthly duty at that time, and the arresting assistant magistrate was Suzuki Riemon.

It was recorded that Kurouemon had been forty-five years old at his execution.
He had three children.
They were named Rokumatsu, Ippei, and Kume.
Ippei died young of illness while Rokumatsu committed lovers' suicide with Osono - their tale still sung today through jōruri ballads.

As for Kumes whereabouts, none among men knew.
Yet I alone know - precisely because I know that I can set down this tale.

It was in Meiwa 1 (1764), fifteen years after Kanei 2 (1749), that the pale yellow evening sun of the third day of the New Year shone upon the pine grove of a teahouse in Hagi, Settsu Province.

In the woods stood a lodge.
This was now the retirement residence of Shimazu Nagatonokami—who had withdrawn from service—and as he had been a high-ranking hatamoto, his household finances appeared more prosperous than even daimyo with 20,000 to 30,000 koku domains, making it quite an impressive lodge.

In the hall of the lodge, a New Year's banquet was now being merrily held.

“Come now—no need for restraint today! Drink without holding back! Here’s your toast—take it, take it!”

Having retired and now styled Bokuou, Shimazu Kagemoto himself was enthusiastically embodying the spirit of this hierarchy-free revelry.

“My lord speaks true,” came the honeyed interjection. “Restraint serves no purpose here... Come now, Mr. Suzuki, Mr. Komiyama—do drink deeply.” Her voice danced like poisoned silk across the gathering. “My, what’s this? Mr. Kawashima—you’ve flushed crimson as though you’ve downed a cask single-handed! Allow me to refill your cup... And you, Mr. Yamazaki? Mr. Inoue? Even our ever-valiant Mr. Matsui—how curious you show no thirst today!” A calculated pause hung like drawn steel. “Could it be my service displeases?”

“No no, nothing of the sort! Due to Lady Okiku’s skillful urging, I’ve unwittingly gone beyond my usual limit—my eyes spin, my heart pounds like a temple bell, and here I lie in torment!”

Suzuki Riemon tapped his forehead as he said this.

“Okiku, Okiku—no need to hold back. Keep pouring the sake freely.”
“What nonsense! Suzuki wouldn’t be drunk yet!”

Bokuou, in high spirits, thus egged Okiku on.

Today’s five New Year’s guests were assistant magistrates who had served under Bokuou during his active duty—a close-knit group—so as the sake flowed, they began abandoning all restraint of their own accord.
Some began stripping off their hakama to dance, while others emerged to sing in raspy voices along with Okiku’s shamisen playing.
That too seemed amusing to Bokuou, and his mood only grew merrier.

When the commotion had exhausted itself and quieted down, Bokuou suddenly spoke up.

“...You’re all over forty now, aren’t you?”
“Suzuki’s the oldest at sixty-five, I suppose.”
“...With such vigor even in old age, one can’t help but imagine how formidable you all were in your prime.”
“...That is precisely why even the great pirate Akagoshi Kurouemon of his time could not escape and was captured by you all.”
“...Ah, even now when I think back, that truly was a grand manhunt.”

“Yes, precisely so.”

Suzuki Riemon edged forward on his knees.

“Never in our wildest dreams did we imagine that the pirate Akagoshi would conceal his identity, come ashore, open a sake shop under the name Kajiya in Anjigawa Ichōme, and conduct business there—so when we learned the truth through Juuemon’s accusation, we were utterly astounded.”
“We surrounded the house tightly with over a hundred men—even night watchmen—but facing the infamous Akagoshi, who knew what schemes he might have had? Though I recount this now with ease, we truly hesitated back then.”

“That Kurouemon was drinking in the inner room, I hear.”

“Even when seeing us, he showed no surprise and kept drinking calmly.
That boldness and smug face made me flare up, so I charged right in.”

“So you alone rushed into the house and wounded Kurouemon—meaning even that formidable Kurouemon lost his freedom and was captured. Is that how it went?”

“That would indeed be the case.”

Riemon bowed his head with a hint of pride as he said this.

The beautiful Okiku, who had been listening with terrifying intensity since earlier, glared sidelong at Riemon's face at that moment.

An indescribably ferocious glare!
An indescribably murderous glare!

“There’s a white thread on your back!”

Yet of course, not a single soul thought to question the alteration in Okiku’s countenance.

Once more, talk of Akagoshi enlivened the banquet hall.
As midday waned into nightfall,
silver candles gilded the chamber; fresh delicacies graced the tables anew; the company sank deeper into revelry, oblivious to night's advance.

When the hour grew past ten, even these revelers at last seemed to weary from their clamor, and gradually the banquet hall grew quiet.

“As my residence lies somewhat distant, I must beg your pardon and take my leave now.”

Having said this, Riemon began to rise.

“Leaving already?”
“There’s no need yet.”
“Night roads care not for sunset... Though your home lies quite distant.”

“Yes, it’s in Tamatsukuri.”

“If you declare your departure, the others might feel obliged to rise in a clamorous rush all at once... Then I’ll be lonely, won’t I?” said Bokuou like a child.

Even so, Riemon alone was finally permitted to leave early.
Moreover, since Komiyama Hikoshichi also had a house in Tamatsukuri, he too ended up returning together.
The two men, seen off by Okiku, came to the entrance with unsteady steps and tried to take the raincoats that were hanging there.

“No, allow me to help you put them on.”

Okiku quickly took them instead.

“My, this is most gracious of you.”

Though they protested, having their raincoats lightly draped over their shoulders by the stunning beauty’s gentle hands didn’t seem to displease them in the least.
Outside, the servant Chuuzou stood holding a lantern with a dapper air unbefitting his station, but—

“Allow me to escort you as far as Yabutatami at Ebisu Shrine.”

“That won’t be necessary, most kind… We’ll borrow just the lantern from your master’s gracious offer.”

As he said this, Riemon reached out his hand.
Chuuzou hesitated for a moment but nevertheless handed over the lantern.
"Well then, Miss Okiku, we'll be off."

Having said that, the two men started walking.

“Take good care on your way.”

Okiku modestly pressed her palms to the floor as she saw them off, then turned her gaze and looked at Chuuzou.

And Chuuzou looked at Okiku.

The two of them exchanged meaningful smiles.

On a frosty night, Hikoshichi and Riemon walked along the frozen country road, their path ahead illuminated by a single lantern.

"We both want money, don't we?"

Riemon suddenly said such a thing.

“Hmm,” Hikoshichi laughed,
“What’s this all of a sudden?”

“A grand mansion… a beautiful concubine.
“…Lord Bokuou’s lavishness—how utterly enviable, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ah, I see! So that’s what this is about?”

Hikoshichi too seemed to have grasped the implication,

“Whether I should call it envy or petty irritation—here’s Bokuou at sixty-two, keeping a girl young enough to be his great-granddaughter by his side like that, parading her even to us.”
“…and that concubine Okiku is not only dazzlingly beautiful but clever and silver-tongued…”

"Moreover, they say she’s a concubine he took in just a month ago."
"To think he’s even thoughtful in the bedroom—Ahahaha!" Riemon let out a vulgar laugh.

The instant he did, Riemon stumbled.

"Ouch!" he cried, bending forward.
He must have struck his fingertip on something.

Komiyama Hikoshichi, who had been walking a step behind, was startled and quickly moved closer—

He let out a gasp and froze.

“This is terrible, Mr. Suzuki!”

“What’s wrong?” Riemon asked instead, straightening his back in surprise,

“Well now, what could have happened?
Are you not trembling?!”

“Y-your... b-back...”

“What is on my back?”

“W-White... a... a strand of thread...”

“Eeek!” Riemon recoiled but staggered back two or three steps.

No sooner had they seen this than a clump of white thread hung down from Hikoshichi’s back as well.

“Y-your... b-back too...”
“...It’s the same white thread after all!”

“Uwa!” When Hikoshichi heard that, he listlessly plopped down onto the ground.

A sharp battle cry rang out from the bushes to the right at that moment.

“Ugh…” A groan sounded simultaneously.
No sooner had the assailant whirled around than Suzuki Riemon collapsed onto his back.
A sharpened bamboo spear was deeply embedded in his throat up to its joint.

“Murderer!” Hikoshichi suddenly screamed and leapt up, but—

But before he could react, the same battle cry rang out again from the bushes.
……At the same time as the cry, Hikoshichi too collapsed onto the frost-covered ground.

A sharpened bamboo spear stood lodged in the throat.

Phantom bandits ran rampant in the Osaka area.

Afterward, an eerie silence reigned.

From the low, leaden sky that had hung heavy with impending tears since earlier, sleet began to patter down—but even this lasted only a fleeting moment, leaving behind an even deeper desolation once it stopped.

The bushes suddenly rustled violently.

A black figure emerged abruptly. With a hood pulled low and his hem tucked up, five or six sharpened bamboo spears were bundled and thrust near his waist. After quietly surveying his surroundings, he swiftly approached the corpse. He thrust his hand into the corpse’s pocket and pulled out the wallet with a slithering sound. He slipped it smoothly into his own pocket.

The clouds parted and stars appeared.

The starlight faintly illuminated the culprit’s face.

The culprit was the servant Chuuzou.

The two terms "white thread" and "sharpened bamboo" were code words used by a group of mysterious bandits that plagued Osaka at the time.
They also served as established symbols.

Any person marked with white thread fragments had to be killed.
――Moreover, any house marked with white thread fragments had to be attacked.

This mysterious bandit group had first emerged in Osaka city about half a year prior to these events, and once they appeared, they swiftly expanded their influence, becoming the terror of Osaka’s citizens.

According to rumors, their group was said to have numbered nearly a hundred members, and moreover—of all people—their leader was reported to be a young beautiful woman.
They committed murder without composure yet ignored townspeople and peasants alike, consistently targeting samurai while taking particular pleasure in assassinating retainers under the Town Magistrate’s command.
This too remained rumor, but it was said that this bandit group exploited Osaka’s spiderweb-like canal network, maneuvering sailing ships and skiffs to dock wherever they pleased, executed their work with lightning speed, then retreated to their vessels and vanished without trace.

Of course, the East and West Town Magistrates had ordered their assistant magistrates and constables to capture these audacious bandits in one sweeping net, exerting themselves through every conceivable means—yet the bandits always appeared more skilled, leaving the authorities perpetually one step behind.

Before long, Suzuki Riemon and Komiyama Hikoshichi were killed. That two men once hailed as renowned assistant magistrates—however aged they had become—were mercilessly slaughtered without even time to draw their swords, their throats pierced through by sharpened bamboo, was on one hand a failure of vigilance, yet on the other served as fresh proof of how formidable this bandit group truly was. Needless to say, this struck terror into both the authorities and citizens alike.

“Okiku,” Bokuou said in Okiku’s room, sipping the tea she had prepared while speaking in a casual tone.

“I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“And I feel like I’m gradually losing weight.”
“Okiku，don’t you notice?”

“Yes,” Okiku replied with a seductive smile, “On the contrary, my lord has become quite hale and hearty of late. In the past you seemed to suffer at night and could not easily fall asleep—there were even times when you stayed up till dawn—but these days you drift off so very comfortably.”

“There it is,” Bokuou said, tilting his head.

“I seem to be sleeping too much these days… Every night when I drink this single cup of weak tea you prepare, I’m suddenly drawn into deep slumber as if being dragged to hell’s depths—and once I fall into that stupor, I’ve never once awakened until dawn breaks through.”

“Oh my lord, what are you saying?”

Okiku sharply raised her willow-leaf eyebrows.

“What a cruel accusation—as if I would ever offer my lord poison! This is too cruel—far too cruel!… If you find me so suspicious, then dismiss me at once! I would not remain alive in such disgrace—I’d throw myself into the Fuchikawa River and…”

“Oh now now—what are you saying? ……Why would I ever suspect you? Dismissing you is utterly out of the question. They say in common gossip how hard it is for an old man to part with his twilight-years concubine—how could I possibly let you leave? ……Though this weak tea...”

“If it displeases you, discard it.”

Okiku turned her head away sharply.

“Ha ha ha! Angry again? You shouldn’t torment an old man so. What a waste it’d be to throw away tea you’ve prepared with such care. Very well then—I’ll drink it.” He sipped. “A fine brew indeed.”

He wiped it with his finger and set it down before him, then wiped that finger with a paper from his pocket.
And now he was assailed by sleepiness.

“Pfft.” Okiku burst out laughing.

“This slovenly sleeping face of yours. The magistrate of old would be appalled if he heard!”

Shiota Chuuzou's Personal Story

Tap tap tap tap—someone was stealthily knocking on the room’s fusuma sliding door with their fingers.

“Chuu-san? Come in.” …Okiku said while sliding open the fusuma.

The one who entered was Chuuzou.

“Boss, how’s it lookin’?”
“As things stand—the outcome’s sure to be good.”
“……Well then, let’s get movin’.”

“Aye,” he said, sitting up on one knee and puffing hard on his tobacco.

“Chuu-san, I’ve been thinkin’…
“This old codger here—snorin’ like a shark, sleepin’ so peaceful-like—fifteen years back was town magistrate himself, appointed Nagatonokami, the one who had my father Lord Akagoshi Kurouemon’s head taken at Sennichimae… Kurouemon, that they called ‘Red Lattice’ for how outlaws feared him. But look at him now? …Just a whiskery old man, no guilt nor spite left in ’im.”

“Truly, humans become utterly useless when they age.”

“Not knowing I’m an enemy aiming for his life—how dearly he’s doted on me all this time.”

“Whoa, Boss—you bragging about your sweetheart?”

“It’s not exactly that—but even now, when he still faintly senses this poison, he just laughed and drank it cheerfully when I pretended to get angry.”

“This weak tea blended with Southern Barbarian sleeping drugs and arsenic must go down smoothly indeed.”

“If we were to kill him outright—but this slow rotting of his flesh and dissolving of his bones day by day… It’s all to properly settle Father’s grudge.”

“But if we’re careless and drop our guard, we’ll get the tables turned on us.”
“…We’ve mostly finished departure preparations—supplies and crew are all set.”
“Let’s wrap up loose ends and hurry out to sea—wouldn’t that serve everyone better?”

“That is one idea, but this concubine still feels the goods are slightly insufficient.”

“This isn’t merchandise we bought—goods acquired without capital require perfect timing to cut loose.”
“While we’re sitting here talking, if even one comrade gets nabbed, we’ll all be caught like clams in the net…”

“Oh my, what in the world’s gotten into you? You’re Shiota Chuuzou too, aren’t you? Blowing such a pitiful tune for a fool, aren’t you?”

Okiku sneered mockingly.

"I can’t match you, Boss. Truth be told, I’m more cowardly than you’d think. Sure, I’ve got the title—this ‘Shiota’ name itself proves I’m yakuza through and through. My homeland’s Banshuu Akou—salt fields everywhere. My family? Top-tier salt makers there—‘yamaya’ they called us—landowners of repute. But me? Like a hawk birthing a kite, born a black sheep unlike anyone else. Ran away at fifteen—twenty years back now—thirty-five this year. Lived free, never looked homeward. Then eighteen years past… heard pirates slaughtered my kin. Only my sister Onami survived—just five then, snatched by her wet nurse—rest all dead. Shock? Grief? Can’t undo what’s done. Sank deeper into vice—proper night worker now. But even a rotten soul can’t cut sibling bonds. All these years searching for Onami—right arm birthmark as proof—but no trace… Luck’s run dry or she’s gone. Haunts me still."
…He’d wasted precious time on this trifling tale.
"Come on, Boss—let’s move. The crew must be waiting."

The two slipped smoothly out of the room.

Afterwards, only Bokuou’s peaceful breathing could be heard.

The Bandits’ Nocturnal Deeds

Over twenty days had passed since these events occurred.

So it was that the season of night cherry blossoms arrived.

There, along the desolate banks of the Kizugawa River, the glistening twentieth-night moon of spring hung over the treetops of cherry trees lining the shore in full bloom, casting a solitary shadow upon the hazy, mist-veiled river waters.

With a pattering of footsteps, a young woman approached. Her attire marked her unmistakably as a night prostitute, and she appeared to be in some haste.

"Where in the world could he have gone? I chased him all the way here, only to lose sight of him now—all that kindness would go to waste. But then again, downstream from here lies nothing but desolate places with no houses—terrifying for a woman alone."

Just then, in a young woman's voice—

A voice cried, “Ah!”

Startled, the night prostitute stared intently in the direction from which the voice had come.
Even to night-adjusted eyes resplendent in her long-sleeved kimono, a young girl came running upstream with her shins exposed—

“Help!” she cried, desperately clinging to the night prostitute.
She firmly held her just as she was,
“Upon seeing such a lovely young lady—what are you doing in a place like this at such a late hour?”
“Yes,” she replied, but the girl—perhaps so terrified her soul had left her body—continued to shudder violently as she...
“Yes, I am from Kyōbashi. After being kidnapped by villains and pinned down among the reeds where they tried to violate me, I somehow managed to slip away—as if in a dream or reality—and fled all the way here.”
“They might be chasing after me even now—please save me!”

“Oh, how dreadful for you.”

“No, no—once I’ve helped you like this, even if villains come chasing after us, I would never hand you over.”
“You needn’t worry about that.”

“Yes, thank you very much.”

Though the girl said this, she gazed curiously at the night prostitute, and—

“If I may observe, you too are still a young lady—what brings you out at such a late hour?”

“Ah, that matter… How should I put this…”

She hid her face with her sleeve, but

“Coming out to such lonely places to attract clients is my business… I am a night prostitute.” She paused at the girl’s widened eyes. “—You look quite taken aback.”
“You needn’t worry about that.”
“My heart’s more honest than you’d expect, you know.”
“…Truth is, when I first took on a client at Naniwa Sakuragawa—seeing my greenhorn manner—he actually scolded me for being reckless, gave me just one shu coin, and after we parted… when I checked the road… there lay a leather wallet containing a fortune…”

“Oh! Had it fallen there?”
“If you look inside, it’s two hundred ryo.”

“Huh? Two hundred ryo? Whoa, that’s a fortune!”

“Yes, it’s indeed a fortune. I immediately gave chase and ran all the way here, but…”

“Did you find him? The owner?”

“No, I’ve lost track of where he went.”

“Then the wallet remains exactly as it was…?”

“It remains safely within my bosom indeed.”

“Well now, that’s quite fortunate! Let me take care of that for you.”

When she forcefully extended her arm, she thrust it into the night prostitute’s bosom.

Before she could even cry out “Ah!”, the wallet was pulled out with a slithering sound.

“Then you’re a thief!”

“Only now you realize?! You may not think it to look at me, but I’m the daughter of Akagoshi Kurouemon, mastermind of the female pirates!”

“Thief!”
“Thief!” screamed the night prostitute.
“You meddlesome wench!” she lunged.
A loud splash.
A sudden plume of water sprayed up.
The night prostitute was thrown into the Kizugawa River.
At that moment，a black figure came running from downstream，but—

“Hey, isn’t that the Boss over there?”

As he drew near, he called out.

“Ah, Chuu-san? What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve had one hell of a time.”

“For someone sharp-eyed as you to get into trouble—how amusing. What made you lose your nerve?”

“Well—at Nakanoshima’s storehouse front, I cut down some old samurai and took his stuff, but then dropped the damn thing around Sakuragawa’s streets. Got myself into a worthless mess.”

Hearing this, Okiku snorted,

"The money you dropped—was it two hundred ryo, huh?"

"Oh, exactly two hundred ryo…"

“Still in the leather wallet?”

“This is strange. This is bizarre!”

“It’s fine to buy women, but you’d best steer clear of night prostitutes.”

“…………”

“What—this trivial money of yours?”
“What a pointless killing you did... Here, I’ll return it.”
“Take this.”

“My Lord, let’s fish tonight. The tide’s right—I can tell!”

The oar creaked as the fisherman rowed vigorously, his voice booming through the night air.

“Oh! We might make a fine catch,”
“That would be welcome indeed! I want to fish until our nets overflow.”

From inside the boat, the old samurai stroked his beard and said calmly.
That was Shimazu Bokuou.

"My Lord, they say your humors are out of balance."

"I haven't been well at all."

"It's because you keep gathering young women about you and show such disregard for your health."

“Ha ha ha! Well, well—this is unexpected.
“That’s rather harsh criticism. Though I must concede there’s truth in it.”
“Truth be told, I’d been considering that myself.”
“It seems I haven’t been getting enough exercise of late.”
“Which is why I took up casting fishing nets, you see.”

"Casting nets is splendid indeed."
"It'll make for good exercise."
…Oh! We’re already at the Kizugawa entrance.
We should cast the net soon.
Ah, damn it!
"What is this?!"

“What’s wrong?” Bokuou raised himself on one knee.

“A visitor! It’s a waterlogged corpse!”

Mysterious Encounter

“What? A drowned corpse?”
“Pull that up!”

Bokuou barked his command.
Then he himself helped haul up the young woman’s corpse.

“We’re done fishing.
Row the boat ashore immediately!”

“Right away, right away!”

The fisherman, thoroughly panicked, rowed wildly without direction.

Bokuou pressed one hand firmly against the woman’s epigastrium to examine her, but

“Hmm, good—she has body heat,”
“If treated, she would likely survive.”
It would be cruel to kill such a young village girl.
“Old man, row faster!”

“Right away, right away!”

The boat sped arrow-like across the dark sea toward land.

It was the following day.

While sweeping fallen petals, Chuuzou nonchalantly approached the pavilion.
Inside the pavilion sat Okiku.
She gazed vacantly about her surroundings with no particular focus.

“Boss, something strange’s happened.”

Chuuzou whispered stealthily.

"The woman from last night didn’t die, and now she’s coming here after the master saved her life—what the hell is this?"

“Even Buddha wouldn’t know, they say… You’re still fine with that, aren’t you?”
“Try putting yourself in my place.”
“I truly couldn’t bear it anymore.”
“Anyway, I definitely kicked that woman into the river, you know.”
“If this gets exposed to the master, our true identities will come out naturally, and we’ll have to expose our heads atop a three-foot-high tree.”

“Boss, let’s get outta here.”
“To flee is to win.”

“True, running away means victory—but to flee while being pursued instead of avenging my parent’s enemy... It’s so infuriating I can hardly bear it.”

“Even if we say that, sitting here doing nothing will set our storehouse ablaze in no time.”

“Anyway, let’s watch things a bit longer. Though I can’t go myself.”

“Oh? So you’re ordering me to keep observing?”
“I must say, that leisurely attitude of yours weighs heavy on my mind.”
“Wouldn’t charging ahead as we are prove safer in the end?”

Okiku did not reply.

The sun gradually darkened.

After these events, over twenty days passed.

The cherry blossoms, said to scatter within three days unseen, had fallen without trace, and memories of times past were recalled—the season of kerria flowers had arrived.

Around this time, Tsujigimi’s Osode—rescued from drowning—had regained her health. Following Bokuou’s benevolent suggestion, she washed her hands of her sordid trade and began working as a maid both to repay him and to act as a substitute for Okiku, who claimed illness and secluded herself in the detached quarters without meeting anyone. Now she had even come to assist with Bokuou’s personal affairs.

It was at the round window beneath the sunlit detached quarters that Osode and Chuuzou met.

“Oh, Chuu-san, it’s lovely weather today.”

“Yeah, it’s damn nice weather.”
“Exactly—it’s practically summer now.”

Having said that, Chuuzou tried to walk past.

“Hey, Chuu-san, wait a moment.
“There’s no need to run away like that.”

“Well, I’m not running away or anything, but as the saying goes, ‘Men and women past seven do not share seats.’ Especially since our master here is terribly strict about propriety.”

“But you know, Chuu-san, there’s nothing wrong with servants like us having a little chat while standing. ……By the way, I have just one thing I want to ask.”

“What in blazes is this about?”

Reluctantly, Chuuzou spoke up.

“Nothing special really—but about twenty days back, deep in the night... you didn’t happen to be around Osaka’s Naniwa Sakura River area, did you?”

That’s exactly why you’re here now.
Though this thought crossed Chuuzou’s mind, he betrayed no hint of it.

“Nah, wasn’t me.
Never went through there.”

“Even so, that customer looked just like your spitting image.”

“In the dark, from afar, or under an umbrella—even strangers can share resemblances.”

“So it really was a case of mistaken identity after all?”

Osode pondered intently but,

“I see—it must indeed be a case of mistaken identity. If you were that customer from back then, the moment you saw my face, you’d have immediately asked about the money you forgot to take, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh? So that bastard forgot his wallet or something?!”

Feigning ignorance, Chuuzou asked.

“And that wallet containing two hundred ryō—a huge sum—was yours, wasn’t it?”

“Well, well—the world’s got no shortage of bastards skilled at playing dumb.”

He lightly tapped his own forehead,

“Bought a night prostitute, dropped his wallet, and had it snatched by the Boss...”

“Ahem.” At that moment, a cough was heard from inside the round window.
Noticing this, Chuuzou gave a bitter smile.

“What? I just said your former self doesn’t look anything like some underworld Boss.”

By the Three Treasures!
Cornered!

“Would that be referring to my former self?”

Osode suddenly blinked her eyes,

"I may have been a lowly night prostitute, but I was never one at heart."

"That goes without saying. No one starts in the night prostitute business from the moment they’re born crying ‘Waaah!’"

"I was born in Banshū Akō."
"The household was a salt merchant."

“What? A salt merchant from Akō?”

"Hmm, this isn't something I can brush aside."
"By the way—what was your family's trade name?"

Chuuzou abruptly adopted a solemn expression.

“Yes, it was called Yamaya.”

“Pfft!” Startled, Chuuzou stared intently at Osode’s face.

“Then could your real name be…”

“Yes—are you asking about my real name?
“My real name is Onami.”

“Hmm—Onami!
“Now then... By any chance”—he leaned closer—“did you have a birthmark resembling a crab on your right arm?”

“How do you know such things in such detail—”

With a puzzled look, Osode rolled up her sleeve forcefully as she spoke.
A crab-shaped birthmark vividly visible on her plump, white upper arm.

The moment Chuuzou staggered back with a startled “Ah!”, a sound came from the round window’s shoji—a white object whizzed through the air.
It pierced Osode’s collar.
A cotton-sewing needle with a white thread attached!
It was an order to kill Osode.
It must have been Kurouemon’s daughter Okiku who threw it from inside the round window.

The comrades' code weighed heavier than mountains.
The leader's command stood firmer than righteousness.
Even were she his sister, with the white thread's signal given, he had to kill her.

By the Three Treasures! Cornered!

Crying inwardly, the moment he drew the dagger he had been keeping hidden,

"Osode! Osode!" came Bokuou's voice as he stood on the main house's veranda beckoning.

"Yes, coming right away," she said, the white thread still attached to her back, as Osode hurried off with clattering steps.

As Chuuzou—having calmed himself—let out a sigh of relief, the round window slid smoothly open from within.

“Hey, Chuuzou!” came Okiku’s voice.

Silently, Chuuzou raised his eyes.

“The wheel of karma turns—what a predicament this has become.
Hohohoho!” she laughed menacingly.

Yet Chuuzou remained silent.

“Had I known she was your sister, I wouldn’t have thrown her into the river.
So to speak, that makes me the enemy of your sister.
In contrast, that Bokuou is your sister’s benefactor.
This benefactor Bokuou you speak of—I’m toying with and killing him as my father’s enemy… No need for hesitation—speak plainly!
Will you follow me or Bokuou?
I shall count to ten.
Use that time to decide.
One, two, three, four.”

“Boss,” Chuuzou said coldly.

“No need to keep counting.”
“The resolve was settled long ago.”
“Villains have no mercy.”
“The moment you drown in familial love—”
“You can’t remain a thief for even an instant.”
“Would you betray your Boss *now*?”

“Ah! That’s precisely why you’re my right hand.”
“I’ll commend your boldness…”
“As proof you won’t turn traitor—”
“Kill Osode tonight!”

“What?!”
“An innocent sister⁉”

“I’ll expose Bokuou too.”

“That Bokuou is your enemy.
I know you mean to expose him, but my sister bears neither crime nor blame.”

“Then you refuse?”

Okiku’s eyebrows shot up sharply.

"…………"

Chuuzou could only clench his teeth.

“Enough,” Okiku said coldly, shutting the shoji tight.

“Boss!” Chuuzou called out. The interior beyond the round window remained silent.

“Mm,” Chuuzou nodded.

“Boss! Boss! Let’s finish this!”

“When the midnight temple bell tolls...”

From beyond the round window, Okiku spoke.

“When the midnight temple bell tolls...”

Chuuzou traced those words.

“I shall play the shamisen here.
“That will be the signal.
“You must do it without fail.”

Resentment runs deep—the Realm of Beasts.

Eventually, the sun set and night fell.

The night deepened profoundly.

Bokuou’s room was quiet—Osode and Bokuou were now conversing calmly.

“Now then, Osode,” Bokuou solemnly said in a serious tone.

“When I rescued you from drowning and brought you into this house—secretly observing your condition—your conduct was so proper one would never suspect your past as a night prostitute.”

“Well, I had found it strange, but your story just now has made your background clear to me.”

“When it came to the Yamaya of Harima Akō, theirs was a distinguished salt manufacturing business renowned even in Osaka.”

“Being a daughter of that house, it stands to reason your manners would be excellent.”

“They say upbringing trumps lineage, but without good lineage, refinement inevitably falters somewhere… Now, I have a question for you.”

“Eighteen years ago, pirates suddenly attacked your family home, massacred your entire household, and stole all your possessions—yet it seems you remain unaware of that pirate leader’s name.”

"Yes," Osode replied tearfully.

“I had only heard that a fearsome pirate came attacking from the sea one night and cruelly destroyed my family—I was but five years old at the time, fled to the foothills in my wet nurse’s arms, and was raised at her family home where I lived until the spring of my fifteenth year. But after she fell ill and died, sorrows piled day upon day until I sank so low as to become a night prostitute among outcasts—yet still I know not that pirate’s name, to my lasting regret.”

"I had surmised as much... I shall tell you who that pirate is."

"Eh?" Osode gasped.

"Oh! Then does My Lord know it?"

“Ah! I know.”

Bokuou stroked his white beard,

“I learned it firsthand—from the pirate himself.”

Bokuou lightly closed his eyes as if trying to recall something from the distant past.

“At that time, I served in office.”
“I took the name Nagatonokami and served as Osaka Town Magistrate.”
“Around that very time, I captured the great pirate Akagoshi Kurouemon of the Seto Inland Sea and had his head displayed at Sennichimae’s execution grounds.”
“That Akagoshi Kurouemon is none other than your parents’ killer—the enemy of your entire family.”

Abruptly, Bokuou stopped speaking. Then he listened intently. The creak of footsteps in the corridor had reached his ears.

It seemed someone was eavesdropping.

“Who goes there?” Bokuou called out.

However, there was no one to answer.

Just then, from a nearby temple, the sound of a bell being struck boomed out, trailing off into the night.

“Oh, it’s already midnight,” he counted on his fingers.

At that moment, the sound of a shamisen came from the detached room in the garden.
What song was that? It seemed to be an Edo ballad.

〽When I truly think of it—yesterday and today

………

It was Okiku's voice.

"She's been avoiding people and keeping secluded, but tonight she seems in good spirits—singing like that."

Bokuou muttered cheerfully.

There was a creaking sound.

"Osode, go check that out!"

“Yes,” she said, standing up and turning sharply toward the corridor.
Bokuou noticed the figure from behind.
“Oh! The white thread!” he exclaimed.
At that moment came a sharp cry—“Hah!”
The sharpened bamboo piercing through the shoji screen impaled Osode’s throat.
In one swift motion, he grasped his sword.
“Impostor!” Bokuou leapt up.
“Agh!” came a pained cry.
Following this echoed a guttural “Ugh…” through the corridor.
With a swift motion, Bokuou slid open the shoji screen.
There before his eyes lay Chuuzou writhing on the corridor floor.
He had driven a sharpened bamboo through his own throat with such force that it tore out the back.
In one hand he clutched an unsealed document.
“To My Lord,” written in blood.

Bokuou promptly picked up the lantern and began reading by its light.

The following was written.

I am a pirate.
I am Umijū no Chuuzou: the foremost disciple of Lady Okiku—the pirate Akagoshi Kurouemon’s daughter, whose true name is Okume though now called Okiku, that is to say, Your Lordship’s cherished concubine.
To take Your Lordship’s life, Lady Okiku and I entered this mansion together and have been biding our time.
Yet I was not born to piracy—my true home lies with the Yamaya salt merchant in Banshū Akō Castle Town.……

“What?” Bokuou exclaimed.

“If he’s Yamaya’s son, then he and Osode are siblings.”
“To kill one’s own sister—how inconceivable!”
“Wait—let me read further—”

Amidst this peril—the shamisen’s notes

――The letter's characters still continued on.

“...Though unaware at the time, forming a sibling bond amounts to bestial depravity."
“Neither of us could continue living—and with our leader’s order besides—tonight I covertly slew my sister.……”

Having read thus far, Bokuou finally appeared to comprehend the meaning and tightly rolled up the letter.
Then he moved to Osode’s side and gently cradled her body.

Her breath had already ceased.

Bokuou lifted Chuuzou’s form.

Then, Chuuzou opened his eyes.

“Chuuzou,” Bokuou called in a hushed voice near his ear.

“I understand your circumstances—a pitiable fate indeed.
“I bear no grudge over your attempt on Bokuou’s life.”

Osode died.
"Perish as well."

"Ah... I am... deeply grateful..."

"Yet one matter defies comprehension—the Akagoshi clan that destroyed Yamaya stood as your sworn enemy."
"Why then did you join that Akagoshi gang?"

"...'What the eye sees not, the heart grieves not'—this truth now pierces me."
"Though unknowing, to have served beneath the daughter of my family's destroyer until this day fills me with utmost remorse."

"......"

“It was through Your Lordship’s account—the one you shared with my sister Osode—that I first came to learn of this.”

At this moment, from far out at sea, what seemed to be the sound of a conch shell horn being blown pierced through the night air, ominously clear as if one could grasp it.

Meanwhile, in the detached room here, Okiku was playing the shamisen.

And then, from far out at sea, the sound of a conch shell horn resounded.

With a startled "Ah!", she stopped her playing and swiftly stood up.

Bwoooom... bwoooom... bo, bo, bwoooom...

That was unmistakably a signal from comrades—a conch horn blast alerting to an emergency: an enemy attack.

"So—it appears the Kegerimaru," she thought, "which we had disguised as a merchant vessel and anchored off Sumiyoshi’s coast, has now been surrounded by the authorities. I can’t just sit here."

She kicked aside her robe and clattered out onto the veranda—but through the gap of the suddenly opened shutters, a jitte was thrust out without warning!

“Damn it all!” Okiku closed the storm shutters and firmly lowered the threshold into place. Then, stealthily concealing her footsteps, she approached the round window.

As she slid open the paper door a crack—

“Official business!” came the sharp voice of an officer.

“It’s hopeless.”
“They’ve taken full measures.”

When Okiku returned to the room, she sat with composed demeanor and once again started playing the shamisen.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of knocking could be heard from the direction of the entrance.

Bokuou laid Chuuzou's corpse down beside Osode and went out to the entrance himself.

“How many are present?” he inquired in a hushed tone.

“I am Honjou Shikajuurou, an assistant magistrate attached to the West Town Magistrate’s Office. We have come pressing at this late hour to receive my lord’s instructions. Open this door.”

“What tremendous effort you’ve gone through. I am none other than Bokuou himself.”

With these words, he opened the door.

"Come this way," he guided them himself, showing them into the room beside the entrance.

"What is the nature of your business?" asked Bokuou.

"Well," Honjou Shikajuurou said, lowering his voice,

"We have discovered a pirate vessel off Sumiyoshi's coast."

Having said this, he observed Bokuou’s demeanor.

“What? You’ve found a pirate vessel off Sumiyoshi’s coast?”
“That is a splendid achievement indeed.”
“And of course you have seized the pirate vessel?”

“Well…” Honjou Shikajuurou said awkwardly.

“We let them escape.”

“What? You let them escape?”
“You claim you let them escape?”
“Isn’t this the height of negligence?”

Shimazu Bokuou sneered while stroking his white beard as he spoke.

“However,” Shikajuurou said confidently,
“Though we did let the pirate ship escape, having apprehended two or three key pirates—if we interrogate them thoroughly—their whereabouts will surely become known.”
“There is no need to worry about this point.”

“Is that so?” Bokuou said coldly,

“And might I inquire what official matter brings you gracing my humble abode?”

“Indeed,” Shikajuurou said, though he seemed reluctant to continue and remained silent for a while, staring downward.

“Though this may seem abrupt—might there perchance be someone named Okiku among your mansion’s servants?”

“Okiku?”
“Okiku?”
“Indeed she does.”

“The truth is,” Shikajuurou edged forward on his knees,
“According to reliable testimony obtained from captured pirates, that woman is indeed the leader of the pirate vessel.”

“Ah. I see.”
“That would indeed be the case.”

Bokuou remained perfectly composed,

“So that brings you here to investigate?”

“Yes, we’ve cornered them.”

“Okiku serves as my concubine.”

“Ah, so matters stand thus.”

This time, on the contrary, it was Shikajuurou who remained completely unperturbed as he spoke.

The Whereabouts of Kegemaru

“Since you claim to have driven them into a corner, I presume you’ve stationed officers around every side of the mansion?”

Bokuou asked probingly.

“As you command,”
“I must apologize for the great rudeness, but we have intruded even into your garden and stationed officers at every entrance and exit of the detached room.”

“Well, that is a splendid achievement indeed.”
“Okiku is indeed there.”

“Ah, so that is how it stands.”

“By the way,” Bokuou adjusted his posture,
“Okiku is my concubine.”
“A woman I’ve shown no mercy to day after day.”
“As I find it most pitiful to simply watch in silence as she suffers your interrogation and endures the shame of bondage, I shall personally impress upon her the gravity of her situation and have her surrender—pray do not take offense at this arrangement.”

“Well…” he said with a bitter expression.

“It seems you do not trust Lord Bokuou.”

“That’s… rather complicated…”

“I was once a town magistrate.”

“I am well aware.”

“Then grant me your trust.”

“……”

“Do you refuse me?” he rebuked.

“In that case, very well,” Shikajuurou said.
Of course, he had no choice but to say it.

“Oh! You’ll entrust this to me then.
“I am deeply honored. Deeply honored indeed.”

Abruptly, Bokuou stood up and withdrew into the inner room.

Shikajuurou also stood up and went around from the entrance to the rear.

Surrounding the detached room in a circle, a mass of black-clad officers had gathered.
Moreover, from inside the room, the tranquil sound of a shamisen could be heard.

Then, from the main house, Bokuou's figure appeared along the stepping stones.

Bokuou knocked on the shutters—knock knock.

"Okiku, it's me. Open the shutters."

The shamisen's notes abruptly ceased, replaced by the rustle of silk.
Then, the shutters were quietly slid open with a swish, and the lamplight shot into the garden.

Abruptly, Bokuou stepped inside.
Once again, the shutters were closed from within, and all fell deathly quiet.

Honjou Shikajuurou pricked up his ears and observed the state of the household, but no sound could be heard.

He tilted his head slightly and muttered, "Hmm..."
At that moment, suddenly from inside the house came a woman's scream—"Ah!"—followed by the heavy thud of something falling onto the tatami mats.

Shikajuurou groaned, “Damn it!” just as the shutters were thrown open from within.

It was Bokuou who stood there.

“Mr. Honjou! Mr. Honjou!”

With a “Ha!”, Shikajuurou stepped forward in quick succession.

“I attempted to make her comprehend the inevitable consequences and surrender herself, but alas—a woman’s resolve proved fragile. When she suddenly took her own life, I had no choice but to strike off her head.”
“Now then, pray receive the severed head.”

Several days after these events, on a certain day, a single mother ship was sailing majestically through the Seto Inland Sea. Painted on the bow were three characters—those formed the name "Kegatamaru."

Now on the deck stood a handsome man wearing haramaki armor and a battle surcoat, gazing pensively at the western sky where the sunset's afterglow outshone even rainbows—this was none other than Akagoshi Kurouemon's daughter: Okiku, whose true name was Okume.

The ship carried countless rare treasures and noble fabrics.
This made the vessel sit low in the water, moving sluggishly through the waves.

It sailed briskly toward Hong Kong harbor in China.
There she would conduct a lucrative trading enterprise.

But how could Akagoshi’s daughter—who should have died when her head was struck off—still be alive?

It was because a counterfeit head had been used.
—That was Osode’s head.

Despite her having aimed for his life—going so far as to employ the counterfeit head scheme—why had Bokuou saved Akagoshi’s daughter Okume?

The first was because he had loved Okume, and the second was because he had been moved by the fortitude she showed as a woman devoted to revenge.

And so, from that time onward, Okume cleanly abandoned her pirate life and transformed at once into a respectable trader.