Pathway to Japanese Literature

Being the eldest in the group, Mr. K knew many Edo-period supernatural tales and proceeded to tell five or six of them in quick succession.
From among these, I selected three particularly unusual ones and present them below.

I. The New Peony Lantern

While Santō Kyōden’s Uki Botan Zenden and San'yūtei Enchō’s Kaidan Botan Dōrō—both adaptations of "The Peony Lantern" from Jiandeng Xinhua—have achieved considerable renown, there exists another tale passed down that diverges slightly from these works.

It was the first year of Kaei.
The wife of Kamedaya, an oil shop in Yotsuya Shiomachi, passed through Kappazaka slope in Ichigaya with her apprentice named Kumakichi.
This occurred near four-and-a-half in the night (eleven o'clock) on July twelfth. Though a small herb market had been held that evening for the samurai residences and merchant shops in the area, since this was the Yamanote district, all those vendors closed their stalls and departed at the four strikes of Gekkeiji Temple’s bell. Along the roadside now lay scattered unsold herb leaves.

“They didn’t even bother to clean up properly.”

While saying this, the wife proceeded along the dark night road guided by the lantern light she had made the apprentice carry.
As for why this merchant household's wife walked through such lonely late-night streets—it was due to bereavement among relatives, her being on the return path from offering condolences.
Though normally requiring a full wake observance, with Obon preparations keeping the shop busy, they had conducted what could be termed a half-wake before departing the residence just past four in the night.
Under a moonless dark sky where the early autumn midnight wind's piercing chill seeped into her skin, the wife hurried along while clutching together the sleeves of her thin kimono.

Even the aftermath of the herb market, which until an hour or half-hour prior had been bustling appropriately for the area, had grown so quiet that not a soul passed through.
As the wife had said, the market vendors seemed not to have cleaned up properly at all—withered sage and torn lotus leaves lay scattered about in an unsightly mess.
Corn husks and watermelon rinds lay scattered about as well.
Pushing through this chaotic scene, they quickened their pace when they spotted the silhouette of a Bon lantern three or four yards ahead.
It was an ordinary white kiriko lantern of common shape, nothing particularly strange about it. Yet what drew their attention was how it appeared to be placed almost exactly in the middle of the road, right there on the bare ground.

“Kumakichi.”
“Look.”
“What’s wrong with the lantern?”
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” the wife whispered.

The apprentice also stopped.

“I wonder if someone dropped it?”

There were all sorts of lost items one might drop, but leaving a kiriko lantern right in the middle of the road seemed rather odd, the wife thought.
As the apprentice held up the lantern he was carrying to get a clear look at its true nature, the lantern—which had until then appeared white—gradually turned pale red.
It seemed as though a light had been lit within it.
And then, swaying its white tail lightly in the night breeze, it seemed to float up from the ground.
The wife felt as though doused with cold water and instinctively grabbed the apprentice’s hand tightly.

“Hey, you,” the wife whispered. “What’s happening here, don’t you think?”

“What’s happening?” Kumakichi echoed.

As Kumakichi held his breath and stared fixedly at the suspicious kiriko lantern’s shadow, it refused to rise higher. It hovered no more than three or four feet above the ground, undulating up and down—just when they thought it was moving forward, it would drift back again. At first glance, one might have mistaken it for debris tossed by the wind, but something like a Bon lantern could never dance through the air on mere breezes. What proved most unsettling was its faint, unnatural glow. When the wife imagined some spirit might have taken up residence within that lantern, her unease deepened into visceral dread.

It was the night of the Obon herb market, and the hour had grown late.
Moreover, given that they were returning from having attended the wake before the new Buddhist altar, the wife found it all the more unnerving.
The shops on both sides had all lowered their heavy shutters, leaving nowhere to take shelter should danger arise.
She stood frozen there.

“Could it be a ghost fire?” she whispered again.

“That could be...” Kumakichi murmured thoughtfully.

“Perhaps we should turn back after all.”

“Are we going back?”

“But you—it’s too creepy to go on like this, can we?”

As they continued this back-and-forth, the lantern’s light dimmed as though extinguished. No sooner had this happened than it flew off unsteadily toward a spot five or six yards ahead.

“It must be a fox or raccoon dog! Damn it!” Kumakichi spat.

Kumakichi was a fifteen-year-old still wearing his forelock, but for his age, he was large in frame and strong.
The wife had brought Kumakichi along as her companion tonight precisely because she had anticipated his reliability, and though he had initially regarded the lantern's strangeness with suspicion, his courage had gradually steadied until he concluded this mystery must be the work of a fox or raccoon dog.
He shone the lantern’s light around the area and picked up two or three suitably sized stones lying by the roadside.

“Stop that!”

Handing the lantern to the wife who was trying apprehensively to restrain him, Kumakichi gripped the stones in both hands and glared at where the lantern had gone when it glowed faintly again.
Then, just as it seemed to have turned direction and come fluttering back toward them—like a moth drawn to flame—it shot straight toward the lantern the wife was holding. With a shriek, she flung the lantern aside and fled.

“Damn it!”

Kumakichi hurled a stone at the lantern.
In his panic, the first stone sailed through empty air, but the second one he hurled struck true at the lantern's very center—he felt the solid impact—and then the lantern's silhouette vanished into the darkness as though blown out.
In the meantime, the wife desperately pounded on the heavy shutters of the shop on the right side.
Unable to bear her terror any longer, she began pounding on any door she could find, desperately seeking immediate rescue.
The lantern, having once vanished, reappeared from somewhere and seemed to disappear into the very shop where the wife was pounding on the shutters, causing her to scream again and collapse.

The occupants of the house being pounded on were slow to rise, but startled by the noise, a man around forty years old emerged from the neighboring house in nightclothes that left him half-exposed. He and Kumakichi together tended to the fallen wife and brought her into his house. That shop was a small tobacco shop. Though she hadn't fainted, the wife had turned deathly pale and clutched her chest as if stifling her pounding heart, so the tobacco shop owner roused his household members and made them give her water to drink. After finally hearing about that night's events from the now-lucid wife and apprentice, the tobacco shop owner knit his brows.

“So that lantern actually went into the neighbor’s house, huh?”

When the two confirmed it had indeed gone in, the owner’s face twisted into an even deeper frown.
The young woman of seventeen or eighteen, who appeared to be that girl, also turned pale.

“I see, that might indeed be the case,” the tobacco shop owner said after a moment.
“That must be the neighbor’s daughter.”

The wife was startled again.
As she stiffened and stared fixedly at his face, the tobacco shop owner began speaking in a low voice.

“The neighboring house runs a haberdashery. The master died about six years ago, leaving a widowed proprietress who now lives modestly with just one apprentice and one maid—though they do own other rental properties, making them quite comfortably off despite appearances.”
“However, Miss Osada—their only daughter, eighteen this year and childhood playmates with my own daughter since they were little—is a girl with neither poor looks nor bad character, but even so, something similar happened about half a year ago.”

“It was a dark New Year’s night when I heard knocking at the neighbor’s door late into the hours. Being a light sleeper, I rose to investigate and found what appeared to be a samurai summoning their mistress for some conversation. Before long, he left as he was, so I too returned to bed.”
“Then the following day, Miss Osada apparently told my daughter this story.”
“‘I’ve never been as terrified as I was last night.’”
“‘I was walking along what seemed like a dark moat when a samurai suddenly appeared and tried to cut me down.’”
“‘No matter how much I ran, no matter how far I fled, he kept chasing me.’”
“‘Still, I desperately fled back home, stumbled in through the front entrance, and just as I thought “Thank goodness,” I woke from the dream.’”
“‘So it was just a dream?’”
“‘Just as I wondered why I’d had such a terrifying dream, there came a knocking at the front door. When Mother went to look, a samurai was standing there who said that on his way over, he’d seen something like a fireball tumbling about in the middle of the road……’”

The wife listening felt her heart pound violently once more.
The tobacco shop owner paused to catch his breath before resuming his tale.

"So that samurai, convinced it must be a fox or raccoon dog trying to trick him, drew his sword and gave chase. As he pursued it, the fireball flew through the air and vanished into that house over there."
"Whether it was a true ghost fire or some monster—naturally, that remained unclear—but since he had indeed seen it fly into that house over there, he apparently felt compelled to report it as a precaution."
"The neighbors, also finding it eerie, immediately searched the area but found nothing suspicious. When they reported this to the samurai, he too seemed relieved and left with a 'Well then, that settles it.'"
"Apparently Miss Osada had been listening to this conversation from the back room. She slipped out of bed and quietly peeked toward the front—only to see the man standing at the shopfront was the very same samurai who had chased her in her dream moments earlier. She was so startled she nearly cried out."

Miss Osada had reportedly told this story to the daughter of the house, saying she didn't know if this was what they called a true prophetic dream, but in any case she had never experienced such terror since birth—yet those who heard it felt twice as uneasy as Miss Osada herself.
What on earth could this fireball have been?
Could it be that while Miss Osada slept, her soul had spontaneously slipped free?
Since that incident, the daughter of the house claimed to feel somehow frightened and had been avoiding Miss Osada as much as possible.
"That being the case," continued the tobacco shop owner, "tonight's Bon lantern business might still be Miss Osada's doing."
"Since your apprentice says he threw stones, let's discreetly check tomorrow whether the Bon lantern at Miss Osada's house has been damaged or if she bears any injuries."

After hearing such a story, the wife grew increasingly frightened. However, she couldn’t very well ask to stay at his house, so after thanking the owner profusely, she left there in fearful haste.
On their way home, they encountered neither the ghost fire nor the Bon lantern again, but her kimono was soaked through with cold sweat as if wrung out.

Two or three days later, when the Wife of Kamedaya passed through there and stopped by the tobacco shop to express her gratitude from the other day, the owner said in a low voice:

“It’s exactly as I thought,” said the tobacco shop owner. “The cut-glass lantern at the neighbor’s house was torn as if struck by a stone—the mistress was apparently wondering who could’ve played such a prank. Miss Osada showed nothing unusual though—she’d been working in the shop until just moments ago.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Strange things do happen in this world.”

“How strange,” the wife could only sigh.

This strange tale ends here, and no accounts have survived of what became of the girl called Osada afterward.

II. The Bamboo Grove in Temple Town

This was an old woman's tale from long ago.

The old woman was named Onao-san and lived in Tashima-cho in Asakusa.
At that time, Tashima-cho was commonly called Kita-Teramachi—a temple gate town that remained exceedingly desolate despite bordering the Asakusa Kannon Hall.

The story was set in early March of Kaei 4, occurring about two or three days after putting away the Hina dolls, Onao-san said.
Since it was the third month of the old calendar, single-layered cherry blossoms were already in full bloom, and it was the season when crowds grew lively circulating between Ueno and Asakusa.

On a lukewarm, heavily overcast evening, when Onao-san—still eleven at the time—was playing in the street with four or five neighborhood girls, one of them suddenly cried out, "Ah!"

“Okane-chan! Where had you been?”

Okane-chan was the daughter of the neighborhood rosary shop who, after returning from her calligraphy teacher’s house with other friends at the Hour of the Dog (2 PM), had not once shown her face outside since. Okane was a fair-skinned, lovely girl of the same age as Onao-san who, being quiet by nature, had earned praise from her teacher and affection from her practice peers.

Though the spring day had already begun fading into dusk, the street remained faintly lit, making Okane-chan's pallid face clearly visible to all. When one girl called out, the other little girls scrambled to gather around her. Onao-san naturally drew near too, peering into her face as she asked:

“What’s wrong with you? You haven’t come out to play at all since earlier.”

Okane-chan remained silent but eventually spoke in a low voice.

“I won’t play with everyone anymore.”

“Why?”

When everyone asked in unison with surprise, Okane-chan remained silent again.
With a sorrowful expression, she left as if melting away toward the side street.
Though it was said she disappeared like melting away, she hadn’t truly vanished.
Onao-san said she had clearly seen her retreating figure until she turned the corner of the side street.

There was something undeniably strange about her demeanor, so the girls first exchanged glances and silently watched her retreating figure. But when they realized Okane had walked away in the direction opposite her family’s shop, and moreover remembered how that side street contained a large bamboo grove so dense it remained dim even at noon, each girl gradually began feeling an eerie unease.
Onao-san also suddenly shuddered.
Then, as if on cue, they all let out cries at once and scrambled back into their respective homes.

Onao-san’s family ran a bookbinding shop.
As dusk deepened and he began putting away his tools, Father scolded Onao-san when she came rushing breathlessly inside.

“What’s this commotion?
You ill-mannered child.
Since when do proper girls linger outdoors till nightfall?”

“But Father, I was frightened.”

“Frightened of what?”

Even after hearing her detailed account, Father showed no particular concern.
Scolded by Mother too for staying out late, Onao-san retreated to the inner rooms where the three of them ate their evening meal.
Come nightfall, Father visited the neighborhood bathhouse with their apprentice—craftsmen kept early hours for bathing.
He soon returned and whispered urgently to Mother.

“When I thought about what Onao was saying earlier, something felt off.”
“I heard that Okane-chan from the rosary shop has disappeared.”

This was information he had heard at the bathhouse—Okane had returned from her calligraphy lesson in the early afternoon that day and gone on an errand to relatives near Kōtokuji Temple, but never came back.
When her family grew worried and sent someone to inquire, they were told she had never arrived there.
At first they thought she might be dawdling along the way, but as night fell without any sign of the young girl returning—something most unnatural—the parents’ anxiety swelled ever greater. From earlier they had split up to search various places, yet her whereabouts remained unknown.

“If I’d known this was the case, I should’ve told them right away...” Father said regretfully.

“That’s true...
“It would be hard to have her parents resent us later, so you should take this child along to Okane-chan’s house.
Even if it’s late, it’s better than not going at all,” Mother urged from beside them.

“Well then, let’s go.”

Led by Father, Onao-san went out to the rosary shop.
The cloudy evening grew ever more overcast at this moment, the sky’s hue threatening tears as it darkened little Onao-san’s heart further still.
Seized by indescribable anxiety and terror, Onao-san wanted to cry.
At the rosary shop, it seemed someone had already notified them beforehand, for they knew that Okane had appeared in the evening.
Since that bamboo grove connects to the temple cemetery, they had notified the temple beforehand, and now a large group was searching through the thicket, they said.

“I see. Well then, I’ll go help too,” Onao-san’s father said and immediately headed toward the side street.

As they were about to turn the corner of the side street, Onao's father turned to look back at Onao-san and said.

“You’ve no business coming along. Get yourself home.”

Having thrown out those words, Father dashed into the side street.
Even so, driven by fearful curiosity, Onao-san quietly stood on tiptoe to peer and saw seven or eight paper lantern lights scattered chaotically in the dark bamboo grove.
Intermittently came voices like people calling to each other.
With terror and sorrow swirling within her, Onao-san hurried home—yet her eyes had grown teary without her noticing.
Following Mother's orders, the apprentice too went searching through the side street's bamboo grove.

When night had deepened, Father and the apprentice returned home together with the neighbors.

“Damn it. We just can’t find her. It’s too damn dark—we’ll have to leave this for tomorrow.”

Onao-san grew increasingly sad and began sobbing quietly.
Mother’s face also darkened, and she said that since Okane-chan was such a sweet child, perhaps she had been taken by kidnappers.
Father also sighed, thinking that might indeed be the case.
Indeed, during that time, stories were often told of people being snatched away by kidnappers, taken by tengu, or falling victim to spiriting away.

“That’s why you mustn’t go out alone after dark either,” Mother warned threateningly, admonishing Onao-san.

It wasn’t merely a threat—with Okane-chan’s present example before them, Onao-san could only sit quietly and listen to her mother’s lecture when suddenly, as if remembering something, Mother turned to question her.

“Now, you. Okane-chan said she wouldn’t play with everyone anymore, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“That’s strange,” she said, turning back toward Father. “Given that, it doesn’t seem to be kidnapping or a spirit away, but... Could it be that Okane-chan hid herself somewhere of her own volition?”

“Hmm. I just can’t figure it out,” Father said, tilting his head.

Okane was their only daughter and was doted on by her parents.
An eleven-year-old girl would hardly be involved in romantic entanglements.
Considering all these points, it hardly seemed likely that she would run away from home or elope of her own volition.
In the end, the mystery remained unsolved, and the bookbinder’s household went to sleep.
Onao-san, still gripped by a mix of fear and sorrow, found herself unable to sleep peacefully that night.

The next day, Okane’s whereabouts became known.
Even had they combed through nearby bamboo groves and such places, there would have been no way to find out.
Okane’s body had been discovered lying among the withered reeds of Suzaki Embankment at Fukagawa’s farthest reaches.
She had been strangled naked save for a single waistcloth.
Though barefoot, beside her lay one old geta—the sort worn by girls her age—tumbled on its side.
More startling still was the two-year-old girl weeping beside Okane’s corpse.
The child still wore her kimono, her body unmarked by injuries.
By fortune she’d kept crying unharmed, untouched by stray dogs.
From this infant came the clue identifying her as belonging to Yaodome greengrocers of Hanakawado.

At Yaodome greengrocer's shop worked a thirteen-year-old nursemaid named O-naga from Kazusa province, who had gone out the previous afternoon carrying an infant as usual but hadn’t returned by dawn, prompting the Yaodome household to grow worried and begin searching likely locations.
It thus became clear that O-naga had strangled Okane at Suzaki Embankment, stripped off her kimono, likely swapped geta, abandoned the infant she had been carrying there, and then vanished into hiding.
Why the two had gone together to such a place was, of course, unknown.
If O-naga had lured Okane out with the intent to kill her and strip off her kimono, it would be a terrifying crime unbecoming of a thirteen-year-old girl.

Since O-naga’s hometown was known, when they investigated her family home in Kazusa, it turned out she had not returned there.
At the rosary shop, they retrieved their daughter’s corpse and conducted the funeral in the customary manner.

What remained truly mysterious was that on that very evening, Okane had appeared in her own neighborhood and left what seemed like farewell words for Onao-san and her other calligraphy practice peers before departing.
Did Okane then go to Fukagawa?
Or had she already died with only her soul returning?
This too remained an unanswered question.
Not only Onao-san but all the children present there had seen it simultaneously, so there could be no mistake or misapprehension.

Their collective fright upon seeing her retreating figure heading toward the bamboo grove’s side street suggested an eerie presence might have settled there.
In any case，Onao-san and the neighborhood children had decisively concluded this was undeniably Okane-chan’s ghost，and from that day none ventured outdoors near dusk.
The parents too had begun sternly warning their children to return home early.

However, since they were children, they couldn’t completely refrain from going out to play. More than ten days had passed since then. They let their guard down because it was still around the seventh hour (4 PM), and Onao-san and the others were out playing in front when suddenly one of them shouted again.

“Oh, Okane-chan’s leaving.”

This time, no one called out. The children held their breath and cowered, silently watching her retreating figure when Okane-chan—face covered with a hand towel—trudged off once more toward that bamboo grove's side street. Of course, none of them attempted to follow her trail. Moreover, once they confirmed that retreating figure had vanished into the side street, the children all scattered in every direction at once. This time, they weren’t fleeing—they immediately rushed to report to their parents.

Hearing this report, the neighborhood parents came out.
The bookbinder father also came out.
From the rosary shop too they came running out.
When the crowd went searching the side street in disarray, the figure of the girl resembling Okane was not easily found.
Nevertheless, pushing through the bamboo grove and searching thoroughly, there stood a single large camellia tree at the edge of the thicket—near what would later become the graveyard.
A thin cord hung from its branch—there they discovered a girl resembling Okane strangled to death.
Because she wore Okane-chan’s kimono, the children had single-mindedly convinced themselves it was Okane-chan, but it was in fact that nursemaid O-naga from Yaodome.

Having stripped off Okane's kimono and put it on herself, O-naga's whereabouts for over ten days remained unknown. And then, as if guided by Okane, she wandered into this thicket and met her untimely end. O-naga was a country bumpkin through and through—a young girl who ordinarily wore nothing but grubby, short kimonos of handwoven striped cloth. The rumor went that upon seeing fair-skinned, lovely Okane's neat appearance, she had suddenly conceived this dreadful notion out of sheer envy, though even this remained unconfirmed. Even so, why O-naga had lured Okane away, whether the two had known each other beforehand—none of these matters were ever resolved.

Thus, even as all things remained shrouded in mystery, the initial appearance of Okane was the most terrifying enigma of all.

“I won’t play with everyone anymore, you know.”

“Okane-chan’s sorrowful voice lingered in the ears,” Onao-san said, “and during that time I was frequently tormented by frightening dreams.”

III. The Dragon Witness

Here also was a man said to have met his ruin through witnessing a dragon.
It was the year following Edo's great earthquake—on the twenty-fifth day of the eighth month of Ansei 3—when a ferocious storm struck Edo. Roofs of houses that had finally completed permanent reconstruction after the seismic disaster, along with those still undergoing temporary repairs, were mostly torn off and blown away.
On top of this came tsunami-like high waves that washed ashore every last large ship and small boat moored off Shinagawa and Fukagawa.
In Honjo and Fukagawa, floods swept through, carrying away houses.
There were those who drowned.
Between last year's earthquake and this year's storms, one could well say the people of Edo had been cruelly afflicted.

It was past four o'clock (10 PM) on the night of the 25th, when the storm reached its most violent intensity.

Morozumi Ishirou, a samurai of the Guardsmen Corps residing in Shitaya Ushigome-chō, passed through Nihonbashi’s Hamachō riverbank on his return from an unavoidable errand.

He had braved this violent storm late at night because his aunt—who had served for years at Lord Matsudaira Sagami-no-kami’s secondary residence near Shin-Ōhashi Bridge—had suddenly fallen ill. Ishirou had received word that evening and rushed to visit her.
His aunt appeared to have suffered food poisoning, enduring violent vomiting and diarrhea that left her severely distressed.
Given her advanced age, the residence staff grew concerned and promptly notified her nephew Ishirou, but she recovered unexpectedly fast—by the time he arrived, she lay peacefully upon her sickbed.
Though naturally fatigued from the sudden illness, there was no longer any cause for concern, the doctor stated.
Being naturally robust in constitution, his aunt spoke energetically and thanked him for coming so quickly.
Ishirou finally felt relieved.

However, since he had gone to the trouble of coming all this way, he couldn't very well leave immediately. While conversing for a while at his aunt’s bedside, both the rain and wind grew increasingly violent.
He had waited for the storm to let up momentarily, but as night deepened and it seemed only to grow fiercer, Ishirou resolved to depart resolutely.
His aunt had urged him to stay overnight, but both his unease about imposing on another household and his worries over his own home in this storm led Ishirou to refuse and take his leave.

When he stepped outside, the storm proved even more violent than he had imagined while indoors.
Resolving that ordinary means would be impossible for traversing this storm, Morozumi Ishirou removed his tabi socks, hitched his hakama trousers high at the thighs, and went barefoot.
Since the umbrella was ultimately of no use at all, he covered his cheeks with a hand towel and carried both umbrella and geta in one hand.
He had hoped to at least protect the lantern properly as he went, but after walking just five or six ken—each stride stretching nearly two meters—even that was blown out, leaving him to hurry northward through pitch-black tempest.

Unlike today, this area at that time consisted of continuous estates, so all tenement windows were tightly shut with not a single light leaking through.
One side was samurai estates, the other the Ōkawa River. Thinking it would be disastrous if blown into the river by this storm, Morozumi Ishirou kept close to the estates as he walked—only to be newly threatened by periodic clattering collapses of large roof tiles.
The wind blew from the southeast—a tailwind that offered at least some small fortune—yet buffeted and battered by its force until nearly lifted off his feet, he trudged onward while barely keeping his footing.
Drenched by rain pouring down like a waterfall, he felt as though even his bones were soaked.
Amidst that rain flew not just leaves and branches but pebbles, bamboo fragments, reed screens, camp stools—even unimaginable objects—forcing him to fend off both his body being blown away and debris hurtling from unknown directions.

"If I had known it would be like this, I should have just stayed over," he regretted belatedly.

Yet since turning back would be equally difficult, Morozumi Ishirou pressed on through all dangers.
When he thought he'd somehow advanced over a hundred meters, he suddenly glimpsed something glowing.
Though the Ōkawa River's waters ran dark and turbid, a faint aquatic glow made the bank appear dimly luminous.
Using this waterlight as his guide, he peered at the gleaming object—two eyes belonging to something crawling along the ground.
Yet it seemed no ordinary beast.
The eyes appeared to approach against wind and rain. Pressing himself against a large estate's roadside gate, Ishirou strained to discern the glowing entity's form through darkness—something snakelike or lizard-like crawling silently across earth.
As he stared intently at what storm-spawned creature might emerge from where, a long body seemed to drag itself forward—the rasp of its bulk scraping sodden soil cutting clearly through tempest's roar.
The thing's immense size left Ishirou stunned.

It gradually approached and quietly passed by the estate gate where Ishirou was hiding, but not only did its eyes glow—parts of its body glittered golden as well.
It appeared to be crawling like a lizard on all fours, but its body proved far longer than imagined—from head to tail tip, it seemed unmistakably over seven to nine meters in length. This realization chilled Morozumi Ishirou to the marrow.

Just as the monster finally passed before him and Ishirou was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the storm raged once more with even greater ferocity than before. Then waves of the Ōkawa River near the sea surged upward in violent swells.
Lightning streaked from the dark sky.
Amid this terrifying spectacle, the massive body of that monster blazed ever more brilliantly gold before plunging into the surging waves and vanishing from sight, leaving Ishirou’s blood to run cold once more.

"What on earth was that?"

He recalled Bakin’s Eight Dog Chronicles. Remembering the passage where Satomi Yoshizane had seen a white dragon at Miura Beach, he concluded the monster was likely a dragon. This being an era when dragons were believed to dwell even in Shinobazu Pond, it wasn’t unreasonable for him to think he’d witnessed one during this ferocious storm. Morozumi Ishirou had encountered this marvel by chance and felt a peculiar joy. It was said those who saw dragons would rise in status. If this truly were a dragon, it would herald good fortune for him.

As he thought this, his momentary terror transformed into joyous satisfaction, and waiting for the storm to abate slightly, he set out walking again from this gatefront.
And then, when he had walked just two or three ken, he noticed something glowing fallen at his fingertips.
When he stopped and picked it up, finding it to be a large scale-like object, Morozumi Ishirou concluded it must be a dragon’s scale.
Having seen the dragon and furthermore picked up its scale, he became increasingly delighted, carefully wrapped it in tissue paper, and placed it in his pocket.
He walked through the stormy night and made an unexpected find.

Having safely returned to his house in Okachimachi, Ishirou immediately searched his pocket without even wiping his soaked clothes, and from the paper emerged that single scale.
When illuminated by the lamp’s flame, it glowed with a pale golden hue.
He ordered his wife to bring out a sanbō tray, placed the scale upon it, and reverently enshrined it in the alcove.

“You must not speak of this matter to anyone,” he strictly warned the members of his household.

The following day, a rumor spread that someone had witnessed a dragon ascending to heaven from Eitai no Oki during last night's storm.
Ishirou heard this and was able to confirm that what he had seen was indeed a dragon.
Before long, the loose-lipped servants must have talked.
The matter of that scale had gradually leaked to the public, and as people came flocking one after another hoping to see it, Ishirou could no longer keep it hidden.
At first he made efforts to refuse, but in the end he could no longer hold them back. Yielding to their wishes, he began ushering visitors into the parlor to view the scale resting on the sanbō tray. For a time, his gate bustled with activity.

“Is that really a dragon?”
“Maybe it’s just a scale from some big carp,” one of his colleagues whispered from the shadows.

“No—it’s different from ordinary fish scales.”
“It must be like those legendary three scales Hōjō Tokimasa received from Benzaiten in the Enoshima caverns,” another declared with solemn gravity.

“Then maybe that guy’s trying to ride Hōjō’s coattails and seize the realm!” someone laughed.

“Even if he doesn’t take the realm, he might still climb to group leader,” another remarked enviously.

As these rumors persisted for a little over a month, they eventually reached the estate where his aunt served under Matsudaira Sagami-no-kami, from which came a request to view the scale.
By that time, his aunt had already made a full recovery.
Since this was a different estate from the others, Morozumi Ishirou gladly agreed and set out for the Shin-Ōhashi sub-residence on a radiantly clear morning sometime after September 20th.
He wrapped the scale in brocade cloth, placed it into a small plain wood box, then further wrapped it in a fukusa ceremonial silk before carefully carrying it along.

After inspecting it herself first, the aunt then presented it further inside.
How many people viewed it remains unknown, but throughout this time Morozumi Ishirou was kept waiting for nearly an hour.

"Her Ladyship and the others declared they had witnessed a rare marvel and were fully satisfied," the aunt reported with evident pleasure.
"This is your family's treasure.
Store it carefully."

Saying that this had been bestowed from the inner quarters, Ishirou was treated to a meal there.
He drank just enough sake to avoid becoming intoxicated, ate his midday meal, and took his leave to depart just past the ninth hour (1:00 PM).

That he had exited the estate gate was indeed witnessed by the gatekeeper, but Ishirou never returned to his house in Ushigome-chō even after nightfall—where exactly he had gone remained unknown.
At home, they grew worried and inquired with his aunt, but according to the aforementioned account, what became of him after exiting the estate gate remained unknown.
Two days passed, then three, yet Ishirou did not show his face anywhere.
He still held the dragon’s scale, yet no one could fathom why he had absconded.

The sole clue was that when the sake shop apprentice passed by Hamamachi Riverbank around the ninth hour (1:00 PM), the previously clear sky suddenly darkened, and a fearsome whirlwind—what people commonly call a tornado—swept up.
The apprentice could no longer endure it. After lying prostrate on the ground for some time, the whirlwind subsided with one fierce bout, and heaven and earth brightened again as before.
The autumn sky shone blue, and the Ōkawa River flowed quietly as if knowing nothing.
The whirlwind seemed to have struck only a small area, and the surrounding neighborhood appeared to have suffered no particular damage.
However, it was said that the samurai in haori and hakama who had been walking slightly ahead of this apprentice had already vanished by the time the whirlwind subsided, but since the apprentice had closed his eyes and lain prostrate during that very instant, the samurai might have simply passed by during that interval.

There were those who claimed that what Ishirou had seen was not a dragon but likely a giant salamander.
In those days, large giant salamanders seemed also to inhabit Edo’s rivers and old ponds.
Some explained that one must have strayed out during the storm and that its scale belonged instead to some other fish.
In any case, he had vanished without trace—this much remained fact.
He was twenty-eight then and childless by his wife.
Given these circumstances—unable even to hastily file adoption papers—the house met its pointless extinction.