Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

“Oh, you too…,” said Dr. Fujiki.

“Oh, you too…,” said I.

“Oh, you too…,” I said.

If this were written in a script style, the time would be the final years of the Meiji era, on an autumn evening.
The location was an inn in front of Hiroshima Station.
The characters are Dr. Fujiki, Doctor of Science, forty-seven or eight years old.
I, a newspaper reporter, thirty-two years old.

I had disembarked here because, while on a business trip to Kyushu, there was a matter requiring discussion at this Hiroshima branch office.
The branch office guided me to the Otemachi Inn, but as its main building was occupied by numerous soldiers, I was subsequently sent to the station-front branch.
No matter where you go, station-front inns tend to be bustling and restless places, but here—preserving the former Otemae’s appearance—an old, grand row of pine trees stretched long into the distance. With those pines’ blue shadows before me, inns and merchant houses lined their eaves in a row, creating a serenity unlike any other station-front locale—a quality I found deeply pleasing.

After taking a bath and finishing dinner, I stepped out to the second-floor corridor—gazing at the street below while idly thinking of taking a riverside stroll—when someone suddenly tapped my shoulder and said, “Oh.”
When I turned around, it was Dr. Fujiki from Tokyo.

I had visited Dr. Fujiki’s home on business two or three times.
I had often listened to his lectures as well.
Given this familiarity between us, encountering each other in such an unexpected place left me rather startled.

“From here, where are you…?” I asked.
Since Dr. Fujiki served as a consultant for a certain government agency, I had imagined he must be traveling to the provinces on official business.

“No—I’m returning straight to Tokyo,” Dr. Fujiki replied.

Dr. Fujiki’s hometown was Fukuoka in Kyushu; he had returned there some days prior to attend his younger brother’s wedding at the family home, and now that the ceremony had concluded without incident, he was returning to Tokyo.

Dr. Fujiki, returning to Tokyo from Kyushu, and I, heading to Kyushu from Tokyo, had met on the second floor of this inn as if passing each other by.
If there were no opportunity, even if they happened to stay at the same inn, they might part ways unknowingly.
Encountering an acquaintance at an inn where one stays for a single night feels especially more nostalgic than meeting them elsewhere—such is human nature, I suppose.
Dr. Fujiki spoke more affably than usual.

“How about it? If you have no business to attend to, won’t you come visit my room?”

“Ah. I’ll come visit.”

Abandoning my riverside stroll, I immediately followed after Dr. Fujiki and arrived at an eight-mat room located where the hallway turned twice; before the shoji screens on the veranda, a large pine tree from the inner garden loomed tall like a natural screen. Summoning the maid to replace the tea and placing a dish of the local specialty persimmon yōkan on the low table, Dr. Fujiki sat facing me. The maid had mentioned that it had suddenly turned cold this evening, and indeed, after sunset, it had grown slightly chilly. At that time, I was dabbling a bit in composing haiku, so I thought it was just the right moment for a verse about the night chill.

“Which part of Kyushu are you heading to?”

“Kyushu—Hakata, Kurume, Kumamoto, Kagoshima…” I answered.
“I also plan to make stopovers at four or five other places along the way.”

“Ah, I see.
So your purpose is an inspection of the Kagoshima Main Line, I take it?”

“Well, that’s essentially the case.”

“Is this your first visit to Kyushu?”

“I’m familiar with Hakata, but beyond that, this will be my first journey.”

“That should be interesting,” said Dr. Fujiki with a smile. “I was born in Kyushu, and as I particularly enjoy traveling, I traveled extensively even during my student days. After that as well, whenever I returned to my hometown, I journeyed around as much as time allowed, so I’ve left my footprints in Kyushu’s principal areas. For this trip of yours, are you only taking the main line and not visiting places like Saga or Nagasaki?”

“If time allows, I would like to visit those areas as well. Also, since a friend of mine runs an inn in M Town, I’m considering stopping by there as well, but…”

“The inn in M Town…”
“What’s the name of the inn?” asked Dr. Fujiki casually, though his eyes seemed to gleam slightly.

“It’s an inn called S.”
“Though it’s located a bit far from the station on the outskirts of town, it’s considered an old family establishment in the area…”
“The second son had gone to Tokyo and was at the same school as I.”

“Has that second son returned to his hometown?”

"He graduated at the same time as I did and had been working at a Tokyo magazine company, but due to family circumstances, he ended up returning to his hometown and now assists with the family business."

“When did he return to his hometown?”

I answered, regarding Dr. Fujiki’s increasingly pressing manner with some suspicion.

“Five years ago.”

“About five years ago…” Dr. Fujiki said as if recalling the past. “Since I stayed there seven years ago, he hadn’t returned yet by that time.”

“So you’ve stayed at that inn yourself?”

“I have,” Dr. Fujiki nodded. “To investigate a type of harmful insect prevalent in that region, I stayed in M Town for about a month. Though I made trips to nearby towns during that period, I mostly used S Ryokan as my base. As you noted, being one of the area’s foremost old family establishments—though called an inn—it had the atmosphere of a grand residence, truly a calm and comfortable place. Both the elderly master and wife and young master and wife were honest, good people who kindly managed all guest affairs, but…”

Having started to speak, Dr. Fujiki turned his ear toward the outside.

“That’s the sound of rain.”

“It seems to have started raining,” I said, also listening intently.
“It was clear until just now, but…”

“It’s autumn’s way, isn’t it?”

The two of them listened silently to the sound of the rain for a while, but before long Dr. Fujiki quietly began speaking again.

“Have you heard anything from the second son of S Ryokan… about a strange story connected to that inn…?”

“I haven’t heard anything.
"The second son of S Ryokan—his name was Yoshio, and we were very close—but he had never told me any strange stories about his own family."
“What sort of story is this?”

“Though I count myself among scientists, I feel some shame in seriously discussing such matters—but regardless, this is no fabrication. It is a tale of the strange that I witnessed with my own eyes.
"As S Ryokan operates in hospitality, I believed public knowledge of this would cause them great trouble, so I’ve never spoken of it until now. However, since you’re the close friend of that second son, I suppose no harm will come from telling you."
"As I mentioned earlier, it’s a mysterious story—one might call it a ghost story of sorts.
Would you care to hear it?”

“Please let me hear it,” I said, my eyes shining with curiosity as I stared intently at his face.

As if unwilling to interrupt the story, the sound of rain outside had stopped.
Only occasional drops falling from the eaves sounded forlorn, like someone counting in whispers.
Dr. Fujiki appeared to gaze at the ceiling while pondering briefly, but when a young woman’s loud laughter echoed from the lower guest room—as though it were a signal—he adjusted his posture and began speaking.

II

When I first entered M Town and became a guest at S Ryokan—let’s call it Sotaya for now—
I became a guest there seven years ago in August, during a time when the lingering summer heat was still intense.
As is common in most rural areas, the towns there used the Gregorian calendar while the surrounding countryside adhered to the lunar calendar, so that period coincided with the Obon festival, and every night the nearby villages were bustling with bon dances.

To investigate and research the harmful insects unique to that region, I visited the town hall, police station, and other offices, living busily every day for the first week or so. Once that work had been more or less completed, I decided to rest for two or three days.
During that time, I had grown familiar with the inn’s staff and gradually observed the household’s circumstances: the old master was around sixty, the eldest son serving as young master was around thirty—both couples appearing healthy in build and being honest, kindhearted people. The head clerk, shop workers, and maids were all well-mannered individuals who attended thoroughly to guests’ needs. While I felt privately satisfied at having secured such an excellent lodging, the sole thing that made me frown was the lewd appearance of this household’s daughters.

The elder sister was named O-Masa at twenty-two years old, and the younger sister O-Toki at nineteen. Their features were neither particularly attractive nor unattractive—simply ordinary—but their hairstyles and clothing preferences were excessively gaudy, with their makeup—rouge and white powder—applied so garishly that they could not possibly be seen as ordinary women.
Of course, as an inn is a hospitality business, it would be natural for its daughters to dress themselves up quite elaborately, but these sisters' gaudy adornments far exceeded reasonable measure.
I simply could not reconcile this with the daughters of an inn that prided itself on being an old family establishment known for its steadfastness.
They were uglier than the serving girls infesting those dubious teahouses.
They were even uglier than the women from Amakusa who went abroad for work.
As I've said repeatedly—within this household where both the master and servants were honest and well-mannered—how could such undisciplined, lewd-looking daughters be living there? I found it utterly perplexing.

Perhaps due to the lingering summer heat still being intense and coinciding with Obon, there were few guests staying at the inns there. For the first two or three days, I was alone, but afterward another guest arrived. He was a salesman from an insurance company based around Osaka who seemed to make business trips there periodically and conversed familiarly with the inn’s staff. He appeared to be twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old—a fair-skinned, neatly dressed man who perfectly fit the smooth-talking insurance salesman type. Having presumably checked the guest register to learn my name and profession, whenever we passed each other in the hallway morning or evening, he would familiarly greet me with “Professor, Professor.” He gave me a business card that read Hyogaki Akiyoshi.

One evening, I went out for a walk into the town. Finding nothing particularly worth seeing in the dimly lit provincial town, I turned back midway and was about to head from the town's outskirts toward the nearby countryside when two men greeted me. When I peered at them in the moonlight, they turned out to be the town hall clerk and janitor whom I'd become acquainted with recently; they said they were heading to a nearby river for night fishing.

"What can you catch in these rivers?"

While conversing in this manner, I walked alongside the two men. After we had gone about a hundred meters beyond the town and came to a small earthen bridge, a man and woman walking together approached from the opposite direction and brushed past us. The man abruptly turned his face away upon seeing me, but the woman passed by nonchalantly, laughing about something.

"That Sotaya lunatic's fooling around with that insurance salesman again," the young clerk cursed, watching their retreating figures with a tone tinged partly with jealousy.

The man was Hyogaki from the insurance company, and the woman was O-Toki, Sotaya Inn's younger daughter—this much I already knew. What caught my attention was the word "lunatic."

"Is she a lunatic... that girl...?"

"Well, you might call her that," the old janitor answered with a pained smile. "You being from Tokyo wouldn't know this, Professor, but those Sotaya sisters—round here they're famous as sex-crazed madwomen..."
"Tonight's no different—see how she's carrying on with that insurance boy?..."
"Their poor parents and brother—what they must endure."

I too thought it was truly pitiable.
With both daughters in such a state, their parents and brother must undoubtedly be troubled.
While ordinary people seemed to merely ridicule them as nymphomaniacs, from my perspective, those girls were a type of mental patient or perhaps sufferers of hysteria.
Rather than being mocked indiscriminately, they struck me as being more like pitiable and tragic individuals.
I further asked the janitor.

“When did those sisters start acting that way?”

“Two or three years ago…”
“Around two years ago, maybe,” the janitor said, turning to look at the clerk.

“That’s right.”

“Around two summers ago,” the clerk said coolly.
“It must have been around when that house’s renovation was completed.”

“Was there renovation work done on that house?”

“The front part remained as it was…” the janitor explained.
“After all, it was an old house, and with the back section already quite dilapidated, when they were hit by that great storm three autumns prior, they had no choice but to undertake major repairs.”
“So they decided to tear it down and rebuild instead—in the spring of the following year, they brought in craftsmen to completely demolish it and construct a new one in its place.”

As this was my first time staying there, I didn’t know the full layout of the large inn, but according to the janitors’ explanation, Sotaya’s family residence connected to the main building through a long corridor formed a separate structure containing about five rooms of varying sizes.
The building they had rebuilt two years prior was that single structure there, and as befitting its proprietors, it was said to have been constructed with meticulous care.
While this account alone held no particular issue, it became rather curious how from around the time that residential annex had been completed, the two daughters transformed into entirely different people and came to expose their shamelessly indecent behavior to society beyond what anyone could bear to witness.

“Do their parents just leave it be?”

“No, their parents and brother and his wife were terribly worried—at first they scolded and admonished them—but neither the elder sister nor the younger sister would comply.”
“After all, they had completely changed as people…,” the janitor said with a sigh.
“Given that it’s such a large establishment and an old family—their father even served as town mayor—having their daughters turn into nymphomaniacs like that would make it impossible to show their faces in society.”
“At their wit’s end, Sotaya decided to send the elder sister to relatives in Kokura and the younger sister to relatives in Kurume, but that too went wrong.”
“At each place they went, they took up with men…”
“If they at least had steady partners, that would be one thing—but whether students, delivery boys, or newspaper vendors—they didn’t care who it was.”
“They form relationships with anyone they come across and carry on shamelessly in public without a care for others watching—it’s beyond words.”
“The households they were sent to were so appalled that they refused to keep them anywhere and sent them back.”
“That said, since there were no other abnormalities, they couldn’t be treated as lunatics and committed to a hospital, nor could they be locked away in a room—so while at a loss, leaving them as they were—before anyone knew it, they’d become involved with guests.”
“They would run off with traveling performers only to come back again.”
“Those girls are the very definition of heartbreak for parents—I can’t fathom how they became like that.”

“Until right before the renovation was completed, there wasn’t a single strange occurrence.”

“As you know, their brother is a steadfast and upstanding man.”
“The daughters too had been quiet and well-mannered by nature since childhood—under normal circumstances both sisters should’ve married into respectable families by now and become fine brides, but…”
“If they were poor folk’s daughters, you might send them off as hostesses or such—but with a house of that standing, they can’t possibly do that for society’s sake—no suitors willing to marry them either—what’ll become of them carrying on like that?”
“The more I think on it, the more pitiful it gets.”
“When they talk of demons taking hold since olden times—must mean girls like them.”

Indeed, during this Obon festival, not only had both sisters joined a dance troupe and danced until late into the night, but there were also rumors of them sneaking into the nearby forest with various villagers and tumbling beneath the embankment.
“Before those rumors had even subsided, the younger daughter was already carrying on with that young insurance man again.”
“That Hyogaki fellow comes around these parts at least once a year and stays regularly at Sotaya—rumors have been circulating that he’s involved with both the elder sister and the younger sister.”
“No matter how you look at it, it’s troubling—their parents are pitiable,” the old janitor repeated.

It seemed tonight's fishing spot lay quite far from town, for by the time we had finished hearing this much of the story, we still hadn't reached anything resembling the place.
Along the country road where houses stood sparse, only great wax trees bathed white in moonlight marked our way, with no glimmer of riverwater to be seen.

I couldn't keep accompanying these people any longer.
Though I thought I should turn back here, I found myself continuing to walk, dragged along by a kind of curiosity.

"And was there anything unusual that occurred around the time of that construction?" I asked again.
The fact that the daughters—previously so well-behaved—had undergone such an abrupt transformation in conduct following the renovations suggested there must have been some underlying cause.

“Around the time of the construction…” The janitor paused briefly in thought but didn’t seem to recall anything particular.

“During the construction too, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual.”
“Well, I suppose there was just that one incident.” The clerk said with a laugh.

“Oh, that business…”
“Ahahaha!” The janitor also burst out laughing.

“That incident you mentioned…”
“What sort of incident was it?” I pressed.

“Oh, it’s nothing worth mentioning,” the young clerk said with another laugh.

"The annex of Sotaya was about five rooms in size, but since there were also numerous other areas requiring maintenance, seven or eight carpenters were constantly coming and going—from cutting and assembling the lumber to completion must have taken over three months, nearly four months I suppose."
That work spanned from around March to May or June of the year before last, with all carpenters engaged in the project lodging on-site while working.
Among them was a young carpenter called Nishiyama—his given name unknown—who had joined their ranks.
He was said to be merely nineteen or twenty years old at the time, yet despite having risen from apprentice status, his craftsmanship proved so extraordinary that even seasoned artisans couldn’t rival him.
Though bearing the surname Nishiyama, rumors circulated that he was actually Korean or a Ryukyuan child raised in Kagoshima. Since he never gave a clear answer when questioned himself, people eventually concluded it must be one or the other.
In appearance, he showed no difference from mainland Japanese, speaking in pure Kagoshima dialect.
A pale, slender man of seemingly nervous temperament, his honest nature, diligent work ethic, and exceptional skill made him beloved by both the master carpenter and his fellow workers.
The Sotaya family too were said to have held him in fond regard.

Then came May—nearly three months into the project—when it happened.
The Sotaya daughters at the center of this matter—the sisters O-Masa and O-Toki—had supposedly been preparing to visit a temple when they dressed their hair in formal styles, changed into proper kimonos, and went to the construction site in their finest attire.
While waiting for their mother to finish getting ready, they must have wandered over absentmindedly to peek at the site.
At that precise noon hour when all carpenters and plasterers had gone off somewhere during lunch break, there sat Nishiyama alone, carving something.
"The sisters had always shown him kindness, so they approached and chatted with him—though no one knows what sparked it or how it began—when suddenly Nishiyama started making indecent remarks to both girls."
"No—not just remarks! He apparently took improper actions too."
Just then, the master carpenter returned with other workers and immediately struck Nishiyama.
They say the other craftsmen beat him as well.

“Of course, the master carpenter was livid—‘How dare he behave indecently toward our establishment’s young ladies!’
He bellowed, ‘A wretch like you can get out of here!’
The daughters fled tearfully into the inner rooms.
Word of this reached the old master and his wife, but being kind-hearted people, they pacified the enraged master carpenter and resolved matters quietly.
Since it was the old master—the one who should have been furious—who instead mediated, the carpenter had no choice but to yield.
The master carpenter dragged Nishiyama before the old master’s family—the elderly couple, their son and daughter-in-law, and both daughters—and forced him to grovel with apologies.
That carpenter was a brute who might’ve killed him on a bad day—they say Nishiyama went white as a sheet!”
“Ha ha ha ha ha!”

“If you get caught by that master carpenter, no one could endure it.”
“Ha ha ha ha ha!”

The janitor also laughed in unison.

III

A young craftsman had tried to woo the girl at the entrance but failed.
Had it been merely that matter alone, it might have remained nothing more than a commonplace joke in society.
Yet I pressed further with my questions.

"After that incident, did that carpenter Nishiyama continue working as before?"

"He kept working," the clerk answered.
"That night he went out somewhere and didn't return for two or three hours. People were saying he must have been so ashamed he'd done a moonlight flit, but then late at night he came sneaking back."
"This happened for about three nights running. After that he never went out again, working diligently right up until completion day—or so they say."

"Is Nishiyama a local craftsman from this area?"

"He came from Kagoshima and had been under the master carpenter's charge for about a year, but when Sotaya's construction was completed, he left abruptly without even informing the master carpenter. After that, there was no word or trace of him."
"He probably went back to Kagoshima."

"When they say Korea or Ryukyu—is there any solid evidence for that?"

“Well... I don’t know whether there’s any evidence or not, but since all the fellow craftsmen were saying so, I suppose there must be some reason behind it.”

The fishing spot finally came into view before my eyes, where a considerably wide river flowed.
The clerk and janitor bowed to me and descended the embankment dense with pampas grass.

I retraced my steps toward town under the moonlight.

By any consideration, the Sotaya family was pitiable.
Especially their daughters were pitiable.
As I had said before, those sisters were not so much nymphomaniacs as they were likely a type of hysteria patient.
The clerk and janitor didn’t seem to have paid any particular attention, but could that young carpenter’s amorous incident with the sisters have delivered some powerful shock to them?
What words had the carpenter directed at the sisters, or what actions had he taken against them—unless one had been present at the scene, one could only imagine it must have been something along these lines, and thus the truth of the matter remained beyond clear comprehension.

It was said that the carpenter had been beaten by the master, had apologized to the Sotaya family, and thereafter worked diligently and quietly—but was that truly the case? After that, had he not sneaked past the eyes of the master carpenter and others to engage in words or actions that intimidated the young women? As long as these circumstances remained unclear, it was impossible to resolve this issue definitively.

Moreover, if those sisters were indeed hysteria patients, there was no lack of ways to save them. All that was needed was to alert Sotaya's guardians and have them devise an appropriate treatment method. The trouble was, precisely because this matter was so delicate—while it would have been one thing if their guardians had broached the subject themselves—I could hardly confront them directly to ask whether such incidents had occurred during their house's construction or why their daughters had become women of such licentiousness. Exposing those secrets outright was impossible. Especially since this was my first time staying at their inn, and given that we were barely acquainted, it made it all the more awkward. Yet to overlook it entirely would have weighed on my conscience. While thinking I might at least discreetly warn the manager about this, I strolled back along the path I had come. Though it was a moonlit evening, I couldn't discern where or how he had emerged—likely springing from the shade of a roadside wax tree—when suddenly a man's figure appeared before me. Before I could process this, a woman appeared right after him.

I immediately recognized that the man and woman were Hyogaki and O-Toki.
O-Toki appeared to be clutching some small blade, which she flashed in the moonlight as she seemed to press toward the man, so I too intervened in alarm.
With my assistance now secured, Hyogaki seemed to regain his nerve and turned back to try subduing the woman.
O-Toki thrashed about with unexpected strength, but facing two men after all, she was ultimately pinned down where she stood.
She remained silent, gasping for breath.

“You,” I said. “Take that blade from her now!” I urged Hyogaki, forcing him to wrench the razor from O-Toki’s hand.

They had managed to subdue the half-crazed woman, but now faced with what to do next—as the two were at a loss about handling the situation—two men happened to pass by at just the opportune moment. They were people neither Hyogaki nor I recognized, but they appeared to be merchants who frequented Sotaya. Knowing O-Toki well, they escorted her together with us and safely brought her back to town.

Even after nightfall, the heat persisted, and encountering such an incident had turned our cooling evening stroll into something that made us sweat profusely. I returned to Sotaya and leaned against the railing of the second-floor guest room to catch my breath when Hyogaki came to greet me.

“Sir. I’ve caused you such terrible trouble—I have no excuse whatsoever.”

He was extremely apologetic. He kept repeating what seemed like excuses, but I did not particularly blame him.

According to Hyogaki’s explanation, since the night was unbearably hot, he had gone out for a solitary stroll when O-Toki came chasing after him and insisted they go together.
When they then walked out toward the village together, O-Toki further demanded he take her somewhere to escape.
Even when he refused, saying such a thing was impossible, O-Toki would not yield.
When he forcibly placated her and turned back, O-Toki drew a razor from her obi and declared that if fleeing together with her was detestable, they should die together instead.
As he grew increasingly overwhelmed and finally panicked enough to attempt fleeing, you happened to arrive at that very moment, allowing the matter to be resolved without disaster.
“There’s no telling what might have happened otherwise,” he recounted while mopping his brow.

However, he spoke somewhat ambiguously regarding his relationship with O-Toki.
I had no real need to pry into others' secrets, but thinking it might serve as a reference, I probed him half-jokingly from various angles until Hyogaki finally relented and confessed that while he did indeed have a secret relationship with the elder sister O-Masa, he had no connection whatsoever with the younger sister O-Toki.
Whether this confession was truth or falsehood remained unclear, but I deliberately refrained from pressing further.

When Hyogaki left, the inn’s manager came in his place.
Unlike Hyogaki, he was a man in his fifties who looked thoroughly honest at first glance, but his purpose here was the same as Hyogaki’s—an apology that the daughters of the house had caused various troubles along the way.
He was terribly apologetic.
While Hyogaki’s apology had contained a touch of coquettishness, the old manager’s apology was painfully sincere.
I felt increasingly sorry while simultaneously thinking it was convenient that the manager had come here.

“Are the young ladies of this house perhaps suffering from some illness?” I asked nonchalantly.

“It is truly a shameful situation, sir,” the manager said in a tearful voice.
“It’s not exactly that they have an illness, but…”

“Since I’m not a doctor, I can’t speak with certainty, but there are many cases where someone who appears healthy to a layperson’s eyes turns out to be quite ill when examined by a specialist. You should consult with the owner and have them properly examined by a doctor just to be safe, though…”

“Yes.”

Although he said that, the manager showed a troubled expression. Since there was no immediate physical abnormality in the girls' bodies, even if told to have a doctor examine them, they themselves would likely refuse. Furthermore," he said, "since the owners are deeply ashamed and fearful of public disgrace, they would likely not agree to something like having their daughters examined by a doctor regarding this matter.

While their fear of disgrace was not entirely unfounded—given that this was already widely known—it seemed wiser to actively seek medical examination rather than maintain secrecy now. However, being someone with such limited familiarity with them, I couldn't bring myself to press further on the matter, and so I remained silent.

IV

When Dr. Fujiki had spoken this far, the night rain returned.
Dr. Fujiki took a breath and gazed at my face for a while.

“How about it? With just this much of the story, it’s probably not particularly interesting.”
“If I were to recount in detail the licentious acts of S Ryokan’s two daughters, it would certainly make for a full-fledged novel—”
“No—even writing down just what I heard truthfully would guarantee a sales ban.”
“In any case, what I’ve told you so far merely establishes that those girls were wanton and debauched women—hardly worth calling a strange tale. But the crucial story begins now.”
“As a newspaper reporter, your sixth sense must be tingling—where do you suppose lies the cause behind those girls’ sudden transformation into licentious women?”

It was impossible to expect someone to rely on their sixth sense for such a problem.
I smiled in silence, and Dr. Fujiki resumed his account.

“Don’t you understand?”
“I didn’t understand either.”
“To tell the truth, even now I don’t clearly understand…”
“I remained at the inn for about three weeks after that.”
“Many incidents occurred during that period, but if I were to recount each one, I would inevitably run into issues of being banned from publication. Let me instead proceed straight to the final incident.”

Having finished my work, I was preparing to return to Tokyo within four or five days. Thinking I might stop by my hometown along the way, I had begun making arrangements for departure when—it was early September, just before that notorious 220th Day—a great storm struck, lasting two full days and nights. The tempest three years prior had been fierce enough, but this one proved far worse. People said this rampage was the worst in thirty years, leaving both town and neighboring villages utterly devastated. S Ryokan suffered considerable damage too—every garden tree uprooted, fences flattened, roof tiles ripped away. Yet paradoxically, the older front building sustained minimal harm precisely because of its aged construction. In moments like these, I felt renewed appreciation for traditional architecture’s sturdiness. By cruel contrast, the rear annex housing family quarters—newly built just two years prior—lay in ruins: nearly every roof tile blown off, ceiling boards torn asunder.

When the storm subsided, the southern sky cleared expansively, and an autumn-like calm suddenly settled in. The inn promptly gathered craftsmen and began repairs on the damage, but it turned out that the newly built annex had to be half-demolished and completely rebuilt. Having endured two major storms over nearly four years, every household was in a pitiable state. So they first began demolishing the annex, and as they removed the ceiling boards, a strange object was discovered in the ceiling space of the six-mat room.

Dr. Fujiki was quite a skilled storyteller.
There, as if to build suspense, he took another breath.
Even knowing I was being led on by his ploy, I couldn’t help but pursue what came next.

"What came out of that ceiling space?"

"A pair of dolls... small wooden dolls," Dr. Fujiki said. "Though called small—being about six or seven sun [≈18-21 cm]—they were exquisitely crafted. I was shown them myself and found them remarkably well-made. The craftsmen marveled at them too. The wood was thought to be katsura."

"What were the two dolls carved to depict?"

“They were grotesque—both of them depicted a young woman and a monster.”

“Monster…”

“Monster…”
“A monster unlike any found in ancient myths…”
“Perhaps it would be more accurate to call them supernatural beings rather than monsters.”
“That monster and the young woman…”
“Take photographs of these carvings and try publishing them in your newspaper.”
“You’d face immediate reprimand.”
“So I can only say, ‘You may imagine the rest.’”
“They were truly uncanny.”
“This naturally raises the question—who created such an abominable thing and hid it in this ceiling space…?”
“Who do you deduce was responsible?”

“The young carpenter they say was from Korea or Ryukyu, I suppose,” I answered immediately.

“Everyone reached the same conclusion,” Dr. Fujiki nodded.
“As you deduced, it was unanimously agreed to be the work of Nishiyama—that young carpenter.
He would provoke the daughters, get beaten by the master carpenter, then disappear for three nights at a time, always returning late.
We surmise he must have gone somewhere to secretly carve those figurines.
Then hid both carvings in the ceiling space without anyone noticing.”
The six-mat room served as the daughters’ living quarters.
Having known this beforehand, his concealment of those mysterious carvings was deemed a form of curse against them.
When we questioned local craftsmen, they insisted no such bizarre traditions existed among their guild.
This lends some credence to theories about his foreign origins.
After leaving his employer’s house, he never returned to Kagoshima—his whereabouts remain unknown.
Some speculate he may have killed himself elsewhere to complete the curse’s design, though nothing’s certain.”

“So you mean those carvings caused S Ryokan’s two daughters to suddenly transform into licentious women?” I said, still harboring some doubt.
“Then, what became of the daughters?”

“They tried keeping it hidden from the girls, but with so many people marveling and making a commotion, word inevitably reached them.”
“Yet upon merely hearing about it—without even demanding to see the carvings—they abruptly claimed to feel unwell and took to their beds.”
Under normal circumstances this might have been manageable, but with major repairs ongoing due to storm damage, having two patients lying side by side proved untenable. They decided to temporarily admit them to the town hospital—both sisters went compliantly.
“According to the clerks and maids, they appeared half-asleep.”

“What did you do with the carvings?”

“The family too were troubled about disposing of the carvings. After much discussion, they decided to take them to their family temple on the outskirts of town—where they had a priest recite sutras—and burn them in the temple’s courtyard.”
It was the third day after the daughters had been hospitalized, and on this day as well, an early autumn-like wind blew as the sky stretched clear and blue.
“When the sutra chanting concluded as customary and the pair of carvings finally turned to ash, a messenger came rushing from the hospital to report that the sisters had breathed their last as if asleep.”

“Doctor…”

“No, there’s more to the story,” Dr. Fujiki pressed on.
“The insurance salesman named Hyogaki, who was involved with the older sister and seemingly with the younger sister as well…”
He had found it difficult to remain at the inn after that incident and promptly left, relocating to a neighboring town some three ri away where he continued making rounds for his insurance work—but after that great storm, a nearby river ferry capsized due to swollen waters. Though the boatman was fortunately rescued, all seven passengers drowned.
The local newspapers had sensationalized the incident, but when I discovered Hyogaki Akiyoshi’s name among the drowning victims, a chill ran down my spine.
“However, this did not occur on the day the carvings were burned, but rather during the following morning.”

I held my breath and listened.
I had a friend with two younger sisters—I had been told they both succumbed to an epidemic simultaneously—but only tonight did I learn such secrets lurked surrounding their deaths.
It was a more terrifying end than any epidemic.

“At that time, I was carrying a Kodak and wanted to photograph the monster, but out of respect for the bereaved family, I couldn’t possibly do such a thing, so I left it as it was,” the doctor said.