Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Both now and in times past, Kawasaki Daishi Temple has always held its fair on the twenty-first day of each month, with particularly large crowds during the first, fifth, and ninth months of the lunar calendar.
Although it was some distance from Edo, those with weak legs rode in palanquins from around Takanawa.
Those who were able-bodied would depart Edo from early morning in sandals or straw sandals to make the short day trip.
For all these reasons, even in an era without the convenience of steam trains or electric trains, seven or eight out of ten pilgrims visiting the Daishi Temple were devotees from Edo.

This was likely another of those devotees.

A woman who appeared to be a samurai’s wife, likely one or two years past forty, approached the gate of Kawasaki Daishi Temple accompanied by a single manservant.
On the morning of September 21st in the eleventh year of Bunsei—with autumn’s end approaching—around four and a half by the old clock (approximately 11 AM), the reed plumes of Daishigahara swayed wildly in white disarray beneath a clear, azure sky.

This master and servant had risen at seven by the old timekeeping (4 AM), departed their Edo estate, walked the entire outbound journey on foot, and were now returning by palanquin—an itinerary typical among ordinary people. The mistress dragged her sandaled feet, thoroughly exhausted.
The manservant was what they called a household retainer—a man of about twenty-four or twenty-five whose robust build commanded immediate respect.
As was customary, he carried a single wooden sword at his side, held a small cloth-wrapped bundle, and wore straw sandals over bare feet.

“You must be tired,” he said with concern. “We should’ve rested at Mannen-ya.”

“It would be improper to rest before finishing our prayers,” she replied. “We’ll rest at leisure after completing them.”

The woman deliberately hid her weariness and led the way through the temple’s main gate. As mentioned earlier, this being the September fair day, pilgrims from Edo and nearby regions had gathered in such numbers that along the stone-paved path within the compound, sleeves of those ascending and descending brushed against prayer beads. She too wore a small strand of beads around her wrist.

As they made their way through the bustling crowd, the woman suddenly turned back to the manservant as if she had noticed something and whispered.

“Oh, the one over there…”

Upon being told, the manservant also turned to look and saw two women standing under a large cherry tree a short distance from the stone-paved path, gazing at a flock of pigeons pecking at food around their feet.
The manservant noticed that and hurried over.

“Hey, hey! Ain’t you Miss Oshima’s ma?”

The manservant’s voice was quite loud, but whether due to the surrounding commotion or some preoccupation of their own, even his shouting seemed not to reach the two women’s ears.
The manservant called out again impatiently.

“This is why country folk are hopeless.
“Hey, Oshima’s ma! What are you spacing out for?”
“The Mistress of Ichigaya is here!”

As if startled by the voice calling "Ichigaya," the two women suddenly looked up.
They appeared to be mother and daughter; the mother seemed two or three years younger than the woman referred to as Mistress, with the look of a fisherman’s wife from Ōmori or Haneda.
The daughter was still sixteen or seventeen; though her complexion was darkened by the seaside winds, she possessed thick eyebrows, large eyes, and a firmly set mouth—features so refined that, were she adorned with a formal Shimada-style wig, she might well have served as the decapitated head substitute of a proper samurai’s daughter.
Likely for their pilgrimage, both mother and daughter wore neat cotton-lined kimonos, and the daughter had tied a red obi around her waist.
The mother was also holding prayer beads.

“Oh!” The mother said as if noticing for the first time and hastily bowed. “It was you then—Kyusuke-san? And...the Mistress is here too...”

He straightened up in a fluster and looked around the crowd—and then the Mistress also emerged from the throng and approached the cherry tree.

"Oh, Mistress..." The mother adjusted her posture and bowed deeply, and her daughter respectfully lowered her head from behind her.

“It’s unusual to meet here,” she said kindly.
“Are you both here on pilgrimage?”

“Yes.”

Though she had said this, there was something subdued about the mother’s voice.
The daughter also remained silent, her head bowed.
They seemed to be troubled by some worry.

“How’s Mr. Kakuzo? In good health?” asked Kyusuke the manservant.

“Yes,” replied the mother. “By your grace, he’s been working steadily.”

“Have you not yet finished your devotions?”

“Not yet.”
“Have you folks already finished?”

“Yes.”

“Then would you please wait here for a moment?”
“We’ll go complete our prayers and come back.”

The woman spoke these words.

“Yes, yes.”
“Please take your time with your prayers…”

Leaving the mother and daughter there, the Mistress and the manservant once again walked along the stone-paved path.
The flock of pigeons, accustomed to people, did not fly away for a long time and continued to peck at food before this mother and daughter.

In order to ensure the smooth progression of this story, it was necessary here to briefly explain the backgrounds of its four principal characters.

The woman referred to as Mistress was Omatu, wife of Wada Yataro—a Police Captain under Inoue Sadayu of Edo’s Firearms Unit—and the Wada residence stood in Hakusanmae-cho, Koishikawa.
Yataro held a stipend of two hundred koku. Though the couple had two children—Ofuji and Matajiro—their eldest daughter Ofuji, now twenty-two years old, had married into another family four years prior, leaving only their heir Matajiro in the household.
A stipend of two hundred koku hardly signified wealth, but generations of prudent masters had kept the Wada household’s finances from becoming strained.
The family comprised six members—the couple, their son, the manservant Kyusuke, and maids Oshima and Omiyo—living a life adequate to their station without privation.
At forty-six years old, Yataro was recognized within his unit as a veteran firearms expert.

Having said this, the Wada household might have seemed without fault, but a particular hardship had recently befallen them.
This was their coming due for the annual duty of Eagle Hunting in Haneda.

Eagle Hunting in Haneda—every year from autumn to winter, large eagles would gather and descend upon the vicinity of Edo, flying from distant mountains in Ōshū, Shinshū, or Kōshū provinces, or from nearer regions like Bushū, Sōshū, or the opposing lands of Bōsō.
Since eagles are fierce birds, preying on other avian species was a given, and at times they might even bring harm to humans.
When one spoke of children being snatched by eagles, modern people seemed to consider it a kind of fabrication; yet even beyond ancient times and into the Meiji era, there had been frequent reports from lands near high mountains of children actually being seized by large eagles.
Moreover, during the Edo period, large eagles had apparently flown about various places.
Cases commonly attributed to tengu abduction were mostly the work of eagles; there were records of long-distance flights, such as an eagle from Mount Iwaki in Ōshū abducting a boy from Satsuma.

Now, whether due to topographical reasons or not remained unclear, but it was said that eagles flying into Edo were most numerous in areas like Fukagawa Suzaki or Ōmori Haneda, likely having crossed the sea from the mountains of Awa and Kazusa provinces.
Though cases of them seizing humans proved relatively few, snatching domestic fowl or wild birds from households was far from uncommon.
To counter these threats and prevent disturbances to the falconry grounds, eagle hunts were mandated by shogunate decree.

As was customary for the shogunal family, falconry hunts were held annually from winter through spring; however, if large eagles were to prowl near those falconry grounds and snatch away various wild birds, not only would the hard-won prey of the falconry be lost, but even unharmed birds might scatter in all directions. Therefore, they were to be captured or driven out in advance.
Given the customs of this era, the purpose of eagle hunting lay more in preventing disturbances than eliminating threats, with safeguarding the falconry grounds perhaps being its primary objective.
Another theory suggests this was also said to serve as practical firearms training.
In any case, from autumn to winter, the members of the Firearms Unit took turns being dispatched each year to Haneda or Suzaki, where they would lie in wait for eagles and shoot them down with powerful charges.

For samurai of an era without airplanes or such things, this duty of eagle hunting was akin to awaiting enemy aircraft: a Police Captain would be accompanied by four Constables to form a single unit, prepared with firearms and even telescopes, maintaining vigilant watch day and night.
The methods of vigilance had varied somewhat by era, but in any case, unlike ordinary beast hunting—since their quarry was a freely flying raptor—it was forbidden for them to noisily bustle about and startle the eagles.
Lying in wait for them to let their guard down and approach, they had to bring them down with a single shot.
Accordingly, they were to establish their headquarters at the village headman’s or a wealthy farmer’s residence, with the assigned groups secretly securing their respective positions.
Although it was an official order, being work that involved killing living beings, they customarily refrained from using temples as their headquarters.

This year’s Eagle Hunting from September had also begun.
Wada Yataro was assigned to the annual rotation, but as a veteran, he had not yet been dispatched.
The reason inexperienced newcomers were assigned to the first September rotation was that eagles rarely showed themselves during that month.
When the leaves on the mountains truly began to fall and October arrived—the time when eagles would finally leave their nests to attempt distant expeditions—the veteran experts made their first dispatch.

Yataro had made his preparations and was awaiting the day of his dispatch.

II

“Even Wada couldn’t bring down Haneda’s White-tailed Eagle.”
“Every time I hear that rumor, it chills me to the bone.”

Omatu said with a sigh.
After completing their prayers at the main hall, Yataro’s wife Omatu and the manservant Kyusuke led the mother and daughter who had been waiting beneath a cherry tree out to the temple gatefront. Rows of rest teahouses catering to pilgrims lined the street there, calling out to passersby.
They had originally planned to go all the way back to Kawasaki’s inn for lunch at Mannen-ya, but having unexpectedly gained companions on the road, Omatu saw no need to return to the inn and instead guided them into one of the gatefront teahouses.

Though called a rest teahouse, passing through the shop revealed a seating area set up in the back, capable of serving a full lunch. As Kyusuke was both a servant and a man, he modestly sat on the veranda, while the mother and daughter pair timidly entered the tatami room as invited and took seats near the veranda.

The four drank the tea brought by the waitress and ordered a light meal.
Before the meal trays were brought out, Omatu began to speak in a low voice about the circumstances of today’s pilgrimage.

“I have also heard about the White-tailed Eagle,” murmured the girl’s mother.
“By all accounts, that White-tailed Eagle had flown from Haneda’s offshore toward Edo both last year and the year before.”
“No one has gotten close enough to see it clearly, but they say that when it spreads its wings, it must be over eight feet in length...”
“It is truly regrettable that it had been missed twice.”

“What a damn shame,” Kyusuke interjected from the sidelines. “That blasted White-tailed Eagle… Whenever it’s Master’s duty rotation, the cursed thing never shows up—makes things right troublesome.” He spat on the ground. “Ain’t no ordinary marksman who could bring down that old veteran—been dodging bullets for years, it has.” Thumping his chest, he added, “But this year’s different! Master’s been oiling his matchlock day and night, just waitin’ to spot them wings. Once we do…” He made an explosive gesture with both hands. “Boom! Straight through its devil heart!” Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he finished with forced cheer: “No doubt about it! You lot can stop your frettin’ now.”

“No matter how much you promise, that thing’s a bird that flies through the skies…” Omatu let out another anxious sigh.

“Like I told ya, there’s all sorts of talk in the unit—if he messes this up now, he’ll never show his face again…”

Some said the White-tailed Eagle crossed the sea from Kazusa’s mountains, others claimed it came from Kōshū’s direction. Whatever its origin, even Haneda locals marveled at its unprecedented size—none had ever seen such a massive bird. Two years prior on October’s twentieth evening, Firearms Unit’s Iwase Jūbee had missed his shot when it appeared. Last year at high noon on November eighth, Fukaya Genshichi of the same unit failed too. Then two hours later, when reports came of the eagle swooping near shore again, Yazaki Denzō rushed over only to graze its left wing before losing his quarry.

On the fifteenth night of August this year, when a moon-viewing banquet was held at the group leader’s residence and talk of that White-tailed Eagle arose during the gathering—with Iwase, who had missed his shot two years prior, and Fukaya and Yazaki, who had missed theirs last year, appearing somewhat disgraced as they kept lamenting their regret—Wada Yataro, seated among them, burst into uproarious laughter for reasons unknown.
He merely laughed and offered no explanation, but given the circumstances, his laughter dampened the gathering’s mood.

Whether he had laughed at the inexperience of Iwase and the other two or whether it had been a confident laugh declaring he himself would surely bring it down—this much had been surmised—but since all present well knew Yataro was both a senior member of their unit and a seasoned firearms expert, none dared confront him directly. Yet their displeasure took form as muttered resentments.
As Omatu had just said—even Wada could not fell Haneda’s White-tailed Eagle.
Should he fail, let him laugh in retaliation—

Yataro was a man of strong samurai temperament—honest and scrupulously dutiful—but alcohol disagreed with him, and when drunk he would often provoke quarrels.
Everyone knew this habit of his, yet found his laughter that particular night especially grating.
After sobering up Yataro too felt remorse, but by then it was beyond remedy.
Now his only recourse lay in finding that accursed White-tailed Eagle and felling it with his own gun barrel at first sight.
He held confidence that with his skillset, failure seemed unlikely.

However, deep within the hearts of his family members, a certain unease lingered. While they believed in their master’s skill, hearing it was a rare raptor meant they could not rule out failure entirely. By fortune or misfortune, Yataro had not been on annual duty rotation these past two years, letting him boast of his untested prowess—but this year’s rotation meant that should he fail his mission, those lying in wait would surely clap their hands and laugh. Indeed, having laughed so boldly before others first, there would be no recourse if mocked in turn now. At this thought, both his wife Omatu and son Matajiro came to regard the family’s honor and social standing as matters of utmost gravity. Even the maids Oshima and Omoyo, who had caught whispers of these circumstances, found themselves unable to stay calm. Oshima especially grew so distressed that she began making nightly visits to the nearby Hakusan Gongen shrine.

The ones whom Omatu and her servant had encountered today at this temple hall were Oshima’s mother and sister.
Oshima was the daughter of Kakuzo, a fisherman from Haneda Village. Due to her master Yataro’s duties requiring him to be stationed in Haneda, the two households naturally became acquainted, leading to Oshima entering service at the Edo residence.
Her father was Kakuzo, her mother was Otoyo, her sister was Ocho—every last one of them honest people.
To these honest folk came a letter from Oshima at the Edo residence, privately informing them that this year’s eagle hunt fell under the Master’s annual duty rotation—and that it was a matter of grave personal consequence. The three family members were astonished.

However, since nothing could be accomplished through their own power, they had no choice but to entrust matters to the gods.
The reason Otoyo, the mother, and her daughter Ocho had come together to visit Kawasaki Daishi Temple—their usual place of worship—was precisely for that purpose.
The reason Omatu and Kyusuke had come all the way from Edo to worship here was likewise for that purpose.
That the parent and child and the master and servant—who had come to worship on the same temple fair day with identical prayers—had met there was no mere coincidence.

As they gathered and talked like this, it was no wonder a sigh escaped Omatu.
Otoyo was already on the verge of tears.
Then, glancing around nervously, she began to murmur:

“Just as Mr. Kyusuke said earlier—I know with the Master’s skill there wouldn’t be one failure in ten thousand…”
“But even so…if by some chance something were to happen…the Master would…”

Mid-sentence, Otoyo burst into loud sobs.
According to a letter from her daughter Oshima, if he were to encounter that White-tailed Eagle and fail to shoot it down, given the Master’s usual temperament, he might even commit ritual suicide.
In front of the Mistress, she could not possibly bring herself to voice it, but with that anxiety piercing her heart, Otoyo finally burst into tears.
Being wept at by Otoyo, Omatu’s eyes grew misty.
Ocho also began to sob quietly.

Ritual suicide—that unspoken anxiety was gnawing at the very souls of everyone involved.

Amidst them all, only Kyusuke remained composed—he gazed at the timid women with visible frustration while quietly smoking tobacco before bursting into laughter as though unable to contain himself any longer.

“Hey, hey.”
“What’re you cryin’ for, Ma? Sis?”
“This year, our Master’s gonna shoot down that White-tailed Eagle with one shot and make fools of the whole unit.”
“Ma, you better cook up some red rice for celebration when it happens.”
“No need to bother with sea bream—that’s your trade.”

It was because Master Yataro had laughed where he shouldn’t that he’d planted these seeds of anxiety.
Though he surely hadn’t meant to imitate his master, this servant of his was now guffawing just as inappropriately.
Even gentle Otoyo seemed to grow somewhat cross, wiping her eyes as she turned away.

“We’re simple folk who don’t understand anything, so at times like these, we worry twice as much as others.”
“And so, you’ll be accompanying the Master, then?”

“That goes without saying,” Kyusuke laughed again.
“Ma, you ever been to Asakusa Kannon Temple?”

Feeling increasingly mocked, Otoyo also sneered.

“Even country bumpkins like us know about Asakusa Kannon Temple, you know.”

“Then you’ve seen the plaque in Kannon Hall, right? In there’s the tale of Minamoto no Yorimasa of the Third Rank subjugating the Nue. When Yorimasa shoots down the Nue, his retainer Inohaya draws his sword and thrusts it through. So you get it now? The Master’s Yorimasa, and I’m Inohaya—that’s our roles here. When we hunt that eagle, I ain’t carrying this dog-scarin’ wooden sword. I’ll be heading out with my own wakizashi thrust in my belt, you can count on that. Ha ha ha ha!”

He leaned back and laughed again.

III

On the first day of the Tenth Month at dawn’s sixth hour, Wada Yataro readied himself and left his residence in Hakusanmae-cho. His son Matajiro and manservant Kyusuke trailed behind him. Though Matajiro had reached twenty years that year, he remained an unemployed dependent dwelling in the family quarters since his father Yataro continued occupying their household’s official post with distinction. Nor was this circumstance unique to Matajiro—even those dependents above fifteen years without formal appointments were customarily permitted to accompany fathers or elder brothers as apprentices through unspoken allowance.

Since they were apprentices, they were only permitted to observe the work of officials on duty and were not allowed to discharge firearms themselves.
Firearms in that era were particularly expensive, costing fifteen to twenty ryō each. Therefore, even among the firearms unit, while the household head was an exception, it was customary for dependents and others not to possess firearms.
Matajiro fortunately had that firearm, so he decided to wrap it in a straw bundle and carry it along.

Today was the first day of the month, and particularly as this year marked their turn for eagle hunting, they were setting out on their mission.
It was akin to the morning of departing for battle, so at the Wada residence, they prepared red rice and served a whole fish with its head on the master’s tray.
Since it was the tenth month of the old lunar calendar, the mornings around this time were cold.
Because the cold wind had blown all through the night, this morning’s garden lay white with frost.

After Matajiro finished preparing and left his room, the maid Oshima approached him stealthily.

“Young Master, please take care…”

“Hmm. I leave the house in your care.”

Oshima still seemed to want to say something.
As Matajiro hesitated slightly, his father’s scolding voice came from the entrance.

“Matajiro.”
“What are you doing?”
“Hurry up.”

“Right away…” said Matajiro as he pushed past the young maid and headed to the entrance, where his father was already wearing his straw sandals.

The wintry wind had ceased by dawn, but the needle-laden morning air bit to the bone, and Matajiro felt a kind of battle tremor coursing through him.
What resolve he harbored was unclear, but Yataro maintained a composed demeanor throughout, his lips seeming to hold a faint smile.
Even more so, Kyusuke was excited.
As if he foresaw his master’s triumph, he shouldered the precious firearm and strode off with large steps.
Omatu, Oshima, and Omoyo all came out to the gate to see them off.

Since the house of Tomiemon, a peasant in Haneda Village, served as the Firearms Unit’s outpost, Yataro first removed his straw sandals there and greeted the advance party who had been stationed there since the previous month.

“I hear the birds have not shown themselves at all, but…”

“Perhaps because this year’s season had been warm,” answered the advance party members, “we did not see a single one throughout September. However, over these past two or three days it has turned winter-like at last—they should come gradually now.”

Among them were those lying in wait to laugh at Yataro’s blunder—a fact both Matajiro and Kyusuke knew. After completing the initial greetings there, Yataro was shown to his quarters. The newly assigned young Police Captains and Constables were lodged together haphazardly in the spacious hall, while Yataro was specially conducted to a detached guest room. It had formerly served as the retirement residence for the household head’s father and now stood vacant. During eagle hunting seasons, it was customary to maintain and clean the building to lodge dispatched officials.

Yataro had also been sent to this retirement residence the previous year, so he was well acquainted with the household’s layout.
In addition to the eight-tatami guest room with a veranda wrapping around to the southeast, there were two more rooms—one of six tatami and another of three tatami. Yataro took the guest room, Matajiro the six-tatami room, and Kyusuke the three-tatami one, each settling into their respective quarters, while Yataro’s firearm was displayed in the tokonoma.
Matajiro’s firearm was stored away in the cupboard.
After settling those tasks and taking a breather, the sound of a gunshot was heard somewhere.

“Ah!” Matajiro and Kyusuke cried out in unison.

“Go check it out,” Yataro called from the back.

Kyusuke immediately ran out to the main house but soon returned. When a lone eagle’s silhouette appeared far over the open sea, the guard on duty aimed his gun.
Yet in their excessive haste, they fired before drawing close enough for the bullet to reach. The bird flew off unscathed.
It was reported this had not been the White-tailed Eagle at all—merely a fledgling eagle barely larger than a hawk.

“Inexperienced ones must never panic. Even on the battlefield, devising a way to draw the enemy close before firing is crucial,” Yataro instructed his son.

That night, the wintry wind began blowing again, and with the sea’s roar growing fierce, Matajiro found himself unable to sleep well. When morning came clear-skied, he rose first. Kyusuke and Yataro followed shortly after. After eating breakfast and readying themselves, as the three men tied their straw sandal cords, a farmhand from the main house arrived guiding someone.

“They wished to see the masters, but…”

“Who’s here?” Kyusuke asked.

“It is Kakuzo, a fisherman residing at the beach.”

“Hmm, Kakuzo.”

“He has come with his wife.”

Wondering how to respond, Kyusuke silently gauged his master’s expression, and Yataro shook his head.

“We are currently on official duty.”
“I can’t meet them.”
“Matajiro, you go meet them.”

With that curt dismissal, Yataro donned his war hat and strode briskly toward the entrance when from behind a large camellia tree emerged a small-framed man of forty-five or six with a sun-browned face, who bowed politely with a slight stoop.
Following behind him was Otoyo, who also bowed respectfully.
Turning to look at them, Yataro simply said one thing.

“Good to see you’re all healthy.”

“You lot go talk with the Young Master,” said Kyusuke.
“The Master’s fixin’ to leave now.”

The greetings ended there, and the master and servant briskly departed as they were.

Yataro carried a telescope. Kyusuke shouldered the firearm. Seeing off their retreating figures, Otoyo and her husband then greeted the farmhand as well and timidly made their way around to the veranda of the guest room—where Matajiro sat on the edge as though awaiting them.

“Oh, Kakuzo. It’s been a while. You came too, Otoyo?” Matajiro called out with a laugh. “Come now, no need to stand on ceremony. Take a seat here.”

“Yes, yes,” they replied in unison. “We are most obliged.”

After giving a perfunctory bow, Kakuzo sat down at the slightly distant edge of the veranda.
Otoyo stood nearby.

“Last night’s wind was fierce,” said Matajiro, tilting his head back to gaze at the clear sky. “Edo has been quite windy lately too, but some rather strong winds blow here as well. Since this area faces the sea, it should feel warmer than Edo, yet this morning is bitterly cold.”

“It does seem colder than last year,” Kakuzo replied.
“What with this wintry wind blowing every day...”

“Hmm.”
“It seems colder than when I came last year.”
“I heard that Mother and Kyusuke met Otoyo in Kawasaki the other day.”

“Yes, yes.”
“I had the opportunity to meet the Mistress, and received many kindnesses.”

Otoyo answered with deep gratitude.

The remnants of last night’s wintry wind still blew faintly, but morning sunlight streamed into the east-facing veranda, and the sound of birds chirping could be heard among the winter trees in the garden.

The couple exchanged glances, their demeanor suggesting they had something to say but hesitated once more; then, as though mustering resolve, Kakuzo began to speak.

“To speak of such matters before you, Young Master… it is truly presumptuous of me, but…”
“To tell the truth, the other day, this Otoyo here paid a visit to Kawasaki Daishi-sama and received a sacred fortune slip… but it read ‘misfortune’…”
“Ocho’s slip also read ‘misfortune,’ so…”

Worried about their master’s well-being, they had received a sacred fortune slip from the Daishi-sama they usually worshiped, but since both the mother and daughter had drawn omens of misfortune, they were deeply concerned.
Since the Mistress was also in the midst of her own worries, they had refrained from mentioning it to her the other day; however, being unable to set their concerns aside, they were now privately informing him of this matter.
A young samurai would have dismissed such concerns outright, but Matajiro, gentle by nature, did not attempt to brush them off.
He nodded earnestly.

“Well, thank you for your concern.”
“Of course Father will take care, and we too shall be quite cautious.”

“Please do take the utmost care…”

The Kakuzo couple, ever devoted to their master, could find nothing more to say.
Matajiro too could find nothing more to say.
The conversation then turned to eagle hunting—how not a single eagle had appeared since September this year, how they had finally spotted one young eagle last night only for the Firearms Unit to miss their shot due to inexperience. The couple took turns recounting these events, but it was all information already known, and Matajiro in particular heard nothing new to pique his interest.

Out of consideration that staying too long would be impolite, the couple ended their conversation at an appropriate point and began preparing to leave.

“We shall call again someday.”
“Please convey our respects to Master...”

“Hmm. Come again during your stay.”

As they exchanged farewells and were about to part, the front entrance suddenly erupted into commotion. All the people of this house scattered and rushed out to the front entrance.

“Eagle! Eagle! Three eagles have come…,” they cried out in unison.

“What? Three eagles…”

Matajiro too suddenly felt a surge of tension and, looking up at the sky, rushed out to the front entrance.
Kakuzo and his wife followed after them.

IV

When they stepped outside, locals and passersby stood here and there, gazing up at the clear blue sea sky. Members of the Firearms Unit were also running about.

Matajiro hurried toward the seashore through the crowd and encountered Kyusuke along the way.

“What happened? The eagles…”

“Oh hell!
“This is bad!”
“All three of them got away.”

“Let them escape again?” Matajiro gritted his teeth involuntarily.
“And Father…?”

“Well…”
“I’m also searching for him…”
“I was sure it was this way, but…”

He seemed quite agitated.
Leaving the Young Master standing before him, he dashed off somewhere.
Left behind, Matajiro stood pondering whether to go right or left when a young woman emerged from the shadow of a large zelkova tree by the roadside.

This area was all fields and farms, with no houses to either side.
Under the zelkova tree stood an old stone Jizo statue, and before it, new incense smoke swirled in the cold morning wind.
Assuming the young woman had come to visit this Jizo statue, Matajiro—without properly discerning her figure—was about to hurry toward the seashore as he had initially intended when the young woman called out to him.

“Excuse me, but are you not the Young Master? The one from the Wada household in Edo…”
“The one from the Wada household in Edo…”

Seeing the face that spoke, Matajiro remembered. The woman was Kakuzo’s daughter—Ocho, the younger sister of Oshima who served in their household. Matajiro had accompanied his father and come to Haneda the previous year as well, so he remembered Ocho’s face.

“Ocho? Your father and mother came to visit my lodgings just now.”

“So that was the case.”

Up to this point it had been an ordinary exchange of greetings—but then she suddenly contorted her face in fury, lunged forward as though pouncing, and seized her master’s Young Master by his left arm. Those large eyes blazed with a fiery intensity.

“Your father is my enemy.”

“Enemy…”

As Matajiro stared at her face as though enveloped in smoke, Ocho’s voice grew increasingly sharp.

“My parent will be killed by your father.”

“Your parent…”
“Aren’t Kakuzo and his wife your parents?”

“No, that’s not right.”
“The parents I have now are only temporary guardians.”
“My true parent exists elsewhere.”
“Please do not kill that parent.”
“Kill them, and they will surely curse you.”
“I will exact vengeance.”

“So Kakuzo and his wife are your temporary guardians?” Matajiro asked back quizzically.
“Then, who is your real parent?”

Ocho wordlessly looked up at Matajiro’s face.
Her large eyes blazed even more fiercely, appearing nothing like those of a mere human, and Matajiro felt an indescribable terror.
Moreover, he was a samurai.
Nor was he so cowardly as to be caught off guard by this young woman’s intimidation.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

Even if it were not Matajiro, in this situation, making such a judgment first would have been justified.
As he said this and tried to shake off the seized arm, Ocho’s hand would not release.
Her fingertips were digging sharply into the flesh of Matajiro’s arm like raptor’s talons, so he froze in shock.

“Please save my parent,” Ocho said again.

“Where is this parent of yours?”

Ocho released the hand she had been gripping and pointed to the sky opposite the sea.
While watching this, Matajiro suddenly thought.
The direction she pointed toward was that of Musashi or Kai Province.
As previously noted, those eyes were not human—they were the eyes of a raptor like an eagle or hawk.
Moreover, she claimed your father would kill my parent.
Synthesizing these facts suggested Ocho’s parent must be an eagle.
With this realization, Matajiro reconsidered.
Such an absurdity could not exist in reality.
Ocho was undeniably Kakuzo’s child and Oshima’s sister.
The idea that an eaglet from Musashi or Kai’s mountains—transformed into human form—stood before him defied even fictional tales.

Either I was dreaming, or Ocho had lost her mind—there was no third possibility.
Of course, Matajiro judged it to be the latter.
If she were indeed deranged, she was a pitiable creature.
Thinking that calming her down and handing her over to her parents was the proper course to take, he suddenly softened his voice.

“I understand, I understand.”
“So your parent comes from that direction.”
“Alright, I understand.”
“I’ll ask Father myself and make sure he doesn’t kill them.”
“Rest assured.”

“Will you truly ask him for me?”

“Hmm，I’ll ask him for you.”
“So，what is your parent’s name?”

“In society，it is called White-Tailed.”

“White-Tailed…,” Matajiro gasped again.

He considered asking whether it referred to a father or mother, but something felt unnerving, so he abandoned the thought.
In that instant.
As if startled by some unseen force, Ocho narrowed her blazing eyes even more fiercely—then twisted her body like a bird and retreated into the shadow of the great tree.
Startled by this sudden movement, Matajiro whirled around to find his father Yataro striding briskly toward him from behind.
Yataro carried a firearm.

“Father.”

“So you were here too,” Yataro said irritably.

“Kyusuke said they let all three escape…”

“They all fled,” his father snapped.
“Having learned from last night’s failure, we tried moving closer this morning when those cursed villagers started shrieking ‘The eagle! The eagle!’”
“Spooked by that racket, every last bird turned tail.”
“We’re here on official orders—having these meddling peasants stir up chaos for sport is intolerable.”
“We must issue strict warnings village-wide and make damn sure they never obstruct official business again.”

"Is the bird large?" asked Matajiro tentatively.

"No, they're all small," replied Yataro. "Last night's were fledglings too, and this morning's are all fledglings as well. The parent bird still hasn't appeared."

Hearing the parent eagle wasn't coming, Matajiro felt something like relief.

“Remember this well.”
“These late autumn winds don’t blow from the sea—they come rushing down from the mountains.”
“When such winds persist for days, large birds ride them from the mountainous regions of Musashi, Kai, and Shinano.”
“Awa and Kazusa have low peaks, so even parent birds crossing the sea from those lands remain small.”
“The truly massive ones come from the direction opposite the ocean.”

Yataro turned around and pointed to the northwest sky.
Because the direction his finger pointed to happened to align exactly with what Ocho had indicated, Matajiro once again felt an inexplicable sense of dread.
Father smiled.

“It’s regrettable that we missed the three birds this morning, but those small ones hardly matter anyway. Even if we’d shot them down, it wouldn’t have been any great feat.”

As he sensed an implicit meaning in his father’s words—"I will shoot the large White-tailed Eagle"—Matajiro’s mood grew increasingly somber.

“It must be around the fifth hour (eight in the morning) now.”

“That must be so.”

“Hmm,” Yataro muttered, looking up at the sky once more. “They’re quite cautious creatures—once the sun climbs high, they won’t show themselves. Since they usually come out in the morning or evening, today we’ll rest during the day as well. I’ll stop by the village headman’s house now and instruct them not to interfere with official business. They should know better by now, given it’s the same every year—it’s truly vexing.”

“Then I shall take my leave here.”

“Well, go back to the inn and rest.”
“As I just said, we’ll be resting during the day anyway.”

Yataro adjusted the cord of his war hat and parted from his child.
Matajiro felt relieved.
Though his father had always been strict, standing before him that morning felt particularly oppressive—even terrifying—and he found himself unable to endure facing him for long.

Watching his father’s retreating figure grow distant, Matajiro peered into the shadow of the zelkova tree—but Ocho’s shadow was nowhere to be seen. Before the Jizo statue, the incense sticks had turned into cold-looking ashes.

Five

Ocho had gone mad—Matajiro thought this even as he made his way back.
Near the Wada residence lived a doctor named Uozumi Ryo’ei.
Because he studied not only herbalism but also Dutch studies, he was known more as a scholar than a doctor, and even those who were not doctors would attend his monthly lecture meetings.
Matajiro, too, had been invited by friends and passed through that gate five or six times.
During that time, Ryo’ei one day spoke of such things.

“Those referred to as victims of fox possession in this world all suffer from a form of madness,”
“Because people ordinarily believe foxes can possess humans, when madness strikes them, they begin raving things like ‘A fox has taken hold of me!’”
“Thus, the ravings of the mad are often shaped by their surroundings.”
“For instance, imagine a giant serpent is slain somewhere.”
“If those around them fear the serpent will curse them, someone newly afflicted by madness might start shrieking ‘I am the serpent!’ or ‘The serpent lives within me!’”
“Then others come to believe this dread, until they enshrine the very creature as a god.”

Matajiro now recalled that lecture.
Ocho was no different—she had suddenly gone mad of late.
It just so happened to coincide with the eagle hunting season, and those around were constantly talking about eagles.
Rumors may have circulated about the great White-tailed Eagle that had evaded their shots since the year before last.
There might have been someone who said that only Mr. Wada could shoot down such a great eagle.
Particularly since Ocho’s sister was serving at the Wada residence, her parents were deeply concerned about this year’s eagle hunting.
Perhaps they spend each day saying things like how they want Master to achieve glory or want Master to shoot down the White-tailed Eagle.
In fact, just last month, because of that very reason, Ocho had gone on a pilgrimage to Kawasaki Daishi with her mother.
The fact that her fortune slip had drawn misfortune at that time might have triggered something in Ocho.

When he thought it through this way, there was nothing particularly strange about it. Even if Ocho were to blurt out anything, it would ultimately be nothing more than a result of being influenced by her surroundings. Though he believed himself no coward, the fact that he had momentarily felt an inexplicable creepiness now struck him as utterly foolish, and Matajiro nearly burst into laughter.

“Even so, Ocho is pitiful.”

In this world, there is no human more unfortunate than one who has lost their mind. Moreover, she was a servant of my household—now in a relationship that was no longer merely that of a servant—and Oshima’s younger sister. When he thought of that, Matajiro once again felt a dark mood come over him. He could no longer laugh carelessly. Did Kakuzo and Otoyo, her parents, know that Ocho had gone mad? If they knew, they would never let her wander about so recklessly. Or had she slipped out while her parents were away visiting our inn?

"In any case, I should go and ask."

Since Ocho had been confirmed as mentally deranged, and since he thought it necessary to take proper precautions regardless, Matajiro turned the tips of his straw sandals toward the fishing village by the sea.
The withering wind that had momentarily weakened since morning now blew down fiercely again, and white waves resembling a horse's mane leapt wildly under the blue sky.
As he walked, Matajiro looked up at the sky several times, wondering if the great White-tailed Eagle might be riding this wind.

“Is Kakuzo here?”

When Matajiro called out from the front, Otoyo—who had been stretching washed fabric within the brushwood fence—turned around.

“Oh, you’ve come.”

Having been welcomed inside, Matajiro sat down on the bamboo veranda.

“The wind had calmed some,” said Otoyo, “so Kakuzo went out to sea—but seems it’s started blowing fierce again.”
“No matter—winter fishing’s near halted these days.”

“What of Ocho?”

“When we left for your inn earlier—while we were gone—she slipped out somewhere and hasn’t returned.”

Just as he’d suspected—Matajiro thought.

“Has Ocho been well lately?” he probed subtly.

“Yes.
“By your grace, she has been well.”

“Has anything unusual happened?”

“Yes.”

Since the mother seemed to know nothing at all, Matajiro was troubled.
Ignorance was bliss—this was precisely the situation.
Facing this Buddha-like mother, he hesitated to speak plainly about her daughter’s madness, for it felt too cruel.
As Otoyo questioned him, he discussed Edo rumors instead and ultimately left without addressing the crucial matter.

“If Kakuzo has no business,” Matajiro said while rising to leave, “tell him to visit tonight—there’s something I must discuss.”

“Understood.”

“I disturbed you while you were busy.”

Chasing after Matajiro as he tried to leave, Otoyo whispered.

“As I mentioned earlier, there was an oracle of misfortune in Daishi-sama’s fortune slip… Please take care… for everyone’s sake…”

If the fortune slip held no falsehood, it concerned one's own self more than others'.
Matajiro nearly said, "Don't you realize your own daughter has gone mad?" but hesitated again.
He merely nodded and took his leave.

As veteran Yataro had stated, even formidable eagles rarely revealed themselves under clear midday skies, mostly appearing at dawn or dusk.
Unlike geese or crows—even in Edo-period Japan—creatures deserving the name 'eagle' wouldn't appear in flocks daily.
That morning's three eaglets flying consecutively marked a seasonal rarity.
Having failed to shoot them down, predicting their return became near impossible—one might come on the third day, another on the seventh, or none for ten days or half a month.
With last night's and this morning's failures growing more regrettable by the hour, Yataro drew upon decades of experience to exhort the young samurai: "Stay vigilant."

“Last night, one came.
“Three came this morning.
“In years when they come one after another like this, they’ll keep coming afterward.
“Due to some circumstance—likely a severe shortage of food in the deep mountains where they dwell—they’ve come out two or three at a time. More will undoubtedly follow.
“Never let your guard down.
“This year might just yield more prey than expected.”

The people nodded in understanding.
Moreover, that day ended without even a single shadow of an eagle being seen.
Matajiro waited, wondering if Kakuzo would come, but he did not appear.
Since it was difficult to bring up the matter of his daughter’s derangement in front of her mother, he had waited to call for her father and inform him secretly, but Kakuzo never came.

For the next five days, strong winds blew daily, but the wild eagles did not ride the wind to come.
Even Yataro’s prediction that this year’s prey would be abundant had somehow come to seem unreliable.
Matajiro sent Kyusuke to observe Kakuzo’s household’s condition, and it turned out that Kakuzo—having gone out to sea that day, perhaps due to being exposed to the cold wind—had developed a high fever that evening and had since taken to his bed in earnest.
Ocho was said to have not changed in any particular way and was nursing the patient together with her mother.
The reason for Kakuzo’s absence had become clear from that, but the fact that there had been no change in Ocho did not sit quite right with Matajiro.

Then three more days passed, and today was October 11th.
Since the second day, not only eagles but even the shadows of wild geese had scarcely been seen, so the people’s tense mood gradually began to ease.
Yataro’s predictions grew increasingly unreliable, and now even those who whispered criticisms in secret began to emerge.

“Damn it!”
“Just you wait!” muttered Kyusuke, the loyal servant, seething in secret.

The wintry winds that had blown daily since then ceased abruptly yesterday evening as if forgotten, and today dawned with a serene Indian summer day.
On the evening of that day, the innkeeper provided a feast of food and drink.

“I deeply appreciate your daily efforts in service. Please rest your bones and partake of a cup.”

There was a regulation forbidding them from accepting food and drink beyond fixed meals; however, receiving occasional hospitality from their assigned garrison inn had become an annual custom, so none found it suspicious. After offering a perfunctory refusal—claiming such concern would only trouble them—they each turned to their meals. Of course, this applied not only to the samurai on duty. Since retainers and apprentices alike received the same treatment, some among the lower servants had noted this occasion on their calendars from the start.

Matajiro also went out to the spacious hall with his father and took their seats alongside the group.
He was not much of a drinker by nature, but tonight he had uncharacteristically poured himself cup after cup, and gradually the alcohol began to take effect.
He slipped away from his seat midway and stepped into the garden unnoticed—the eleventh-night moon blazed with terrifying clarity.
Perhaps because there was no wind, tonight was not particularly cold.

It might not have been due to the feast liquor, but Matajiro found himself in a better mood than he had felt in recent memory.
He passed through the winter trees in the garden—warm and slightly drowsy in this indescribable state—and staggered out beyond the front gate where the moon shone brighter than ever.
Though likely just past eight o'clock in the evening, the area lay silent as midnight, every distant light from houses scattered among the fields having gone out.

Matajiro wandered aimlessly along the bright thoroughfare when suddenly he noticed the sound of stealthy footsteps approaching from behind him. When he turned around, it was a young woman. Because the moon shone brightly, the woman’s face was clearly visible. It was Oshima, Ocho’s older sister.

Why was Oshima, who should have been at the Edo estate, walking around here? Without even a moment to think about it, Matajiro turned back and approached the woman.

“Oshima…”
“Why did you come here?”

He called out to her nostalgically, but Oshima remained silent.
Moreover, her pale face—fully illuminated by moonlight from the front, its features distinct—was unmistakably that of Oshima from the Edo estate.

“Hmm, I see,” Matajiro nodded.
“Did you come to visit your father’s sickbed?”

Oshima nodded.

“I see.”
“That’s dutiful of you.”
“It’s only been about ten days since leaving Edo, but lately I’ve started missing you—last night I even dreamed of you.”
“No—it’s true.”
“Tonight, too, I’ve gotten drunk and wandered around here in a good mood when suddenly I started missing Edo…”
“I started missing you…”
“And just then you showed up…”
“No, no—this is no time to let my guard down.”
“Are you a fox?”
“Don’t think I’m drunk and take me for a fool!”

He staggered and reached for the short sword at his waist, yet ultimately did not dare to draw it.

“Hey, don’t keep me waiting—just tell me honestly. Are you a fox trying to trick me? Or are you the real Oshima?”

“I am Oshima.”

“Oshima?”

“Yes.”

“That puts my mind at ease.”
“If I return to the inn, Father will be trouble.”
“There’s a sick man at your house.”
“Since you were born here, you must know a good spot.”
“Take me anywhere.”

The young man and woman walked side by side under the winter moon.

Six

“Ah.”

Wada Yataro set down the chopsticks he was holding and glared upward at the ceiling.

It was when the hospitality banquet at the guard post had ended, and the sake cups had been replaced with rice bowls.
Yataro suddenly let out a cry, prompting everyone at the gathering to set down their chopsticks in unison.

“Ah—that.” Yataro tilted his ear intently.
“That’s…”
“Not the wind.”
“The sound of large wings beating.”

Though he had said this, none of them could hear anything resembling the sound of bird wings.

“Can you really hear it?” asked one of them.

“Hmm, I can hear it.”
“It’s definitely the sound of a bird’s wings.”
“An exceptionally large one.”

He abruptly stood up and returned from the main house to his detached quarters.
Then he called out to Kyusuke in a loud voice.
When called, Kyusuke came running, but he was already drunk.

“Wh-what is it, sir?”

“I can hear the eagle’s wingbeats.”
“Make your preparations.”

The master and servant pair immediately made their preparations and rushed out to the front.

At this point, the others could no longer remain composed.
All of them, though still half in doubt, made their preparations each in their own way.
Among them were those who dismissed the situation as trivial, rushing out half-mockingly in whatever they happened to be wearing.

When they went out and looked, it was not Yataro’s auditory hallucination.
The winter moon hung brilliantly high, bright as daylight, beneath a vast sky so crystal-clear it seemed to stretch endlessly to the horizon. From the west of this expanse, a single black shadow gradually drew near.
That was a bird.
It was an eagle.
Soaring high in that sky, given how large it appeared from such a height, it must have been an enormous bird.

“Master.”
“Is it the White-tailed Eagle?” Kyusuke pressed boldly.

“I can’t tell yet.
Don’t make noise.
Be quiet.”

Yataro readjusted his grip on the rifle.
Kyusuke held his breath.
The bird gradually descended, and the loud wingbeats—like a demonic wind stirring in the quiet night sky—became clearly audible to everyone’s ears.
However bright it was, they couldn’t determine by moonlight alone whether it was indeed the White-tailed Eagle, but there was no doubt that it was a rare, enormous bird.

“Master…,” Kyusuke called out in a hushed voice, unable to wait any longer.

“You’re making noise again.”
“Wait, wait.”

Experienced as he was, even when Yataro saw the bird’s shadow had entered effective range, he still did not easily pull the trigger.
Unaware whether it knew of the two figures on the ground watching it, the bird flew diagonally over Yataro and the others’ heads with a whooshing sound from its large wings, and the two gave chase.
The reason Yataro had yet to pull the trigger was that he was waiting for the bird to land somewhere.

Sure enough, the bird’s shadow grew ever lower and larger, attempting to alight upon the great zelkova tree. At that very moment, Yataro pulled the trigger. The bird fell to the ground as though it had been shot down, but as it violently flapped its wings in an attempt to take flight again, Yataro fired once more. Despite that, the bird soared up. And then, with the speed of the wind, it flew away high into the vast sky.

“Ah,” Kyusuke inadvertently let out a voice of disappointment.

While the bird’s shadow remained visible, Yataro—who knew it was already beyond effective range—could do nothing but glare futilely at the sky.

At this moment, beneath your great zelkova tree—the very one where the great eagle had fallen—a strange woman’s laughter could be heard.

“Haha, vengeance has been wrought.”
“Hahahaha.”

“What? The enemy has been slain…”
“Kyusuke, go check.”

Kyusuke ran off but soon returned with a pale face.
He stammered, unable to speak properly.

“Master…,”
“The Young Master…,”

“What happened to Matajiro?”

“P-Please hurry... come quickly.”

Before the great zelkova tree lay a fallen stone Jizo statue.
In the shadow of the great tree lay Matajiro.
Laughing and standing beside him was Oshima’s younger sister, Ocho.

That the eagle had fallen with the first shot was something both Yataro and Kyusuke had clearly witnessed.
As for where the second shot went...
To answer that question, Matajiro’s corpse lay there.
Yataro silently gazed at the corpse.
Kyusuke began to cry.
Ocho laughed again.
As her laughter faded, she collapsed to the ground.

The people who had arrived belatedly were startled by this unexpected sight.
All of them sobered up completely.

Matajiro’s death was attributed to a sudden illness; his corpse was placed in a palanquin and sent to Edo before dawn the next morning.
Beside the palanquin, Kyusuke followed feebly.
His grand boast about Yorimasa’s Nue extermination at the Daishi teahouse had met this sorrowful end.
Ocho’s corpse was naturally sent to her parents, but with no wounds upon her body, it remained unclear how she had died.

Among them, it was none other than Kyusuke who harbored suspicions.
Why had Matajiro been hiding in the shadow of the zelkova tree, and why had Ocho been laughing beside him?
What kind of relationship existed between them?
When he returned from Edo and visited Kakuzo’s house to investigate, he found Kakuzo already recovering and risen from his sickbed.
They—the couple—were deeply mourning the Young Master’s death rather than grieving their own daughter’s.

In response to Kyusuke’s investigation, Kakuzo revealed such a secret.
Sixteen years ago in autumn, while returning from visiting relatives in Kōshū, he stayed at a small inn at the foot of Sasago Pass where a refined nun around thirty years old happened to be staying in the neighboring room.
The nun was in traveling attire, holding an infant who appeared to be about a year old.
According to his account, when he happened to pass through the mountains bordering Shinshū and Kōshū, he heard a baby crying somewhere.
When he curiously looked around, there was an eagle’s nest in an ancient camphor tree with a baby crying inside it.
She had asked a woodcutter who happened to come there to retrieve the infant from the tree and somehow brought it this far, but being a nun on a long journey, carrying a suckling infant proved exceedingly troublesome.
She requested that Kakuzo take the child into his care and raise her.

Kakuzo surmised that the infant was likely the nun’s illegitimate child.
The story about rescuing her from an eagle’s nest was a fabrication—he concluded the nun was struggling to dispose of her own illegitimate child and seeking someone to take it. Feeling pity yet also stirred by greed, he replied he might accept the infant if given adequate payment for its rearing. The nun then handed him a one ryō gold coin.
Kakuzo accepted both the money and the infant before parting ways.
Who the nun was, where she went thereafter—all trace of her vanished completely.

Kakuzo and his wife had a daughter named Oshima.
The infant was also a girl, so they raised her as her younger sister.
They announced to the world that they had taken her in out of necessity from relatives in Kōshū and had her called Ocho.
Though he had taken in the child with half sympathy and half greed, Kakuzo—being an honest man by nature—raised Ocho as lovingly as his own child.
Ocho, of course, knew nothing of this secret and thus regarded the couple as her true parents.

“Until now, I had stubbornly believed it was all a fabrication by the nun,” Kakuzo said with a puzzled air, “but given how things turned out, even the story about Ocho being in the eagle’s nest might be true. There may be some fateful bond between Ocho and the eagle.”

“Ocho seemed to have gone mad, the Young Master had said…"
“No one knew she was a daughter with such a fateful connection,” said Kyusuke.
“Since the Young Master ended up like this, Miss Oshima was crying like a madwoman, I tell you.”

The secret between the Young Master and Oshima was something even Kakuzo and his wife had not known.

They had strictly ordered the inn’s staff to keep silent about Matajiro’s unnatural death, but before long it had leaked out and become the talk throughout the small village, so his father Yataro similarly announced an illness and decided to return to Edo.

On the fifth day after returning to Edo, there was a report that Yataro had also died suddenly of illness.
Not only had the heir Matajiro died before his father, but there were also circumstances making it difficult to hastily adopt a successor, so the Wada household was extinguished.

Whether the bird Yataro had missed was truly the White-tailed Eagle remained unclear, but in any case, no one sighted the eagle throughout that entire season.
According to records, the following year—that is, in winter of Bunsei 12—the great White-tailed Eagle was shot down by Ikeda Sadagorō, Police Captain of the Firearms Unit.