Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

In April of Bunsei 4 [1821], owing to the temple exhibition at Enoshima Benzaiten Shrine in Sagami Province, not only the island itself but every road stretching from Fujisawa to Katase displayed scenes of extraordinary bustle.

South of Fujisawa's lodging district, where the road branched off across Ishikame River's ferry crossing toward Katase—this being the standard Enoshima pilgrimage route of that era—several temporary teahouses anticipating temple exhibition crowds had set up shop along the way. Being temporary structures after all, these teahouses consisted only of crude shops with densely woven reed screens, meant merely for brief respite. Yet the sight of young women—their white hand towels tied in older-sister fashion—roasting turban shells at shopfronts perfectly captured the ambiance that suited this temple exhibition's locale. With two palanquins set down in front of one of these teahouses, three guests—one of higher status and two attendants—were taking their rest.

The three were all Edoites, their travel preparations making their Enoshima pilgrimage immediately apparent at a glance.
To make their circumstances clear here by recording their family register: the male master was Koizumi Shirobee, twenty-six years old, proprietor of a confectionery shop called Koizumi located at Kyobashi Kojimachi 5-chome.
The woman was his mother, O-Sugi, forty-four years old.
The male attendant was the shop’s servant Gisuke, twenty-three years old.
This group departed Edo on the morning of April 23rd, spent that night in Kanagawa, passed through Hodogaya and Togoshi on the following 24th, then arrived in this Fujisawa around four o'clock [10 AM], where they were taking respite at a temporary teahouse.

“The sky’s looking rather strange,” Shirobee remarked, gazing upward.

“Hmm, perhaps,” O-Sugi replied uncertainly, also looking up at the sky.
“It would be troublesome if it started raining when we reach the ferry.”

“Lately the weather’s been fickle—it clouds over now and then, but there’s hardly like to be rain worth speaking of,” said the teahouse proprietress.

“When we left Edo yesterday, the weather was fine—we even said it’d likely get hot on the road. But this morning it’s cloudy and a bit chilly,” said Gisuke as he retied his straw sandal cords.

As if eavesdropping on this exchange, there was a woman who had been peering into this shop for some time now.
The woman had been standing before the neighboring teahouse calling out to passing travelers, but when she saw Shirobee and his party set down their palanquins and enter the adjacent shop, her complexion abruptly changed.
She was a woman of about twenty-two or twenty-three with refined features, her attire suggesting she wasn’t from the area.

Shirobee's party left the shop after placing payment for the tea.
As Gisuke walked on foot while Shirobee and O-Sugi were about to board their palanquins, the woman from the neighboring shop strode briskly over and seized Shirobee by the collar just as he was halfway into the palanquin.

“Bastard! Monster...!”

As she cursed violently and shoved him with all her might, Shirobee lost his balance and tumbled out of the palanquin he had been boarding.
Seeing this, the palanquin bearers were shocked.

“Hey, lady! What’s gotten into you?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” the woman retorted in crisp Edo vernacular. “Because of this bastard, I’ve thrown away my entire life! You think I’d let him get away with it? You’ll remember this!”

No sooner had she spoken than she shoved him away and dashed into her shop. At the entrance lay a heap of turban shells. She grabbed them with both hands and began pelting Shirobee in rapid succession, striking him again and again. Her movements were too swift and the situation too unexpected—the surrounding crowd could only gape in astonishment. When Gisuke finally noticed and restrained her, Shirobee had already been struck in the face by two or three shells, fresh blood streaming from his brow and lower lip.

At this commotion, people came pouring out—first from the teahouse where the party had been resting until now, then from neighboring shops as well.
The passersby on the road halted in their tracks.

"Oh, please come this way..." With the help of the crowd, Shirobee reentered the original shop.

"Let me go! Won't you let go?!"

"Won't you let go?!"

She pushed Gisuke aside and tried to pursue Shirobee, but even the four palanquin bearers blocked her path.
Frantic with impatience and hindered by the crowd, she hurled the remaining shell in her hand at Shirobee from behind, but her aim went awry, striking O-Sugi's right cheek as she paced nearby.
With an “Ah!”, the mother covered her face, blood beginning to seep from beneath her eye.

“O-Yasu. Have you lost your mind?”
“O-Yasu! Have you lost your mind?” clamored the women nearby.
As for this inexplicable violence whose cause remained unclear, there was nothing to do but think that the woman called O-Yasu had suddenly gone mad.

Apparently having heard this rumor, O-Yasu glared toward the back of the shop and shouted.

“I’m not crazy or anything of the sort! I only took revenge because I hold a grudge against that bastard! Well? You remember my face, don’t you? Come out here!”

As she spat these words, she tried to charge into the back—but Gisuke seized her once more.

“Now, now—if you’d just calm down—”

“Oh, I’m doing this because you don’t understand! Shut up! I said let me go—!”

In her hand still remained one shell.
When she shook him off forcefully while still clutching it—whether striking his eye or nose—the shell hit his face, and Gisuke too ended up clutching his face and freezing in place.
There could be no mercy now.

The four palanquin bearers used physical force to seize O-Yasu and forcibly dragged her away to the neighboring shop.

Gisuke too had his right cheek wounded.
Attacked by the madwoman-like figure, Shirobee sustained two wounds while O-Sugi and Gisuke each suffered one—all struck in the face by turban shells. Though not deep injuries, fresh blood flowing from their wounds stained their tissue paper, prompting the teahouse proprietress to visit a nearby apothecary for hemostatic medicine.
Whether mistaken identity or madness—in any case, O-Sugi lamented having encountered such a terrible misfortune.
Young Gisuke, furious, ranted that they must drag that woman here and make her apologize before he could be satisfied.

“As Mother says, this too is a misfortune. It’s not good to stir up trouble during a pilgrimage. That woman is crazy. Even making her apologize would be pointless,” Shirobee said in a soothing manner to the people.

As he had been targeted first, his wounds numbered two places; moreover, since their impact points were unfavorable, both his eyelids and lips had swollen up.

Since the master had resigned himself to this misfortune, Gisuke had no choice but to endure it as well—but he found it utterly galling that all three of them, master and servants alike, had met with such an ordeal.

When they inquired with the women at the shop, they learned that this madwoman-like O-Yasu was staying at the home of a farmer named Denhachi in Fujisawa as the niece of Denhachi’s wife, teaching jōruri narrative chanting to local children and young people; she had previously lived in Edo but had withdrawn here since last spring.
In anticipation of this year’s temple exhibition, she had taken charge to start a rest-stop teahouse, enlisting neighborhood girls as helpers; since she was an Edo native accustomed to handling customers, it was said to be thriving quite well.
If O-Yasu had been an employee, there would have been means to lodge complaints with her employer; but as she herself was the proprietor, there remained no one to appeal to.
Gisuke too had no choice but to resign himself completely.

Having come this far, they naturally couldn’t turn back. After treating their wounds with the hemostatic medicine that the teahouse proprietress had bought for them, Shirobee and O-Sugi boarded the palanquin once more and had themselves hastened to the Ishikame River crossing.
O-Yasu, after all, did not pursue them.

They arrived at an inn on Enoshima, had lunch there, and visited Benten Shrine.
This temple exhibition was at the Lower Shrine.
The small island was so crowded with pilgrimage groups from various regions and local worshippers that people jostled against each other.
Since all three members of Shirobee's party had facial injuries, they felt ashamed to be watched by the bustling crowd.

The season of young leaves being as it was, the day had been cloudy and slightly chilly since morning, but upon reaching the island, the sky grew increasingly ominous as a fine rain began to fall. The three of them made their way back to the inn through the drizzling rain.

“Assuming we stay tonight, what should we do tomorrow?” said O-Sugi.

They had planned to stay at Enoshima tonight and visit Kamakura tomorrow while in the area, but O-Sugi, disheartened by the misfortune encountered on their journey, had come to feel like wanting to return quickly to Edo. There was nothing particularly wrong with her and Gisuke, but the swelling of Shirobee’s face filled her with a sense of unease. She began to think they must return to Edo as soon as possible for treatment.

“Even if we say we’ll come again, it’s not like we can make this trip often. Since we’ve come all this way, let’s go around to Kamakura after all,” said Shirobee.

“But how is your injury? It must hurt.”

“Oh, it’s nothing serious. Just a bruise.”

“Well then, let’s see how things are tomorrow. In any case, you should lie down for a bit.”

They borrowed a pillow from the inn maid and decided to let Shirobee rest for a while. Even Gisuke, who usually made quips and jokes, merely stared blankly in silence. The rain gradually grew stronger, and the sea visible from the second-floor veranda was dark with sea mist.

“I’m afraid it has started raining—you must be finding this rather tedious,” said the inn maid, peering out from the veranda.

“A gentleman from Edo called Mr. Matsuzawa has come to visit. Shall I show him in?”

II

The man in his early thirties dressed like a townsman who was soon shown into this room was Matsuzawa Shogoro, proprietor of a confectionery shop in Nakabashi Hirokoji of Kyobashi operating the same business.

“Oh my, what a surprise to meet you here—”
“Were you also on a pilgrimage?” O-Sugi welcomed him with a smile.

“I came yesterday with the pilgrimage group,” said Shogoro with a laugh.
“The figure I saw entering this inn from behind just now looked like you folks, so I came to check and sure enough, it was.”

“We left Kanagawa this morning and arrived around noon.”

“We should have made arrangements to come together,” said Shogoro, slightly furrowing his brows.
“Both you and Gisuke-san—you’ve all been injured together. What happened on the way?”

Having been told by O-Sugi and Gisuke in turn about the misfortune they had encountered at the Fujisawa inn, Shogoro’s expression grew increasingly somber.
He let out a low sigh and peered at Shirobee’s face where he lay in a corner of the room.
Shirobee was dozing fitfully, as though he had developed a fever.

In response to O-Sugi’s inquiry about whether they should detour to Kamakura tomorrow or return straight to Edo, Shogoro mused after careful consideration.

"If we were to return straight to Edo, we would have to pass before that teahouse again," said Matsuzawa Shogoro. "Since further incidents might prove troublesome, it would be wiser to return by way of Kamakura."

"That does seem reasonable," O-Sugi nodded.

Since Shogoro’s lodgings were at the nearby Ebisuya, when it came time for him to return, Gisuke escorted him out holding an umbrella.
In contrast to the earlier crowds, pedestrian traffic was scarce on the rain-lashed thoroughfare.
Gisuke asked quietly while walking.

“Is the woman from Fujisawa completely mad?”
“Or is there some reason behind it?”

From earlier, having been observing Shogoro’s complexion and manner of speech, Gisuke had suspected that he might know some underlying reason.
Sure enough, Shogoro said in a low voice.

“Don’t you know?”
“That woman is undoubtedly the one who served at the boat inn called Kitaya in Sanjukkenbori.”
“Even though she was living right under your nose, you’ve never once laid eyes on her?”

When told this, Gisuke also realized.
He had a vague memory of seeing a woman resembling O-Yasu standing in front of a nearby riverside boat inn or sweeping its entrance.
However, that had been four or five years ago, and recently he had not seen any sign of such a woman.
That she had suddenly appeared at the Fujisawa inn and committed such violence against his master—what possible reason could there be for this?
Gisuke wanted to know.

"I hear that woman declared your master her enemy—"
Shogoro said meaningfully.
"There must be some reason Mr. Shirobee has incurred resentment as well."
"In any case, it would be safer not to pass through Fujisawa again."

“When are you returning?” Gisuke asked.

“We’re returning tomorrow.”
“I’d like to take you all with us, but having companions would be problematic because of the Fujisawa incident.”
“If there’s another misunderstanding, it won’t just be me—the entire pilgrimage group will be inconvenienced.”
“You should return by way of Kamakura.”

After repeating his instructions, Shogoro parted with Gisuke at the entrance of Ebisuya.
Imagining from those meaningful words, Gisuke thought that O-Yasu’s harassment of Shirobee was neither madness nor mistaken identity but must have some substantial reason behind it.

Koizumi’s shop was an old-established business that had dealings with daimyo mansions and hatamoto residences.
Besides their confectionery business, they owned land and rental properties and were financially secure.
The master was still young.
He had married a wife four years ago and had been living peacefully, but Gisuke had heard he had indulged in some pleasures during his bachelor days.
As was often seen in the world, while the master had made a marital promise with a boat inn woman, he discarded it and took a wife from elsewhere.
The woman called O-Yasu harbored resentment over this, and perhaps taking advantage of their unexpected encounter there, her revenge had manifested through turban shell projectiles.
If that were indeed the case, he thought—while Madam and himself had merely suffered collateral damage—it seemed inevitable that the master would face painful consequences.
In any case, retracing their original path would be dangerous.
Believing it would be safer to return by way of Kamakura as Shogoro had advised, Gisuke immediately called O-Sugi to a separate room upon returning to the inn.

Hearing Gisuke’s account, O-Sugi furrowed her brows. Since everyone thought the same way—that if O-Yasu truly came from such circumstances—she too imagined it must stem from resentment over a broken promise and abandonment. Besides, there was no point discussing it now. For now, avoiding danger by detouring through Kamakura seemed best, and she agreed with Gisuke’s opinion.

The rain continued to fall. Though the days were long this season, darkness came early as an inn maid brought a candle stand. The roar of the sea grew steadily louder.

“A woman has come saying she wishes to meet Master Koizumi of Edo.”

Hearing the maid relaying the message, O-Sugi and Gisuke exchanged glances.
The fact that it was a woman made the two of them feel a strange shock.

“What kind of woman is she?” O-Sugi asked to confirm.

“She looked about twenty-two or twenty-three. She said you’d understand if I told you she came from Fujisawa.”
“She arrived soaked through in all this rain...”

The two grew increasingly uneasy.
If she had pursued them all the way from Fujisawa through this downpour, drenched to the skin, she must have come resolved to something.
This time she might have brought not just turban shells but a dagger or stiletto hidden on her person.
At that thought, they became terrified as though possessed by some demonic force.

“What should we do?” O-Sugi whispered in a bewildered tone.

“Hmm... That’s right.”

Gisuke too was at a loss for a response, but in this situation resolved that as a servant he had no choice but to stand in his master’s line of fire.

“Very well. I will go and inquire what her business is.”

“You be careful now,” O-Sugi said anxiously.

Shirobee called out to stop Gisuke as he resolutely tried to stand up.
He had come to his senses without anyone noticing.

“Gisuke, wait…”
“The woman from Fujisawa—I will meet her.”

“Now listen.”
“Even if you meet her...” O-Sugi said with growing anxiety.

“Gisuke knows nothing at all, so meeting him won’t accomplish anything.”
“I will meet her.”

Shirobee immediately got up and went down the ladder with the maid.
O-Sugi and Gisuke once again exchanged glances.
No matter how they considered it, it was unsettling.

At that moment, the maid returned.

“Um, Master instructed that none of you are to come downstairs under any circumstances…”

“Understood,” she said. After dismissing the maid, O-Sugi whispered to Gisuke again. “Now that I think of it, he does have something to feel guilty about. Even without proper preparations while traveling, if money can settle it, he’ll manage somehow…”

“The master likely intends the same.”

“That’s probably how it is…”

Shirobee did not return quickly. Whether because matters had been peacefully resolved or because negotiations proved difficult—as they held their breath worrying about the outcome—before long, a commotion-like noise arose from the distant lower rooms. Voices resembling screams leaked through.

“You, go and see,” O-Sugi said in a panic.

Unable to bear it any longer, Gisuke rushed down the ladder and found a woman being pinned down by the inn’s young men and forced out to the front.
Because the distance was great, he couldn’t be certain, but the woman’s retreating figure resembled O-Yasu from Fujisawa.
She was forced out to the front and disappeared into the pouring rain.

Shirobee returned to the second-floor room, his swollen face turned ashen.

The evening meal tray was brought out, but he barely touched his chopsticks.
No matter what they asked, he gave no proper response.

“I’ll explain the details later.”

The bustle from the temple exhibition meant every inn was packed tight. Though their room occupied a seaside corner, three or four guests lodged in the adjacent chamber had kept up a raucous chatter since midday. Shirobee appeared hesitant to disclose his secret for fear of eavesdropping, but when the neighbors—exhausted from their own talking—retired early that evening, he waited until their breathing steadied in sleep before beginning his confession in hushed tones.

“I’ve kept this hidden even from you, Mother, until now.”
“Gisuke naturally wouldn’t know.”
“There’s a rather troublesome matter at hand.”

“Were you involved with that woman?” O-Sugi pressed impatiently.

“No, if it were that sort of affair, we could settle it somehow…”

The night sea roared thunderously as if to overwhelm Shirobee’s faint sigh.

III

As mentioned before, Koizumi was a long-established confectionery shop with a shop curtain, maintaining business connections with several daimyo mansions and hatamoto residences. Particularly, serving daimyo mansions was both an honor and a source of profit for the shop, so they naturally took great care in fulfilling these official duties. In the Edo mansion of a certain domain in the Chugoku region, there was a steward named Kagawa Jingoro who had favored Shirobee since long before.

That Jingoro once whispered to Shirobee.

“Shirobee, this pains me to ask, but there’s something I need you to handle.”
“Will you consent?”

“Given our generations of service ties—and especially at your honored request—I shall undertake any duty required,” Shirobee immediately assented.
This occurred four years prior, during his twenty-second spring.

“I hear you indulge in some pastimes. You know of a boat inn called Kitaya in Sanjukkenbori nearby, don’t you?”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“I’m aware of it too.”
“There’s a presentable woman named O-Yasu there….”
“No—don’t misunderstand.”
“It’s not that I want you to arrange things for me.”
“I want to make use of that woman’s body.”

According to Kagawa Jingoro's explanation, he wanted to make a sketch of the woman called O-Yasu.
He intended to depict not just her face but her entire naked body—every detail from her limbs down to her breasts—which differed from contemporary models, being essentially a type of erotic artwork.
This served as a secret bribe for a shogunate official; monetary offerings had become trite, and even conventional paintings and antiques had lost their novelty.
After pondering ways to devise something unprecedented, he conceived of creating a nude beauty sketch that would be expertly mounted and presented in an ornate box.
The scheme aimed to elicit admiration for its ingenuity when the recipient opened the container.
Moreover, using a geisha or courtesan would have lacked impact.
Yet no respectable young woman would ever consent to such a request.
They ultimately compromised by targeting teahouse attendants—women positioned between professionals and amateurs—but even this narrowed selection posed challenges.
Mere physical attractiveness proved insufficient.
When specifying their criteria—comeliness of features, proportionate figure, youthful age, and preferably minimal experience with men—they found potential candidates exceedingly scarce.
Even when identifying suitable women, everything hinged on obtaining the individual's willing consent.

After agonizing over the selection, they settled on O-Yasu of Kitaya.
O-Yasu was then nineteen years old—not what one would call a great beauty but possessing a face with well-proportioned features and pure quality, her build and figure being generally average.
As she served at a boat inn, she maintained a certain stylishness without vulgarity.
Her conduct was proper with no scandalous rumors to her name.
Whether meeting these conditions proved fortunate or unfortunate for O-Yasu remained unclear; regardless, Jingoro had taken notice of her.

However, precisely because the problem was what it was, Kagawa Jingoro hesitated to initiate direct negotiations with O-Yasu.
He asked Shirobee to persuade O-Yasu through his words, or so he had planned.

“We could ask the landlady of Kitaya, but that one’s a rather unsavory sort.
If we use that as a basis and then get pestered with demands later, it’ll be troublesome.
Moreover, if that rumor were to leak to the public, it would be troublesome.
This must be negotiated with O-Yasu alone.
It must be kept entirely secret from others.”

Having been given this troublesome task, Shirobee was at a loss.
Moreover, given both their generational business with daimyo mansions and his inability to coldly refuse a heartfelt request from the steward who had always looked after them, he finally accepted this difficult task.
And so, after somehow managing to persuade O-Yasu herself, they settled on paying twenty ryo as compensation for her posing nude.

Jingoro, satisfied with this outcome, arranged all necessary preparations while O-Yasu—using her aunt’s illness in Fujisawa as pretext—obtained several days’ leave from her employer at Kitaya and took lodging at a certain ukiyo-e artist’s residence in Asakusa.
Shirobee knew little about this artist himself, though the man had likely received a substantial fee from Jingoro.
The painting was completed without delay, its fine quality leaving Jingoro increasingly satisfied.
The promised twenty ryo passed through Shirobee’s hands to reach O-Yasu.

With this, the matter should have been settled without incident, but about half a year later—for reasons he could not fathom—O-Yasu approached Shirobee and declared she would return the twenty ryo if he retrieved that nude portrait for her.
He did not know where the painting had gone, but since it was clear Jingoro no longer possessed it, Shirobee explained the circumstances—yet O-Yasu refused to accept this.
When she imagined her indecent figure remaining in the world, shame and wretchedness overwhelmed her until she could neither sit still nor bear her own skin.
She insisted that unless she absolutely reclaimed that nude portrait and burned it to ashes, her mind would never find peace.
Of course O-Yasu had never agreed willingly from the start—they had coerced her reluctant consent—but now that she had accepted and all was settled, this renewed demand vexed him.
Even if he relayed it to Jingoro, nothing could be done—this much was clear.
Suspecting she sought further extortion, Shirobee offered another ten or fifteen ryo—but O-Yasu would not yield.
She thrust her own twenty ryo before him, pressing relentlessly for its return no matter what.

No matter how he cajoled or appeased her while insisting it was impossible, O-Yasu refused to yield.
Her face twisted as she pressed forward like a petulant child or madwoman.
Shirobee too, being young himself, ultimately reached his limit.

“If you still don’t understand after all I’ve explained, then do as you please.”

“I’ll do as I please. I’ll die.”

The two glared at each other and parted ways. Several days later, O-Yasu suddenly vanished from Kitaya. While he couldn't bring himself to believe she had actually died, Shirobee found no peace of mind afterward. When he later met Jingoro and spoke of the difficulties he'd faced with O-Yasu, Jingoro laughed.

“That must have been troublesome,”
“That painting has been delivered to an important person, so there’s no retrieving it.”
“But there’s something strange.”
“The artist who painted that died suddenly the other day.”
“I wonder if O-Yasu murdered him.”

Learning that the artist’s death had occurred after O-Yasu left Kitaya, Shirobee was once again overcome with a sense of dread.

“This time it’s our turn.”
“We’d better be careful,” Jingoro laughed again.
Shirobee couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

Moreover, nothing happened after that, and Shirobee married a woman named O-Natsu and lived peacefully.
O-Yasu's whereabouts were unknown.

On this day marking five years since their ordeal began, when they encountered each other in an utterly unexpected place, Shirobee was startled as though meeting a ghost.
O-Yasu’s revenge had not been settled with turban shell projectiles.
He had tenaciously pursued her all the way to the inn at Enoshima.
According to this account—when she thought of her shameful portrait remaining somewhere in Edo—she found staying in the city utterly unbearable; thus she forced her way into taking leave from Kitaya, wandered through Kyoto and Osaka, and since last year had returned under her aunt’s care in Fujisawa.

In any case, O-Yasu kept pressing Shirobee to return that nude portrait.

Shirobee repeatedly explained that if they couldn't return it even back then, there was no way to do so now, but O-Yasu would not consent. Seizing this chance meeting, she insisted he take her to Edo and retrieve that painting, until even Shirobee was thoroughly exasperated. With no proper preparations while traveling, he offered five ryo in gold saying she should take it as spending money, but O-Yasu declared she hadn't come for money and flung the coins back.

With no means left to manage her, it ultimately became yet another quarrel.

Hearing this commotion，the inn staff gathered around，restrained the frenzied O-Yasu，and forcibly threw O-Yasu out into the street.

“When you think about it, she does seem pitiful, but she’s become half-mad and won’t listen to reason—it’s truly vexing,” Shirobee said, heaving yet another sigh.

“Then, won’t she come again tomorrow?” O-Sugi said with a sigh.

“She might come.”

“Had I known this would happen, we never should’ve come to a place like Enoshima.”

“I had indeed heard O-Yasu’s aunt was in Fujisawa, but I’d completely forgotten—coming here carelessly was my mistake.”

“Let’s depart early tomorrow morning and return home via Kamakura!”

“That’s precisely what we must do,” Gisuke agreed.

“If only the night would end quickly,” O-Sugi said.

They changed their plan to stay another day if rainy and decided they would depart early tomorrow whether rain fell or wind blew. Having settled this, the three laid their heads down nonetheless, but the sounds of rain and sea—along with uneasy dreams that needed no help—frequently startled them.

Four

Whether due to O-Sugi's extraordinary devotion—having prayed to Benzaiten through the night without proper sleep for clear skies—the rain ceased at dawn, and the morning of the 25th broke gloriously fair. Beholding the morning sunlight upon the sea, O-Sugi instinctively pressed her palms together in prayer. The day’s clear skies seemed to herald their salvation.

The three hurriedly finished their breakfast and visited Shimomiya once more before departing. Shirobee and O-Sugi wore zori sandals, Gisuke straw sandals; having each prepared their footwear as instructed by the inn staff, their plan was to depart from Kamakura to Kanazawa, then follow the road over four ri—approximately nine miles—to reach Hodogaya.

Shirobee’s facial wound also appeared unexpectedly light—this morning, the swelling subsided and the pain lessened. Since the weather was bright and clear, the three decided to walk to Kamakura. As there were others sharing this intention—though not traveling companions—many groups ended up taking the same path one after another. Walking while listening to those carefree people’s animated conversations and laughter, the trio’s spirits gradually brightened. Feeling somewhat assured O-Yasu wouldn’t pursue them this far, Shirobee walked at a leisurely pace while smoking tobacco.

They safely reached Kamakura and visited its famous places and historic sites as was customary.
Until last night, they had intended to pass straight through Kamakura and return directly to Edo, but having now safely arrived there, a complacency emerged—thinking there was no need to flee back in such haste—and since they would rarely get another chance to visit again, the three walked around sightseeing like the others.
Hachiman's main shrine had been destroyed in a fire that spread here in February, and Yukinoshita Town still hadn't finished clearing the burnt ruins, but many shops had begun operating in temporary structures in anticipation of the Enoshima temple exhibition.

Moreover, the three, who seemed to have enemies, could not bring themselves to leisurely spend another night there. Having decided to stay in Kanazawa that night, they first cut their sightseeing short for now and went out to Yuigahama Beach as their farewell to Kamakura. While resting at a teahouse in Inamuragasaki and watching groups of women and children scouring for shells, a man around fifty came leading an ox.

“Please ride the ox.”

There in the area, it was a long-standing custom for farmers to bring oxen during lulls in farm work and urge travelers to ride them. Because there was a saying that riding an ox would lead to a long life, some people rode partly out of amusement. Since they had come to Kamakura, there were also those who wanted to ride oxen as conversation fodder. The sight of farmers leading oxen for those visitors wandering about was also one of Kamakura’s notable features.

“Is that ox gentle?” O-Sugi inquired.

“They’re all cows, you see.”
“They’re gentle—I guarantee it.”
“Compared to riding horses or palanquins, you wouldn’t believe how much more comfortable it is,” the peasant said.

“I’ll have other oxen brought here straightaway—please let all three of you ride.”

“No need for others—just you alone will do.”
“The men will walk,” said Shirobee.

With their plans settled for Kanazawa, only the frail-legged O-Sugi ended up riding as a novelty.
The two men accompanied her on foot.
The man leading the ox was around fifty and appeared honest.
O-Sugi, riding an ox for the first time, was pleasantly surprised by how unexpectedly comfortable it felt.

“There’s no chance of being thrown off, is there?” O-Sugi said while sitting sideways on the ox’s back.

“There are cases of people falling from horses, but I’ve never heard of anyone falling from an ox,” the man said with a laugh.
“The ox is gentle, so even if you dance on its back, you’ll be just fine.”

The days were long around this time.
Gazing at Kamakura Mountain’s young leaves while being rocked along on the ox’s back carried all the quintessential atmosphere of early summer travel.
After they had gone a little over one ri, O-Sugi called out to Shirobee.

“Why don’t you switch places with me and try riding? It truly feels wonderful.”

“Then perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer for a while.”

Partly out of amusement, Shirobee switched places with mother and mounted the ox’s back.
As they neared Asaina Pass, they encountered a man coming from the opposite direction, also leading an ox.

“Oh, you headin’ to Kanazawa?” he called loudly to their ox driver.
“I’m on my way back after deliverin’ someone to Kanazawa too.”
“How’s the road after last night’s rain?”

“Guess ’cause the rain was heavy, road ain’t too bad.”

“Then the ox’ll have an easier time too.”

“If we’re talkin’ ’bout what’s helpful—how’s your O-Yasu doin’?” he stopped and asked.

“Ain’t doin’ too well,” the man replied. “The doctor says she’s caught a cold, but we’re worried with her fever being so bad, it might turn into typhoid or somethin’. No idea where she went, but yesterday evenin’ she closed up shop and went out somewhere right away—came back soaked to the bone through the rain late at night. No doubt that’s how she caught this cold. I can’t exactly take time off from work, so I left the nursin’ to the wife and came out here like this—but damn if I ain’t worried sick.”

“That’s troublesome,” he said. “Where could she’ve gone in that downpour?”

“Even when questioned proper, she don’t give a straight answer,” the man replied. “Seems she went chasin’ after some Edo customer to Enoshima, but…”

“Just tend to her careful-like.”

“Right.”

The two men exchanged farewells and parted ways.
Shirobee, who had been listening from atop the ox, felt compelled to hide his facial wound.
Both O-Sugi and Gisuke were overcome with the urge to flee.

“Is there someone ill at your house?” Shirobee inquired in a probing manner.

“Ah, she’s my wife’s niece,” the man answered while leading the ox. “As I just said—since last night she suddenly caught a cold developed a fever and seemed on the verge of death—it was truly distressing.”

“Where is your house?”

“Fujisawa.”
“A bit far off that way—but business can't be helped.”
“Been leadin' this ox since daybreak t'come all th'way t'Kamakura.”

“Does your niece run a teahouse or something?”

“That’s right, sir. You know that well enough, sir.”

The man instinctively turned around and looked up at the ox—and at that very moment, the ox let out a loud roar.
Shirobee trembled violently as if startled by something and suddenly tumbled off the ox’s back.
The man had said he’d never heard of anyone falling from an ox, but as if to contradict his own words, Shirobee went tumbling headlong to the ground.
Unlike a horse’s, the ox’s back was low.
One might think that falling from such a low height would be minor, but Shirobee lost consciousness on the spot.

The ox driver was also surprised, but O-Sugi and Gisuke were even more startled.
The man fetched clear water from nearby and made Shirobee drink it.
Through the care of the three, Shirobee barely regained his breath but remained dazed like someone in a dream.

Fortunately, a palanquin happened to pass by there, so O-Sugi and Gisuke transferred Shirobee into the palanquin.
They paid the ox driver his fare to Kanazawa and decided to send him back from here.
The ox driver, feeling terribly sorry, apologized and thanked them several times.

“My ox has never once dropped a customer before—why’d it go an’ commit such a blunder now? Well now, please do forgive this mess.”

O-Sugi, feeling a need to atone for sins, had wanted to give some money for medical expenses to this man’s niece, but reconsidering that being remembered for reckless charity would be ill-advised, she held back.
The man, who seemed to know nothing at all, kept repeating his apologies and words of gratitude.

Parting with the ox, the two breathed a sigh of relief.
They thought that perhaps the soul of O-Yasu—said to be dying of typhoid—had transferred into that ox.
The two, assailed by renewed unease, guarded Shirobee’s palanquin and hurried toward Kanazawa.

Even after arriving at the inn in Kanazawa, Shirobee remained dazed.
Since they couldn't receive proper medical treatment there, the party departed for Edo at dawn the next day with three palanquins lined up, but even Edo's doctors couldn't determine his condition.
Some said he must have struck his head hard when he fell from the ox; others said it must have been tetanus from the wounds inflicted by the turban shells - the diagnoses varied widely.
Shirobee died five or six days later due to a high fever.
He did not utter a single word until his death.

It was said that the painter who had created O-Yasu’s nude portrait died suddenly, while Shirobee, who had arranged the commission, met this end. When Gisuke once whispered this to Kagawa Jingoro, Jingoro still laughed.

“I suppose it’s finally my turn now.”

Indeed, his turn came.
About a year later, Jingoro was dismissed from his steward position on grounds of moral misconduct and ordered into house confinement in his home province.

As for O-Yasu herself, it remained unclear whether she had died of illness or not; her subsequent whereabouts were unknown.
Given the circumstances of the era, since dispatching officials all the way from Edo to Fujisawa for an investigation was impractical, the Koizumi shop left matters as they were.