Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

As people’s conversations took turns progressing to this point, the student at the entrance came bringing a bulky express mail to Seiōdō’s owner, announcing, “This is an express delivery.”
The owner promptly opened it to find what appeared to be a manuscript-like document written in fine detail on ruled paper, accompanied by a short letter.
After reading through just the letter first, the owner turned back toward us once again.

“I have something I would like to inform everyone about.”
“A friend of mine called T—you must all remember him, the man who shared ‘The Traveler of Kiso’ story at our last ghost story gathering—”
“—he came by two or three days ago, and when I happened to mention tonight’s ‘Detective Enthusiasts’ Meeting,’ he became quite interested—insisted he absolutely must attend, then left.”
“When he still hadn’t appeared tonight and I was wondering what had happened, this express letter arrived just now stating an unavoidable matter had come up, making his attendance regrettably impossible.”
“Therefore, having written down what he meant to discuss tonight in this manuscript, he requests that someone read it aloud before you all.”
“I cannot say what exactly it contains, but since he took pains to send it, out of respect for his earnestness, I shall now proceed with the reading.”
“I apologize for any inconvenience, but pray indulge me for a short while.”

Among the gathering, there were those who applauded.

“Then, I shall begin reading,” said the owner as he skimmed through the first two or three lines of the manuscript.
“Ah, I see—it’s written in the first person."
“Here, 'I' refers to T himself, and it appears to document his interactions with a friend named Mr. Mori.”
“Well, it will become clear as we read on.”

The owner spread out the manuscript and began reading.

"Are you going out in this rain?"

I turned to look at Mori while gazing at the June rain staining the large fatsia leaves in the garden a bluish-black.
Beside Mori’s desk lay a small travel bag.

"Nah, a little rain doesn't matter."
"Once I decide to go, I'll head out anytime," Mori said, smoking a rolled cigarette and laughing.

Mori's love of travel was famous even among our group of friends.
Whenever he had free time—be it two or three days, or sometimes even two or three months—he would dart around from one place to another.
Therefore, it was only natural that he didn't consider a little rain or wind.

"Are you leaving right away?"
"And this time, which direction are you heading?" I asked laughingly.

"I'm thinking of going from Inawashiro toward Aizu after all this time. I'll visit a friend in Utsunomiya along the way, and then…"

“Maybe swing by Nikkō?”

“Nikkō...” Mr. Mori’s face suddenly clouded over.
“No—I haven’t been to Nikkō in over ten years now.”
“Or perhaps I might never go there again in my life.”

“You’ve truly abandoned it, haven’t you? Though I wouldn’t call Nikkō such a wretched place...”

“It’s certainly not that Nikkō itself is disagreeable. When autumn colors come, I sometimes think of visiting again—yet my feet never seem to turn that way. As if some shadowy mood keeps pulling me back.”

“Why?”
“Did something ill-omened happen to you in Nikkō?” I asked, incited by a peculiar curiosity.

“Hmm,” Mori sighed, tilting his face toward the feeble glow of the newly lit electric lamp.

“What exactly occurred in Nikkō?”

“Actually…” Mori began, then abruptly checked his pocket watch as if remembering something urgent.
“Damn—I’ve only got thirty minutes left.”
“Must dash to Ueno Station.”

“What’s the harm if you miss one train…”
“It’s not like this is some urgent trip anyway.”

Mori stood up impatiently and rummaged through the bookcase, then took out an old diary and placed it before me as if throwing it down.

“Take a look at the August section of this diary.”
“If you do that, you’ll probably understand.”
"I'm in a hurry, so I'll take my leave now."

Leaving me, the guest, behind, the impatient Mr. Mori grabbed his bag and briskly headed out toward the entrance.

Mr. Mori remained single into his thirties this year, living an unburdened life with one elderly maidservant and one student lodger.
He occasionally contributed to magazines and such, but had no fixed occupation.
Having been on intimate terms with him for many years, I merely gave a brief nod tonight and made no move to see him off.
While half-listening to the elderly maidservant and student lodger saying something at the entrance, I picked up the diary and tried to locate the August section, but as the electric lamp’s light was poor, I finally stood up and re-seated myself before Mr. Mori’s desk.
Just then, the face of the student lodger peering in from the veranda appeared dark through the glass of the shoji screen, so I called out to him with a laugh.

“Has Mr. Mori already left?”

“Yes.”

"I’ll be imposing on you a while longer."

“Please take your time.” With these words, the student lodger’s face vanished immediately.

As the student lodger had said, I slowly settled into my seat and faced Mr. Mori's old diary. The diary's cover was inscribed with the year Meiji XX—twelve or thirteen years prior to now. I hurriedly flipped through the August pages. No particularly notable entries had been found during roughly the first three days of the month, but what became clear was that Mr. Mori had been staying in Nikkō since late July, lodging in a 4.5-tatami room on the back second floor of a small inn. I knew that Mr. Mori had been a liberal arts student at a certain private university at that time. As I pictured the figure of the young student who had wandered through Nikkō's old town while continuing to read further through the diary, I discovered this entry in the August 4th section.

4th, Clear.
7 AM. Woke up.
A walk.
As usual, stood before Old Man Rokubei’s woodturning shop.
The early-rising old man was, as always, seemingly busy with his work.
Otoh-san is sweeping in front of the shop.
The caged songbirds chirp clamorously.
Otoh-san’s complexion is terribly bad—somehow pitiable—

Since there had been absolutely no prior mention of Old Man Rokubei or a woman named Otoh, I initially struggled to make sense of things, but as I continued reading through the subsequent entries, I came to imagine that this Otoh-san must be the old man's only daughter—a somewhat striking young woman.
Mr. Mori would go to visit this shop every day and had apparently become acquainted with the father and daughter.

5th, Clear.
Cool.—Otoh-san doesn't seem to be particularly unwell physically.
It appears there is some other hardship weighing on her.
The twenty-six or twenty-seven-year-old young gentleman staying at the large inn next to me also frequently stops by this shop morning and evening, casually joking with Otoh-san.
Otoh-san’s poor complexion—I began to suspect it might have some connection to him.
Around 6 PM—went for a walk again.
When I sat down at Old Man Rokubei’s shop front, the young gentleman passed by arrogantly, escorting a town geisha named Sen.
Otoh-san’s eyes grew increasingly intense.
With this, all secrets were laid bare.
The gentleman was Isogai Mitsuhiko, said to be the son of a certain industrialist from Tokyo.
——

Seeing how Mr. Mori was concerned about this girl named Otoh, it appeared that the diary had surpassed what might be called "somehow pitiable." Mr. Mori must have also been watching her and the young gentleman’s movements with narrowed eyes. However, in the diary entries for the 6th and 7th, there was not a single entry concerning Otoh-san. However, during these two days, terrifying thunderstorms continued daily, so even Mr. Mori had refrained from going out.

8th, Clear, sudden rain.
7 AM: Woke up.
This morning brought a sky scrubbed clean of clouds.
After meals: went walking.
At the woodturning shop—no sign of Otoh-san. The old man sat vacant-faced at the counter, uncharacteristically idle.
I offered my usual greeting; he gave no reply.
—At lunch: heard from the inn maid that Otoh-san had gone out in last evening's storm and not returned.
When I asked if she had a lover: "That girl's known town-wide for her quiet ways," they said. "Never any scandalous talk."
The reason for her unauthorized departure remained veiled.
Everything felt dream-drenched—Then evening: sudden clouding over, rain lashing down with thunder.
What might Otoh-san be enduring now?
Nightfall brought cessation of rain; eight o'clock found me walking again.
Still no Otoh-san at the woodturning shop.
The old man's fan moved listlessly—a metronome measuring solitude.

9th, Clear.
Perhaps some instinct had stirred me—when I awoke unusually early this morning, I heard an astonishing account from the maid who came to open the rain shutters.
Otoh-san had returned past eleven last night with disheveled hair and bare feet from who-knows-where, giving rise to rumors that she must have been spirited away by a mountain tengu—so they said.
Strange things do happen in this world.

When I went immediately after eating, Otoh-san was sitting in the shop with a deathly pale face.
Even when I called out to her, there was no response, and Old Man Rokubei was nowhere to be seen.
When I looked more closely, not a single one remained of the various birdcages that Old Man Rokubei kept as his hobby—each housing different songbirds.
When I pressed further by asking about her father’s whereabouts, Otoh-san replied in a faint voice that he was sleeping in the back.
When I asked what had become of the birdcages, she replied that they had released all the birds.
Though there seemed to be some underlying circumstances, as further inquiry proved impossible, I left things as they were and took my leave.
The clear weather made today suddenly grow hot.—Afternoon: another walk.
When I went as far as the Ōtani Riverbank and turned back, that gentleman called Isogai was seated at Otoh-san’s shop, talking about something while laughing.
Otoh-san’s face was like a demoness’s, like a ghost’s—indescribably dreadful.

When I returned to the inn, a letter had arrived from Mr. Teshima of Utsunomiya saying I should come stay over from tonight through tomorrow.
I immediately prepared and went.

Mr. Teshima was a friend of Mr. Mori's who worked as a newspaper reporter in Utsunomiya.
Though Mr. Mori's arrival in Utsunomiya on the afternoon train of the ninth and his overnight stay at Mr. Teshima's house near the park are detailed in the diary, this information remains excluded here as unnecessary to the present narrative.
In any case, Mr. Mori spent the tenth day at Mr. Teshima's house as well.
He had meant to return that evening but was compelled to stay another night.
That Mr. Mori received warm hospitality from Mr. and Mrs. Teshima becomes evident even from glancing through the diary.
Thus he found himself spending August 11th in Utsunomiya.
The dreadful entries in his diary commenced from this day.

II

11th, Cloudy.
Last night, having stayed up late playing Go inside the mosquito netting, I was awakened by Mrs. Teshima at ten in the morning; Mr. Teshima had apparently left for work while I was still asleep.
Feeling awkward, I hurriedly rose and washed my face. As I was being served breakfast, Mr. Teshima returned in a flurry and declared he needed to make an urgent trip to Nikkō—it would be perfect for us to go together.
Urged by Mr. Teshima, I gave Mrs. Teshima a hurried farewell and departed.
When we rushed to the station, the train stood ready to leave.
The two of us tumbled aboard to find a stocky man around thirty in a summer hunting cap—seated before our arrival—exchanging silent greetings with Mr. Teshima through lowered eyelids.
The man then addressed him: "You're on assignment too?" Mr. Teshima nodded. "Same here—pressing business came up."
This opened the floodgates for their exchange.
Through their conversation, I gradually learned that during my absence, Nikkō had been struck by horror—the young gentleman called Isogai Mitsuhiko had been brutally murdered by person or persons unknown.

The crime appeared to have been perpetrated between approximately 8 PM last night and 4 AM this morning, with Isogai lying by Fuchimangafuchi Abyss wearing a Meisen unlined kimono layered with a sheer gauze haori over it. He appeared to have been strangled forcefully with both hands, showing no other injuries elsewhere. Moreover, there were no signs of attempted resistance—a fact evident from the unlined haori remaining completely undamaged. Though he held a cane in one hand, it seemed he hadn't even managed to swing it. This account came from Mr. Teshima via a police dispatch that had reached the newspaper office. According to the man in the hunting cap, Isogai's wallet had been ripped from his pocket and torn apart before being discarded on the ground, though the over one hundred yen inside remained untouched. The gold pocket watch had been smashed against stones and shattered. From these facts, they concluded this was no ordinary robbery but rather some manner of vendetta. I had later learned this man in the hunting cap was Detective Orii from Utsunomiya.

When we arrived in Nikkō that afternoon, the prosecutor’s inspection had already concluded, and Isogai’s body had been transported to his inn. After parting from Mr. Teshima and Detective Orii, I returned to my own lodgings. The inn was in an uproar over these rumors. Perhaps owing to this commotion, the day grew increasingly hotter still.

Around two in the afternoon, Mr. Teshima came and said he and Detective Orii were going to inspect the scene now, asking if I wanted to come along.
Spurred by curiosity, when I went out immediately, Detective Orii strode ahead.
Mr. Teshima and I followed behind.
Eventually we crossed Shimokawara Bridge and reached Fuchimangafuchi Abyss.
Though I had often walked here before, knowing last night's horrific murder had occurred at this spot made the normally terrifying roar of water seem even more dreadful today, while the ground beneath my feet felt as though it trembled.
If only the famous Bakejizo here could speak—how quickly last night's secrets would be revealed—but the stone Jizo remained coldly silent.
I grew somber and stood motionless in silence while Detective Orii surveyed the area with hawklike eyes.
Mr. Teshima too kept his eyes wide open, glancing about as if competing in observation.

Before long, Mr. Teshima picked up an empty Batto box, and Detective Orii took it and sniffed it carefully. He opened the box and shook it. Then, after wandering about the area for another thirty minutes or so, Detective Orii discovered a darkish small bird's corpse among the grass. It was a hatchling that had barely fledged the nest, its species unidentifiable. Mr. Teshima suggested it might be a cuckoo. Detective Orii silently tilted his head. In any case, after placing both the hatchling's corpse and Batto box into his sleeve pocket, Detective Orii proposed returning, so we all turned back together.

As we walked back, Detective Orii turned to me and asked, "You've been staying here since last month, I hear. Are there any woodturner households in this area that keep many small birds?"

"That would be Otoh-san's house."

When I answered truthfully, Detective Orii considered this and pressed further: "What sort of woman is this Otoh?"

I answered to the extent of my knowledge.

I must confess here.
Otoh-san did not seem connected to this case.
Even were she involved, the gentle Otoh-san could never strangle a grown man; though she appeared wholly unrelated regardless, I felt an odd reluctance and hesitated to reveal her disappearance to this detective.
There was no concrete reason—it simply pained me to expose young Otoh-san's secret.
Though I wished to be truthful in all else, this alone I kept concealed for a time.

I parted ways with Detective Orii midway, and Mr. Teshima came to my inn to write his newspaper article.
Today brought sweat even while sitting still.
It was overcast and muggy; this may well have been the first sweltering heat since summer began.
Mr. Teshima finished writing his article hurriedly and returned to Utsunomiya on the evening train.
I accompanied him to the station.
As we were about to part ways, Mr. Teshima whispered to me: “Detective Orii seems to have his eye on a girl named Otoh.
“You should also be cautious. If you find out anything, please inform me immediately.”
Though left with a repugnant feeling, I acknowledged this and parted ways regardless.
On my way back to the inn, I encountered Detective Orii again.
Detective Orii appeared vigorously active while wiping sweat.
As if hindering his activities, dusk brought the usual thunderstorm.

The 12th. Clear.
Perhaps due to my nerves being slightly agitated, I woke around four this morning.
Unable to wait for the breakfast tray's arrival, I hurriedly ate and went out walking.
Old Man Rokubei did not appear at his shopfront this morning either.
When I inquired after Otoh-san, they said she lay resting in back due to illness.
Otoh-san's complexion looked frightfully pale.
Summoning resolve, I asked, "Have the police come investigating anything?" They answered none had visited.
Returning somewhat relieved to my inn, I found the geisha called Sen seated at the entrance conversing with the mistress of accounts.
Since her face wasn't wholly unfamiliar, I exchanged greetings and sat beside her. Sen recounted undergoing interrogations last night: how victim Isogai was a wealthy heir and notorious libertine; how she'd been his regular patron yet knew nothing of that night's events, having attended another banquet.
When I delicately probed whether Isogai had any entanglement with Otoh-san, Sen flatly denied such possibilities.
At length reassured, I withdrew to my quarters.

Around 1 PM, Mr. Teshima came again.
Given that the victim was the son of a wealthy family, it was said this case had been covered in detail even in Tokyo newspapers.
Indeed, since five or six Tokyo newspaper reporters had apparently arrived in town on the same train as Mr. Teshima, he too seemed intent on competing vigorously in his activities.
Mr. Teshima ate lunch at the inn and left immediately.
The weather was clear, yet a cool breeze blew softly.

In the evening, Mr. Teshima returned and relayed to me the police's theories.
There were three categories of suspects for the heinous act.
The first theory concerned those who had come from Tokyo pursuing Isogai; though his father was styled an industrialist, he had in truth amassed vast wealth through moneylending as his primary trade, leading to speculation that someone bearing a grudge had taken revenge upon his son.
The second theory involved Sen's paramour—said to be a factory worker at a certain company in Kanuma Town—postulating that he might have harmed Isogai either out of jealousy or in collusion with Sen for profit.
The third theory maintained it must have been Rokubei, Otoh's father.
Detective Orii had vehemently insisted on this third theory, but Mr. Teshima declared it had the flimsiest foundations.
I found myself in agreement.

What of the second theory? If they had harmed Isogai out of greed, they should have taken both the wallet and gold watch; yet while the wallet was torn, its contents remained intact, it was said. The gold watch too had been smashed and discarded. From this perspective, this too seemed to have a weak basis. However, since Sen knew nothing at all, if one recognized it as simply the lover’s jealousy, this theory also appeared reasonably plausible. When narrowed down like this, the first theory seemed the most plausible; however, since I knew nothing about the Isogai father and son’s character, I could not determine its validity. Particularly in recent days, with the surge of summer visitors, those coming into this town from Tokyo were numerous; investigating each one would be quite difficult, it was inferred.

After finishing dinner, Mr. Teshima went out again.
Looking up from the second-floor window, I saw the shadow of the great mountain looming blackly while an autumn-like galaxy flowed dreamily pale across the sky.
Before long, Mr. Teshima returned in a flurry and announced that Detective Orii had finally taken Old Man Rokubei into custody.
I felt inexplicably irritated and sharply asked what evidence justified the arrest, but Mr. Teshima didn’t know the details.
However, it was said they had determined the perpetrator’s connection to woodturning based on two findings: an empty cigarette box from the scene still carried the smell of wood shavings, and shaking it had spilled out fine wood particles.
Yet there were many other woodturning shops.
The other evidence might have been that dusky hatchling’s corpse, but Detective Orii had kept this concealed without mention.

Upon hearing this, I found myself unable to remain calm.
While Mr. Teshima was writing his manuscript, I slipped out of the inn to check on Otoh-san's house.
The night had already passed eight o'clock.
When I peered quietly from the shopfront, Otoh-san was nowhere to be seen; even when I called out, no reply came from within.
Growing uneasy, I asked the neighbor, who said Otoh-san had just gone out somewhere.
As my anxiety intensified while pondering this, a sudden thought struck me.
Thinking "Could it be—", I immediately headed toward Fuchimangafuchi Abyss.

III

Mr. Mori's diary had gone on to describe subsequent events in great detail, but I could not bring myself to present them here in full, so I resolved instead to extract and write down only their essential points.

When Mr. Mori chased after Otoh, he indeed found her at Fuchimangafuchi Abyss.
As she appeared ready to throw herself from the edge, Mr. Mori hurriedly grabbed and restrained her.
When he persistently coaxed and questioned Otoh through her tears, the reasons behind her suicidal intent emerged as follows.

As previously noted, Rokubei—an old man—had always loved keeping small birds, delighting in raising various species alongside his woodturning business.
Isogai had visited the town for summer retreat the previous year too, and during his frequent calls at Rokubei's shop, conversation one day turned to birdkeeping techniques—whereupon Rokubei proudly declared there existed no bird he couldn't rear if he undertook the task.
Whether irritated by this arrogance or harboring hidden motives, when Isogai pressed him—"You're absolutely certain?"—Rokubei obstinately reaffirmed his claim.
Five or six days later, Isogai brought a single dusky egg requesting incubation.
Upon examining this unfamiliar egg and inquiring about its parent bird, they discovered it belonged to a Mercy Bird.

The Mercy Bird of Nikkō Mountain—there is no need to explain it in detail now.
Driven by extraordinary curiosity and a wealthy man’s insatiable desire for luxury, Isogai conceived the notion of keeping one of those Mercy Birds. He commissioned people at Chūzenji to employ various methods of capturing it, but this bird—reputed to be sacred—only ever let its voice be heard without revealing its form. Therefore, he spared no expense to have them search for its nest.
And so, ultimately having confirmed that it was raised in a warbler’s nest like a cuckoo, he paid a high price to obtain its egg, but having no idea how to raise it, he brought it to Rokubei and entrusted it to him.
When asked, even Rokubei was taken aback.
If it were any other bird, he would have taken on the task without hesitation, but the method for raising a Mercy Bird was something even he couldn’t comprehend.
Moreover, his innate stubbornness and strong confidence combined, and he finally took it on.
Promising that once it was raised, [Rokubei] should notify him in Tokyo and he would send someone to retrieve it, Isogai entrusted Rokubei with the 200-yen breeding fee and left.

The act of capturing the sacred bird of the celebrated mountain was terrifying, and keeping it in human hands seemed sacrilegious—so his wife O-Tetsu and daughter Otoh repeatedly voiced their objections. Yet Rokubei would not yield.
He devised various methods for raising it with deep interest.
Through some means or other, he managed to safely hatch the egg, but when the chick perished after about ten days, his wife’s terror outweighed his disappointment.
O-Tetsu thereafter took to her bed with a sort of nervous disorder and finally succumbed this March.
The two hundred yen received from Isogai was all spent on his wife’s protracted illness, leaving Rokubei himself with scarcely a single coin remaining.
However, he did not inform Tokyo of the Mercy Bird’s death.
There were no demands from Isogai’s side either.

Before long, summer returned, and Isogai came back to town.
He denounced Rokubei's failure.
He further berated Rokubei's negligence in never having notified him until now and pressed for repayment of the two hundred yen entrusted last year.
Cornered for an explanation, Rokubei vowed to procure another fresh egg.
He took three days off work to comb through mountain recesses but found no trace of the sacred bird's nest.
With no alternative, he stole a cuckoo egg from a warbler's nest to temporarily deceive Isogai—a secret that filled his daughter with dread.
Having no means to repay the money yet agonizing over their predicament, he waited until the egg hatched.
When Rokubei presented the cuckoo chick at Isogai's inn, the unsuspecting man rejoiced.
But after Rokubei left, Isogai proudly showed it to the inn staff only to have them confirm—despite being raised in a warbler's nest—this was no Mercy Bird, plunging him into renewed fury.
On August seventh's afternoon, Isogai stormed into Rokubei's shop clutching that hatchling's cage and lambasted his negligence anew.
He departed in a rage after vowing to charge Rokubei with fraud.

Otoh could endure it no longer.
If things were left as they were，her father would become a criminal，so she immediately chased after Isogai．When she tearfully apologized for her father’s wrongdoing，Isogai said he had something to discuss and forcibly took her to the inn at Chūzenji Temple．
And then，she was pressured with the ultimatum that whether her father’s crime would be forgiven or not depended entirely on your decision．

That night brought a thunderstorm so violent it seemed mountains might crumble.
Otoh was not permitted to return the following day either.
When night fell and Isogai had drunk himself into a stupor, she seized the chance to slip out barefoot from the inn, half-frantically running down the dark mountain path to return home.
Upon learning how savagely his beloved daughter had been violated, Rokubei exhaled a breath like fire as he cursed Isogai.
He threw aside his work and lay groaning in the back room like a wounded beast.
Otoh—her soul and flesh brutally defiled—became ghostlike and lived an empty existence.

Writhing in irrepressible fury and remorse, Rokubei released all the small birds kept in his shop. However, the cuckoo chick that had sparked this incident—for reasons unknown—he left it discarded as it was. On the afternoon of the ninth, Isogai returned from Chūzenji and pressed Otoh again—now that matters had reached this point, she might as well become his mistress—but she refused absolutely. Hearing this, Rokubei's innards burned ever fiercer with rage. Around eight o'clock the following evening, when Isogai went out for a walk and passed before the woodturner's shop, Rokubei snatched the cuckoo chick from its cage and immediately gave chase. He returned some two hours later. It was the next morning that Isogai's cold corpse was discovered by Fuchimangafuchi Abyss.

“I should have just thrown myself into Chūzenji Temple’s lake that evening of August 8th. Somehow I grew desperately homesick – coming all the way back to town was my mistake.”

Otoh wept remorsefully. She grieved that her father had committed the grave crime of murder while simultaneously fearing that her own ineffaceable shame, inflicted by Isogai, would be exposed throughout the small town. Upon seeing her father finally taken into custody that night, she too resolved herself. The terrifying Fuchimangafuchi Abyss that had been Isogai’s death site—she too resolved to make it her own place of death.

Mr. Mori naturally sympathized with Otoh. Comforting her as she writhed and wept hysterically, he took her back to the woodturner's shop again. However, Otoh’s household consisted of one parent and one child, and that parent had been taken into custody. Anxious that leaving the daughter alone in that empty nest might lead her to commit some desperate act again at any moment, Mr. Mori took Otoh back to his inn, explained the circumstances to the proprietor, and arranged for her to stay there temporarily.

The diary entry for August 12th ends here.
Teshima returned the next morning.
From then until the 19th, the diary entries for the week were extremely brief; moreover, with parts obliterated here and there, it was nearly impossible to grasp their substance.
However, Otoh stayed together at Mr. Mori’s inn until that day.
It seems Mr. Mori did not have much time to keep his diary in detail.

In the diary after August 20th, such entries could be seen.

August 20th, clear.
This morning saw a sudden autumn wind arise.
Around 1:00 PM, Old Man Rokubei abruptly returned from Utsunomiya.
When I asked in surprise, I learned his murder suspicion had been cleared.
The old man kept silent beyond that.
Otoh-san returned home shedding joyful tears.
I accompanied her.
Neighbors came visiting.
All was well without end—around seven that evening, Otoh-san visited and spoke for two hours before leaving.
The night had grown faintly cold.
Having written of my extended stay here, I sent letters by post to my brother in Tokyo and friends.
Though reproach might come from my brother, there's no helping it.

The diary entries for the two days of the 21st and 22nd contained no particularly notable events.
[It] merely conveyed the fact that Mr. Mori and Otoh-san were on close terms.
The diary stated that on the 23rd, Detective Orii reappeared in this town.
The geisha Sen was taken into custody again.
It was because it had been discovered that she had embezzled money she had been entrusted with from Isogai.
The 24th passed without incident.

25th, cloudy.
Drizzle.

—Mr. Teshima arrived from Utsunomiya.
The culprit behind Isogai’s murder was a factory worker from a certain company in Kanuma Town who had entered Nikko Town again last night and been apprehended by Detective Orii.
The factory worker was not Sen’s lover but rather an associate of her lover—a man called Komaki something.
According to Mr. Teshima’s report, Komaki had been living a decent life in Tokyo until his assets were seized by Isogai’s father, which separated him from his wife and children and ultimately led him to become a factory worker in Kanuma Town after years of wandering.
On the night of the crime, Komaki had come to Nikko with Sen’s lover. While the three were amusing themselves at a restaurant, Sen peered down at the street from the second floor and remarked, “That’s a guest from Tokyo called Isogai.” Dead drunk, Komaki recalled his old grudge. A murderous intent welled up within him; pretending to seek evening air, he rushed outside. Following Isogai all the way to Fuchimangafuchi Abyss, he found him vehemently arguing with someone.
This finally provoked his fury. He suddenly leaped at Isogai, strangled his throat, knocked him down there, and fled back.

The man with whom Isogai had been arguing was none other than Old Man Rokubei.
Old Man Rokubei too had chased after Isogai, forcibly dragging him to the desolate reaches of Fuchimangafuchi Abyss where he vehemently accused him of violating his daughter and negotiated with fierce intensity—rolling up his sleeves—demanding either his life as recompense or an additional three thousand yen upkeep fee to recognize this cuckoo as a Mercy Bird. When Isogai thrust out a wallet containing about a hundred yen saying this should suffice, he furiously tore it to shreds and discarded it. As Isogai then offered his gold pocket watch, he smashed that too against a rock, shouting that he must hand over the three thousand yen no matter what—at which point Komaki suddenly burst in and, without exchanging a single word, immediately strangled Isogai to death.
At this, even Rokubei stood dumbfounded for a moment—but when he saw Isogai’s corpse lying before his eyes, he was suddenly seized by indescribable terror; flinging away the hatchling he had been clutching, he too hastily fled back.
With these circumstances becoming clear, Rokubei was exonerated and Komaki was apprehended.
"It was a truly strange incident," Mr. Teshima said.

"Until the true culprit was arrested, newspaper articles about this case had been banned, but starting tomorrow the restrictions will be lifted and we'll be able to write freely about anything," declared Mr. Teshima triumphantly.
If the press ban was indeed lifted, then from tomorrow onward every newspaper would likely publish detailed accounts of this case's truth.
The culprit Komaki naturally, details about victim Isogai, suspect Old Man Rokubei... and Otoh-san too...
Mr. Teshima would stay overnight.

26th, rain.

When I impatiently took up this morning’s newspaper, the Utsunomiya papers had all uniformly reported this incident in detail. When I visited Otoh-san around eight o'clock, she appeared to still know nothing. Explaining it to her seemed too agonizing, so I remained silent. Mr. Teshima gathered various materials and left around noon. The rain poured down relentlessly, making even midday feel faintly chilly. As the end of the month approached, lodgers at each inn gradually dwindled away. As ever, early autumn in the summer resort was a desolate affair. Around four in the afternoon, when I went downstairs intending to visit Otoh-san again, the maid handed me a sheet of hanshi paper folded into small squares, saying that Otoh-san had just thrown this letter in and left. When I hurriedly opened it—"I will never see you again."—

Mr. Mori's diary contained nothing written about Otoh-san after that.
No—it seemed he had written something, but since it had all been expunged, nothing could be discerned.
However, that neither Otoh-san nor Old Man Rokubei had emerged unscathed became evident from the September 2nd entry.

September 2nd.
Today being the 210th Day, the morning began with turbulent weather.
I resolved to depart from the lodging.
Before departing, I would visit ○○ Temple and pay my respects at the new graves of the parent and child.
Large raindrops began falling intermittently, and the strong wind shook the wooden grave stupas as if to blow them away.
In the lulls between gusts of wind, the crickets' chirps could be heard intermittently.—I would board the 10-something a.m. train bound for Tokyo.—
The reason Mr. Mori had remained single until now could largely be inferred from this.
The train carrying Mr. Mori might have arrived in Utsunomiya by now.
An old wound in Mr. Mori’s heart might have begun to ache.
I averted my shadowed eyes from the diary.

The rain still hasn't let up tonight.