Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The soul of a samurai.

With only the large and small swords at his waist, without a single thing in his hands, and hastily slipping on his straw sandals, Isokai Ryūjirō stepped out into the backyard. "Whatever may happen, today I shall resolutely depart." Even as part of his warrior's training, he had left Edo with a particular aspiration. He should have long since achieved his purpose, returned to Edo by now, seen his rejoicing mentor's face, and without delay received the secret techniques passed down through their school; but caught in unexpected obstacles, he had spent over three months in a state scarcely different from that of a prisoner.

In Hitachi Province, Kawachi District, near the Ōsugi Myōjin shrine of Awamura Village, there lived a fearsome demon. Moreover, Ryūjirō had been caught, as helpless as a waterfowl ensnared in a mist net, leaving him unable to do anything about it. Against his will, he had spent a whole summer in that demon's house, and now this very morning turned to autumn.

Ōsugi Myōjin is said to enshrine Hitachibō Kaizon. Colloquially known as the Tengu's Wild Deity. In that vicinity dwelled a notorious demon. The female yakuza leader called O-Tetsu of Nawanawa was that very demon. Being rural, it was of course crude and earthy, but in any case, across Hitachi and Shimousa with the Tone River straddled between them as their territory, they could muster a thousand hardened men without needing to pay a single coin. O-Tetsu’s husband, Hiwatari Jin’emon, had been an official informant entrusted by the authorities with a red-tasseled jitte and arrest ropes—this man had worn two pairs of straw sandals. He had been sworn brothers with Iioka Sukegorō of Iioka.

Even after Hiwatari Jin'emon had died from illness, people still feared O-Tetsu as if she retained the red-tasseled jitte—for though now a widow, her mannish demeanor made her practically a female official informant in all but name. "When it comes to capturing men, Nawanawa no O-Tetsu stands unrivaled. Once caught by her, you're finished." "Guilt or innocence means nothing." "Through otherworldly tortures, five or six must have been killed by now." "Arashi Hinamaru—that traveling performer who came to Takai in Awa—was slain too." "A young linen seller from Echigo met the same fate." "Then a Kyoto itinerant painter and an Odawara carpenter." "The second son of Utsushima's Makomo magnate got entangled too, but none lasted three months." "Is that what they call a wicked woman's devotion?" "They say she's no Christian heretic, but let those eyes glare at you just once—your body goes numb and you're powerless."

Such rumors had taken root everywhere.

Unaware of this, Isokai Ryūjirō had boarded a night boat on the Tone River during his warrior's pilgrimage and found himself accompanied by O-Tetsu, who was returning from Edo. She was already nearing forty—a woman well past her prime, like cherry blossoms long fallen. Her corpulent body likely weighed well over seventy-five kilograms. Her complexion was dusky, her hair showing a prominent wavy texture that was thinning at the roots, always carelessly combed back into a casual bun. Her nose was low, her mouth large, and her chin appeared double-layered; yet around her eyes brimmed an undeniable charm. Her words and deeds were faultless, and everything she did was brisk and clever. In her youth, this manner of hers might have stirred men’s hearts instead.

“If you’re paying respects to Lord Ōsugi, do stop by my humble abode.” When Ryūjirō suddenly developed abdominal pain in the reed beds along the way to Awamura Village after boarding a night boat at Oshisuna Wharf, O-Tetsu handled him as if he were a child, effortlessly carrying him on her back for less than half a ri along the path to her house. While her devoted care surpassed even familial devotion until then proved welcome, her subsequent refusal to let him take a single step beyond those walls became an unparalleled nuisance. Ryūjirō’s stomach pain subsided quickly, but no sooner had he regained his health than he began declining again after two or three days. With no particular ailment to speak of, he simply lived his days listlessly like an empty husk. The hair on his shaved pate had grown out. His complexion had turned pallid. The sunken state of his own eyes startled even him. He had truly become a prisoner of the demon.

Resolving that today was finally the day, he summoned his courage and, taking advantage of O-Tetsu’s absence, thought to descend the cliff from the backyard and make his way through the rice fields toward Fukuda Village.

II

The pangs of conscience grew stronger with each step he took. For the sake of an older woman of low status and no particular beauty—Isokai Ryūjirō, born into a hatamoto household of five hundred koku as a second son yet bearing the lineage of direct shogunal retainers, whose rare swordsmanship skills had resounded through the Kōbusho academy with repute as heaven-endowed—had been coiled within her palm and treated like a toy for three full months. At the Kōbusho, he had primarily received instruction from Imahori Settsu-no-kami; moreover, having been cherished by Akioka Jinpūsai—who resided in Azabu Furukawabata as a masterless samurai and had founded his own school branching from the Tenshin Dokumei-ryū—he had advanced to the position of inheriting the essence of the Happō Makiun sword style through exclusive master-disciple training.

“Before that transmission can occur, you must first embark on a warrior’s pilgrimage and tour the provinces at least once.” “That being said, I am not speaking of ordinary dojo storming.” “First visit the three shrines of Katori Kashima and Isosugi, then proceed to Suwa Shrine in Nagareyama, Ōsugi Myōjin in Awamura Village of Hitachi, and Kōryū Shrine in Tatsuki Village—purify both body and mind at these sacred sites, execute all spiritual sword forms completely, and return only after utterly casting off impure thoughts.” “Other shrine visitations may be addressed gradually—they need not trouble you.”

It was to receive the Happō Makiun sword techniques as the sole disciple from Akioka Jinpūsai that Ryūjirō's provincial tour had begun. Yet it was at Ōsugi Myōjin that his journey had become stalled. No matter how he considered it, this could only be described as mysterious.

Before boarding at Oshisuna Wharf, he bought a boxed lunch that had been brought early in the morning to Kinoshita Wharf. He could only think that he had felt stomach pain due to the shredded dried squid in it. Earlier, when he felt his throat parched from the stifling heat of passengers in the boat, the cooled boiled water O-Tetsu had given him carried some foul odor. If he entertained dark suspicions, he might have been poisoned. From the moment he was taken into O-Tetsu's house, his blood grew turbid, his muscles slackened, and his vitality waned until he became utterly incapable of any action. He became like one bereft of reason and nothing more.

O-Tetsu’s family had been hereditary official informants. Her grandfather had been particularly renowned. Hiwatari Jin’emon was an adopted son. Thus regarding arrest techniques, O-Tetsu in fact possessed more detailed knowledge.

“When it comes to methods of applying arrest ropes, there’s likely none in Hitachi, Shimōsa, or Kazusa who can surpass me.” O-Tetsu’s boasts overflowed with more than enough skill to justify them. Though a woman, she had mastered all techniques—binding ropes, throwing ropes, pulling ropes, hoisting ropes, escape ropes—with consummate skill. Regarding arrest rope techniques as well—whether crosswise binding, tortoise-shell ties, pine-needle constrictions, windlass wraps, overhand grips, forearm locks, single-arm lifts, or reverse knots—she had mastered every method of application. The butterfly knot, the crosswise bind, the diamond twist, the crab clutch, the scale weave—each possessed three variations in the formal, semi-formal, and informal styles. Detailed explanations of various schools had been transmitted within the family as manuscripts.

Ryūjirō took interest even in those arrest ropes, and to stave off boredom, he read all the manuscripts without exception, then increasingly developed a research interest and learned through practical training under O-Tetsu. “Even though this is a single-heir tradition, I’ll pass it on to you.” “However, since it’s strictly prohibited to impart this during daylight hours no matter what occurs, I shall instruct you at midnight.” To teach, O-Tetsu handled the arrest ropes and bound Ryūjirō. And O-Tetsu was also bound by Ryūjirō.

"The method of escaping ropes isn't limited to thieves," O-Tetsu instructed. "Even samurai would do well to remember this." Her voice carried the weight of practical experience as she added, "It will serve you when captured by enemies." The main rope's constriction bit deep into O-Tetsu's fleshy form, making her ample body writhe in apparent distress. Yet even as her shoulders cut through empty air and ripples danced across her rounded abdomen, she slipped free with practiced ease, emerging unbound through some arcane technique. Ryūjirō found himself awestruck at this display of corporeal mastery.

All this time, Ryūjirō felt himself perpetually bound by invisible ropes—a sensation of being tightly tethered that rendered him incapable of taking even a single step beyond the threshold. Moreover, O-Tetsu remained ever-present at his side, refusing him permission to visit even the nearby Ōsugi Myōjin shrine. When she did venture out without clear purpose, she would have Kenkan stand guard over him. Yet in exchange, no want went unattended—every conceivable courtesy was lavished upon him.

“Master Isokai, the Nawanawa family’s bodyguard, is a greater man than even Sasakawa Shōzō’s Hirate Sake Brewery that’s still recounted in tales today.”

However much he was lifted up, in reality it was no different than imprisonment.

"If I continue like this, I cannot face Master Akioka."

Ryūjirō's soul had not yet entirely rotted away. Unable to endure the pangs of conscience any longer, he seized the opening he had finally discovered—descending from O-Tetsu's backyard by clinging to weeds on the cliff face until he reached the path between rice paddies in the valley below.

Before he could even think "Ah, joy!", a trap snapped down from above. The rope had barely passed from under his left armpit to over his right shoulder when it cinched tight—then in an instant, he was hoisted up in one swift motion. His body hung suspended in midair. “Master, what on earth would you do such a thing? No matter what happens, I won’t let you escape!” Above, O-Tetsu’s voice, quivering with anger, resounded booming.

III O-Tetsu，who had returned just in time，promptly used her throwing rope to halt Ryūjirō’s escape. After binding his arms behind his back and leaving him sprawled in the rear second-floor room，she sat beside him，gulping bowl after bowl of sake with reckless abandon before cutting in with bitter resentment. “Why on earth did you try to escape，Master?” “In the brief moment I let my guard down... And it wasn’t like I went out for some other purpose.” “I went to Sukatsu Reservoir to catch sesame eels，simmered them whole to offer you，Master，thinking to strengthen your stamina even a little—that came from my whole heart，and I went to gather them without involving anyone else.” “Well，it’s nothing really.”

O-Tetsu was even tearful. Ryūjirō's ignominy lay in being left bound like this. I was utterly disgusted with myself. This too was all punishment for betraying my teacher. It was due to my own corruption. While repenting in such a manner,

“Elder sister, please forgive me.” “I must go to Edo at least once and return.”

“Have you grown weary of this remote countryside? Or have you grown tired of someone like me and fled?” “It is absolutely not as you say. I’ll go check, and once reassured, return immediately. The truth is, these nightly dreams have me so terribly worried I can’t bear it.” “Dreams?” “Dreams stem from the fatigue of the five viscera—or so they say. If that were all there was to it, I could dismiss them. But when the same dream repeats itself over and over, I find myself unable to ignore my concerns. It shows my mentor Master Akioka Jinpūsai in critical condition on death’s doorstep. He has no family whatsoever—no one to tend to him in his isolation. Given his solitary existence and particularly obstinate disposition, he maintains no disciples apart from this Ryūjirō here. That matter of exclusive master-disciple training—of him imparting the secret technique of Happō Makiun—is something I believe I explained to you before, Elder sister.”

“I did indeed hear that.” “If I should fail to reach Master before his passing, this hard-won secret technique would vanish—leaving no trace in this world, much to my regret.” “This thought proves utterly unbearable.” “Yet setting that aside—in these times when moral bonds grow ever thinner, were I to let my mentor die abandoned like some stray dog, Isokai Ryūjirō could not preserve his honor.” “At this very moment when I find the master-disciple bond—reduced to mere commercial transaction—wholly dissatisfying, I must tend to Master’s care…”

“Is Master truly ill?” “That I cannot say.” “Yet night after night, I see it in my dreams.” “It weighs on me beyond endurance.” “Elder sister—grant me leave to go to Edo just once.” “No—I do not ask to return to Edo for good.” “Let me go.” “Should Master be well, I shall return here straightaway.” “If the dream proves true and he lies ill, I will tend to him—then return without fail.” “I swear this by the striking of gold.”

Sincerity surfaced as tears in Ryūjirō's eyes. Even O-Tetsu of Nawanawa could not help being moved by this. The full expression of human sincerity required no abundance of words.

“If that’s how it is，you didn’t have to keep me in the dark and sneak out from behind！I’m no ordinary woman！If your reasoning holds water，I’ll gladly see you off，”she said with unexpectedly swift understanding．

Then she hurriedly untied Ryūjirō’s bindings and stroked the rope-bitten marks as though restoring blood flow.

“I offer countless apologies, but this morning particularly—with my mentor’s condition weighing on me—I felt as though every moment counted... The fear of arriving a moment too late for Master’s final breath compelled me to rush out without awaiting your return, Elder sister. “Please don’t take this badly……” And Ryūjirō hesitantly stretched his arms and legs.

“Well, as long as the matter’s understood, I’ve no lingering concerns. I won’t think anything of it, but Master—you will truly come back, won’t you?” “I will return without fail.”

“The other night as well. “As I earnestly told you before—from what I learned during Mr. Fujita of Mito’s lifetime—the world will soon turn upside down and change so drastically it will shock you. “That’s why the samurai class—especially hatamoto retainers—must think long and hard about this. Most should abandon things like kendo and spearmanship—it would be better to study gunnery instead. “This brings us back to that talk about how visiting foreign lands once would be best... Truth be told, I’ve been thinking I’d like you to cross over to America or Holland itself. “Excuse my bluntness, but we’ve been stockpiling funds since my grandfather’s time. “If it’s two or three thousand in gold, I can have the coins ready at any time.”

“Regarding overseas travel—while there are national prohibitions and Yoshida Shōin’s failed attempt—it should gradually become permissible. I must cross over to foreign lands without fail to broaden my knowledge and receive instruction in gunnery. As I absolutely require Elder sister’s assistance, I will certainly return here.” “And one last thing I must emphasize.” “Even if you return to Edo after all this time, I won’t permit you to cozy up to any woman—any woman at all.”

It was O-Tetsu of Nawanawa who stored fierce jealousy throughout her obese frame.

IV

O-Tetsu had meticulously prepared every detail of his traveling attire and sent him off with performative compliance.

He wore a solid black traveling jacket over a pale yellow silk robe with shortened hem—arm wrappings and leggings completing the ensemble—carrying only an iron fan in hand, his formal trousers conspicuously absent. A blue serge crest-patterned bag completed the outfit. When dressed thus, Ryūjirō’s masculine bearing shone with particular brilliance. “See you don’t take up with any woman along the way. Do I make myself clear?” “My eyes are everywhere, you know.” “I’ll be watching.”

“It’s alright.” “At present, I think only of my mentor’s welfare... and following that, your well-being.”

Having thus left her pleased, Ryūjirō finally set out eagerly on his journey. He crossed Fukuda Plateau and reached Ichisaki in but a single breath. Though now a free man, he still could not shake the sensation of something powerful tugging at his back hair. It made him realize how thoroughly he had been oppressed by O-Tetsu’s overwhelming influence. The feeling grew steadily stronger—like a hooked fish slipping from its basket to swim once more through a great river’s currents. Now the current pulled him toward Edo.

“To my mentor’s side—with all haste.”

The man called Jinpūsai, his mentor, was truly an ill-fated scholar of adversity. The more he reflected, the more pity overwhelmed him. Compared to kendo instructors like Saitō Yakurō, Chiba Shūsaku, and Momoi Shunzō, his technical skill showed no inferiority. Yet while others gathered thousands of disciples and enjoyed shogunate or feudal lords' patronage, Akioka Jinpūsai persisted in impoverished solitude at his ronin's dwelling - Ryūjirō alone constituting his true disciple. This very isolation, however, marked his admirable virtue. Perhaps he had intentionally immersed himself in such destiny - regardless, that debt of gratitude demanded complete repayment.

The guilt of having been detained by O-Tetsu along the way and abandoning his Divine Sword training. I must apologize without end. And I shall also discuss the matter of traveling abroad for gunnery training. But thinking his mentor must not be in critical condition as seen in the dream, he hurried on his way regardless. As Ryūjirō planned to go from Nunokawa to Fusa, then from Nakatōge to Abiko, he hurried from Ichisaki through Shiizuka-shita, taking shortcut paths between fields and paddies. By the time the forest of standing trees at Bundai came into view nearby, he became aware that a single girl had been following him from behind.

That was by no means an ordinary farm girl. Her hair had been styled in an elaborate bridal coiffure so recently that not a single strand lay out of place. From her white powder to her lipstick—every detail showed meticulously applied heavy makeup. Even without such adornments, her beauty possessed a quality to make one shudder. She would have been considered a rare beauty even in Edo.

And what of that?

A dirt-stained yukata with a butterfly-scattered pattern. With its abundant white background, even though it was only early autumn, the garment looked chillingly shabby. The sash too was narrow and creased, its poverty-stricken appearance beyond description. The elaborate hairstyle and meticulous makeup stood in complete disharmony with the exceedingly crude attire. This would surely appear a mystery to any observer.

What was even more suspicious was that she carried a dark blue snake-eye patterned umbrella in this fine weather. Yet she wore straw sandals on her bare feet that slapped against the road. Was this a fox from Onnabakegahara transformed into a maiden to beguile him? Given that it could manifest in broad daylight, it must be a fox of considerable spiritual rank—or so he found himself whimsically imagining. When he hurried, she hurried; when he paused, she paused. She followed like his shadow. Each time he turned around, she would smile back from where she stood. Ryūjirō began feeling distinctly unsettled.

“Honorable samurai, you are bound for Edo, are you not?” Among the rice paddy ridges, near where a stream flowed for Buddhist initiation rites, she finally called out from behind.

“Indeed,” was all Ryūjirō answered, saying nothing further.

“I too am going to Edo,” the girl said without being asked. “Is that so,” Ryūjirō replied with equal brusqueness.

“Will you be staying in Fusa tonight?” “Or will you be pressing on to Abiko?” If he were to say he would stay, she seemed likely to request shared lodging. Ryūjirō could not help growing wary. Even supposing there had been no promise with O-Tetsu, he had no desire to become intimate with this girl. However beautiful she might be—a woman of dubious background. He thought there was no telling what complications might arise.

“No—I will travel by night. To visit a critically ill person. Perhaps I should take a fast palanquin? In any case, I’ll be traveling through the night to Edo,” he replied. He thought this would leave her at a loss.

“Oh, is that so? I too have someone gravely ill to attend to, so I had intended to travel through the night.” “So you’re resolved to journey by night as a woman?” “Yes, as there’s no alternative… For me, nothing could be more reassuring than your traveling by night, master. I shall follow from behind so as not to intrude.”

“That’s your choice.” Since she insisted on following from behind, he had no way to stop her. He could think of it as a nuisance all he liked, but there was no use.

Moreover, the stated purpose of visiting a critically ill person could not help but strike a particular chord within Ryūjirō.

“Who’s ill?” he found himself compelled to ask despite himself. “Because I kept dreaming... dreaming of the Grand Master falling gravely ill—I could no longer bear it and struck out alone like this.” “What? Dreams of the Grand Master’s illness...”

Ryūjirō couldn’t help but be startled.

V

In an age of poor transportation, concern for the well-being of those separated by distance pressed more deeply upon people than it does today. In a world without telegraphs, telephones, or postal services, there were many cases where people's imaginations naturally ran wild. They could not help but intensify their superstitions. The words of fortune-tellers and such. Dreams and such. Crow omens and such. They even worried about the snapping of a geta strap as an ill omen. Therefore, setting out from afar to pay a visit based on troubling dreams—treating them as if they were factual—was by no means rash or careless.

Since Ryūjirō himself was journeying to Edo due to those dreams, he entertained no doubts regarding the girl’s account. Finding themselves in the same circumstances, he abruptly found sympathy arising within him.

“And this Grand Master of yours…” Ryūjirō inquired. Of course, he was hurrying forward as he did so.

“I belong to the traveling acrobats called the Bamboo Splitting Troupe—my name is Kotora. The master I currently tour with is Takesawari Toramatsu, whose own master was Takesawari Kotayū, the Grand Master of our art,” the girl revealed her circumstances for the first time.

“Ah—the Bamboo Splitting Troupe. I had heard of them.”

“Kotayū has long been bedridden with apoplexy at Honjo Ishihara’s Fire Watch Alley, but I am a foundling raised by this Grand Master and know nothing of my true parents.” “To me, the Grand Master and his wife are as good as my real parents.” “As for O-Kami, she passed away some years ago, so now there’s only the Grand Master left. Though the current master Toramatsu is his biological son, he’s rather mean-spirited and doesn’t look after the Grand Master at all, which makes me feel all the more sorry.” “As the troubling dreams persisted, even if I were to return to Edo to visit, Toramatsu would never release me for such a reason, so I slipped away in secret.” “Though coming this way from our Edosaki performance site might be a detour, it’s convenient for obscuring my trail.”

With Kotora’s tale, all doubts were resolved. The dissonance between her hairstyle and disguise was deemed plausible for a fleeing performer, and he nodded in acknowledgment. “Ah—I too find myself concerned about my swordsmanship mentor’s circumstances. In any case—let us both make haste. Autumn days pass like a falling bucket. Since night falls early—I mean to cross at least the Hon-Tone ferry from Nunokawa to Nunosata while daylight remains.”

“This area is all wetlands—marshes, rivers, canals—water everywhere you go. Before reaching the Hon-Tone crossing, there’s still the Shin-Tone ferry as well.” “Ah—the Shin-Tone ferry must be close now.”

During the Kanbun era, the Shin-Tone River had been newly excavated fifty ken wide from the Kaiko River to Hirasu Marsh. It lay beneath a stand of trees on the embankment. Before long, the two arrived at that ferry landing. This area was truly desolate. Beneath the embankment, impoverished-looking farmhouses dotted the landscape here and there, but along the banks of the Shin-Tone River not a single dwelling stood. Only reeds and willows grew thickly—not yet withered—creating an unpleasantly oppressive gloom.

The ferry here did not have a dedicated ferryman; it was merely equipped with a boat, making it what was known as a pull ferry. It consisted of three logs erected high on both banks, around which wisteria vines were twisted and stretched—small iron rings fastened to them, ropes tied to those rings—all connected to the bow of the farm boat. To both the bow and stern of the farm boat were separately attached long hemp ropes, each long enough to reach both banks. In other words, if the person boarding the farm boat hauled the bow rope themselves, they would reach the opposite shore. When those who came afterward needed to recall the empty boat back to this side, they would haul the stern rope from shore—even without anyone aboard—and the boat would return. Such was this remarkably primitive method.

“They say whether one crosses this ferry or not makes a significant difference in the journey’s gain and loss,” Ryūjirō said. “Unfortunately, the boat’s moored at the far shore, but if we haul the rope, it should come back,” Kotora explained, demonstrating her familiarity with the place. “The hemp ropes here were donated from the house of Jin’emon of Awa, who once sheltered me—generations-old arrest ropes that had become worn with use. In his household, they use top-quality hemp from Hōzō Temple in Mikawa—boiled in vinegar and triple-twisted—and indeed, this differs from ordinary rope in its sturdiness.”

Even as he spoke, Ryūjirō began hauling. Though meant for binding criminals—tools created to strip people of their freedom—using these arrest ropes as lifelines for a rescue ferry seemed an especially meaningful form of repurposing. “Oh, I’ll handle the hauling.” Kotora tried to take over the pulling. “No, I couldn’t let a woman exert herself so. Besides, it wouldn’t do for your sleeves to get wet.”

Ryūjirō cut her off and proceeded to haul the rope himself again. Kotora helped with that as well. The boat left the far shore and, remaining empty, began moving seven or eight ken while gliding along the wisteria vine rings.

VI

At this moment, suddenly, from the reeds on the opposite shore appeared the figure of a giant monk. He wore a mouse-gray laborer's robe with a narrow white sash tied at the front, his attire hitched up at the back for physical work. The very combination of his shaved head and twisted headband surpassed mere eccentricity in its vulgarity. He carried a dripping wooden bucket in one hand while using a long-handled eel catcher's pole as a staff in the other—a ruthless defrocked monk. Yet his eyebrows grew thick and bushy, his gaze pierced sharply, and his forehead even bore a crescent-shaped sword scar. It seemed even Lu Zhishen the Tattooed Monk from Water Margin might have appeared thus.

“Bastards! Don’t you dare try callin’ that boat while you’re tangled up in your damn fool’s play, young buck an’ missy!” “Who you takin’ me for—some gutter rat? Like hell I’d let ya!”

Though separated by fifty ken, his mutterings carried across as clearly as if held in the palm of one’s hand. Almost immediately after setting down the bucket, he yanked the bow rope forcefully with his free hand.

The combined efforts of two were instantly overpowered by a single hand, and the departing boat reversed course. “Ah, Reverend, I implore you!” “We are racing against time to visit a critically ill patient.” “Whether we make it in time for his final moments or not is a matter of grave importance to us both! I implore you—send the boat to this side!” Ryūjirō pleaded loudly. “No way, you bastards!” The evil monk strained with all his might through one arm. The evil monk yanked forcefully. The two also pulled with all their might. For a short while, it became a tug-of-war contest. The empty boat had been drifting midway, but the moment the evil monk strained with all his might, the stern rope snapped with a sharp pop, and the pair found themselves defeated. The boat was pulled completely to the far shore by the monk’s hand. They could no longer pull the empty boat back to this side.

“Behold your wretched disgrace!” “Now take the long way around!” “Ain’t no ferry ’round here.” “That really hits the spot for me!” “Feels damn satisfying.” “Well now, ’less I scrape up some eels, ain’t gonna be no drinkin’ money.” The evil monk grabbed the wooden bucket again and vanished abruptly into the reeds.

What a merciless monk. That a monk—sworn to save others—would catch eels and violate prohibitions against killing was madness enough; yet here lay the salvation ferry meant to reach enlightenment’s far shore. He had taken that away entirely. What temple’s monk was he, and by what name was he known? With seething hatred, Ryūjirō gnashed his teeth in bitter frustration. However, separated by the Shin-Tone River’s moat, there was nothing they could do.

“At this point, we’ve no choice but to take a detour to wherever another ferry might be.” “Tch, that detestable monk bastard,” he fumed.

“Master, there’s no need for concern. I will retrieve the boat. Going to the far shore is no trouble at all,” Kotora said matter-of-factly.

“Huh? You’re going to the far shore to retrieve the boat?”

“I am a female acrobat; fortunately, as you can see, there is a wisteria vine spanning from the far shore to this one, so traversing across it would be a simple matter.”

“I see...” An art impossible for ordinary people, but for Kotora the female acrobat, it was no trouble at all. When escaping the troupe’s quarters, concerned about the changeable autumn skies, they had grabbed whatever umbrellas they could find—which unexpectedly proved useful here. Without any accompanying musical fanfare that might suit a performer’s costume change with live music, she had merely tucked up the hem of her yukata. The faded red Chinese crepe obi sash was reflected in the murky water of the Shin-Tone River’s canal and the muddy hues beneath the small embankment, appearing unexpectedly vivid and beautiful.

In an instant, she climbed atop the hand-pulled ferry's main post.

“Take care—it’s dangerous!” called out Ryūjirō from below. “There’s no need to worry,” Kotora said as she swiftly opened her indigo snake-eye-patterned umbrella. At that very moment, what appeared to be a spray of blood scattering in all directions from the Chinese crepe of her obi was in fact the red dragonfly that had been perched on the wisteria vine until then, startled into flight. Though named Shin-Tone River, it was a fifty-ken-wide moat. She crossed the ferry’s wisteria vine with the measured steps of a tightrope walker. It was truly splendid, no different from an ordinary person walking down a main street.

The slanting evening sun cast a crimson glow across half of Kotora’s body. This illumination was mirrored in the sluggish water’s surface. Above floated Kotora, below floated Kotora—a single figure split into twin reflections. Her grime-stained yukata now seemed to radiate brilliance when viewed this way. Combined with her elaborate stage-style chignon and the striking beauty of her made-up face, Ryūjirō found himself utterly entranced. Though his fear of her falling mid-crossing had dissipated, a new anxiety emerged—would she complete the crossing alone like this and rush ahead by herself? This possibility alone consumed his thoughts.

Eventually, she advanced halfway across the rope. No matter how high the wisteria vines had been stretched from both banks, their midpoint naturally developed a sag that hung near the water's surface. With the added weight of a human body, it now dipped perilously close to submerging. Even that Kotora skillfully crossed. Having passed through that dangerous section, it seemed time to catch a breath.

“Ah!” Almost simultaneous with Kotora’s sharp scream, the wisteria vine rope tied to the rocky ledge snapped with a sharp pop. Kotora fell into the Shin-Tone River’s moat with a tremendous splash. Ryūjirō's astonishment reached its peak.

Seven

“Fucking around with me? After I blocked your crossing, you damn bastards tightrope over here for the boat? Feast your eyes on this shame!”

Among the willows on the far shore, the evil monk had reappeared unnoticed, now clutching a small eel-gutting knife in his hand. The ferocity of his glare was beyond description. This bastard was exactly the one who had severed the wisteria vine.

“I can swim a little. There’s no need to worry.” Kotora discarded her umbrella as she spoke and began breaststroking. Seeing that she was skilled in swimming after just a few strokes, Ryūjirō felt relieved and motioned, “Anyway, over here…”

Seeing that the woman could swim, the evil monk on the far shore became so enraged that steam seemed to rise from his head,

“Hey woman! Don’t you know about the man-eating algae in Shinboriguri canal? If you fall here, that’s it for you. The algae and water chestnuts’ll tangle round your limbs till you can’t move a muscle. Heh heh, even carp—even crucian carp—when they grow big, get caught in algae and meet their end here. This is a cursed place. Had you been crossing alone, I wouldn’t have played such tricks, but that young pup with you gets on my nerves. So wench, die here... Or you begging me to save you? Beg and I’ll send a boat…” His hateful demeanor defied description.

“What’s this, you dog-monk priest! Even if I were dying, I’d never accept help from the likes of you!” “See? Like this, I can swim just fine!” “What’s man-eating algae supposed to be?” Kotora demonstrated her skills with a flourish, executing precise strokes that sent water flying. However, that lasted only a brief moment. What the monk had said proved true—immediately, the tips of slender algae entangled her legs. They were slimy and repulsive, as if demonic hands themselves—the aquatic plants appearing so unnervingly alive that one might suspect blood flowed through their veins and pulses throbbed within them. Once caught, there was already no escape. Before she knew it, algae had entangled both her hands. Around her waist, on her arms, from underarms diagonally over shoulders—it was terrifying, malicious algae that swarmed and bound her.

Seeing this, Ryūjirō could not possibly abandon her to die. However, he couldn’t help but think of the proverb where the mummy-taker becomes the mummy. Even if I were to jump in from here, my body heading to where Kotora was drowning would inevitably become entangled in the same man-eating algae.

But more than anything, he found the evil monk utterly loathsome. This cruelty went beyond mere mischief. Even as torment, it was too calculated. Madness or folly—if I were to jump in now, there was no telling what interference might occur. Ryūjirō steeled himself in an instant. With a swift “Hah!”, he hurled the throwing star with all his might. It was the small utility knife from his sword that he had drawn. The throw spanning fifty ken was flawless. The blade struck true—embedding itself in the evil monk’s forehead like a divine third eye carved between his brows.

“Gah!” came a cry. He fell backward—his figure vanished from sight. It was an indescribably satisfying sensation. Ryūjirō briskly stripped off his garments. He couldn’t manage to remove his arm guards and gaiters. Tucking the small knife into his loincloth, he plunged into the Shin-Tone River canal. The first five or six ken posed no issue, but as he advanced ten, fourteen or fifteen ken, the algae grew denser than anticipated. It entangled his hands and feet—he marveled at its terrifying magical power. Both algae and water chestnuts seemed imbued with vengeful spirits that clung with relentless persistence. Even naked as he was, this proved arduous; how much harder it must be for Kotora still wearing clothes, he thought.

Thrashing through the algae as the character itself suggested, he managed to advance another couple of ken, but could no longer move forward. It felt as though he'd been bound by honnawa ropes in an intricate cross-binding. "Ah, that's it!" Ryūjirō steadied his resolve. He would now immediately apply the rope-escaping and rope-cutting methods taught by O-Tetsu of the Living Rope. He considered that the optimal strategy.

He drew the small knife underwater. While swimming, he cut away the water plants with one hand. At once, he cleared a path. After painstakingly battling the man-eating algae, he finally reached Kotora’s side. “Oh, Master!”

By this time, Kotora was already completely exhausted. But unlike someone unfamiliar with water training, she didn’t attempt the dangerous act of suddenly clinging to her rescuer.

VIII

The various types of algae entangling Kotora's entire body. Ryūjirō's struggle to cut through them and rescue her from the water demon's captivity. It was indeed no ordinary task. He too had to swim with one hand. The small knife gripped in one hand could not be wielded as intended underwater. If he showed even the slightest lapse in caution, he might inflict injuries on Kotora's body. Even cutting off a single finger would have been disastrous. "I must not panic. Just endure a little longer."

Having performed a perilous feat more dangerous than plucking pearls from a slumbering dragon’s snout, Ryūjirō finally cut away the water plants and liberated Kotora. "My savior. I will never forget this kindness," Kotora said with heartfelt gratitude. “Not only that—we must land as quickly as possible!” Leading the way, Ryūjirō once again cut through the obstructive water plants as he swam back toward the original shore. Since he had already cut away a considerable amount earlier, this time proved significantly easier.

The two returned after all to their original shore. This was because Ryūjirō had left behind his garments and long sword at his waist. For Kotora to proceed ahead again, not only had the man-eating algae not been cleared away, but she also felt it would be improper to forge ahead alone while her benefactor remained behind.

Having climbed ashore, the two let out sighs of relief.

Ryūjirō abruptly looked toward Kotora and was shocked. From several places on the woman’s limbs, black blood was gushing out thickly. He wondered if he had accidentally cut her with the small knife’s tip. But when he realized it was just leeches sucking on the woman, he felt relieved. “Alright, we shouldn’t attempt to cross a place fraught with such complications. Even if we take a detour, let's approach from another direction,” said Ryūjirō. “That would be most agreeable,” Kotora said as she wrung out her wet clothes.

“Oh!”

Ryūjirō could not suppress a shout. For that reason, from the discarded half-coat to the lined kimono, under-kimono, and even the obi—all had vanished. Not only that, but the long sword he had left behind, along with everything from his personal effects to his handkerchiefs and tissue paper, were all missing.

“Who took them?!” Isokai Ryūjirō had been stripped completely naked. Though the small knife remained, even the long sword—the soul of a warrior—had been stolen by someone.

“Oh! For saving me… I’ve caused you such hardship… I have no excuse,” Kotora said, her face turning pale.

“I was so focused on cutting through the algae that I didn’t notice this side… When did… Who could have…” But no matter how furiously Ryūjirō raged, there was nothing to be done.

Even the distant temple bell began to toll. With each passing moment, the surroundings grew darker. A cold wind pressed against their skin.

“In any case, let us head toward the inhabited area. There we can dry your soaked garments and try to search for my missing belongings with others’ assistance. There might be someone who saw the thief,” said Ryūjirō as he led the way through the reed field toward Ritsukidai below. Kotora also followed from behind.

Ryūjirō stood naked save for his arm guards and gaiters, a small knife thrust into his loincloth making for a spectacle of utter disgrace. Though one might call it an ill-fated accident, what a wretched state this was—all of it being the rust that had formed from his person through disobeying his swordsmanship mentor's commands, being detained by the female yakuza leader, and unwillingly falling into depravity. That things had come to this was his own doing, he thought as waves of remorse surged through him.

They first entered a farmhouse below Ritsukidai, but the locals of this land—insisting they didn’t deal with travelers after nightfall—refused to let them past the threshold. Even when they pleaded their case, no one would listen.

At the next house, they hurriedly shut their door; though they called and knocked, there was no response. They visited three or four other houses, but were refused at every one.

At their wits' end, Ryūjirō and Kotora returned once more to the original ferry crossing. Night had already fallen, and the evening moon had risen.

“All of this stems from my own failing. “Even were I to return to Edo thus—even should my mentor remain hale—I could never meet his gaze for shame. “This course must be reformed. What say you, Kotora? “Go forth without heed to me.”

“How could I possibly do such a thing?”

Kotora’s voice was earnest. “Forgive my impertinence, but I have some savings in my money belt. If we reach Nunokawa town, there should be a secondhand clothing store. Let’s take advantage of the night and make our move.”

Taking Ryūjirō’s hand, she tried to lead the way along the canal bank.

“Now, wait right there!”

A woman’s voice came from between the reeds. That was O-Tetsu of Nawanawa.

Nine “I was the one who took the clothes.” “I hid everything from your waist items onward.” O-Tetsu roughly pulled Ryūjirō and Kotora apart, stood between them, and roared.

Kotora began trembling in shock. Once Ryūjirō realized it was O-Tetsu, he found himself unable to speak. He was like a mosquito marked by a toad. "I knew something like this would happen," she said. "While you were getting ready, I sent Kenkan running ahead along every possible route and had my people set up nets." "Then I slipped in after you! Never realizing I was tailing you from the shadows, you've gone and made this woman your travel companion—walking so cozily along the paddy path you might as well have been tangled together!" "You were even jealous of scarecrows you saw along the way, weren't you?!"

According to O-Tetsu’s account, the one keeping watch at this ferry crossing was an old Kenkan named Aho Daragonsuke. The gambler was a fake monk by profession. They realized that the reason all the farmers at Ritsukidai below had been so unkind to them was because O-Tetsu had given orders. “Well now, this is the reach of my influence!” “Despite that, you’re traveling with this sniveling girl?” “A soaked brat and a naked man—that isn’t very stylish now, is it?” In her single-mindedness ablaze with blind, pathological jealousy, neither reason nor emotion could penetrate.

“No, it is absolutely not that the two of us are on good or bad terms,” Ryūjirō began to explain.

“Mistress, please do not think ill of this,” Kotora also began to plead.

“Hah! What’s this ladle-brat saying?” “Even a woman like me—you think I can jaw directly with the great oyabun?” “Shut your trap and crawl back where you came from!” O-Tetsu suddenly thrust Kotora away. The fallen Kotora struck her flank against an old post and went limp. With vindictive thoroughness, O-Tetsu kicked her and spat phlegm across her face. Ryūjirō could no longer endure this witless oppression from O-Tetsu. If he remained with this woman, he thought, never in this life would he know success. Yet now there was nothing he could do.

“Ah, I’ll abandon the trip to Edo.” “I’ll return to Awa from here.” “There I shall prove my innocence.” “At any rate, give me my clothes,” he said.

O-Tetsu’s delight knew no bounds. “Here they are.” “I’ve kept them safe.” “You’ll catch a cold.” “Hurry up and put them on.” She dressed him as a mother would clothe her child after a bath. Ryūjirō pulled the dagger from his waistband and placed it by the roadside—this was only natural.

Kotora, who had been lying fallen, stealthily took it. As soon as she drew it, she suddenly thrust it into O-Tetsu’s flank. O-Tetsu’s scream was but a single cry.

“A woman’s pride,” “I’m Bamboo-Splitting Kotora.” “Now then, Master—let me accompany you to Edo.”

She wiped the bloodied dagger on O-Tetsu's sleeve and returned it to its scabbard. What should have been a problem not resolvable through one or two ordinary means had been easily handled by Kotora. Ryūjirō could only marvel at fate's strangeness.

＊　　　　　　＊　　　　　　＊

The man who remained renowned until the mid-Meiji period as the foremost veteran detective of the Metropolitan Police Department, Mr. ○○○○○, was none other than this Isokai Ryūjirō's later incarnation.

His former wife had indeed been Kotora, though it was said she died of illness in the early Meiji years. As for whether Ryūjirō received the Happō Makiun Secret Technique from Jinpūsai— Regarding that matter, regrettably no record survives.