Pathway to Japanese Literature

Part I

Bear! Bear!
A wild bear.
That disheveled hair resembling a human in disguise; that bearded face; those hairy hands; his attire—a soiled black-crested kimono paired with hakama trousers.
He had slung diagonally across his back and underarm a furoshiki bundle in subdued stepped-dye patterns; besides the daishō swords in red-lacquered scabbards thrust at his side, he even carried an iron fan tucked into his waistband.
What anyone would recognize as a martial warrior on a training tour across the provinces—his large nose beaded with sweat as he strained with all his might to pin down a fair-skinned, sixteen- or seventeen-year-old beautiful boy who could be mistaken for a girl—the boy’s forelocks already disheveled and tangled in the green grass of the ground.

“Please forgive me. Please grant me your mercy.”

He apologized with sorrowful anguish, his voice tinged with groans.

“Why would I forgive you? Once this humble warrior catches you, it’s your end! Resign yourself and obey!” bellowed the Martial Warrior, his voice thick and hoarse like a cracked bamboo war horn.

North of Hokkokukaido Road, in Kurohime Mountain’s western foothills, the groves—clad in season-fresh greenery—had evaded the fierce afternoon sun, leaving the surroundings shrouded in gloom.

The stone shrine of the mountain god, cloaked in moss; in the purification basin where clear water gushed forth, last year’s leaves had piled at the bottom, and a newt could be seen crawling nearby.

Miscanthus, pampas grass, bellflowers, and bush clovers—all across the ground, their fresh sprouts spread out, vying in lushness as they grew thick and wild.

Moreover, the sight of a martial warrior—resembling a wild bear—brutally pinning down a beautiful boy who looked like a maiden beneath his knee could hardly be considered an ordinary occurrence.

Naturally, being far from any populated areas and situated off the main road, there were no travelers coming or going.
Only the feeble chirping of newly hatched cicadas and the out-of-season song of bush warblers could be heard, intermittently but persistently.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” the beautiful boy said resentfully.

“I’ll strip every last bit of skin from your body.”
“I’ll strip you bare and search you!”

“And why would you do that?”

“What? Still playing dumb? You stole this humble warrior’s inro from his waist. Of course, it was my own blunder to let my guard down and nap with a rock for a pillow. But a penniless warrior on his training journey, raiding dojos at every stop. What’s detestable is how you looked down on me as poor and fixated on the inro at my waist. The inro is merely double-layered—cheap ready-made lacquer with a black nail-pierced crest on vermilion. What could you possibly gain by taking it? Even the medicine inside is just common Uiro pills from Odawara—something you can find anywhere in the realm! Why would you steal it?!”

“No no, I have absolutely no recollection of such a thing.”

“What? Still hiding it? Look at this—this bulge in your chest. Surely you’re not a woman with breasts swelling there, can you be?”

His shaggy hand plunged into the chest as if tearing out entrails, producing a crude double-layered inro—its vermilion lacquer peeling, both netsuke cord fastener and cord stopper cheap trinkets.

“Look here!”

The beautiful boy trembled, tears even welling in his eyes.

“Please forgive me.”
“The truth is… I stole it.”
“And all because of my mother’s serious illness—whether showing her to a doctor or buying medicine—our poverty-stricken life made it impossible to manage either.”

“What’s this? Your mother’s serious illness… Hmm. Stealing out of filial piety? Quite an admirable tale these days.”
“However, wait—since you’ve laid hands on another’s belongings, the crime has already been committed.”
“I cannot let this go unpunished.”
“This humble warrior will mete out his own punishment. I will do what must be done.”
“A tale to tell on my travels.”
“At the foothills of Kurohime Mountain, I’ll thrash you thoroughly and be done with it!”

Relying on brute force, the martial warrior attempted to administer flogging punishment to the beautiful boy.

“I absolutely cannot allow this here.”
“I place myself entirely at your mercy.”
“But out of your mercy, let me receive the punishment in a place unseen by others.”
“Here, there are still mountain folk passing through,” the beautiful boy pleaded.
“Good. Then let us move behind the mountain god’s shrine,” the Martial Warrior finally loosened his grip.

“Let me hide this here as well,” said the beautiful boy, pretending to shift aside a grass basket before seizing a sickle, hooking it around the Martial Warrior’s neck, and yanking with all his strength.

“Gah!” With that cry, he grabbed at the air—the Martial Warrior met an unexpectedly abrupt end.

The beautiful boy kicked the Martial Warrior’s back with a thud.
He lay like a great tree felled in a crash.
Mountain ants scattered in all directions.

Brandishing a bloodied sickle, the beautiful boy grinned.

“Foolish warrior trainee! In swordsmanship I couldn’t best you, but I am Takinosuke—the one who naturally mastered the exquisite art of the sickle! Did you think I’d just take a thrashing without a fight?!”

With a cold sneer, he took up the inro once more.

"This makes eighty-six."

II

The beautiful youth Takinosuke was from Sekigawa-shuku in Echigo Province; though fourteen years old, his physical development was so robust that he appeared sixteen or seventeen. Moreover, his appearance possessed a gentleness akin to a girl’s, and his natural beauty drew the eyes of all. Even among travelers on the Hokkoku Highway, many suspected he was a woman disguised as a man.

He was a master of the sickle—today he had even slain a martial warrior like a wild bear there. A boldness that belied his appearance—and to think he had accumulated eighty-six counts of inro theft.

There was also a hereditary aspect to this.
To this was added the corrupting influence of the era and his circumstances.
His grandfather was the leader of mountain bandits who roamed between Ōtagiri and Odagiri.
He infiltrated Uesugi Kenshin’s baggage train, ventured as far as Shinano, Kōshū, and the Kantō region to plunder without restraint, but having acted too brazenly, he was exposed by Onikojima Yatarō and slain, or so it is told.

His father was called Iwagorō and ran a suspicious inn for travelers on the outskirts of Sekigawa, but on suspicion of poisoning moneyed travelers for their gold, he was taken to Takada Castle Town and died in prison.
His mother grieved over this, fell ill, and died in anguish.

His brother Tetsunosuke, because of this, cursed the Matsudaira family of Takada, sneaked into the castle, and was caught by a night-duty maid when discovered plotting something.
That was near the bedroom of Mitsunaga’s mother—wife of Tadanao and beloved daughter of the second shogun Hidetada.
For this reason, he was sentenced to the most severe punishment of crucifixion.

Under such circumstances, Takinosuke cursed and cursed and cursed the Matsudaira family of Takada to the bitter end.

"I must defeat them! Shall I settle this grudge once and for all?!"

Harboring a blazing grudge, he waited for his opportunity to arrive.

Takinosuke, who had just slain the martial warrior here, approached the purification pond to wash his sickle dripping with blood.
Salamanders occasionally revealed their crimson bellies as they writhed through the water’s depths—it almost seemed they were vying with the sickle’s bloody hue.

Before washing the bloodied sickle, Takinosuke scooped clear water into his hands and could not help but quench his parched throat.
It was because the oppressive presence of the burly man had lasted quite some time.

“Takinosuke, you’ve executed this splendidly.”

When someone suddenly called out to him from behind, Takinosuke was startled.
Depending on how matters progressed, he might have to kill that person too to conceal his crime. Bracing himself, he turned to look.

“Oh, Master!”

Before one knew it, he had come—as if he had welled up from the very depths of the earth. A white-bearded old man with his white hair tied back in a topknot. He wore a mouse-colored Taoist robe and stood using the metal fittings of a poria-pounding tool as a substitute for a staff.

“Well done, well done.”
“The enemy was a large man—and a martial warrior traveling the provinces for training.”
“You dispatched that formidable dojo-wrecking foe with a sickle in one breath.”
“Magnificent!”
“Magnificent!” the old man praised.

“I took care of him decisively.”

“Their carelessness was their undoing.”

“Master, I shall present it to you at once.
“With this, the inro count stands at eighty-six.
“Fourteen more shall complete one hundred.”

Takinosuke handed the vermilion-lacquered nail-pierced black-crested inro case he had taken from the martial warrior to the old man.

“I have indeed received it.”
“Ah! You even killed someone to obtain it for me?” The old man was overjoyed.

“When we reach one hundred in number, I would ask you to instruct me in crafting that mist-and-cloud-concealing secret medicine as recompense.”

“Ah! Your dedication—even killing—moves me so that we need not reach a hundred.”
“Eighty-six is already enough.”

“But mixing the various medicines extracted from a hundred inro cases and adding your secret herbs to them—that’s what makes the so-called mist-and-cloud-concealing secret medicine.”

“That too has its own secret oral teachings.”
“Ah, come to this old man’s hideout tonight, and I shall disclose everything without reserve.”
“But first—this corpse.”
“Before prying eyes discover it, this must be buried and concealed.”
“In the forest lie many holes dug down to medicinal herb roots—we need only slightly enlarge one of the larger ones.”
“This old man will help you dispose of it.”

“You’re kindness itself.”

Takinosuke was deeply moved.

Who in truth was this old man?
Though appearing like a Taoist sage, not only did he show no aversion to murder’s sin—he even aided in corpse disposal.
A counterfeit rogue through and through!

Three

In the birch grove along Earthquake Waterfall Path lay a vertical pit dug approximately six shaku deep and five to six tatami mats wide. Above it stood timber assembled in a semi-open umbrella-style framework and thatched with dried miscanthus to form a bizarre dwelling.
This was the hidden residence of the enigmatic old man.

The old man was named Mabori Dousai and was said to be a physician from Kyoto.
He had come here several years prior with the purpose of collecting rare medicinal herbs in Kurohime Mountain. Despite his advanced age, he built this strange dwelling without assistance and would venture alone into the mountains whenever possible.

“In warm countries, tree-top houses; in cold countries, underground rooms—all existed thus in the age of the gods.”

He had even recommended underground rooms as an excellent choice to the locals.

The one who secretly visited this residence of Dousai after nightfall was Takinosuke, who had kept their daytime promise.

“Oh, you’ve come.
“Come in.”

Even in early summer, the mountain nights were cold; in the hearth, pine roots rich in resin had been split into fine pieces and burned little by little for mosquito-repelling smoke and as a substitute for lamplight.

What stood out in the room were several wisteria vines stretched across, from which numerous inro cases hung.
Two-tiered cases, three-tiered cases, five-tiered cases.
Gold-powdered designs, pear-skin textures, mother-of-pearl inlays, carved red lacquer, and swirling geometric patterns.
There were intricate ones, crude ones—all manner of types intermingled.
All of these were the eighty-six inro cases that Takinosuke had set traps along Hokkoku Highway, targeted travelers’ waists, stolen from tea shops, seized at inns, and brought here.

“Tonight I shall convey all critical matters to you in full.
“That is because the time has come for this old man’s life to reach its end.”
“Well—this may be unknown to amateurs—but I am one skilled in the medical arts.”
“How could this not be known?”

Dousai’s manner of speaking was melancholic.

“Please wait—what if someone has come to eavesdrop?”

Takinosuke tried climbing the ladder to check outside as a precaution.

"Hmm—this lone house in midnight woods—who'd come?"
"If anyone came, however quiet, it'd echo through this underground room."
"Ah, best listen without worry."

Mabori Dousai was indeed one of those who defended Osaka Castle during its fall.
Moreover, he was a subordinate of Sanada Yukimura named Horie Kinnosuke—a young warrior of the same age as Yukimura’s son Daisuke.
However, prior to being employed within Osaka Castle, he had lived with his uncle—a physician named Shinke Keisai—and thus acquired basic knowledge in compounding herbal remedies. For this reason, during the siege, he was primarily assigned to tend to the wounded.

Having believed rumors that Lord Hideyori, Sanada Yukimura, and others had escaped to Satsuma, he fled from the water gate toward the Yodo River mouth and concealed himself in the vicinity of Bingo and Aki provinces. But upon learning that Hideyori and the others had indeed perished in battle, he found himself disinclined to commit retroactive seppuku. While wandering through various provinces disguised as a physician, he encountered an old man collapsed at the summit of Misaka Pass in Sagami.

Having administered medicine, he had temporarily revived him, but upon realizing the man’s life would not last many more days, the great secret that old man had imparted—this was what he intended to pass on to Takinosuke tonight.

“That old man was a fallen rōnin from Kōshū, and it is said he once served Lord Takeda Katsuyori.”
“As for what that man recounted—it’s said that around five hundred *kanme* of bamboo-floated gold lies hidden in scattered locations at the base of Shinano’s Kurohime Mountain.”

“Wh-what?!” Takinosuke exclaimed in astonishment.

“To search for and excavate it, we’ve disguised ourselves as herb gatherers until now, but…”

“Have you found even one location?”

“Not yet, nay.”

“Might that ronin have spoken carelessly?”

“No, no—’tis an entirely reliable account, nay. Such is the nature of these circumstances.”

Four

Dousai, the old man, continued his account.

“Among all commanders past and present, there was none as money-grubbing as that old fox Tokugawa Ieyasu—nay.”
“Because he was so obsessed with greed, he practically bought the realm with money.”
“It was a former Noh actor of the Takeda family in Kōshū named Ōkura Jūbei who discerned and exploited that gold obsession.”
“After reporting the gold mines in Izu, everything proceeded smoothly.”
“Then, after opening the Sado gold mine to great success—nay—he was granted the surname Ōkubo and rose to prominence as Ōkubo Nagayasu, the Iwami-no-kami. Yet such was his cunning that he secretly hid away Sado-minted gold—planning for his retirement’s splendor and his descendants’ prosperity even after being relieved of his post—and conspired with trusted retainers on the journey to Edo. Dividing their ranks multiple times and altering schedules, they buried it at Kurohime Mountain’s base—such is the tale’s thread.”
“That too was an ingenious method, nay.”
“He employed exclusively Takeda-clan rōnin as his confidants, stockpiled Sado gold as military funds, and schemed to stage a grand conspiracy for the Takeda clan’s restoration when the time came—nay—instructing them to serve with utmost loyalty. Meanwhile, to the shogunate, he declared: ‘In Shinano’s Kurohime Mountain foothills, signs of a gold vein have been detected. We humbly request permission to conduct prospecting en route to Sado.’”
“However, he cleverly reported to the authorities that they would conduct their activities discreetly to avoid detection. He had his trusted retainers dig haphazardly here and there, then afterward dispatched other confidants to secretly bury the Sado gold—nay.”

“I have indeed heard rumors of Ōkubo Iwami-no-kami Nagayasu, the commissioner of the Sado gold mine.”

“Each box contained twelve *kanme* of gold. A hundred such boxes were loaded onto ships capable of carrying fifty loads each, and every year between five and ten vessels transported them to Imachizu.”
“They skillfully extracted portions from those shipments, nay.”
“The old man whom this old man nursed at Misaka Pass was also one of Iwami-no-kami’s trusted retainers—nay.”
“Thereupon, Iwami-no-kami recorded each hidden location on a map—marking guideposts such as notable rocks, standing trees, streams, paths, shrines, and milestones, along with distances in paces and directions—nay. He prepared only two copies: a master and a duplicate. Before all his trusted retainers, he kept the master map himself and cut the duplicate into as many fragments as there were men. Each retainer carried one fragment, so that if Iwami-no-kami met an untimely death, they might gather the pieces, reassemble them as before, and thereby uncover the hiding places—such was the scheme.”
“Though each individual knew their own hiding place, they did not know the others’ locations—thus, it was Iwami-no-kami’s wisdom that established such an arrangement.”
“And so, they wrapped the map fragments in thin oiled paper and concealed them within the double bottoms of their respective inro—this too was part of their agreement at that time, nay.”
“And then, the treacherous Iwami-no-kami disposed of his trusted retainers one by one—poisoning them or having them assassinated.”
“The old man of Misaka Pass, having realized this midway through, fled in haste along the Kyushu road—it is said he managed to preserve his life, if nothing else.”

“That Iwami-no-kami should have long since passed away.”

“Ah, in April of Keichō 18 [1613], he died suddenly—but Honda Uemonnosuke Masazumi, suspecting Iwami-no-kami of conspiracy, immediately confiscated his estate, interrogated his concubine to extract a confession, and had them investigate beneath his sleeping quarters. There emerged a double-layered stone chest, within which lay a black-lacquered box containing a banner dyed with the Takeda family’s crest, a signed pact among conspirators, and correspondence with foreign kings—so it is recorded.”
“There is also a theory that Uemonnosuke orchestrated an underhanded scheme—though of course a map likely emerged, it did not blatantly state ‘gold burial,’ so authorities perhaps saw it merely as annotations about gold veins, and no investigation ensued.”
“And so Fujijūrō and seven others were subjected to stoning on July 20 of the same year, while the servants faced death sentences or exile…”

“If I may confirm—the gold burial is truly as you say, without discrepancy?”

“Of course, I was given an *inro* by the old man of Misaka Pass—by probing its double bottom, I obtained a map fragment.”
“That’s why I entrusted you with collecting *inro* as well.”

“So collecting a hundred medicinal ingredients from a hundred *inro* cases to manufacture invisibility elixirs—was that false?”

“Though deceptive in part, I do possess full knowledge of producing invisibility elixirs—alongside sleeping draughts, paralytic agents, poisons, antidotes, longevity serums, laughter-inducing compounds, tear-provoking tinctures, and various other secret medicines.”
“In your quest to avenge your father and brother against the Matsudaira family of Takada—this old man earnestly supports that cause.”
“Given your fervor in gathering *inro*, I shall instruct you even should we fall short of a hundred.”

“So, were there map fragments hidden within the *inro* we’ve collected thus far, Master?”

“Among the eighty-five cases, I finally discovered one fragment.”
“When I tried combining it with the map fragment I’d previously obtained from the old man, one piece was missing—they wouldn’t connect. But today, from those you took after killing that martial warrior, I found another.”
“That oaf—he never could’ve known about the double-bottom secret.”
“He must’ve stumbled upon it during his provincial wanderings by sheer chance…”

“Then—from today’s *inro*…”
“Moreover, when placed with the prior two fragments, they form three consecutive pieces for the first time.”

“Ah!”

“Though it is but a small part of Kurohime Mountain’s foothills, today we have at last discerned three hiding places for boxes each containing twelve *kanme* of gold—nay.”

“Thirty-six *kanme* of gold! Converted into *koban*, it would be worth a fortune!”

“All of that I shall give to you. Moreover, you will inherit this endeavor—continue collecting *inro* and seek out the other locations as well. In exchange for this, this old man has a request. It is because I have faith in you that I make this request—nay.”

“I will undertake any task—be it into the boiling sulfur of Mount Myōkō or the churning depths of an earthquake’s waterfall basin. If you command me to leap, I shall surely plunge in!”

“Then, let me speak.”

Five

Mabori Dousai was one of the most implacable among those who cursed the Tokugawa family due to his resentment over the fall of Osaka Castle.

The old man of Kōshū had dreamed of restoring the Takeda clan, but Mabori Dousai harbored no such aspirations for the Toyotomi’s revival. Though the avenging campaign for Sanada Yukimura counted among his motives, what truly galled him beyond endurance was the Tokugawa reign’s excessive tyranny. To overthrow the Tokugawa shogunate—to adopt military measures like gathering rōnin and contending through force—he knew full well that he himself remained far too feeble.

"In essence, it's gold," declared Mabori Dousai.
"I mean to use gold's power to tear apart this Tokugawa reign."
"I've not a shred of desire to claim dominion myself."

When they first conceived their plan—to extract bullion from Kurohime Mountain's base and wield it in some unprecedented stratagem that might destroy the Tokugawa without bloodshed—they had brimmed with vigor. But by the time they finally pinpointed part of that golden hoard, age had withered him beyond usefulness.
He therefore commanded Takinosuke: "Cast off fixation on petty branches like Takada's Matsudaira clan! Let your vengeance engulf all Tokugawa!"
The alchemist voiced this final hope—that his pupil might inherit both purpose and method to unravel their ordered world.

Takinosuke agreed without hesitation.

“Without fail, I shall inherit Master’s will, work in secret from the shadows, and curse the Tokugawa clan.”

“Ah, then this old man can rest assured—nay.”

Morning dew and evening lightning—since human life cannot be known even a moment hence, he resolved to teach everything that night.

“Though we speak of ‘vanishing like mist and clouds,’ ’tis naught but fire escape techniques and smoke escape techniques—using chemicals to hastily generate smoke and exaggerate the blinding effect.”
“The medicinal methods I had already recorded, but more crucially, should you skillfully employ a sleeping draught, the night watchmen would fall into deep slumber, letting you stride boldly before them undetected.”
“In other words, ’tis as good as vanishing—nay.”
“As for its manufacture—that too stands recorded—nay.”

He gave [Takinosuke] a secret manual that exhaustively recorded laughter-inducing drugs, tear-provoking drugs, longevity elixirs, and even drugs meant for mere amusement.

Then, three map fragments extracted from the double bottom of the inro were also handed over to him.
They were all finely written on thin ganpi paper.

“Ah! So if you remove the round stone at the center of the rear stone wall of that mountain god’s shrine pedestal—beneath lies a hollow where Sado’s gold boxes are hidden—is that correct?”

“Ah, precisely so—truth be told, this old man had not noticed that spot.”

“I shall go at once tonight.”

“Ah, retrieve it and grant this old man—who has labored for years—swift relief!”
“I humbly obey.”

Takinosuke ventured alone through the dark mountain path—contrary to expectations yet fortunately—to conduct his search.

Sure enough, beneath the mountain god’s stone shrine lay a deeply hollowed passageway.
At the end of the passage lay three sturdy zelkova wood boxes.
Since Takinosuke could not possibly carry even one box of twelve *kanme*, he managed to bring back only a third of it—and even that with great difficulty.
By then, dawn was approaching.

Upon seeing this, Mabori Dousai rejoiced to the point of madness; his heart leapt with such joy that he suddenly collapsed in a heap.
It was indeed a stroke that struck him.

“Please keep your wits about you.”

“O—”

His tongue tangled, he couldn’t voice his thoughts.
However, from his trembling single hand and dazed gaze came an expression that he would not easily die until all the gold was retrieved.

Takinosuke piled hardship upon hardship, transporting the remaining gold over many trips.
It took two days and two nights.

It was not only Takinosuke who was disappointed.
Mabori Dousai, too, felt relieved—and from then on sank into a deep, unresponsive slumber.
Finally, on the following day, he departed on a journey from which he would not return.

As a result, Takinosuke became one of the unimaginably wealthy.

Six

The house known in the world as the Echizen family was founded by Tokugawa Ieyasu’s second son, Yūki Saishō Hideyasu. The heir to the 750,000-koku domain, Mikawa no Kami Tadanao, was deemed to have lost his sanity and exiled to Bungo, where he met a tragic end in his place of banishment. His only son Senchiyo had his fief reduced to 250,000 koku and was transferred from Echizen Fukui to Echigo Takada. Though he took the name Echigo no Kami Mitsunaga, he was still but a child. His mother was none other than the third daughter of the second shogun Hidetada—the woman known to the world as Lady Takada (protagonist of the so-called Yoshida Palace legend). In accordance with the shogunate’s confidential order that they were to remain at the Edo residence for the time being, mother and son formed a solemn procession and dutifully proceeded along the Hokkokukaido road for their alternate attendance.

Lady Takada was in the prime of her womanhood.
When she had resided at Fukui Castle, she had been profoundly distressed by Lord Tadanao’s wanton conduct, but that affair had by then reached its conclusion.
Her gaunt countenance had now regained fullness, her complexion blooming with vitality and dew-like freshness.

Departing the snow-laden Echigo Road, they finally entered the blossoming Great Edo after a long absence. If she were granted an audience with her father, the second shogun, there might well be a new decree concerning the house—a proclamation worthy of celebration—and surely no ill would befall her beloved child. Though one might call it wishful thinking, it was a departure radiant with hope.

From Arai Post Town, she felt an inexplicable pleasure that Koizumizaka was also called Oizusaka.
Hearing the post road named Sambongi, she even resented how the once-intertwined trees now stood solitary.

To the right rose Myōkō’s lofty peak; to the left, beyond Sekikawa’s flow, stretched the Madarao mountain range.
There was a night’s stay at the gorge-enclosed Sekiyama Post Town.
The following day, they passed through Ōtagiri and crossed the Sekigawa River. By the time they neared Nojiri, the summer sun had dipped low, and the Kurohime windstorm blew with an unseasonable chill.
Tonight’s official lodging had been designated as Kashiwabara in Shinshū.

“Hmm, how strange!”

A pear-skin ground with gold maki-e, riveted women's palanquin.
Lady Takada, opening the palanquin’s sliding door to let in the breeze, once again muttered there.

It was around the time they passed Ōtagiri. There had once been a villain who crept near the sleeping quarters. The villain nearly slipped past the inner curtain and attempted to extinguish the lamp when the night-duty maid discovered him. Upon subduing him and looking at his face, she found a fair-skinned handsome youth of seventeen or eighteen.

Yet he had been crucified—there was no reason for him to exist in this world—but a youth identical to that one was prostrating himself by the roadside among other peasants, lifting his face to stare this way. She wondered if he might have a younger brother, but the man who should have been a one-time occurrence had reappeared at Sekigawa as well. At Ōtagiri, he appeared as a traveling merchant. At Sekigawa, as a pilgrim. Now, at the foothills of this Kurohime Mountain, there was the figure of a traveling warrior.

Was it the same person? A different person? If it were the same person, why would his kimonos change? If they were different people, then up to three individuals had not merely similar but identical faces. Could they be connected to that past villain and seeking revenge? When she realized she couldn’t let her guard down, she shuddered.

Suddenly, a sharp prick of pain shot through the back of her right hand. Looking down, she found a venomous insect had stung her unnoticed. Inside the palanquin, an exquisite rare incense burned. Yet despite there being no way for an insect to enter, her skin had already swollen red.

“Someone! Come quickly! A bug stung my hand!”

Despite three foot maids standing guard on either side of the palanquin, they had failed to notice either the repeated sightings of a suspicious youth or that she had now been stung by a venomous insect.
Lady Takada grew even more infuriated.

“Does milady require assistance?” Without addressing the foot maids, Sasao—the elderly maidservant who had been standing behind the palanquin—approached with scurrying steps in her tied straw sandals.

At that very instant came a wind too ferocious to be called a mere autumn gale.
Should one call it a demonic gust? A malevolent blast? Suddenly, the Kurohime windstorm raged.
Whirlwinds of sand and dust swept up by it engulfed all members of the procession.
It made them doubt whether it was cloud or mist.

Sasao hurriedly closed the palanquin’s door.
The four bearers froze in place.
The four substitutes stood bewildered.
Everything from spears and naginatas to platform umbrellas, standing parasols, palanquin boxes, long chests, and led horses was thrown into disarray, unable to avoid chaos.

However, the wind soon raged through and swept toward the lake, but not a single one among the over two hundred attendants could open their eyes.

“It must be sand that got in our eyes.”

“No—it was a swarm of insects that formed, got swept up in that wind, and ended up in our eyes by ill luck.”

“If that’s all, then perhaps it’s not so bad—but could there not have been a villain who threw some blinding powder at us all at once? This stinging simply won’t subside.”

The entire multitude of the daimyo’s procession were rendered temporarily blind and brought to a standstill.

Seven

At the official lodging in Kashiwabara, Shinshū, Matsudaira Mitsunaga, Lord of Echigo, took up residence in the upper chamber of the front residence within Komanauchi, while Her Ladyship Takada was accommodated in the upper chamber of the inner quarters.

With elderly Sasao at their head, every last one of the attendant maids had their eyes nearly ruined by the strange whirlwind at Kurohime’s foothills. Even the samurai of the front quarters were all in the same state—the court physician’s treatments proved ineffective, and their tears flowed without ceasing.

Thus, even upon arriving at the official lodging, tasks such as preparing her bath, assisting with wardrobe changes, and serving meals proved unmanageable for both the young attendants and maids. Though irregular, they hastily gathered daughters of the lodging’s proprietors and local officials to at least perform these services.

“Because Sasao closed the palanquin door quickly, I alone did not injure my eyes. Therefore, all of you should retire early tonight. If you do so, your eyes should recover by tomorrow. Devote yourselves faithfully to Ichibata Yakushi Nyorai.”

Her Ladyship said this, had her own mosquito net hung early, and retired to her sleeping quarters.

On the second day after departing Takada, the maids—already suffering from sore feet—had now injured their eyes as well. Finding even the lantern light painfully glaring, they left behind those on night duty and retreated to their assigned rooms.

In the adjacent room, elderly Sasao attended to Her Ladyship’s bedside vigil, while in the next chamber beyond, two maids on duty—Ayame and Nuime—stood night watch, each pressing a piece of crimson silk against their eyes.

In this region, winters were snowy, and summers were not without mosquitoes.
They refrained from using fans to avoid disturbing her rest, but instead diligently burned abundant fine incense as if it were mosquito-repelling smoke.
However, as time passed, both of them, weary from the day’s exertions, could not help but doze off.

Lady Takada could not help but writhe in agony within the spacious white gauze mosquito net. Her eyes alone had been spared, but in exchange, the back of her right hand had been stung by a venomous insect, leaving it so painfully itchy that she could endure it no matter what she did. Moreover, though she could not tell when it had happened, her spine now felt just as painfully itchy as the back of her hand. Yet no matter how she tried to scratch it herself, her fingers proved too sluggish to reach the exact spot.

What with this and that, she found herself quite unable to fall asleep.
As she lay awake thinking, she realized how many strange occurrences had marked this day.

The traveling merchant youth seen by the roadside at Ōtagiri, the pilgrim youth seen at Sekkawa, and finally the samurai youth seen at the foothills of Kurohime Mountain.
Was it the same person?
A different person?
What she had seen in three locations—though their disguises differed—were all exactly like that suspicious youth who had infiltrated Takada Castle.
Could that person of such origins be lying in wait to settle a grudge?
At this thought, she shuddered once more, and a chill coursed through her entire body.

The itch along her spine grew even more intense.
No matter how she writhed in agony and pressed herself against the bedding, the itch refused to subside as she wished.

“Oh, what should I do?”

She blurted out without thinking.
She had forgotten both the authority of a daimyo and the modesty expected of a woman.

“Someone! Quickly... Ah... I’m about to collapse. Someone! Come here at once!”

Under normal circumstances, Sasao from the next room would have been the first to rise and come, but whether from exhaustion or not waking from sleep, she did not stir.
The night-duty maids too—for some reason—seemed not to have heard her cries.
They did not attempt to come over.

“Someone! Someone!”

Lady Takada's voice of distress.

“Ah! What service do you require?”

Beneath the silk-covered round lantern, Lady Takada saw through the mosquito net a girl who had pressed both hands to the floor and bowed her head. The girl appeared to be a daughter from the official lodging assigned to serve.

“Oh, you came as summoned.”
“Quickly now!”
“You seem unaffected yourself.”
“Come here and tend to where the venomous insect stung me.”

Eight

Takinosuke of Sekkawa had suddenly become immensely wealthy, but he knew that were he to immediately put on airs of affluence, people would grow suspicious.

He had considered going to Edo, but he couldn't help being troubled over how he might possibly transport the thirty-six kanme of gold.

Though his body was large, he remained fourteen years old.
In accordance with the deceased Mabori Dousai's final instructions, the preparations to strike against the Tokugawa clan still remained woefully inadequate.

To cross to foreign lands, learn Christianity, and use its magic to curse the Tokugawa clan—this too had been Mabori Dousai's dying instruction. Yet though Takinosuke did intend to do so eventually, he still had not taken a single step beyond his birthplace of Sekkawa.
Then came word of the Takada Castle lord's Edo assignment—though Master Dōsai had advised abandoning petty vengeance—and he found himself utterly unable to resign himself to it.

My father’s death in prison, my mother’s agonizing demise, my brother’s execution—when I thought of them, the pain of not cursing the Matsudaira family became unbearable.
Moreover, on another front, I could not help but want to put into practice the secret techniques using the mysterious drug imparted by Mabori Dousai.
The secret medicine of mist and cloud concealment—this was something Mabori Dousai had once taught even to Sanada Yukimura, devising a plan to scatter medicinal powder using the wind and temporarily blind the enemy’s vast army all at once. But during the Osaka Summer Campaign, the direction of the wind had not cooperated as required.

It was this very technique that Takinosuke attempted today.
Having first failed by seeking an opening at Ōtagiri, he hastily disguised himself and raced through back roads to plan another attempt at Sekkawa—which also failed—but on the third try, with the Kurohime windstorm, he succeeded splendidly, blinding the entire daimyo procession all at once.

Now once more, disguised as a village girl, he sneaked into the official lodging, administered sleeping drugs to the night watch and others, and approached Lady Takada’s side.

The mark from the insect sting on her back—its purpose being to keep it itching—meant that even after entering the mosquito net, he immediately circled around to her back, thus avoiding having his face seen.

Now that it had come to this, the advantage was his. With the sickle he had concealed, I will slash Lady Takada’s throat from behind and avenge at least part of the debt owed to my father and brother.
Then I will circle around to the front room and claim Echigo-no-kami Mitsunaga’s head as well.
Burning with such vengeful thoughts, Takinosuke’s face flushed a vivid crimson as sweat gushed from his body like a spring.

“There now, don’t fret. Over the nightgown, you won’t reach it properly. Through the thin underrobe—scratch hard enough to leave nail marks. Even if you break the skin, that’s fine.”

Lady Takada writhed in agony as if possessed by madness.

Now!
Now!
If not now, when?
Though he had envisioned this sickle blade—steeped in vengeance for his father, mother, and brother—as the instrument to strike down a representative of the Matsudaira clan, now that he actually stood behind this noblewoman for the first time, cowardice gripped him. His entire body trembled violently, leaving him incapable of delivering the blow.

Just as he had hooked his sickle blade without hesitation behind that bear-like martial warrior during training, now even the noblewoman’s cropped hair—tightly wound with purple cords—and the smoldering prestige incense of blended orchid and musk...
The moment its scent reached his nostrils—instead of affecting her, it was as if he himself had been drugged—Takinosuke became entranced and let his sickle slip from his grasp.

“You suspicious woman!”

Lady Takada turned around.
That face - seen for the first time!

“Ah!”

The young man’s face—the very one she had seen three times during the day!

She swiftly grabbed her dagger and struck hard with it still sheathed.

“Prepare yourself!”

Takinosuke regained his resolve, picked up his sickle, and assumed a stance.
By this time, Lady Takada had already drawn her dagger.

Within the mosquito net—spacious yet confined—each time he swung upward, the sickle got caught. He could not withstand the sharpness of the dagger’s thrust. Though a woman, she was a military commander’s wife. With a swish, blood spatter scattered across the white gauze mosquito net, leaving behind a crimson pattern.

“Everyone, come forth!”
“I’ve slain the villain!”

Takinosuke thus died consumed by his grudge.
Where the vast fortune had been hidden remained just as it was.
The other portions hidden by Ōkubo Nagayasu, Governor of Iwami, were also never discovered.

“Lady Takada engages in debauchery—bringing young men into her residence, cutting them down when her favor wanes, and their corpses are discarded in a well.”

Such rumors spread throughout Edo.
However, that this was a false charge has already been proven by later historians.
As she was the third daughter of the second shogunate leader, even the government gave her preferential treatment; yet whenever young hatamoto retainers fought with others through quarrels and killings—at those moments when they incurred punishment—they all fled to Lady Takada.

Considering her husband Lord Tadanao, Lady Takada remained ever compassionate and protected those individuals.
Even the shogunate refrained from intervening under such circumstances.

The youths seeking refuge grew ever more numerous.
Yet what proved strange was that not one youth who sought shelter ever emerged unharmed.
Before anyone knew it, their whereabouts would become unknown.
This came to be counted among that era’s genuine mysteries.

“Ah! This youth too—another Kurohime villain targeting me!”

To Lady Takada’s eyes, every youth who came seeking refuge invariably bore Takinosuke’s face.
And in those moments alone—seized by madness—she would stab them through with her dagger.
Their corpses were cast into an ancient well.

On the evening of February 21st in the twelfth year of Kanbun, Lady Takada passed away.
She was buried at Tendōji Temple.
In the first year of Tenna, their house was extinguished.
The main lineage of what the world called the Echizen family reached complete extinction.

Takinosuke’s grudge.
How did it fare when first brought to light beneath the earth?