Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

When one compared the era when Tenpō coins were minted to the present day, everything differed greatly; even the geography had undergone significant transformation.
In modern times, when people speak of Haneda, they immediately think of Inari shrines—you can get there from Kamata by train in six or seven minutes—but in the Tenpō era, you certainly couldn’t travel there like that.

First of all, there was no such shrine as Haneda Inari.
The land called Suzuki Shinden had not been developed and was nothing more than a reed bed subject to tidal ebb and flow.

“Yes, I went to Haneda.”

“Ah—to worship at Benten-sama.”

When speaking of Haneda’s Benten Shrine, it was quite famous at the time—people would trudge all the way from Edo, taking a full day to make their pilgrimage. Among them were those who took two days. That was because they got waylaid by Shinagawa’s serving women.

To begin with, Haneda’s Benten Shrine, though nowadays it remains unceremoniously in farmland as ordinary flatland, during the Tenpō era was part of an island called Yōshima—a fact evident even in the *Edo Meisho Zue* illustrations of famous sites. The view from this place was supremely beautiful: to the east lay the vast blue sea where the morning sun hung over the Bōsō Mountains; to the south, the jade river’s turbid waters reflected the snow-capped Tomi Peak in its clear currents; to the west stretched the Ebitorigawa River and so on—all described in glowing terms.

In the direction of Tamagawa-shiri within this shrine grounds stood a reed-screened tea shop that displayed cinnamon roots, roasted beans, cheap sweets, pears from Daishigahara, and the like.
A plump, chubby fisherman’s wife wore a sleeveless undergarment with a wrap skirt, fastened only by an obi.
In this day and age, dressing in such a manner would draw attention from the police, but back then, when naked kumosuke littered the public highways, it was nothing by comparison.

“Is this not a fine view?”

“That is indeed so.”
“Firstly, when it comes to the coolness of the wind from the sea—”

Resting at the tea shop and leaning against a blue bamboo railing was a young lord-like figure fanning wind into his bosom with a navy-blue fan printed in gold dust with Tang poetry—his fair complexion marked by the bluish trace of a samurai’s shaven crown.
He was truly a handsome man.
Clad in a water-celadon hemp robe patterned with arum lilies and a white Hakata obi, he had removed his suzuya haori and placed it atop his large sword to prevent it from blowing away, keeping only his small sword and writing case at his waist.

Facing him was the Master Poet’s casual demeanor. Wearing a faded hemp garment, he had also removed his black gauze juttoku and placed a gourd on top as a weight to keep it from blowing away.

“Master Poet, you’re knowledgeable about everything—how about sharing some of your usual explanations about this shrine? In the meantime, Ichisuke will likely find some snacks and return…”

“Well now, originally Haneda’s inlet was called Ōgigahama—and so this place being Yōshima is a metaphorical designation, you see. It shares its divine essence with the Benzaiten of Enoshima in Sagami Province and is said to have been crafted by Kōbō Daishi. The bettō belongs to the Shingon sect and is named Kinnyōzan Ryūō Mitsuin—founded in the fourth month of Hōei 8 following the divine dream of Hōin Kaiyo…”

“Master Poet, I must say—taking out your notebook and reciting by rote is rather overwhelming.”
“Isn’t that plaque with the shrine’s history freshly copied?”
“Actually, that’s exactly right.”

While they were exchanging trivial banter, the tea shop proprietress arrived with tea.

"It is quite hot, sirs, but in such heat, partaking of piping hot tea will paradoxically make you feel less heated..."

"What a thoroughly heat-focused remark,"
"But you're absolutely right."
"Serving hot tea in midsummer—you can't dismiss Haneda as foolish in a single breath, eh?"

"We often have customers from Edo visiting us, so I can't indulge in too many nonsensical antics."

“That’s all well and good, but don’t you have something to serve as tea sweets? Though it’s upriver, you should have arranged to have something like Mannendō’s Crane and Tortoise rice buns from Kawasaki in stock.”

“Sir, you’re all jokes—those rice buns, ohohoho! They’re in a different league!”

“Hahaha. In Haneda, it’s boat buns, isn’t it?”

II

At that moment, the servant Ichisuke came hurrying over, carrying a wicker basket topped with fresh reed leaves. Each time he walked briskly, the reed leaves bounced.

“Ah, Ichisuke-boy! Well done, well done!”
“It seems you’ve found some fine snacks.”
“What could that be leaping about under the reeds?” said the Master Poet, rising to his feet.

“It’s sea bream.”
“It’s a single fillet, but it’s remarkably lively… Then there’s two stone flounder and a small tongue sole.”
“Two kuruma shrimp thrown in as a bonus—since it comes to two hundred and fifty mon, when I left three hundred, they were astonished.”

“Well now, that’s practically free!”

The tea shop proprietress interjected.

“Oh my! Two hundred’s plenty—that’s a hundred mon overpayment here!”

“Even one kan or two kan—in Edo they’d never call that price steep.”
“Seeing how these are still flipping fresh, Madam—couldn’t you work your magic?”

“I’ll just go home and boil them.”

“It wouldn’t be interesting if you went all the way back to your house to boil them. Cooking them right here on the spot would be like an impromptu verse—that’s where the essence lies. If there were sea foam, we’d salt-grill the stone flounders and tongue soles, serve the sea bream and shrimp as sashimi—but since the water’s foul, we’ll chop them into pieces for sashimi instead. Doubt there’s any perilla around here though.”

“Let us go make a request to the bettō.”

“Let’s have it done that way. You there, behold this humble poet’s culinary prowess!”

This Master Poet understood everything.
Using the gourd wine he had brought to prepare an impromptu dish—and since the fish were fresh—it was exceptionally delicious.
When it came to the kuruma shrimp sashimi in particular, it was incomparable.

“The fish are splendid, the scenery splendid—if only Lady Benten would grace us with her presence and pour our drinks, there’d be nothing left to desire…” the Master Poet was already growing tipsy.

“If there’s nothing left to desire, there’s no telling how drunk he’ll get.”
“If that happens, we won’t be able to return to Edo today,” said the young lord, still serious.

The tea shop proprietress interjected at this moment.

“Sir, in Haneda there is a girl renowned to be more beautiful than Benten-sama herself.”

“Well now, that sounds splendid.”
“Instead of a biwa, could she play the shamisen for us?” said Ichisuke, who was growing tipsy.

“No, she is not a woman of that profession,”
“She is a boatman’s daughter.”

“If she’s a boatman’s daughter, wouldn’t she be from Tonbei’s O-fune?”
“Both Yaguchi and here belong to the same river system, but the eras don’t quite align,” interjected the Master Poet.

“Sirs, though I cannot join you for drinks myself—if you were to charter a boat to Kawasaki now, that girl would accompany you.”

“A female boatman?”

“That’s correct. If you wish to visit Daishi-sama, it goes to Morishita.”
“Furthermore, should you wish to proceed to Kawasaki’s ferry landing, we shall await your arrival there.”
“Rather than walking through Hatchōnawate’s sandy dust—if you instead wait to board the boat—with this favorable wind, the sails will catch well enough to reach your destination without difficulty.”

“Ah! How ingenious.”

“If you were to proceed to Kawasaki’s main highway, you could freely take horses or palanquins...”

Nowadays, there are streetcars, steam trains, and automobiles.

“That’s precisely the way to go.”
“So she’s the girl more beautiful than Benten-sama herself, then.”

“That is indeed correct.”
“Her complexion is indeed somewhat dark, though.”

“There’s no helping that complexion. You there—what say we proceed in that manner?”

“Never mind her looks—taking a boat up to Kawasaki is inspired! Let’s have that arranged at once.”

III

The proprietress had gone to summon her, but she returned shortly and,

“She will be here shortly.”
“She’ll bring the boat around right below here.”
“As for the price—since you gentlemen are well-versed in such matters—I deliberately refrained from setting a fixed amount… So please handle that as you see fit…”

“Well, between buying all that fish, our pockets have been completely emptied, haven’t they?”
“If you think that amount will also cover the tea money, you’re dead wrong!” the Master Poet proclaimed, taking charge of the argument.

There, a single cargo-laden boat was already seen rowing from the direction of Ebitorigawa River, rounding its way toward Rokugōgawajiri.

"That must be it," said the young lord, pointing with his fan.

“Exactly.”
“That would be the one. The closer it draws near, the more beautifully it appears.”

“It shines even from afar, doesn’t it?” interjected the Master Poet once more.

“The way she’s swingin’ them hips while rowin’ that oar’s right fine, ain’t it?” Even Ichisuke couldn’t keep quiet.

“I must warn you all beforehand—there’s not a speck of charm in that one.”
“When foolish jests grow too persistent, she flies into proper rages—why, they say she once whacked two-three of Edo’s scaffolders clean overboard with an oar, see?”
“You lot likely wouldn’t stoop to such nonsense, but mind yourselves all the same.”

“That’s dreadful!”

“And yet she’s gentle-hearted and a model of filial devotion.”

While he was explaining this, the boat had already arrived, parting the blue reeds right along the shore.

She shielded herself from the sun with a blue double-folded woven hat.
The yukata—likely coordinated attire for the Hachiman Festival, white with bold octopus-patterned shibori—paired delightfully with a red obi.
Pale indigo arm covers and gaiters combined with a straw waist skirt created an exceptionally becoming figure.

But crucially, the face remained unseen.

“Madam, thank you as always for bringing customers,” came the greeting from the boat in a voice of crystalline purity.

“Marvelous, marvelous—this is a proper ferry for crossing.”
“Come now—let us depart.”
“I—this humble poet—shall handle all arrangements here. Go on ahead, go ahead!” urged the Master Poet, pushing the young lord forward.

“Then we shall depart. Tea shop staff—you’ve been inconvenienced.”

The young lord put on a haori, adjusted the long and short swords, donned zori sandals, and exited the tea shop while shielding himself from the sun with a fan.

“Farewell, and safe travels,” said the tea shop proprietress as she saw them off. Leaving her behind, Rokura Kotonojo emerged at the riverbank with his attendant Ichisuke, parted the blue reeds, and leapt into the boat’s hull. The vessel rocked, and waves began lapping rhythmically against its sides.
The small crabs among the reed roots startled and retreated into their holes—an amusing sight.

The female boatman kept the vessel from drifting by propping it with an oar against the shore. Having already removed her woven hat out of deference to her samurai guests, her face now lay fully exposed to their gaze.

Indeed, she was more beautiful than Benten-sama herself. Her complexion was somewhat tanned by the sea breeze, yet her natural skin appeared fair beneath it, and the glimpse of her chest visible through the yukata’s collar resembled the luster of polished white jade. Moreover, her luxuriant hair further accentuated her feminine allure, making the plainly tied comb bun seem almost wasteful in its simplicity.

The young lord stood entranced, transfixed, even forgetting to sit upon the zabuton cushion spread across the reed mat.

Then, with a pear wrapped in a hand towel in one hand and an empty gourd in the other, the Master Poet also came aboard.

“What a waste we’ve made of things, haven’t we? If we’d settled on such arrangements from the start, we could’ve opened the provisions aboard the boat, you know. To have the beautiful Miss row for us and pour our drinks—trying to balance both pleasures—yet they’ve gnawed the fish to the bones and drained every last drop from the gourd. How pitiful that is. That said, since we haven’t brought any of Haneda’s rotgut aboard, let’s just nibble on pears here in the boat. Throw scraps into the river, and it’s a curse that makes toothache pains linger—that’s how the superstition goes, you see.”

Being the most intoxicated, he was also the most talkative.

“Sirs, we’ll be departing now!” called the female boatman’s voice.

IV

“Everything’s proceeding like clockwork—sailing upstream with this wind filling our white sail is truly beyond words.”
“My my, the roof of Benten Shrine’s hall now hides beneath reed tips, yet that channel marker stands taller than yonder pine grove.”
“Ah, the river mouth’s waves grow fierce indeed—how marvelously Kazusa’s peaks play hide-and-seek with us!”
“Miss, which bearing leads to Kisarazu?” the Master Poet chattered on.

“Kisarazu lies southeast by the Snake’s compass—precisely along this line.”
“They call it Nine Sea Miles offshore, but with this wind, we’ll make swift passage,” instructed the girl, sunlight glancing off her arm guards.

The mid-ranking servant Ichisuke remained positioned near the stern.

“Master Poet, quit lookin’ backward an’ take a gander upstream ahead! Even Haneda’s fishin’ village looks pretty from the river. An’ watchin’ them brats dive in an’ splash about’s right entertainin’.”

“Looking ahead, you see nothin’ more ’n Daishi Hall’s roof,” replied the Master Poet, “but turn back like this—watchin’ Benten-sama’s pines sink lower an’ lower—now that’s a sight worth savorin’.”

“What—you wanna glimpse livin’ Benten-sama’s face ’fore she sinks away, eh?”

“In truth, Venus—a perfect strike.”
“Hahahaha!”

While the two chattered about trifles and laughed uproariously, only the young lord remained silent, staring fixedly at the sail’s taut surface.
Through its torn edge, he gazed intently at the girl’s face where she sat steering.

The pear and empty gourd brought by the Master Poet rolled clattering across the hull with each sway of the boat—yet none noticed.

But stolen glimpses through the torn sail could not satisfy.
He longed to draw near—to see her close and speak.

“Master Poet, while this hull’s comfort is indeed excellent, the western sun beats down too harshly here,” said the young lord. “I propose we move to the stern instead—there, the sail would naturally shield us from the sun.”

“A most prudent suggestion,” replied the Master Poet. “Come over here… Now then, Ichisuke-boy—you’re being a hindrance. Off to the bow with you.”

What a fine humiliation for the mid-ranking servant.

“I say, you—there’s a verse by the deceased.”
“Coolness— / upon the sail, the boatman’s / disheveled hair.”
“However, this was likely composed about a male boatman on a sengoku-bune or such—but when a riverboat’s female boatman sits at the helm and the wind blows from behind, causing her disheveled hair to fall against her cheeks like that… well, it defies all description.”
“Coolness— / upon the cheek, the female boatman’s / disheveled hair.”
“Hahahaha! Syllable excess and deficiency will surely become all the rage in later generations.”

While the Master Poet continued his idle prattle as ever, his drunkenness seemed to have turned into a pleasant state, and he began nodding off rhythmically. In the end, he went to the hull compartment and ended up lying down.

The Master Poet’s shaven head, a pear, an empty gourd, and the Mikenjaku Triple Spiral. The clunking kept up vigorously, but he still didn’t stir.

Ichisuke, too, had fallen asleep at the bow in a pleasant state.

That only the young lord and the female boatman remained awake, yet since neither spoke a word, made for a profound stillness.

The reed buntings among the reeds had by now grown quite weary of singing.

“Miss...”

“Yes...”

“What is your name?”

“...My name is Tama.”

“So it’s Tama… Tama at the mouth of the Tamagawa River—a fine name indeed. I hear you’re quite the dutiful daughter.”

“No… That’s not true.”

“Are both your parents alive?”

“No—only my mother remains.”

“That must be lonely. You should take good care of her.”

“Well, I do try to make things as easy as possible… but digging for bait, gathering seaweed, and collecting shellfish are seasonal work—the earnings are quite limited.”

“But there must be many people requesting your boat services...”

“No, it’s only occasionally.”
“I wish I could have accompanying customers once daily, but there are barely countable instances within a month.”

“That won’t do—you must find yourself a husband soon...”

“Oh...A husband...”

“But you couldn’t possibly remain unmarried your whole life.”

“That may be so, but I’ve been thinking of going to Edo and entering service.”

“Service would be good.
“How about it—have you no interest in serving a samurai household?”

“Someone like me couldn’t possibly belong in a samurai household… Even if I wished to stay here, the other party wouldn’t allow it.”

“No—that’s not the case, you know.
“With a beautiful face like yours and such a kind heart—I don’t know how satisfied samurai households would be with you.”

“Hohoho! Sir, you do tease so.”

“No—it’s true. Far from service—there might even be those who wish to take you as a bride.”

“Hohoho! I may have no intention of taking a Haneda fisherman as a husband, but to marry into a samurai household—firstly, our statuses are different through and through.”

“Statuses—they can be rearranged however needed.”
“If we simply fabricate some adoptive parents…”

“…But…I could never rise to such heights,” O-Tama suddenly wilted.

The young lord’s spirits’ sails billowed fully.

“No—these matters can all be settled.”
“In any case—how would you feel about serving as a lady’s maid at my estate?”

“Huh?! To your mansion?”

The boat thudded onto the sandbar.
It was because their conversation had grown earnest that she had failed to steer properly.

Ichisuke, startled, leapt up—and as the bow plunged into the reeds, the reed tips jabbed into his nostrils.

"Haa-choo!"

The Master Poet’s bald head was brushed by the reed tips once more.

“If someone mistakes this for a pear and starts peeling it, I’ll be in trouble,” he mumbled drowsily.

V

Eventually, she brought the boat to Daishigahara’s shore.

“Well now—so this is Morishita. To visit Heikenji Temple and receive an amulet for warding off misfortune, we must land here without fail. Then let us proceed by this boat to the Kawasaki crossing,” said the Master Poet, preparing himself first.

Ichisuke leapt ashore and already arranged his master’s sandals there.

And so, the young lord still showed no sign of rising.

“Ouch, ouch... It’s a stomachache...” he suddenly said.

“Oh! Your stomachache—fortunately, if you take a dose of the Wachūsan I acquired in Omori, it will relieve you at once,” fretted the Master Poet.

“It’s nothing serious. If I rest a while, I shall soon recover… Please go on without me.”

“But if you aren’t coming, there’s simply no merit in us making the pilgrimage ourselves…”

“This pilgrimage isn’t some frivolous outing. Daishi devotion… I ask that you both go as my substitutes.”

Ichisuke tugged at the Master Poet’s sleeve.

“That is the honorable substitute pilgrimage!”
“Master Poet, do you understand?”
“You both are making the substitute pilgrimage... see? To receive amulets for warding off misfortune,” he added with a meaningful look.

“W-well, w-well, w-well, I see! Indeed, let us two undertake the substitute pilgrimage.”
“It’s for warding off misfortune—warding off female troubles is paramount.”
“Heh heh heh—let’s hurry-slowly make our visit and return,” and once Master Poet Hankyū had swallowed this idea, he’d swallow anything without discrimination.

Together with Ichisuke, they headed through the fields toward Daishi.

Nowadays, this area teems with prying eyes. Factories had risen along the shore, houses clustered beside them, and transport ships lay moored in numbers—yet the desolation of that time defied description. Moreover, the river’s course ran somewhat differently then, and reeds grew with a savage profusion.

O-Tama, the ferrywoman, was worried.

“My Lord, if your stomach pains you so severely, might I suggest heating some stones from the riverbank and applying them as a makeshift warming compress? The cold will only worsen it.” Her kindness showed on her face.

“No—it’s not that bad.”
“If I rest here a while, the pain might subside—but since you’ve taken down the sail, we’ve lost our shade.”
“I’d like you to move the boat somewhere shady.”

“In that case, the reeds in the midstream sandbar would be most suitable.”
“Within the sandbar, a boat path has been dug out—we can go straight into the middle.”

“So—both people and boats will be hidden completely among the reeds, then.”

“That is correct, my lord.”

“That’s an excellent hiding place. I’d like you to take the boat there at once.”

She pushed the boat away from the shore and rowed into the reeds of the midstream sandbar—no one witnessed this—but what was startled were the reed warblers, who abruptly ceased their chirping.

The boat entered the waterway of the midstream sandbar and disappeared from view, but only the reed plumes where it had passed could be seen swaying one after another. At the spot where it had come to rest, the boat must have been moored. The reed warblers began chirping anew.

From the seaward direction, no sooner had ink-black clouds appeared than a swift wind rose up—river waves surged, reed plumes quivered—and in the blink of an eye, daylight turned night-dark as a torrential downpour erupted with thunderous roars. At the Yaguchi crossing upstream, when the ghost of Nitta Yoshisuke had struck Edo Tōtōmi-no-kami dead with thunderous force—this tempest made one think that storm must have been just like this.

VI

“Buddha’s wrath is to be feared—truly to be feared! You’ve got it all wrong trying to receive an amulet against female troubles through a substitute pilgrimage—that’s why this deluge struck at once! This is no mere thrice-circling field deity we’re dealing with here. However, though we managed to take shelter from the rain by dashing into a farmer’s house,” said the Master Poet as he had Ichisuke carry his sandals, kept his own removed tabi socks, and walked along the field path with his hem tucked up, “on the boat there would have been no escaping it at all.”

“In any case, Master got soaked through.”
“It’s just like a Kiyomoto narrator’s bit—actors aren’t like the likes of us, but both sure do have their charms,” Ichisuke walked barefoot along the muddy path after the downpour.

“Surely he won’t repeat those scaffolders’ blunder."
"After all, he is Lord Rokura Kotonojo—a hatamoto of means."
“His late father’s post was so esteemed—he shone brilliantly even among eighty thousand horsemen... But I just hope this doesn’t turn into a cursed bond—it’s somewhat worrying.”

“Master Poet, you’re spouting something awfully trite.”

“Trite? What’s so trite about that?”

“Because whether for good or ill, whenever incidents occur, treasure flows into your pockets.”

“A golden strike! Jackpot! Ha ha ha ha!”

Laughing, they emerged onto the embankment and looked around, but there was no sign of the boat.

“Oh—did the boat sink in that downpour?”
“Or was it struck by a thunderbolt and shattered to pieces?”

“That’s not the case at all. They must have hidden it somewhere. Let’s call out and see.”

“What should we shout? ‘Ahoy, Haneda’s Benten Maiden O-Tama’s boat!’?”

Hearing the two men clamoring on the embankment, a cargo boat emerged through the reeds of the midstream sandbar—its roof covered with a sail instead of a tarp. Benten Maiden O-Tama rowed at the stern, but young lord Rokura Kotonojo was nowhere to be seen.

“Master Poet, he’s finally been done in.”
“Just like that falconer got knocked off with an oar, you’re gonna go splash into the river, see?”
“If it were just an elbow strike, that’d be one thing, but getting hit with a water blast on top of that would be too much to bear.”

“That might well be the case.”
“It’s because the young lord’s figure remains unseen.”

“Now that they’re the master’s enemy, we can’t just abandon them.
Master Poet, you’d better back me up here.”

“Though a woman, she looks formidable.
She won’t turn the tables on us, will she?”

As they were saying this, the boat gradually drew near.

“The girl’s hair is far too neat.
It’s not disheveled in the slightest—yet she managed not to get tangled in the reeds.”

“She must have tidied it up.”

“It’s not wet.”

“Of course—the roof’s covered with a sail, so it’s fine.”

“Oh ho, there’s a corpse under the sail roof.”
“The young lord has been killed, I tell you!”

“What nonsense—he’s merely sleeping.”

Rokura Kotonojo rose up with an awkward air and poked his face out from under the sail.

“That was a fierce downpour, wasn’t it?”

The two here exchanged glances.

“Well, that’s a relief.”
“However, his complexion looks poor.”
“He might still have stomach pain.”

“Stomachache, thunderclaps, and a female boatman—it’s like a three-topic tale,” they whispered to each other.

VII

On a crisp autumn day with refreshingly clear air, the haikai master Issuisai Hankyū entered the familiar tea shop within Benten Shrine on Haneda Yōshima Island.

“Madam, I’m indebted to you for your help the other day,” he said, brushing dust from his hem as he sat down on the bench.

“Oh, are you here alone today?”
“This summer, I received such generous payments for tea…” Madam was adept at flattery.

“Well, Madam—though I’m alone today—I’ll pay handsomely for the tea.
“I’ll throw in one koban.”

“Hee hee hee… Please be generous with your payment.”

“No—this isn’t a joke. I’m serious.”
“In exchange, you’ll need to make everyone our ally and have them labor tirelessly for us.”
“Oh! If there’s profit to be made, I’ll work however you require.”
“It concerns that Haneda Benten Maiden—the female boatman O-Tama.”

“I understand now,”
“I’ve had a feeling it was something like that for some time now.”
“Dear Tama has that lingering illness.”
“Even so, she still comes to my place sometimes.”
“My Lord from the other day keeps blaming me, asking why he still hasn’t arrived—it’s quite a bother, I tell you.”

“It’s strange that Dear Tama has a lingering illness.”
“In truth, even here, the young lord has a lingering illness.”
“When two lingering illnesses collide, it’s like a hurricane blowing into a lantern shop.”

“I don’t know what it is, but that’s the real thing.”
“It’s because she experienced a man’s kindness for the first time, you see.”
“But it’s only natural that O-Tama fell in love, you see.”
“You won’t find a lord as splendid as that in Haneda’s fishing village, you see.”

“That stands to reason.”

“They’re such a well-matched pair—I do wish we could make them husband and wife somehow—but given their stations in life…”

“That’s the thing.”
“That’s precisely the sticking point—but given the retired mistress is a most discerning woman, and there being many reasonable figures among the relatives, under such circumstances we should summon her to the estate regardless.”
“We’ll handle the mother’s livelihood however needed—dispatch a suitable envoy to her family home, then formally arrange a marriage... Well, since matters won’t progress that far, becoming an official concubine for the 2,800-koku hatamoto could be achieved this very day. Though substantial, this humble poet has brought the preparation fee of two hundred ryō here.”

“That is most kind of you.”

“Wait—it’s too soon for thanks.”

“Is that indeed the case?”

“While those young lovers remain in their daze—with her face so beautiful, her nature so gentle, neither straying nor failing to honor the lord—all may seem well enough. But eventually one must consider children being born between them.”

"That is indeed the case."
"That girl could easily bear six or seven children."
"At that point—if someone were to scrutinize such a person’s origins—it would become a scandal, you see."

“A scandal?”

“Even if we prevent a scandal, the leprosy lineage would still be entirely troublesome.”

“That is indeed the case, well…”

“If the heir-apparent lacks eyebrows, the 2,800-koku stipend cannot be inherited.”

The anxieties surrounding family inheritance and lineage were struggles of the past beyond what we moderns can imagine—and in an era that greatly feared the extinction of family lines, it was not unreasonable to scrutinize bloodlines.

“Therefore, leave no stone unturned in investigating her background.”
“Since this concerns a grave family matter that cannot be measured in money, I received these funds separately from Her Ladyship the Retired Mistress for necessary expenses—if I were to give them all to you, even this humble poet would face difficulties.”
“So, Madam—this is a conversation where I lay everything bare.”
“This entire scheme hinges on making you my ally.”

“Oh yes, yes—I can be brought into this however you like.”

“There’s no need to press in so close.”
“So, Madam—invoking my authority as this humble poet—I’ll give you ten ryō in koban.”

“Ten ryō in koban!
“That will suffice.”

“Now, now—wait.”
“This ten ryō—this ten ryō—I’ll give as thanks once matters are settled properly.”

“Then—if matters aren’t settled—I won’t receive it?”

“Exactly.
“This humble poet is also an Edoite.
“Even if the scheme gets exposed, I’ll give you ten ryō.”

“Then—even if revealing Dear Tama’s true lineage causes exposure… ten ryō…”

“In return, whether the matter is settled or not—either way, you’ll get ten ryō with no loss to yourself—so all I need is for you to tell me the truth.”
“If I’m fed lies now, this humble poet will have no justification later.”
“If there’s no justification, I’ll have no choice but to commit seppuku—but if we’re both to die anyway, I’d rather put a hole through your bloated belly, let your corpse thin out from blood loss, and then make my peace.”

“No, I will speak truthfully.”
“I will never tell lies or falsehoods.”
“I will tell you the true story.”

Eight

“Well then, ten koban coins… but I retract my earlier mention of leaving one ryō for tea money,” said Issuisai Hankyū, thoroughly cunning.

“That’s quite sufficient.”
“Ten ryō in gold is no small sum for us.”
“I’ll go show this to my husband that oaf and make his legs give out,” said the proprietress as she hurriedly produced the koban.

“So tell me—any concerns about scandalous lineage or outcast lineage?”

“There’s no such thing.”
“Whether scandal or outcast blood, I haven’t the slightest suspicion—I’ll stake my name on it.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Now then—the crucial bloodline.”
“What about the leprosy lineage?”

“There’s no issue with that matter.”
“I have never heard of that family having any history of bad diseases.”
“Not just that household—there seems to be no such bloodline in all of Haneda… And I’m perfectly fine myself.”

“Understood, understood. In that case, there’s no further need for concern.”

“That—you see—there is just one thing.”
“No—even if hidden, it would be known at once. Though it pains me deeply for that girl’s sake—since this tale is already too widely known… I shall tell you.”

“Hmm, what is it? What’s the issue here?”

“That girl’s father was a renowned pirate.”

“Huh?! A pirate?!”

“He was called Ryūjin Matsugorō—ranging from Enshū Nada to Sagami Nada, even venturing into Edo’s waters to conduct major operations.”

“Oh! Ryūjin Matsugorō—they say he knew Dutch sail rigging, could drive ships against any headwind, was a pirate commander who appeared at will! They even whisper he traded with black ships near Hachijō’s uninhabited islands! That Matsugorō’s daughter… So that Matsugorō’s daughter is O-Tama?!”

“That is indeed the case. His luck ran out one night during the typhoon season while passing Uraga’s guard station—the glow from his tobacco pipe betrayed his ship’s passage. Cornered off Kisarazu, his underlings were captured at last. But Matsugorō alone wrapped himself in a fifty-kan foreign anchor and plunged into the sea. Though other accomplices remained… it seems they were never investigated…”

“Ryūjin Matsugorō’s daughter.”
“Ah, so O-Tama is a pirate’s daughter… This has spiraled into sheer madness.”

“Now, Master—while that may be true, might there not be some means to circumvent this?”
“Though her father was a pirate, her mother is virtuous—and as you plainly see, the girl herself possesses unblemished character. Setting aside all personal gain, I earnestly desire to resolve this matter… yet…”

“That simply won’t do.”
“Ah, there’s a reason it won’t do.”
“If possible, I too would like to settle this matter and be done with it.”
“Moreover, even if the Rokura household were to declare—though they’d never actually say such a thing—‘If she were a pirate, we’d mount a full campaign, but a common thief we might tolerate,’ the daughter herself would never consent.”

“Oh? And pray tell—for what reason might that be?”

“The Uraga magistrate who defeated that pirate Ryūjin Matsugorō was Rokura’s late lord—Lord Izuminokami Tomizumi.”

“Huh?!”

“Under Lord Kotonojo’s father’s command—the late Lord Izuminokami—they drove the pirate ship all the way off Kisarazu and compelled Ryūjin Matsugorō to meet his end. For this feat alone did their house receive an additional five hundred koku in stipend. Thus O-Tama’s sire stands as enemy to Lord Kotonojo’s own father—a cursed karmic bond between adversaries. No resolution could ever take root.”

“Ah, I see. In that case, they cannot become husband and wife.”

A cursed karmic bond—this was precisely it. Through the lens of modern youth, love stands sacred. Whatever relations might exist between parents, children remain distinct beings unto themselves. There should be nothing strange about mutual affection. They might charge headlong into a free union, brushing aside registry formalities as they forced through their bold reinterpretations—but in the Tenpō era, such things proved utterly impossible.

Since it was a profitable venture, they had thought to somehow bring it to resolution, but with this being utterly impossible, they could only exchange glances and sigh—the Master Poet and the tea shop proprietress.

At that moment, from behind the reed screen, a woman’s weeping voice suddenly sounded. When they looked in shock, it was O-Tama.

“Oh, O-Tama... were you listening?”
“We’ll discuss this properly with all three of us—come over here,” urged the proprietress, but O-Tama refused to comply and ran off instead.

“Well—this has turned into an outrageous affair.”
“If we don’t hurry to stop her, she might throw herself into the river!” said Hankyū, his face paling.

“Nonsense—she can swim. She won’t drown herself.”
“Even if she jumps in, she won’t float up dead.”

This made perfect sense.

九

It was impossible to gauge how deeply Issuisai Hankyū’s report had plunged Kotonojo into despair.
The illness grew steadily worse.
The widows of the Rokura household and the entire clan’s concerns grew far from ordinary.

“I can’t help but feel Master Hankyū’s investigation was inadequate—aye, O-Tama’s father might’ve been that pirate Ryūjin Matsugorō, sure enough—but scoundrels like him got layers upon layers of schemes, tricks no decent soul’d ever sniff out. So why don’t you hand this reinvestigation business over to this humble servant here?” pleaded Ichisuke the footman.

“Indeed, that’s true enough.”
“Then could you investigate this once more?”

He received a hefty sum of operational funds and rushed out.
There was nowhere else he would have gone.
As expected, it was the tea shop within Benten Shrine.

“Oh! Please come in.”
“This has turned into such an outrageous affair,” Madam said, still feeling dejected.

“Madam, this time I’ve come to investigate.”
“I’ll pay you plenty.”
“I don’t know how much the Master Poet coughed up, but this Ichisuke ain’t skimming no stingy commissions.”
“Fifty ryō I’ll pay—fifty ryō!”

“Well now—even if you were to offer a hundred ryō instead of fifty, it simply won’t do.”

“I know it’s no good—but that’s exactly where Ichisuke’s cunning comes into play.”
“Whether it’s you or the Master Poet—it’s your damn honesty that’s causing trouble.”
“If I were the one laying down the law, this is the kind of scheme I’d come up with.”
“Listen—first thing’s first, we get the greediest old codger in Haneda on our side.”
“When we inquire with that old man about O-Tama’s origins, he’ll state: ‘She is not Matsugorō’s true daughter.’”
“We’ll have him say there’s a full-fledged story behind this.”

“Ah, if it’s such a role, please employ our retired elder—in greed, he’s number one in Haneda.”

“So then I’ll draft that full-fledged story: Ryūjin Matsugorō terrorized a passenger ship bound for Edo off Bōsō’s coast and slaughtered every last crew member, but among them was a newborn baby. Even a villain like Matsugorō—well, since his own wife was about to give birth around that time—he took the baby home only to find his own child had been stillborn... This was surely an omen from the gods—perfect timing! Fearing the mother might become agitated if she knew, they conspired with the midwife to pass off the stolen infant as her own—that’s how O-Tama came to be! Even if she acts like the real mother, she’s a complete stranger—the only one who knows this scheme is me, having heard it from Matsugorō before he died... That’s what we’ll have your retired elder say.”

“You’re truly remarkable,” said the tea shop proprietress. “You’re quite the clever one, aren’t you? Then Miss O-Tama wouldn’t be Matsugorō’s child, so that cursed bond between enemies would disappear, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Ichisuke replied. “So both sides get what they want. Since they’re both head over heels for each other from either side, even if this seems a bit fishy, as long as the story holds up, why don’t we just let it slide? Humans can’t help but do a bit of scheming like this. A lie’s just a tool for good—even Buddha and the gods would turn a blind eye, wouldn’t they?”

“In that case, to get started on this right away, I’ll call our old man here.”

“While you’re at it, stop by Miss Tama’s place—it won’t do any harm. Tell her I’ll bring good news soon, so keep her hopeful and waiting in anticipation.”

“Ah, let’s do that.”

“Eat up every last sweet in the shop while I’m gone.”

“This is no time for that—I’ll bring a sho of sake for the pre-celebration!”

“Much obliged.
“The sea bream was fine, but if you’ve got any egg-bearing crabs, get me two or three of those.”

“Very well.”
“I’ll go look for them.”

Blinded by greed, the tea shop proprietress rushed out.

“Get this finalized! The Master’ll be pleased.”
“Even Miss Tama’d be happy, and we’ll get to lap up our share of sweet rewards.”
“I must say, that’s one fine scheme I’ve cooked up myself.”

Ichisuke had already made up his mind.
While crunching on roasted beans as he waited, Madam returned with a changed complexion.

“What would you have me do?”

“It’s terrible!”

“What’s so terrible?”

“She died.”

“Did your old man die?”

"Nah, our old man's alive and kicking—but Miss O-Tama went and died coughing up blood."

"Huh?! Miss Tama died?"

The fact that she died coughing up blood might have been tuberculosis.
If it were tuberculosis, even today it would be disliked second only to leprosy—but in those days, people gave it no thought at all.

“We were just a step too late.”
“If she’d heard this news, her illness would’ve improved—she could’ve lived and even risen in status……”

Greed being greed, the tea shop proprietress wept for poor, ill-fated O-Tama.
Ichisuke also wept.

The pirate’s daughter ultimately died without becoming the hatamoto’s wife.

The grave was erected within the grounds of Rōu-zan Chōshō-ji.
Rokura Kotonojo, accompanied by Master Poet Issuisai and Ichisuke, once came to visit the grave, but soon Kotonojo too coughed up blood and died, and the Rokura house became extinct.
Whether Kotonojo’s tuberculosis infected O-Tama, or whether O-Tama had been the one to infect him—that remains unclear.

From a single vow exchanged in the midstream reeds of the Rokugō River came the infection of the karmic disease between the pirate’s daughter and the young hatamoto lord.
The grudge of this cursed karmic bond is still told and passed down by the reed warblers.