Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Morning of the Sixteenth Day

In the thin mist, a vermilion sun resembling an Ōkyo-style tray rose, creating a tranquil dawn that felt quintessentially New Year's.

Dedemae Denbei—also called Denbei the Chari Enemy—was an official investigator from Kanda Nabecho.

The sixteenth day of the New Year was what people called Enma's Ceremonial Day.

Given his profession, he had no obligation to visit Enma's Ceremonial Day shrine.

Having somewhat urgent business in Yanaka, he came waddling his way to the foot of Ueno's Five-storied Pagoda at dawn when from somewhere—

“...Hey, Denbei! Denbei!”

Denbei the Chari Enemy—despite lacking any real courage but prone to quick fits of anger—immediately puffed up his face like a pufferfish lantern.

“Tch! What’s with all this ‘Denbei, Denbei’? Calling so loud like that... Makin’ fun of me, ain’t ya?”

The towering row of pines bore the pale hue of fresh snow upon their uppermost boughs.

He scanned his surroundings, but within the immaculately swept precincts, there was not a soul in sight.

“Wh-what’s this?… I definitely heard ‘Denbei, Denbei’… Heh, just my imagination?”

Grumbling to himself, he started to walk when again—from somewhere—

“Denbei… Denbei…”

He frantically scanned his surroundings.
Still, there was no one.

Denbei became flustered,

“Hey, stop that.
What’s gotten into you? What’s this…”

While there are bean tanuki in Azabu, tales of badger spirits appearing in these mountain precincts have yet to be heard.
Even so, it's not yet the hour of the shapeshifting tanuki—the fifth half-hour (nine o'clock) of the morning.

“Creepy...”

A shiver ran through him as he stood frozen with his face contorted in disarray,

“Hey, Denbei! Here! Here!”

The voice seemed to echo from the distant void.

“Yikes!”

If one were to retreat five or six steps, shield one's eyes with a hand, and gaze upward at the pagoda's heights, there at the Five-storied Pagoda's very summit—amidst the verdigris-corroded base of its soirin finial—appeared a Confucian-scholar-like figure clad in a blue half-coat with square sleeves. With his left arm entwined around the nine-ring spire and a large telescopic lens in his right hand, he leisurely surveyed the scenery about him with the air of refined leisure.

A peculiar tea-whisk hairstyle with the ends of his full topknot trimmed.

He was stocky and slightly plump, with severely pronounced, habitually raised shoulders.
Even if one tried to mistake him, it would be impossible—this eccentric herbalist and master of natural philosophy resided in a back-alley tenement of Kanda Shirakabe-cho, directly behind Nabecho.
Hakukei, Master Hiraga Gennai—in this day and age, there was no one in all of Edo who did not know that name.

With a signboard proclaiming "Medical Texts, Confucian Works: Group Lectures and Exegesis," he alone had nearly two hundred disciples. He shuttled between noble households, invented scientific instruments, collected medicinal herbs, manufactured asbestos cloth—all without a moment’s spare time.

The zinc ore called roganseki mined from Chichibu’s Oikoi Mine—this would soon arrive in Edo via Arakawa’s transport boats. He had combs crafted from agarwood imported from Nagasaki, adorned their beams with silver edging, and marketed them under the name "Gennai Comb." This became a sensational hit, sparking an absurdly popular trend where everyone from Lord Tanuma's inner chambers down to water-teahouse women insisted no comb but this would suffice.

A leading authority in product studies who spoke Dutch fluently. He created Japan's first electrical machine, the "Generator Box," then turned around and invented whimsical devices like the "Rotating Mosquito Trap." On one hand he authored the scholarly natural history tome Classification of Natural Phenomena, while on the other he penned absurd satirical essays like On Flatulence. From witty novelettes to illustrated booklets, and still not content, he even dabbled in puppet theater scripts. Shinrei Yaguchi no Watashi, featuring the familiar Tonbei, was being performed by the Toyotake Shindayu troupe at Sakai-cho's Geki-za Theater, with today marking its opening day amid a feverish pre-show buzz.

First, this gives a rough picture of the situation.

A man of boundless wit and manifold talents—one might call him omnicompetent—the ever-busy Master Hiraga Gennai, renowned as Edo's greatest prodigy since its founding, leisurely gazing through a telescopic lens from the very summit of the Five-storied Pagoda at dawn on the sixteenth day of the first month in the seventh year of Meiwa: this made for a rather hard-to-swallow tale.

However, given that the Master was one who constantly conceived of such outlandish ideas beyond ordinary people's imagination, he was not simply idly gazing at the scenery—it could be surmised that he must have had some correspondingly unusual scheme in mind.

A spring breeze swept into Denbei’s gaping mouth as he stood dumbstruck.

Guh— he swallowed his breath,

“Master... Master Hiraga! What in blazes’re you doing up there?”

As Denbei had been acquainted with Master Hiraga Gennai since his relocation from Yushima Tenjin to Shirakabe-cho, he spoke without reservation.
Perhaps because Master Hiraga Gennai considered him a trifling fool, he never showed an angry face no matter what was said.

He was the sort of man—so scatterbrained, timid, slow-witted, and utterly unremarkable that one marveled he managed to perform his duties as town investigator—yet beneath it all lay an exceedingly kind soul who took on every task that came his way, thereby ensuring year-round hardship for himself.

Denbei frequented the residence of Ota Shokusanjin—known as Master Nemoboke—where he composed clumsy kyōku verses. He was a man who appeared scatterbrained yet possessed certain endearing qualities.

Stretching on tiptoe, Denbei called out in his shrill voice, but the Master continued calmly rotating the end of his telescopic lens while surveying the surroundings.

Denbei finally lost patience.

“Honestly, your nonchalance leaves me speechless! What sort of person goes clattering about with a telescopic lens at the pagoda’s summit on New Year’s sixteenth day? Keep dawdling up there and a kite’ll peck out your eyeballs! Hey, Master! What in blazes are you even looking at? This is maddening! Couldn’t you at least reply?”

A leisurely voice echoed from the empty sky.

“I’m currently observing Holland through this lens.”
“Whoa! You can actually see Holland from up there?”
“Ah yes, quite clearly.”
“What part of Holland can you see?”
“The harbor crowded with moored ships suggests it’s likely The Hague.”
“Well I’ll be damned!... So they’re celebrating New Year’s over there too?”
“The calendar date remains consistent.”
“Only difference being – there it’s currently dusk.”

“Well now, that’s odd. What’s the weather like there?”

“It’s snowing quite heavily.”

“What in blazes does that mean?”

“No—I was saying it’s snowing quite heavily. ...Ah, there’s a beautiful woman walking alone on the beach.”

“Huh?! There’s a beautiful woman there? What exactly does she look like?”

“She’s wearing a high chignon and carrying a picnic basket.”

“Do they even use picnic baskets in Holland?”

“That’s true... This grows rather suspicious.”
“Ah—she’s slipping into high clogs and breaking into a run.”
“I say, Denbei! What I took for Holland appears to be the Suzaki coastline after all.”

“D-don’t mock me! I’m being earnest here!”
“This isn’t the hour for such idle chatter!... I shouldn’t speak too loud, but truth be told—there’s been another incident this dawn.”

“When you say another has occurred... the same kind of case?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“So this makes three victims? This can’t be taken lightly anymore.”

“Don’t speak of it like some stranger’s affair! You’re implicated in this too! Just come down already!”

“Well I don’t know what this is about, but if you insist, I’ll head there presently.”

The eccentric Master Hakkei, his receding forehead basking in the spring sun, followed along the rope fastened to the pagoda's finial and gradually descended backward step by step.

Another girl had been killed.

From year-end through New Year's Day, meteors had appeared frequently.

On New Year’s Day, the display reached its peak intensity—across the newly darkened night sky, thousands of meteors scattered like silver serpents trailing their tails, their radiant beams reflecting one another in a dazzling spectacle of terrifying grandeur that lasted nearly half an hour.

Moreover, since around autumn of the previous year, Mount Asama had occasionally erupted, sprinkling Edo’s streets with a fine ash. Combined with these other strange phenomena, many grew apprehensive that these might be portents of some impending celestial disaster.

It was a year when snow came late; the first snowfall arrived past noon on the third day of the New Year, accumulating about two inches before ceasing.

A mysterious murder had occurred at Nezu's Ōta Field.

In the vast plain stretching from Yabushita to Nezu Shrine lay a small marsh where common reeds grew thick during summer.

In the center of the plain, about fifty meters from the marsh's edge, lay a beautiful girl of seventeen or eighteen, her skull split open from the crown and her body drenched in blood, fallen face down.

It appeared to have been slashed in a single stroke with some sharp-edged weapon; the wound started at the crown of the head and extended diagonally backward to the occipital region.

The wound appeared to have been inflicted by a slender sword or a similar thin-bladed weapon; however, if we assume she was struck suddenly from behind while walking, the nature of the laceration suggested it must have been perpetrated by someone quite tall. Yet the shallowness of the wound relative to its length indicated the assailant lacked significant physical strength.

However, there was a single gouge in the wound that appeared to have been struck by a blunt weapon. When examining this area, there were aspects that made it difficult to believe it had been done with a blade. However, if one divided it into two parts, it could be easily resolved.

Initially, the assailant struck the victim with a cornered stone-like object but, having failed to achieve their objective, must have then slashed them with a slender sword instead. For a strike wound and slash wound to overlap in the same location would be exceedingly rare, but such coincidence could not be entirely ruled out - perhaps one in a hundred cases. This constituted the autopsy physician's opinion.

Well, the reasoning held up somewhat.
Now then, where on earth did that perpetrator come from?

On the snow lay only the murdered girl’s geta tracks.

The marsh’s edge—indeed, this entire wetland area—was Ōta Field where even after prolonged fair weather, geta teeth would sink into the earth.
On top of this lay softly piled spring snow.

Across a vast snowfield measuring three blocks square lay only the murdered girl's geta tracks—forming the character "ni"—stretching straight from Yabushita.
Beyond that, there were neither horse tracks nor even dog prints.
The withered reeds and manchurian wild rice along the pond's edge formed a beautifully uniform expanse of white.

That she arrived at this field just as the snow ceased falling was clearly evident from the absence of accumulated snow on her body.

This raised the question: where had the perpetrator come from, and by what method had they killed this girl?

(Well now, I wonder—couldn't they have come here already injured, then when they couldn't go any further, just collapsed right there? It’s not like we’re dealing with the spirit of Tomomori from Funa Benkei here, and ghosts wielding drawn swords aren’t much heard of these days.)

Dedemae Denbei spoke with an air of self-important authority, his face wearing a smug expression—but this interjection proved entirely superfluous.

If that were indeed the case, there should have been a continuous blood trail stretching all the way from Yabushita; yet not even a crimson petal's worth of blood stained the footprints' path, leaving them utterly confounded.
Having been brusquely rebutted by magistrate Hashizume Sanai, Denbei retreated crimson-faced.

Despite all the commotion, they ultimately failed to determine how she had been killed.
Strange things do happen.
And with that—snap.

However, her identity was quickly ascertained.
She was the youngest daughter of Ōmiya, a cotton wholesaler in Demmachō - an eighteen-year-old girl named Hatsue.

What Master Gennai called a melancholic condition.
She had come to Nezu's dormitory from evening onward, slept and woke at odd hours, idling her time away.

Around four o'clock, when she saw the snow had stopped and the sun suddenly burst through, she said "I'll just..." and left the dormitory without disclosing her destination.
And so, it came to this.

Four days later, on the eighth day of the New Year.

This time, a similar incident occurred in the precincts of Suwa Shrine in Nippori.

At the top of Fujimizaka—precisely where Hanamidera Temple’s back mountain stood—it was an extremely scenic location.

Standing in this precinct revealed the view from Negishi's rice fields to Mikawashima Village—the hazel groves of Senju arranged like a folding screen.
In the distance stretched a panorama encompassing everything from the Arakawa River and Kōnodai to Mount Tsukuba itself.

Once again, it was a clear morning after the snow had stopped—the sun suddenly burst through—with the time around eight o'clock.

At the cliff's edge stood a wide reed-screened engawa bench that served as a cooling spot in summer, with a small tea stall beside it.

Because it was early on a snowy morning, there were still no worshippers to be seen.
The only one who arrived was that lone girl.

After hanging a hand towel on the purification trough's pillar, clapping briefly at the shrine, and exchanging greetings with the tea stall owner, she went to the cliff's edge and gazed at Mount Tsukuba standing sharp against the snow-cleared sky...

While the tea stall owner peered beneath the kettle for mere two or three minutes, the girl was killed and lay fallen on the snow.

Knowing the girl had always been delicate, the tea stall owner thought she might have collapsed from snow exposure and hurried over to check—only to find her not merely affected by snow, but lying dead in a pitiful state at the base of the sacred Japanese alder tree, her head deeply slashed and her freshly styled Rokō-style chignon buried in snow.
Not even an "Ah!" had been heard.

On one side was a sheer cliff, on the other a vast shrine precinct visible at a glance.
On the snow there as well, apart from the old woman’s and the girl’s footprints, not even a mark that looked like a push remained.

She was a devout girl who unfailingly came on the eighth of each month to offer hand towels, so the old woman had grown familiar with her face and knew her circumstances well - Yae, the only daughter of a masterless samurai living near Enmei-in Temple in Yanaka.

At the guardhouse below the slope was a sharp-witted guard who, upon hearing the old woman's breathless account, raced over with her and strung rope across the stone steps' base to block worshippers, leaving every footprint preserved exactly as they had been at that moment.

The wounds showed not a sliver of difference from Hatsue's case.
The conditions matched completely.
Thus, what remained unknown stayed identical to before.

The magistrate's assistants and constables who had rushed to the scene withdrew in a daze, utterly lost in a fog of confusion.

Once might be dismissed as coincidence, but when mysterious incidents occurred twice in succession like this, the quick-eared townspeople began buzzing with rumors. With wild embellishments, people claimed fifteen young girls had been scared out of their wits.

The anxiety of parents with young daughters.
But even more so was the sheer terror gripping the daughters themselves.
Though the New Year theatrical performances had just opened, they suppressed their desperate urge to attend even the most alluring plays and stayed shut indoors.

The Minami-machi Magistrate's Office on monthly duty sprang into action, mobilizing not only covert and regular patrols but informants and undercover agents as well. They thoroughly infiltrated barbershops, bathhouses, theaters, gathering spots, and entertainment districts, keeping their eyes peeled and ears pricked while scrambling for promising leads—yet not a single clue could be found. Like grasping at clouds.

Amid the uproar, days passed fruitlessly until the sixteenth day.

An urgent report reached the ears of the duty magistrate who had thought such a thing unthinkable—another girl had just this moment been murdered near Enma Hall at Yanaka Zuium Temple.
It was precisely the day of Enma's Ceremonial Day.

Though it was nearby, it was not within the temple precincts.
The neighboring house separated by Zuium Temple's stone wall.

The girl's name was Otsuta.
Like the previous two, she too was eighteen.

The second daughter of Hamamuraya, a theater teahouse, she was no less graceful and beautiful than the previous two. A well-mannered girl ill-suited to the family trade, she had risen early that morning and carried her father’s cherished potted plants up to the drying platform where last night’s snow still lingered in thin patches.

When she climbed up to the drying platform, the roof of Enma Hall stood directly before her eyes. Being naturally sociable, while arranging the potted plants on shelves and looking down at the shrine grounds below, she called out in a loud voice to her mother in the second-floor room, commenting on the quality of shrine visitors for her to hear.

Then, suddenly, her voice ceased, and even the faint rustling sounds of movement vanished entirely. Finding this strange, her mother Ofuku peered up at the drying platform through the half-opened lattice window on the side—only to see Otsuta kneeling in the snow, her upper body slumped forward as if collapsing.

From the drying platform to Zuium Temple’s stone wall was roughly nine meters apart.
There was no roof extending in that direction, and below the drying platform lay an inner courtyard enclosed by a black-painted wooden fence.

As with the two previous cases, there were no unusual footprints to be found anywhere.
Some self-important fellow had crawled all over the second-floor roof tiles, but all he managed was to startle some sparrows into flight—there too, no clues were found.

Master Hiraga Gennai’s Lecture

Master Hiraga Gennai was performing an aerial stunt.
Since this was merely for repairing wind-bells, what passed for scaffolding lacked proper planks—just roughly assembled cedar poles forming the most rudimentary structure.

After all, since he was holding a large telescopic lens, maneuvering up and down didn’t seem to be proceeding as intended.
He had fumbled his way down to around the third level, but there he came to an abrupt standstill.

The scaffolding's crossbeams suddenly became spaced too far apart, and the master's feet couldn't reach.
Left dangling in mid-air, he kept frantically scrambling his feet, yet try as he might, no foothold presented itself within reach.

Master Hiraga Gennai let out a pitiful voice.

“Hey, Denbei.
This isn’t good.
This—I can’t get down!
Do something!”

Denbei looked up with an entertained expression as he delivered a merciless reply.

“‘Do something,’ you say?
What’m I s’posed to do?”

“Neither climbing up nor down works!
I’m begging you—help me!”

“You really can’t get down?”

“Well... yes.”

“In that case, I’ll help ya.
But in return, I’ve got one request.”

“What is it? Out with it!”

“Spill your theories.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Is your silence because you find this disagreeable?”
“……If you dislike it, then dislike it all you want.”
“If you won’t listen to my request, I’ll just leave right here and now.”

“If you want to go, then go.”
“Someone will come along eventually.”
“I’ll have that person help me, so it’s fine.”

“I won't let anyone in.”

“What do you mean, ‘won’t let anyone in’?”

“I’ll stand at the horse-stop marker at the mountain’s base and make sure nobody enters the grounds.”

"Don't be absurd!"

"Well, I'm a fool regardless."

“This is bad. I feel like I might pass out.”

“Just one word will do. Then I’ll climb up and carry you down myself.”

“It can’t be helped—I’ll tell you.”

Denbei let out a shrill cry,

“Huh?! So you’ve actually figured it out?”

“Yes, I have. …Truth be told, I intended to unveil this at the upcoming Honzōkai meeting to astound all present—but needs must, so I’ll spill it now.”

“No need for theatrics! Look, look! Your hands are trembling. Hurry, hurry…”

“Hmm, this is problematic... To put it simply, this case is the work of ‘meteorites.’ Having said this much, you must have some idea.”

“No, not at all.”

“What a troublesome fellow... ‘Aero’ means sky, ‘lithos’ means stone... So ‘aeroliths’ translates to ‘stones from the sky.’”

“I don’t give a damn about word explanations. ...So what’re you saying about that ‘stone from the sky’?”

“You impossible fool... In short—the stones that fell from the sky murdered those two girls.”

Denbei flared up,

“Don’t dodge the question! You shouldn’t be cracking jokes while dangling in mid-air like that. Give me the serious explanation.”

“This is outrageous. Do you think Gen’nai would spout nonsense on matters of scientific inquiry? In matters of scientific inquiry, do you think Gen’nai would spout such nonsense?”

Denbei waved both hands frantically,
“Don’t get angry.”
“So… you’re saying that’s the truth?”

“It’s not your place to say, but do you think anyone could spend a whole night at the top of the Five-storied Pagoda in this freezing cold for jokes or amusement? Late at night, a light snow began to fall, and I had a dreadful time.”

“So then, what on earth were you doing up there?”

“I persevered through the night atop the pagoda, steadfastly observing meteors.”

“The meteors are all well and good, but what’s this ‘stone from the sky’ you mentioned earlier? I’ve been staring at the sky since I was a kid, but I ain’t never seen no stones up there.”

“Ah, of course—merely calling them ‘stones from the sky’ wouldn’t make sense to you.”
“Well, Denbei, what appear to be stars are actually large rock-like objects.”
“When they contain abundant stone, they’re called meteorites; when rich in iron, meteoritic iron.”
“Now then, as for why those rocks emit such light—it’s because a massive cluster of rock located millions of miles away catches the sunlight, making it appear to our eyes as a radiant glow.”
“Now then, as for why those stars fall to this Earth—in essence, celestial bodies are, to put it simply, suspended in the void much like an egg yolk held by its membrane from both ends, maintaining perfect equilibrium.”

“Well, I’ll be damned! That’s the first I’ve heard of it!”

“Quiet—stop interrupting! ...Now then, when some cause ruptures that membrane, they come crashing down to earth without fail. You must recall—when heads collide with great force, sparks fly from one’s eyes. By that same principle, when such massive objects plummet at tremendous speeds, they ignite from atmospheric friction and gradually burn away during descent, vanishing before reaching the ground. Even those that do reach Earth mostly become tiny, harmless fragments that escape notice. Particularly those falling in remote regions or open seas disappear unseen by human eyes. However, meteors themselves observe no such restraint—they needn’t fall only in wastelands or oceans. They could land right in central Edo without causing the slightest disturbance.”

“Indeed, that’s exactly right.”

“In the West as well, such instances are not particularly common, but there have indeed been cases where unfortunate individuals had their heads split open by those stones.”
“It is an exceedingly rare occurrence, but this case is precisely that. …Hey, Denbei, that’s enough now—spare me this.”
“I... I can’t hold on any longer!”

“Now, now—just endure a little longer.”
“Ah! So that’s how it works.”
“Now that you explain it, it makes perfect sense.”
“…And the mystery of there being no footprints on the snow is now perfectly solved.”

Having said this, he became utterly elated and was rejoicing alone.

Master Gennai dangled his toes and spoke in a faint voice.

“Hey, Denbei! What about me?”
“Hurry up! My arms are getting torn off!”

Denbei suddenly made a look of incomprehension and tilted his head, but—

"I'll come right away, but before that—one more thing."
"Hey, Master... Stars only come out at night, right?"
"So how come they'd come falling down in broad daylight?"

"Don't ask idiotic questions at a time like this!"
"Stars exist in the sky year-round—it's simply that our eyes can't see them until night falls."
"If they're going to fall, they'll fall even at noon."
"By that same logic, I'm about to drop any moment now!"
"If you're coming, make it quick!"
"I still hold crucial knowledge, but I won't utter a word unless you save me."
"...Ah! I'm slipping! Slipping!"
"Kill me and you'll lose your precious clue!"

Jōjōkichi the Young Female-Role Actor

Master Gennai had been crawling on all fours across Hamamuraya's drying platform—though what exactly he sought remained unclear—but now he stood up with a troubled expression,

“Hey, Denbei—this really isn’t right.”

“Huh?!”

“I retract my earlier meteorite theory. ...I had resolved not to mention this due to your vexing methods, but meteorites inherently possess distinctive spherical crystalline grains that allow immediate differentiation from terrestrial rocks or iron masses.”

“If a meteorite fell from the sky and struck the head of the girl who was there, fragments of that meteorite should necessarily have fallen there.”

“However, no matter how much I search, I can’t find them.”

“None at all?”

“None.”

Denbei immediately scowled,

“Master, you’re quite the trickster.
Just because I’m naive doesn’t mean you can keep a straight face while pulling a fast one like this!”

Master Gennai was at a loss.

“Being so suspicious is a problem, you know. I never intended to deceive you. In fact, while observing the sky from the Five-storied Pagoda, as dawn approached there were numerous meteors—and I indeed confirmed that some did reach the ground—so I became convinced the incidents on the 3rd and 8th were meteorite strikes. However, that appears to have been my misjudgment. This is rather embarrassing.”

Denbei’s face twisted as if he might burst into tears,

“Master, I couldn’t care less about your reputation, but if this turns out wrong after I made such a show of telling the whole guardhouse, there’ll be no way for me to save face!”
“This is... utterly disastrous!”

“...This likely has nothing to do with meteorites after all.”
“But putting that aside—Denbei! You claimed the wound on that Otsuta girl who died here this morning was identical to the previous two victims’ injuries.”

"Oh, you did say that."

"Isn't this strange?"
"If we assume meteorites, why would they always strike precisely the center of the head?"
"Why wouldn't they hit shoulders or buttocks?"

“I see, this is slightly odd.”

“The wounds themselves are problematic. According to your own report, their depth and shape—all three wounds showed perfect alignment down to the smallest detail. Could meteorites perform such precise feats? In each case, there should necessarily be differences in depth and size. There should even be cases where their heads get smashed to pieces.”

“Huh.”

“Moreover, there’s another suspicious point.”
“The previous two victims appear to have been ardent devotees of Hamamuraya—their hair done up in Rokō-style chignons, wearing Rokō tea-colored kimonos, their obi tied in Rokō knots.”
“By the way, on my way here just now, I caught a glimpse of that girl called Otsuta lying there—and she too had her hair done up in a Rokō-style chignon, wore a Rokō tea-colored kimono, and tied her obi in a Rokō knot.”
“What on earth could explain this? ...Three girls meeting bizarre deaths, all uniformly adorned in Rokō-style trappings.”
“So these meteorites appear to be quite devoted Rokō enthusiasts.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Meteorites aren’t some Kume no Senjin—there’s no reason they’d specifically target daughters of Rokō enthusiasts to strike down, now is there? Therefore, this isn’t the work of meteorites or such. Something else entirely.”

“So then, what on earth…”

Master Gennai, without hesitation,

“That even I don’t understand.”
“You can handle the rest on your own.”

“It’s cruel to abandon me here like this.”

“Whether I abandon you or not makes no difference now—there’s nothing left to resolve after this point. This undoubtedly ties back to Rokō either way. If we follow that thread, we’ll undoubtedly uncover some leads... And as an added bonus, I’ll tell you this—something about that girl Otsuta’s behavior this morning doesn’t quite sit right with me. I don’t know what manner of dutiful girl she was, but rising at dawn on New Year’s morning—when the sun had barely crested—to carry potted plants up to a snow-laden drying platform strikes me as excessively zealous, don’t you agree? To my mind, there seems to be something peculiar about that point—have you actually checked whether that girl Otsuta normally performed such tasks regularly?”

Denbei adopted a smug look,

“There’s no negligence there. No matter how well-trained she was—given teahouses make their living through late nights—there’s no way she’d rise at six or five on the old clock with such haste. However, when she returned from the hut last night, she was in remarkably high spirits—despite rarely doing such things—sitting by her father’s meal tray to pour his sake and acting buoyant all by herself, they say. ...According to her mother, she kept tossing restlessly in bed, then leapt out before six o'clock had even struck, smoothing her hair and tightening her obi. While they wondered what she might do next, this time she tried taking a plum plant pot out to the drying platform. They tried desperately to stop her, fearing she might fall and hurt herself, but she absolutely refused to listen...”

“I thought as much—that very point.”
“Hey, Denbei... This was likely a setup—she was lured out.”
“She must have arranged to meet someone around six on the old clock at the drying platform... Did you search the girl’s room?”

“That does seem plausible.”
“I’ll go rummage through it right away, so stay standing here awhile.”

“Don’t spout nonsense.”
“I’m hungry—I’m heading back.”
“Handle the rest as you please.”

“It’s just like your signature move.”
“If you’ve got something to say… I’m leaving, I’m leaving…”

With a face that wasn’t particularly remarkable, he put on an overly serious expression,

“If you’re going to keep talking like that, I’ll lay it all out—you’ve got a significant connection to these three cases yourself, Master.”
“I hid this because I thought you might worry about it.”
“The third, the eighth, and then today... All three girls who met such gruesome deaths had Gennai Combs in their hair.”

“That’s utterly outrageous.”

“Saying that won’t help matters. If word gets out that only girls wearing Gennai Combs get killed, then all that work—importing kyara wood from Nagasaki, turning your second-floor parlor into a sawdust-filled comb workshop, even using Ippyou to convince Hinazuru Tayū of Yoshiwara’s Chōjiya to wear one—would be for nothing. With all that, sales would dry up completely, and the thousand combs we made would go to waste. You’d be in real trouble then yourself.”

“That would be problematic.”
“Fundamentally, product development and scientific inquiry differ from poring over Confucian texts—they require creating models, conducting experiments, and even just procuring chemicals demands no small sum.”
“It was to fund such endeavors that I launched those combs. Should their sales collapse, scientific experimentation would grind to a halt—a most inconvenient outcome for me.”

“Then stop treating this like some bystander’s affair! This is exactly when you must devote yourself fully, Master!”

Master Gennai stood rigidly with a rather displeased expression, glaring at one section of the sky, when abruptly—in an urgently pressed tone—

“Very well—I’ve resolved myself.
“It’s utterly preposterous for me to incur losses over such idiotic matters—I mean to try everything within my power.
“Denbei, where lies the room of this Otsuta girl?
“I shall go search it myself.”

In a gold-embossed leather document box lay a single letter, carefully concealed as if something precious.

On Hamamuraya's shop-crested translucent stationery, written in spidery cursive with thin ink strokes, it read: "This morning while visiting the shrine, I humbly beg to glimpse your form even from afar. Moved by compassion, I entreat you to appear where eyes may notice around six and a half on the old clock."

Master Gennai sharply looked up at Denbei’s face.

“It seems we’ve finally got a lead.”

Today marked the opening day at Ichimura-za.
Of course, the actors would have already entered the theater quarters.

“Now then, let’s charge straight in. ...This may very well be it—this may very well be it!”

As they entered Fukiyachō, approaching from the opposite direction with his shaven head glinting was Ippyou—a jester residing in Asakusa Kayachō.
Upon catching sight of Master Gennai, he came running over and suddenly began flailing both hands wildly,

“Well, well! If it isn’t the Great Master!”
“Oh my, what a sensation! An absolute sensation!”
“The Sakaimachi theater’s in such an uproar it might burst apart!”
“I rushed straight there and watched the middle act—truly the utmost pinnacle of admiration and respect...”

“『Right and left they swirl—amber dust and magnet’s needle』... Now amber dust and magnet’s needle—excellent!”
“Such phrases could never emerge save from a scientist like the Great Master.”
“Your literary genius leaves one utterly choked with tears of admiration—behold the living proof!”

[He] lowered his shaven head heavily.

Master Gennai stamped his feet impatiently,

"That’s all well and good… That’s all well and good, Mr. Ippyou, but things have taken an unexpected turn."
"When we launched it, you went to great lengths to help, but things have turned into this absurd predicament—I’m at my wit’s end."
"I can’t say it too loudly, but all the girls who wear that comb meet strange ends."

"Master, you mustn’t cause a panic."

"No—this is the truth.
"In connection with that, I’m now heading to Hamamuraya’s backstage—please do come along with me."

Ippyou's eyes glinted with calculated intent,
"Has something happened at Hamamuraya?"
"We haven't reached that point yet."
"At present, we've only got the barest hint of a lead."

“Very well then. I don’t know what this is about, but I’ll come along. People lump actors and womenizers together, but that Rokō bastard’s colder than a winter stream. If push comes to shove, I’ve got a thing or two to say myself.”

When Hiraga Gennai took the lead from the stage door toward the theater manager's seat, Segawa Kikunojō sat beside the manager in his Keisei Hangaku costume, awaiting his entrance.

Adopted by the First Rokō at age five and taking the name Hamamuraya Segawa Kikunojō, he succeeded as the Second Generation in Hōreki 6, rising to the highest rank of Jōjōkichi; excelling in regional arts and stagecraft, he became celebrated in song as "the unparalleled beauty of all ages"—this delicate young onnagata who gathered the adoration of Edo's women and children like morning dew.

Master Gennai was generally an unpretentious man, but in situations like this, he became all the more shamelessly bold.

Holding the translucent stationery in hand, he smoothly approached Rokō,

“Mr. Rokō, I apologize for the suddenness, but this letter was undoubtedly written by you.”

Rokō said, “What could this be?” while extending his perfectly painted white hand to receive it. Upon taking a single glance, his eyes—pitiful to behold—drained of all color,

“...Yes, indeed. This is undoubtedly something this humble one wrote—but how did it come into Your Excellency’s possession...?”

Denbei stepped in from the side,

“Hey, Mr. Hamamuraya, this letter was definitely written by you, right?”

Rokō hung his head, his shoulders quivering uncontrollably,
"Yes, that is what this humble one just stated."

“Oh, I see.
“In that case, Hamamuraya, I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us to the guardhouse.”

Rokō, his arm seized by Denbei, writhed like a crumbling flower in anguished contortion,

“Please wait a moment!”

Rokō looked up at Denbei with a pitiful expression,

“Indeed, there is no doubt that this humble one wrote this letter—but that was already some ten years past.”
“…a letter from when this humble one first ascended as a young onnagata headliner performing in *Osome* and *Mugen no Kane*…”

Master Gennai was startled,
“Mr. Rokō, is that true?”

“Why would this humble one tell lies?”
“With the authorities present, even if this humble one were to attempt some evasive lie, it would ultimately prove futile.”
"I would never speak falsehoods."

Denbei, too, was left dumbfounded and released Rokō’s hand,

“If we’re talking about ten years ago, Otsuta would’ve been just nine or ten... Master, this has taken a strange turn.”

Master Gennai pressed a hand to his forehead,

"This won’t do."

Ippyou promptly interjected,

“Master, how about a verse?”

Master Gennai grimaced bitterly,

"I absolutely cannot entertain that right now. Well, Mr. Ippyou, what do you think? I don’t doubt Mr. Rokō’s account, but an old letter he supposedly wrote ten years ago was found in the writing box of a girl named Otsuta who was killed this morning. No matter how deep in drunken revelry Hamamuraya might be, there’s no reason he’d send love letters to some nine- or ten-year-old girl." Ippyou curled his lips in a strange manner,

“Can’t say for sure.”
“Hamamuraya’s methods are beyond fathoming, I tell ya.”

He shot a piercing glare toward Rokō,

“Mr. Rokō, I’ve been meaning to say this someday—even for a top-ranked onnagata performer, your methods strike me as rather too ruthless. You can be as heartless or philandering as you like, but if you don’t know when to stop, you’ll end up facing the consequences.”

Master Gennai stepped between them and entered,

“Hey, Mr. Ippyou, there’s no point in bringing that up now.”
“This is no time for that, so save your spiteful remarks for later.”

He turned his long face toward Rokō,

“I’ve roughly grasped the account, but merely stating ‘to someone ten years ago’ leaves us at an impasse. Might I request you elucidate the precise circumstances and recipient of this letter?”

Rokō immediately nodded,

"This is not something I can declare with pride, but since concealment might cause trouble, I shall disclose everything without reservation... However," he continued with a pained glance around the bustling space, "this place sees too much foot traffic—rather squalid for confidential matters—if you would kindly come to this humble one's chamber..."

Master Gennai gave a curt nod,

"I mean to impose little on your time—very well then."

As they were shown into the dressing room, Rokō gracefully offered green tea while,

“...That spring, as this humble one found himself with ample free time due to performing only the *Sarashi Sambasō* dance sequences, he attended various banquet engagements—partly to make up for his usual neglect of social obligations.”

“During that time, I had the honor of being recognized by a noble princess known as Lady Killer from the Madenokōji court family in Kyoto, and thereafter had the privilege of meeting her two or three times at establishments such as Tagawaya in front of Daionji Temple and Yaozen at Mitani Bridge.”

“...At that time she was twenty-eight—one might say bearing an air of maturity—with features of noble bearing and an exceedingly gentle demeanor, yet there remained something unapproachable about her presence, such that we never truly shared any unreserved exchanges.”

Rokō took a sip of tea, rotating the thread-patterned base of the thin teacup on his palm,

"...Then one morning after having met two or three times, the lady-in-waiting who always accompanied her arrived and wordlessly left behind a small lacquered box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. When I opened it, there lay something unexpected—a plump white little finger, severed at the base like a silkworm chrysalis. Prior to this, it wasn’t as though I had never received such ghastly tokens before, but unlike the morbid jokes of common town girls, the sender was a noble princess from an esteemed court family. When I considered that someone of Her Ladyship’s stature would show such... regard for an immature one like myself, feelings of joy and unworthiness seeped into my very being. This humble one became quite beside himself, sending messengers and letters to eagerly extend invitations—yet for reasons unknown, not only did she never appear, but no reply ever came. At that time, Her Ladyship Koroshi Hime resided in an estate beside Genjō Temple in Koishikawa—where the Kanegasu Inari Shrine stands—but given these circumstances, this humble one could no longer endure it; wishing to catch even a glimpse of her figure over the temple wall, I sent that letter you saw earlier... I wrote requesting she stand in a conspicuous place around six-thirty so I might glimpse her from afar while visiting the shrine. Her Ladyship Koroshi Hime’s estate had a high tower near Genjō Temple, so this humble one intended to behold her figure standing there."

The more they heard, the more astonishing the account became. After Master Gennai and Denbei exchanged knowing glances,

“Ah, I see clearly now. And then… what became of the one known as Lady Killer…”

"...After that, we were finally able to meet again—but according to what she told me then, her frequent visits to this humble one's residence had reached her father’s ears, and she found herself subjected to such severe confinement that she could no longer venture out."
“After her father returned to Kyoto, we became able to meet as before—but with prying eyes about, theater teahouses and refreshment stalls would no longer do. This humble one began sending letters specifying times and places, continuing our fleeting trysts in Suwa Shrine’s precincts at Nippori and by the Makomo Pond in Ōta Field.”

Rokō, as if cowering, suddenly turned pale around his forehead and slightly lowered his gaze,

"...Though I cannot explicitly state where or how, even during our most unreserved conversations, I would sometimes be struck by this bone-chilling terror—as I mentioned before—and there was an eeriness that pressed directly against my chest such that no matter how I tried not to dwell on it, I found myself powerless to resist."
"...She was indeed beautiful and graceful—Her Ladyship Koroshi Hime—but possessed such overwhelming jealousy that she would repeatedly declare: should any change of heart occur, neither you nor the other woman would be allowed to live."
"This was no lovers' quarrel—she would grow deathly pale and utter these curses like incantations, such that even this humble one grew terrified, his heart turning cold as if his ague had suddenly broken."
"My thrice-sent letters dwindled to but once; feigning illness and taking trips—this humble one contrived every means to keep his distance."
"At last, our bond was cleanly severed—yet still, on each January third marking our first meeting these past ten years, there arrives without fail some modest correspondence."

Master Gennai let out a sigh,

“This is remarkable tenacity... Now then—where might Her Ladyship Koroshi Hime currently reside?”

“According to the rumors this humble one has heard, after Her Ladyship’s father passed away, she was subjected to dire financial straits and now resides alone in a remote, overgrown area north of Edo.”

They reached their destination.

“Well? Have you figured it out?”

“Oh! Understood.”

“How did it go? Did Etorī confess?”

Denbei stood beneath the winter sky, steam rising from his brow,

“What confession? There wasn’t any damn confession! They just grabbed him sudden-like, no questions asked.”

“That was an occurrence unlike any in recent memory.”

“Let’s stop there.”
“When Master praises me, the aftermath ain’t no good.”

“Now, don’t cower like that. I do occasionally offer praise. Which direction is it?”

“Near Hagidera Temple in Tabata Village. A house with a large zelkova tree and small tiled fence surrounding it—they say you’ll know it the moment you arrive.”

“Did you ascertain the name?”

“You’re joking. What leather-flayer from Asakusa Field skinning dogs and cats for his bread would bother with letters?”

“Fair point. Then let us depart at once.”

“When you say ‘depart,’ where exactly—”

“You know perfectly well—to that house with the small tiled fence.”

“I’ll be coming too.”

Master Gennai, as was his custom, impatiently threw on his plum-wheel-patterned tea-brown haori bearing three family crests while,

“Don’t state the obvious—who else would go if not you?”

“This is all so sudden and out of the blue—ain’t got a clue what’s goin’ on...”

“I’ll explain on the way.
……Today is a clear day after the snowfall.
If we dawdle, another young woman might die.”

“Blimey! That’s a disaster!”

“Come on!”

Master Gennai walked off with large strides, his face uncharacteristically flushed and shoulders hunched forward in agitation.

Denbei trotted after him,

"So... You've got some solid lead then?"

"I've been overly cautious before, but this time, it's certain."

"Certain? Certain how?"

“I’ve solved the mystery… Absurd as it sounds, I overlooked something crucial and wasted effort.”
“Both the third and eighth days, and then also the sixteenth day—all were clear days with fine weather after snowfall.”
“By the way, the following days were all overcast.”

“Right, that’s how it was.”

“In other words, the three girls are being killed exclusively on days with clear weather after snowfall.”

“I know that much perfectly well.”

“Be quiet and listen—there’s more to this. By the way, all three girls were wearing combs with silver-edged beams that Master Gennai created. Hey Denbei... What do you think happens when sunlight hits such a comb square on?”

“First off, it’d flash bright-like.”

“Precisely, precisely.”

“Don’t you mock me!”

“This isn’t about mockery!
That’s precisely where everything hinges.
...In other words, it becomes a marker visible from afar... Tell me, Denbei—what descends from the sky without leaving footprints?”

“A bird, I suppose.”

Master Gennai clapped his hands with exaggerated flair,
“Well done!”

Denbei’s face stiffened with shock,

“So you’re saying…?”

Master Gennai nodded with an air of profound satisfaction,

“Exactly right… In my estimation, it’s either a hawk or an eagle. However, hawks likely lack sufficient strength for such force—it must be eagles.”

“Whoa there! I can think of birds well enough myself, but why would those birds only go after Gennai Combs? Master, are you saying it’s your patrons behind this?”

“Don’t spout nonsense. That’s because they’ve been conditioned that way… According to historical records, during what’s called the medieval period—Europe’s warring states era—they once used giant eagles in warfare. They called them ‘war eagles,’ used exclusively to harass the enemy. Now, as for the method used to condition them—they absolutely would not feed them unless their food was placed upon enemy helmets, armor, or such items. Especially as war drew near, they would withhold food from them for five to seven days before release. Consequently, upon spotting enemy helmets and armor, they would swoop down with ferocious intensity. In other words, there’s no doubt they were conditioned using that very same method.”

"But what about those wounds that look like they were made by a thin blade? If they're eagles or hawks, they'd surely sink their claws in deep—one or two claw injuries wouldn't do it."

"Dealing with ignorant fools is utterly exhausting. How can you call yourself an investigator if you can't grasp even that? Needless to say, they've bound all the talons and fastened razor blades to their tips. If you bind the talons, the eagles can't perch along the way, so after carrying out their attack, they've no choice but to return straight home. In short—a two-for-one solution."

“So those gouge-like marks…?”

“Those are traces left by contact with their short outer talons’ tips.”

“What’s the point of going through such an elaborate scheme?”

Master Gennai, nonplussed,

"No—a persistent man indeed.… The other day, Rokō was evasive in his wording, but my analysis suggests he found her annual decade-spanning letters tiresome and spoke heartless words to her."

"Ippyou had an inkling of those circumstances and whispered such things to me on his way back."

"...In other words, this is where it all comes together."

"When she had been pouring her heart into annual correspondence only to be dismissed so callously over such matters, she would naturally become unable to contain her emotions either way."

"All the more so for a princess of such profound passion—she wouldn’t let it end there."

When Rokō had met her ten years ago at twenty-eight or twenty-nine, he would now be around forty.

In stark contrast to her own decline, Rokō remained in perpetual youth.

That he commanded the adoration of every woman and child in Edo made it all the more galling.

It seemed she had begun this madness from irrational jealousy—having convinced herself that every young woman favoring Rokō was her sworn enemy.... And yet, to repurpose his old love letters so deftly, luring them outdoors in rapturous anticipation before employing eagles to slaughter them—this scheme struck one as terrifyingly brilliant in its excess.

"The name 'Lady Killer' truly befits her nature... I must admit even I find myself somewhat overwhelmed this time."

Having said that, he gazed at the sunlight,

"Oh—it's already four bells.
Walking won't get us there in time.
A palanquin! Fetch a palanquin!"

They boarded a palanquin at Tachō Crossing, proceeded north along Rokuamida Avenue for one chō, and emerged before Hagidera Temple encircled by cedar hedges.

From the boundary's edge stretched grassland, beyond which stood an old estate encircled by an earthen wall that had crumbled in horrifying collapse.

Around the great zelkova tree rising from within the wall, two or three snake gourds bearing crimson fruit twined upward, their vines swaying in the wind.

They returned the palanquin before Hagidera Temple and walked across the grassland to the gate.

The gate existed in name only.
The land had sunk from earthen decay, and the thick gatepost lay sprawled on the ground with its gate still attached.
On the small roof tiles, moss grew lushly verdant.
In summer, it must become a home for locusts and dragonflies; on that moss, dead leaves had fallen and piled up, rotting into a murky black.

Now, they had indeed come before the gate, but its dreadful state left them without even the will to push it open.

Master Gennai, his face shuddering slightly, was cautiously peering through the gap of the ill-fitting gate into the interior when suddenly—

"Ah!" he let out a piercing scream.
"Denbei, look there!"

When Denbei peered through, he saw amidst a vast, ruined garden where mugwort and manchurian wild rice clung in withered clusters—at its center stood a figure wearing a Rokō-style chignon, dressed in Rokō-brown kimono with Rokō-knotted obi. A life-sized scarecrow with a Gennai Comb inserted in its forelocks stood as effortlessly as a living human.

In the depths of the garden stood a shrine-style building with a closed-off structure, decayed and rotten. From deep within the ambiguous structure—neither fully mansion nor shrine, its roof ridge adorned with ornamental logs—came a delicate sound like the chime of a silver bell. Then, pushing up the latticework, there emerged a sickly and emaciated woman appearing around forty years of age.

Every part of her seemed whittled away—whether blood still flowed through this body was unclear—her waxen pallor glaringly pale, limbs emaciated like threads, yet her eyes alone blazed with a fierce, fiery light. Her tightly pursed lips were so vividly red they might have been tattooed with vermilion. This was no longer a human face—it was the visage of a beast peering out from the demon realm. Pulling together the sleeves of her chillingly garish blue-bamboo-colored kimono at her chest, she emerged to the corridor’s railing with an uncanny, levitating gait, then looked up at the zelkova treetop and blew a low whistle once, twice.

Instantly, a ferocious flapping sound echoed through the sky as an enormous eagle with wings spanning nearly three meters descended, its tail feathers rustling ominously, and mercilessly attacked the scarecrow's head.