Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The instructor’s name was Hanayoshi.
She was twenty-three and still unmarried.
By all accounts, she had begun her nagauta lessons around seven or eight years of age, and by the spring of her seventeenth year had already become a full natori—proof beyond doubt of her exceptional gifts.

Yet even so, had there not been Okaasan’s strict training—so severe it pained bystanders to witness—she could never have become an instructor at such a tender age.
To Okaasan’s mind, this must have been nothing but parental devotion—training driven by her desire to make Hanayoshi a true master. But idle tongues wagged cruelly: they whispered that only another’s child could endure such rigor, that no true mother could harden her heart enough to inflict such discipline on a child of her own womb.

The Instructor had a slim figure and was a very beautiful person. She had long eyelashes and almond-shaped eyes that one might describe as slightly severe, yet she remained an exceptionally charming and childlike individual. After all, as Okaasan’s sole reliant daughter, she was quite literally a “boxed-in daughter”—wherever she went, Okaasan accompanied her, and she was never allowed to walk alone. Perhaps due to such circumstances, even when she reached marriageable age, not a single romantic rumor arose about her, and she remained an exceedingly demure young woman.

As for students, I believe there were around twelve or thirteen.
Of these, three or four were men; the rest were all women and children.
In the early days when lessons began, it seems male students were refused.
This was because there was concern that if unsavory rumors were to arise between the Instructor—a young lady of marriageable age—and young male students, it would be problematic.
However, before anyone knew it—whether through being unable to refuse neighbors or due to existing acquaintances—there came to be times when even four or five male students were present.

The Instructor’s residence was located in Bandōhori—a three-story dwelling with a black-painted fence and a pine tree peering over it like something from a theater backdrop. Within the household, she lived with Okaasan alone—just the two of them—in perfect harmony. The practice room was on the third floor, and we students would wait in the front room downstairs until our turns came. Okaasan would always be seated before the long brazier in the inner room, engaging in casual conversation with those waiting their turn in the front room. She was dark-skinned and slender—to put it unkindly, one might say reminiscent of a mantis—but owing to her background in business, she was an exceptionally skilled conversationalist. We often remarked among ourselves how masterfully she adapted her speech: childlike with children, appropriately youthful with younger people—truly, she could converse with any student in precisely the right manner.

On that very day, the weather was oppressively damp and exceedingly gloomy.
I remember that when I went up for my lesson—still just past four o’clock—the inner room, usually bright, lay dimly lit, and Okaasan’s silhouette sitting in the tatami room was cast upon the white wall of an old storehouse like a lizard clinging there motionless, appearing eerily vivid yet unsettlingly distinct.
When I entered, Ken-san from the fabric shop sat alone.
I greeted Okaasan and Ken-san,

“Good day…”

I offered my greetings and took a seat beside Ken-san.
Ken-san,

“Welcome,”

he responded with a slight bow.
From the second floor came voices practicing alongside a shamisen.

*The traveler’s robes are hempen, the traveler’s robes are hempen—these dew-drenched sleeves must be wrung.*

It was *Kanjinchō*.
Mitsuko-san appeared to be the one practicing.
Ken-san had been softly singing along to the voice from above, but,

"I want to learn that part next. I’ve already finished my lesson today, but since Mitsuko-san is reviewing her piece, I’m listening in."

Ken-san said this. The closeness between Mitsuko-san and Ken-san had been secretly gossiped about even within the instructor’s household—whether they coordinated their arrival times or not, the two always came around the same hour, waited together for their lessons, and returned home in each other’s company. Even Okaasan—who ought to have been above such things at her age (are women truly this gossipy?)—had engaged in such talk with the younger students.

“That is so.”
“If I listen and remember, it truly proves useful when receiving lessons.”

When I responded in this manner, Okaasan—as if seizing an opportunity to speak—tapped her long pipe against the edge of the brazier with a sharp *pon*,

“It truly is.
“Even in matters of practice, there exists what they call ‘a bystander sees eight moves ahead,’ I suppose…”

She gave an obsequious laugh and relit her pipe.
I remember how that flame—like the light of fireflies, yet dull crimson—flickered out only to catch again, caught only to flicker out in the dim back room.

Mitsuko-san was singing in good form.
That challenging—

*From the beginning—if there were a Kanjinchō subscription list—he would take out a single scroll from within his traveling pack.*

She executed even that section with remarkable skill.
Yet she would frequently stray from the rhythm and start over.
At such moments, Ken-san would quietly raise his eyes to the ceiling, his demeanor growing restless.
This too must have stemmed from him envisioning the Instructor’s piercing gaze fixed upon Mitsuko-san’s panicked, sweat-dampened face during those faltering measures.
But despite this, Mitsuko-san—who had sung so flawlessly until then—

〝Lord, take your hand〟

At that part, she appeared to have completely faltered.
She had repeated the same section two or three times, but on the fourth attempt—whether because she had finally received the Instructor’s permission—she moved forward.
But at that moment, I found myself—

〝Lord…

—repeating Mitsuko-san’s sung phrase verbatim under my breath.

Two

Mitsuko-san, who had descended from the second floor, was sweating profusely—yet when she gave me a slight bow,

“Thank you very much.”

Mitsuko-san turned toward Okaasan and placed her hands upon the tatami mat.

“The Instructor must be in a bad mood. She has been complaining of a headache since morning, and now she does not respond even when spoken to.”

Okaasan said this in a small voice and shrugged her shoulders slightly with a childlike gesture.
Mitsuko-san,
“Yes.”

With a smile, she sat down before me and Ken-san.
And then,

“Welcome.”

Mitsuko-san offered a greeting.
Okaasan poured the boiling water from the iron kettle—which bubbled with a pleasant sound atop the brazier—into teacups and took them to the second floor.

Just at that moment, Kōkichirō of the confectionery shop entered.

This gentleman was the son of Takamatsu-ya, a venerable long-established confectionery shop in town, and had been working at the store to succeed his parents. When I looked, he held in his hand a furoshiki bundle bearing the shop’s crest.

“Mitsuko-san and Hiroko-san are both here, I see.”

After saying this to us, Kōkichirō-san turned toward Ken-san and—

“What disagreeable weather we’re having.”
“It makes your head feel heavy…”

Kôkichirô-san said.

“That’s quite true.”
“Moreover, today’s lesson ended unusually early as well.”

“Yes, actually I am on my way to deliver an order from the rice shop in the side street, but thinking it would be troublesome to stop by when it’s crowded on my return, I decided to come now.”
“However, have you all already finished?”

he turned toward us.
I—

“Mitsuko-san and Ken-san have finished.”
“I haven’t finished yet, but if you’re in a hurry… please don’t hesitate to go ahead.”

When I said this, Kōkichirō-san—
“I see.”
“Is it truly acceptable?”
“Then, though it is presumptuous of me, I shall take your place first.”

With that, he hurriedly rose from his seat.

At that moment, Okaasan came down from the second floor. Kōkichirō-san had been waiting at the foot of the staircase for Okaasan to descend, but when he saw her face, “Good day, Okaasan,” he called out. “I have a brief matter to attend to, so I asked Hiroko-san to switch places with me.” Then, Okaasan, as usual, affably said, “Is that so?” lowering her voice,

“Today, the Instructor’s mood seems quite poor, so please take care.”

With that, she smiled.

After Kōkichirō-san went upstairs, over five minutes passed without any voices from practice or the sound of the shamisen being heard.
I thought that the Instructor and Kōkichirō-san must be chatting about trivial matters, but even so—what could they be doing?—the absence of even the sound of shamisen tuning aroused a faint irritation within me.
But in the next moment, realizing this might be what they call jealousy, I involuntarily flushed red.

Ken-san and Mitsuko-san seemed not to notice me in such a state and were exchanging glances as if consulting about returning together or something of the sort.

It was at that moment.
Kôkichirô-san’s—
“Aah—!”

A scream—something like that—rang out,

“The Instructor… The Instructor…”

While gasping this, he came tumbling down the staircase.

“What—what’s happened?”

We said this in unison.
Okaasan, Ken-san, and Mitsuko-san were utterly startled, and all involuntarily rose to their feet.

“The Instructor… The Instructor…”

At the bottom of the staircase, Kōkichirō-san remained seated heavily, gasping as he kept uttering those words, his finger pointing upward toward the second floor.
Ken-san, Okaasan, and Mitsuko-san also turned pale and hurried upstairs to the second floor.

The Instructor had already passed away, her head slumped upon the practice desk.
However, at that time, there was still sufficient warmth remaining in her body, so it was clear that not much time had passed since her death.

III

The police conducted various investigations, but the second floor where the incident occurred could not be accessed from anywhere without passing through the room where we were seated and ascending the staircase. The front had fixed latticework, while the rear contained a laundry platform and glass shutters that were closed—always latched from the inside.
Therefore, it was concluded that the criminal could not have been an intruder from outside and must have been among those present at the Instructor’s residence at the time.

However, the people referred to here were:

(a) The fabric shop's Ken-san

(b) Mitsuko-san

(c) The Instructor’s mother

(d) The confectionery shop's Kōkichirō-san, and then,

(e) Me

The five people were (a) Ken-san from the fabric shop, (b) Mitsuko-san, (c) the Instructor’s mother, (d) Kōkichirō-san from the confectionery shop, and (e) myself. It was only natural that no suspicion fell upon (a) Ken-san and (e) myself.

Regarding Mitsuko-san, I have been informed that she stated the following during police questioning.

“I began receiving lessons in Kanjinchō four days prior.”
“As I was learning both singing and shamisen, following standard practice, I would first receive singing lessons from her, and once my singing improved, I was to begin shamisen lessons.”
“The day before that event, since I had fully completed my vocal practice, I was naturally supposed to begin shamisen lessons. However, feeling still somewhat unconfident, I requested to review the singing for one more day and asked that we start the shamisen the following day instead.”
“Though the Instructor seemed in poor spirits—complaining of a headache—she nevertheless agreed to practice the song with me that day as I had requested.”
“My performance during practice was just as everyone downstairs had heard—terribly inadequate.”
“After somehow being permitted to finish my lesson, I thanked the Instructor and fled downstairs as though escaping.”
“The Instructor responded to my words with a faint ‘Goodbye,’ but whether from severe headache or other cause, she remained slumped over the practice desk.”

Following Mitsuko-san, the Instructor’s mother underwent questioning; the statement she made at the police station was as follows, as I have been informed.

“Why on earth should I be subjected to such suspicions?”
“As you have stated, she is not my own biological child.”
“However, from the age of three until twenty-three, I raised her with my own hands—she is no different from my own child.”
“Why would there be any reason for me to harm her?”
“As you have stated, I do have a biological child.”
“They are three years older than that girl—twenty-six this year.”
“It is true that I bore this child before marrying into that household—and that I have been secretly meeting them these past two or three years—”
“Should my daughter die, a considerable sum would come to me—and in such an event, it is as you say that my biological child and I could live together without constraint.”
“But however much one may speak of a ‘biological child’—between one left in others’ care for over twenty years and another raised from infancy without even childbirth pains—which do you suppose is truly more dear?”
“How could I—oh, how absurd—merely contemplating such an act makes my flesh creep.”

"The lesson order was Ken-san from the fabric shop, Mitsuko-san, then Kōkichirō-san from the confectionery shop."
"There is no discrepancy in this."
"Mitsuko-san had been reviewing the Kanjinchō lyrics."
"When her lesson ended, she came downstairs immediately."
"No, there was no sound whatsoever."
"When Mitsuko-san descended, I immediately drew tea and carried it upstairs."
"...Are you inquiring about the state of affairs at that moment?"
"My daughter lay facedown upon the practice desk."
"As she had complained of a headache since morning and seemed unwell, I said 'I'll leave the tea here,' placed it by the zabuton cushion, then returned downstairs."
"Do you mean to ask why I felt no suspicion despite receiving no reply?"
"You put it most reasonably, but during lessons I made every effort to avoid speech."
"Moreover, on previous occasions when she persevered through headaches during instruction, she would often rest thus between students."
"In such instances, I took care not to address her—and if I did speak without response, let matters lie."
"That girl was dutiful and served me well enough, though there were times she gave no answer."
"Yet believing her exhausted from managing students' tempers all day long—this being why—I refrained from reproach even then."

“...Are you asking whether there was anything unusual about the room’s condition?”
“There was nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever.”
“The front lattice door is only taken off during deep cleanings—no one could possibly enter or exit through it.”
“As for the rear, glass doors lead to the drying platform outside, but they’re always kept locked.”
“...Are you inquiring who I believe killed her?”
“That is something I cannot possibly conjecture.”
“After all, Mitsuko-san finished her lesson and came straight downstairs, while Kōkichirō-san from the confectionery shop—who went up as if taking my place—spent over five minutes between ascending and returning. Yet throughout that time, there wasn’t a single sound.”

IV

Following Okaasan, Kōkichirō-san from the confectionery shop underwent questioning; in response to the police’s interrogation, he is said to have answered as follows.

“I went upstairs and said, ‘Good day,’ but there was no response, and the Instructor was lying face down on the practice desk.”
“I had also heard about it downstairs and, thinking that she must have a headache, quietly sat down in front of the practice desk and waited for her to raise her face.”
“I wondered if it would be improper to speak up, so I refrained for a while out of consideration, but as it grew too long, I called out, ‘Are you suffering from a headache?’”
“Even so, there was no response.”
"It was at that moment that I was first struck by an ominous premonition."
“(Instructor…)” I uttered, peering at her profile...”

“As you have stated, since I am the one who discovered the corpse, it is only natural that I would be under suspicion.”
“However, I have no reason whatsoever to kill the Instructor.”
“To suggest that this crime was committed out of rejected affection from someone harboring feelings for the Instructor—that is an excessively far-fetched conjecture, if I may say so.”
“As you have stated, I did once invite the Instructor to a play at the Kabukiza Theatre.”
“I did not explicitly state whether it would be just the two of us or if I was inviting everyone, but the tone of my words may have given the impression that I intended for us to go quietly together, just the two of us.”
“‘If we go alone together, people will talk.’”

...the Instructor said with a smile.
I did not answer and returned a similar smile in kind.
"The Instructor must have related such talk to Okaasan as well, and I believe those words you heard stemmed from having heard such matters."
"However, I did not say such a thing because I harbored feelings for the Instructor."
"Therefore, even when I was refused at that time, as far as I was concerned, it was neither a saddening matter nor something that provoked anger."

With this, the initial round of interrogations for the suspects had concluded, but it seemed the police initially viewed all three individuals with equal suspicion.

That is to say:

Mitsuko-san, as the last person to have seen the victim alive,

Kōkichirō-san from the confectionery shop, as the discoverer of the victim’s corpse, and—

Okaasan was cited as being the sole person who stood to benefit from the victim’s death—or so they claimed.
However, suspicions against Mitsuko-san and Okaasan were soon entirely cleared.
The reason lay in the murder method: manual strangulation performed barehanded by pressing both thumbs against the victim’s throat while wrapping four fingers around her neck—a feat deemed beyond physical capabilities of women like Mitsuko-san or Okaasan. Furthermore, measurements between thumb impressions on her throat and fingernail marks on her nape (likely from middle and index fingers) conclusively proved a male perpetrator.
Thus while Okaasan and Mitsuko-san were exonerated simultaneously came conviction that Kōkichirō-san—the very discoverer of her corpse—must unquestionably be guilty.
Yet Kōkichirō-san adamantly maintained his innocence.

At the time when I met with him,

“Hiroko-san.”
“Even if everyone says otherwise, you alone will believe that I am not the culprit, won’t you?”

...he said.
I found Kōkichirō-san so pitiable that tears overflowed unbidden.
"Yes, I do believe you..."

That's what I said.
Then, lowering my voice,

“Kōkichirō-san, please don’t worry. I will surely find the culprit and prove it to you,” I said.

Then, Kōkichirō-san,

“Wh… Hiro-chan…?”

He involuntarily exclaimed.

“Yes, I have something that comes to mind.”

I declared firmly.

V

When I said such things, it might have seemed rather presumptuous, but I supposed there might be some among you all who knew nothing about *nagauta*—that classical form of Japanese music. For the reference of such individuals, I wanted to briefly discuss this music imbued with a purely Japanese aesthetic. In the encyclopedia I had at hand, under the entry for "*nagauta*," the following was written.

“(Nagauta) Developed as theater music for Edo kabuki.”
While its founder remains unclear, there is no doubt that Kamigata-uta—used by shamisen musicians from the Kineya family who migrated from Kamigata to Edo during the Jōkyō and Genroku eras to accompany kabuki—gradually transformed into an Edo-style form and laid its foundation.
"...the appellation 'Edo nagauta' was first clearly listed in kabuki playbills in the first year of Hōei (1704)."

However, this referred to *nagauta* as theater music, but what we practiced—even when lyrics and melodies were entirely identical—was nonetheless a completely independent form of *nagauta* as home music.
In the encyclopedia too, regarding this theater-independent *nagauta*, there existed the following supplemental note.

“(Nagauta as Home Music) In August of Meiji 35 (1902), the ‘Nagauta Research Society’ was established.”
“Its aim was research into nagauta independent from theaters—nagauta as music to be listened to, unbound by plays, dance dramas, or other performances—and since its founding, they have held over five hundred performances, spreading appreciation for nagauta widely across all social classes and households.”

Having undergone such a process, today it has thus become a purely domestic music form, just like jiuta, utazawa, and hautа.
However, though I say this, it would seem there were considerable difficulties that arose before it came to be popularized as it is today.
The first of these was that while some nagauta pieces were indeed sung very beautifully, there appear to have been quite a number of passages that were not.
For example, even in *Ise Ondo*, there exists such a passage.

〝When the flowing spring’s hues and fragrance are cherished, bustling flowers take their cue—a fleeting glimpse there where affection flows through young hearts untethered; ties loosened above and below, even steady hands falter Yoi yoi yoi yoi yon ya sa sore he〞

〝In this bountiful reign we meet—a treasure I lack! Not a drop of precious dew spilled; beneath bamboo leaves’ guileless shade, layers of unfulfilled vows’ proof—dawn’s plump lips offer moonflowers to one alone, devotion unshaken Yoi yoi yoi yoi yon ya sa sore he〞

Moreover, whether they were mistakes by lyricists or errors made by the songbook publishers during reprinting that were passed down to posterity as they were, there are times when the meaning of the songs becomes unintelligible or downright nonsensical.
To give an example—at the time of that murder incident, when Mitsuko-san was receiving her final lesson from the Instructor and singing Kanjinchō at that very moment—that very passage:

*〽Lord, take your hand…*

Yet there was something distinctly odd about it.

As you may be aware, this *nagauta* serves as an accompaniment piece for *Kanjinchō* from the Kabuki Jūhachiban repertoire—composed, they say, when the play premiered at Kawarazaki-za on March 5th of Tenpō 11 (1840). Allow me to outline its plot.

Lord Yoshitsune, having fallen into discord with Lord Yoritomo, proceeds to Mutsu accompanied by Benkei and the Four Heavenly Kings—Kamei, Ise, Suruga, and Hitachibō.
The group disguises themselves as yamabushi.
However, these matters are heard in Kamakura.
For this reason, even at the checkpoints, the yamabushi are subjected to particularly rigorous scrutiny.
Togashi Saemon watches Yoshitsune and his party with suspicious eyes.
However, Benkei calmly composes himself and states that they are mountain ascetics on a fundraising mission for Nanto’s Tōdai-ji Temple.
The barrier guard presses them: “If you are indeed such monks, you should have Kanjinchō in your possession.”
Yoshitsune and his retainers are thrown into disarray by these unexpected words，but Benkei，with quick-witted resourcefulness，takes out a scroll from his pack，names it Kanjinchō，and begins reading it aloud in a resounding voice.
With this，Togashi Saemon’s suspicions are cleared，and permission is granted for them to pass.
However，because Yoshitsune—disguised as a porter—closely resembles Lord Yoshitsune，the group is once again detained.
Benkei and members of the Four Heavenly Kings start in surprise.
“This is the end!” they think，placing hands on their swords and attempting to cut through the barrier.
Benkei restrains these impetuous people and presses toward Yoshitsune in his porter guise.

“Had the sun been high, we could have crossed all the way to Noto Province—yet burdened with but a single pack, lingering behind would surely rouse suspicion among men.”

With a fearsome expression of anger, he grabbed the vajra staff and struck repeatedly.
Togashi Saemon, the barrier guard, had discerned that they were Yoshitsune and his retainers, yet moved by Benkei’s loyalty, he secretly shed tears. With suspicions cleared—“Now, pass through”—he allowed the entire group to proceed.

Yoshitsune and his retainers, feeling as though they had escaped a viper’s maw, heaved a sigh of relief—but Benkei, though his stratagem had deceived the enemy, prostrated himself in apology, terrified by the karmic repercussions of having struck his lord.
Then Yoshitsune, taking Benkei’s hand, rejoiced: “It was precisely your quick thinking that allowed us to escape peril.”

VI

Now that I've recounted up to this point, you may understand why I previously took issue with the lyrics in *Kanjinchō*—

〝Lord, take your hand…〞

However, you will now understand there was good reason for my having said there was something quite strange about it.
Since it is Lord Yoshitsune whose hand is taken by Benkei, using "your hand" would naturally be incongruous.
Such errors too were corrected as nagauta developed into home music, alongside the aforementioned passages, and for a time songbooks would record both old lyrics and new ones side by side.
In other words, the three-part section of *Ayame Yukata*,

〝Blue blinds, river winds seep into skin—pillow-side sleeves damp with sweat; split sidelocks frayed, hairpins failing to tame grievances—comrades bound by devotion carve combs into arms, hair washed countless times in waters tinted by winds that blew… Ah, irises entwined〞

This was how it appeared.
In other words, they were arranged with the old phrases on the right side and the new ones on the left.
The aforementioned *Kanjinchō* also,

〝Lord, take your hand…〞

However, the phrase had been revised to "Lord, take that hand."

However, even if they were incorrect, these were "beautifully sung phrases," so for those long accustomed to them, there might still have been merits worth preserving—and thus, even after being revised in this manner, only a very few instructors taught the amended lyrics.
Even our Instructor, when teaching the previous *Ayame Yukata*,

〝…pillow-side damp with sweat… grievances unreached, comrades bound by devotion carve into arms〞

and had been teaching the old lyrics—even in *Kanjinchō*'s case—

*〝Lord, take your hand…〞*

the Instructor sang them thus.
However, on that day during practice, Mitsuko-san found this passage proved particularly problematic, requiring her to re-sing it twice—nay thrice—over.
Then upon her fourth attempt did she finally receive the Instructor’s permission to advance—yet ultimately,

〝Lord, take that hand…〞

She continued singing.
If that were the case, would the Instructor not have noticed this mistake?
The Instructor—who should have been listening closely after making Mitsuko-san repeat it three times—could she have kept playing the *shamisen* on the fourth attempt without noticing the incorrect lyrics? Had she been some unknown folk song instructor, perhaps—but this was a licensed master who, despite her youth, maintained notorious strictness in all artistic matters. Could such an instructor truly overlook such an egregious error?
That would never be possible.
If so—at that very moment Mitsuko-san was supposedly receiving instruction—how had she managed it!
Could she have been asleep?
No—utterly impossible.
Then perhaps... had she already been dead!
If Mitsuko-san had been practicing before the Instructor’s corpse, who could have played the *shamisen*?
Of course, there was no one else present besides Mitsuko-san.
Yet Mitsuko-san—who had just sung *Kanjinchō*—couldn’t possibly know its *shamisen* accompaniment she hadn’t yet been taught……

But then—
〝Lord, take your hand…〞

At the passage that reads

〝Lord, take that hand…〞

When I considered how it had been sung,
could it be that after devising the plan to murder the Instructor, Mitsuko-san had secretly studied both the Kanjinchō lyrics and shamisen under a second instructor beforehand?
If so, then with the corpse before her, she might have played the shamisen herself in place of the Instructor and—pretending to receive a lesson—sung alone…

However, the second instructor had coincidentally taught the revised phrases,

〝Lord, take that hand…〞

Since she had been instructed in this corrected version, Mitsuko-san deliberately repeated that passage two or three times—and in doing so, her ingrained habit surfaced, causing her to sing it as the revised lyrics and proceed onward without even realizing it—or so one might surmise.
However, even so—who could have killed the Instructor?
It must undoubtedly have been Mitsuko-san.
Yet given this was a murder method impossible to execute with a woman’s hands—would it not then be Kenkichi-san from the fabric shop, who had his lesson before Mitsuko-san and with whom she shared mutual understanding?
Would this not then be a crime jointly committed by both?

Though this was a crime executed under exceedingly meticulous planning and thorough preparation, might it not be that Mitsuko-san and Ken-san had considered the act of murder far too lightly?

If they could prove through some means that the Instructor had remained alive until they finished their lesson, they must have simplistically believed they would be absolutely safe.

From such circumstances, their plan had gone completely awry.

I occasionally regretted having made such unnecessary inquiries.
However, even so—when I considered that Mitsuko-san had acted solely for her brother who resented the Instructor and taken his own life; that Ken-san had acted solely for his beloved Mitsuko-san; and that I had acted solely to clear Kōkichirō-san’s false charge to whom I’d devoted everything—I came to think such things were but one example of karmic causality in this mortal world.

(*Monthly Detective*, May 1936)