Pathway to Japanese Literature

Since this wasn't the first time such a thing had occurred, I had assumed F was attending school as usual. But half a month later came a letter from the temple: after my departure, F had stopped going to school entirely and declared he wouldn't return no matter how much they urged him; troubled by this situation, they pressed me to come back at once. Then some time afterward, a Tokyo acquaintance sent me a postcard addressed through my younger brother's residence—"I hear your son has fallen into melancholia in Kamakura. Are you aware?"—though how such rumors could have circulated remained beyond my comprehension.

On February 16th, I departed Tokyo and made a round trip through the Tōhoku region by train, hoping to alleviate—if only slightly—my utterly exhausted and gloomy mood. Having visited my wife in my hometown to discuss tentative plans—such as establishing a household in the suburbs if F could enroll in a Tokyo middle school—I returned on the 23rd and, upon seeing those letters and postcards, sent Mr. Ide—a humanities exam student lodging on my younger brother’s second floor—to Kamakura on the 24th. “That boy is hopeless.” “Just bring F here.” “If he won’t listen, you can slap him...” I instructed Mr. Ide.

That night, Mr. Ide—who had stayed at the temple—took F out under the promise of showing him Asakusa motion pictures, thinking that if he could just drag him as far as Tokyo, things might work out, since F kept insisting he absolutely refused to go home for fear of being scolded. But in the end, having failed to show him the pictures, he found himself abandoned by F at Shinbashi Station, returning alone in a daze. So, growing even angrier, I sent Mr. Ide back again the next day, but feeling uneasy, I said to my younger brother who had returned from work in the evening, “Since Mr. Ide still doesn’t seem up to it, why don’t you go and bring him here?” “He’s hopelessly stubborn.” “He knows full well what he’s doing yet persists in this laziness—it’ll become a habit…” I urged, pressing him to go. Before long, Mr. Ide returned alone again, saying, “No matter what I say, he just keeps insisting he absolutely refuses…” Then, after night fell, F came with Osei—the twenty-three-year-old daughter of S-ya who took care of his meals and all his needs—wearing a frightened expression. The younger brother, who had missed him, returned late on the last train.

Thus, F had to be scolded quite severely. The next day it snowed, and I had a fever that kept me bedridden. “Someone like you should just become an apprentice!” I barked. After seeing a newspaper advertisement, I even thought of having Mr. Ide take F outside—but my younger brother’s wife and the elderly father who had come to stay since last year persuaded me to reconsider. Of course, this talk of making him an apprentice was merely an empty threat. That afternoon, F returned to the temple with Mr. Ide. Mr. Ide would study during the day and help F with his delayed schoolwork in the evenings.

After that, I remained tied to Tokyo—since financial arrangements couldn’t be made—and on March 14th, after a month and a half, I coaxed my elderly father out of my younger brother’s place and returned to the temple with him. My elderly father, with his disabled legs, spent his days listlessly in the two-mat room by the entranceway—hunched over the brazier next to the crib of the newborn baby born to my younger brothers at year’s end—reading newspapers all day long. Despite his extreme reluctance, I practically dragged him out by the hand and took him along.

The elderly father had a higher alcohol tolerance than I did. Finding pleasure in the temple's quiet tatami room, he drank with me from morning onward over two nights. On the afternoon of the 16th—running somewhat late—he departed in high spirits while being tended to by Mr. Ide in his drunken state, declaring he would visit Enoshima for the first time before returning home. That day I specifically made F skip school to accompany him. The three ate grilled turban shells in miso and rice bowls at a teashop near Enoshima pier, then went to Fujisawa. Though only F parted ways at Ofuna Station to transfer trains, when they returned to the temple around ten-thirty, I thought it rather late but didn't dwell on it. On the 17th, having done his preparatory studies at the usual time, he came back around seven.

On the evening of the 18th, I stayed up waiting until past two o’clock, but F never returned. Turning over thoughts about how late he had been on the evening of the 16th and other matters in my mind, I became miserably convinced that F must have fallen in with delinquents during my prolonged absence—a suspicion that clouded my heart with anguish. Apprentice and delinquent—these very suggestions were exploited by F until the end to haunt me. The previous evening, not long after F had slipped into his futon in the adjacent room—knowing full well he remained awake—I deliberately spoke loud enough for him to hear as I drank sake and told Osei about his flawed character. I particularly condemned how he had recently gone to Tokyo under Mr. Ide’s supervision, been treated to motion pictures in Asakusa and meals out, only to ditch Mr. Ide and return alone from Shinbashi Station. F likely believed this incident remained hidden from me. There he lay listening in his futon—and it wounded him deeply. When I later reflected on it, that night’s exchange seemed to have planted the seed of what followed. Though newspapers later printed claims like “After leaving school, he entered a motion picture theater and feared reprimand for returning home late”—this was entirely mistaken.

In any case, when F and I were left alone together, he was utterly terrified. Though he had been scolded severely in Tokyo, we hadn’t been alone then. On the 16th when the elderly father had been brought back, on the evening of the 17th—though I typically did all the berating—somehow things felt different that night, and on the morning of the 18th when he came to greet me at my bedside as usual with “I’m off now,” our gazes failed to meet as they normally would. F had sensed this too. And so that day he returned on time as well, but couldn’t bring himself to enter immediately—he stood outside the closed storm shutters on the damp veranda, peering inside for some time. As time passed, I opened the shutters to wash my hands at the basin. Though I thought F must have noticed me there, I failed to spot him and closed them again. Convinced I remained angry about the previous night’s affair, he lingered outside for two hours before slipping into the storage room. Around five the next morning—without dinner or breakfast—he quietly left for school again…

The 19th was a Sunday. However, since preparatory students were not supposed to take Sundays off either—and fearing the worst—the temple’s elderly caretaker borrowed the phone in the lower main hall to call the school. The homeroom teacher came on the line and replied that F was studying there as usual. So I promptly had Osei go fetch him. Where had he stayed last night? Where had he eaten?—As I thought this, only the miserable image of delinquent youth became associated in my mind.

The elementary school in Yuigahama was about two kilometers away. Unable to endure sitting still in my room any longer, I paced back and forth atop the high stone steps before the temple. Due to Sunday’s weather, the street below the stone steps was bustling with pilgrims visiting the temple. It had been about a year and a half since I brought F from our hometown, but lately—gradually—the nervous strain from this unnatural life of just the two of us, father and son, had become unbearable for both. F had contracted severe pleuritis from the influenza that struck in the spring of the year before last and narrowly escaped death, then continued treatment through summer vacation before being brought out from the mountains of Ōshū in October and made to attend Yuigahama Elementary School starting in November—due to these circumstances, both his academic progress and health had severely deteriorated. Two winters of elementary school life by the coast—the temple on the humid mountain being for him merely a place to sleep—had considerably strengthened his body. His lagging schoolwork seemed to be gradually catching up. However, his disposition had grown increasingly gloomy and neurotic, requiring caution from various angles. There was no mistaking that this living situation was harmful. I too had realized this and had considered several times returning to my wife in our hometown. The last attempt had been in November of last year, when I specifically summoned my younger brother from Tokyo and even had him haul out F’s luggage, but it clashed with the elderly father arriving after closing up our hometown house, rendering that effort futile too. And now the graduation ceremony loomed mere days away.

I was waiting on the stone steps for them to return. A neighborhood boy came running up the stone steps.

“Uncle! Right now—Osei brought F all the way here, but when they got to the gate, F ran off again! So Osei says please come right away...” “I see… Thank you,” I said, but couldn’t muster the will to rush out immediately. Just how far will you push this, you damned brat?… I seethed inwardly. “Then—could you tell Osei not to worry and go on back? You’re truly hopeless…” I told the boy, then retreated into the house with a leaden heart.

Osei returned gasping for breath. “How did it go?”

“Well, it turns out he did come back to that storage shed last night and slept there after all.” “On his way back from school, he’d say he got into a fight with other children and hurt his face—so he couldn’t come home because Father would scold him—then again, he’d claim he didn’t return because Father was angry about him seeing motion pictures with Mr. Ide… All the while insisting ‘I don’t want to go home! I don’t want to!’—I practically had to drag him here by force…” Osei explained haltingly.

“What about his meals?”

“He hasn’t eaten since last night or this morning either.” “The lunch box was empty too.” “Then when it gets dark he’ll probably come back again.” “He’s acting that way because he’s feeling cocky—just leave him be.” “Hopeless brat.”

That evening, with the wariness of someone restraining a sleeping bird, I searched at intervals—the storage shed, beneath the eaves, around the gate of Kenchoji Temple below with lantern in hand—but even when night deepened, not a shadow remained to be seen.

“Then he must have gone back to those delinquents after all. Perhaps even his story about sleeping in the storage shed last night was a lie,” I thought, sinking into despondency. “Hmm… Is that so?” “Could he really have been taken in by those delinquents?” “But F-chan doesn’t seem like that sort of person…”

“Well, that might be the case.” “He might have skipped school because of those delinquents, or if not that—since the timing didn’t align with when he saw me off that night—maybe something happened on his way back that evening.” “In any case, this doesn’t seem trivial. Can you call my brother’s place?” "...Since F has disappeared, gather some money and come early tomorrow,’ I said, having my brother called out from a liquor store near his Tokyo residence and borrowing the main hall’s phone to give instructions to Osei."

The next morning around nine o'clock, after my younger brother had arrived, we decided to go check at the school anyway.

“I think he’s probably in these mountains—hiding somewhere like a cave, I suppose. After all, he hasn’t eaten, and nights get cold. By now he must be too weak to move. Since time’s passing anyway, once we check around town, I’ll promptly search from Hansōbō Mountain onward.” “He’s not in town…” said the Younger Brother as he walked. “Or perhaps—since yesterday he apparently went down to the lower area—he might’ve intended to walk even to your place. Given he knows the route to Yokohama from taking the shared taxi back and forth this January, he could’ve aimed for Tokyo and staggered off.”

“I suppose so. In that case, first we’ll search the mountains. If we don’t find him, I’ll walk all the way to Tokyo if I have to—if he’s collapsed along the way, asking the police would likely tell us…” said my younger brother, resolved to walk to Tokyo alone if necessary.

At the school, we met with F’s young homeroom teacher, who reported there had been no notable changes in F’s recent behavior. They summoned a student sharing F’s desk to the classroom corridor and had him questioned about whether F had mentioned attending motion pictures lately, but the student denied hearing any such talk. "The day before yesterday and yesterday morning were just like always—he joked around and played," said the student with guileless eyes. The teacher produced the gradebook for our inspection. His grades appeared to hold a seven-point average. Conduct was marked A.

“Whenever he came to school, he studied diligently,” said the teacher sympathetically. “His grades had been improving slightly each semester. Though I’m afraid there was nothing particularly outstanding about him...” “I’d thought mine was worse,” I reflected. Perhaps ashamed of sharing this belief himself, he hadn’t shown me his report card these past few semesters. It seemed he’d convinced himself he could never pass Tokyo middle school’s entrance exams—with the days steadily approaching, this too must have pained him considerably, though being generally a quiet boy after all...

“Now, while most students have one or two particularly close friends they’re especially intimate with, it seems Mr. F didn’t have any special companions he was particularly close to.”

I found myself resonating with F's lonely state of mind. The unfulfilled heart of that solitary boy must have been snatched up like a sparrow by delinquent temptations. The pressure of entrance exams—if he failed to enroll, his mother and sisters couldn't come to Tokyo—this warped sense of responsibility?... And he himself knew he couldn't pass Tokyo's middle school entrance exams. I had been unduly partial toward F. I was denying my own existence. Having resigned myself to my limited lifespan—precisely because of this—the hopes I'd placed on him had grown excessive. This differed fundamentally from the affection I held for my wife and daughters. Toward them, I'd never felt anything resembling sacrificial devotion. Only toward F could I sustain such feelings. They had lived as dependents at my wife's family home for years. Yet only F represented something surpassing myself. But there was something profoundly unnatural in how my emotions functioned this way. To him, I must have been nothing but a harsh, unforgiving, terrifying father. His aspiration to become an apprentice constituted both rebellion against me and a smokescreen for his own denied inadequacies. Yet the outcome manifested wholly through delinquent behavior—before long joining gangs of wayward youths, gradually deteriorating... or so claimed certain newspapers with their "et cetera"—though one could scarcely fault their descriptions given how thoroughly he'd honed his talent for mischief.

“Ah, right, right,” said the teacher as if suddenly remembering when we were about to leave. “Just moments ago, a man who said he was a pharmacist from Zushi came by. He mentioned that Mr. F had visited yesterday wanting to become an apprentice and wished to discuss his academic performance and character. I told him everything was satisfactory on our side, but he said he might call at your residence as well—did you not meet him? He should have left his card...” With this, the teacher went to fetch the business card from the faculty room and showed it to us.

“I see.” “Then we must have missed each other somehow—I truly don’t understand. I have no recollection of such a matter at all.” “Does this mean he was really caught by some delinquent in Zushi after all?” “He couldn’t have gone to such a place alone… He’s never once been to Zushi before…” I said, but by then, what I had dismissed as an improbable premonition about delinquents now felt like unshakable facts—a dizzying sensation washed over me.

We borrowed the business card and went outside. The younger brother’s resolve to search the mountains had also come to nothing. He too, no longer shackled by the same dark associations as I, did not go. “What a mess we’re in…” he too sighed.

“Anyway, let’s go to Zushi. Whether he’s at that pharmacy or not—it’d be good if he’s there—but whatever happens, we mustn’t be too late.” As we walked beneath the railway underpass toward the station while having this conversation, we encountered Osei hurrying toward us from the opposite direction. Osei was gasping for breath.

“I was going to have the fortune-teller at Hachiman-mae look into things after you all left, you see. So I stopped by the fortune-teller’s and then popped into the barbershop for a bit.” “Then the barber’s wife said she definitely saw F-chan this morning holding the hand of a child going to the kindergarten of the neighborhood watch shop and passing in front of the barber’s.” “Since she didn’t know anything about that, she found it strange wondering what had happened to F-chan…”

“So he’s still there, then?”

“He must be there.” “But if I were to rush in and he were to escape again, that would be trouble, so I asked the barber’s wife to go quietly around back to the watch shop and have the watch shop’s wife keep him from escaping by explaining things, then came looking for you all.” “Then you go make sure that brat doesn’t escape—drag him over to the barber’s and keep him there, will you? I’ll check Zushi first since I don’t know what’s happening there.” “Still, we mustn’t carelessly let him escape again.” “Since it’s not just that brat’s own cleverness at work here, we can’t let our guard down.”

I said this to my younger brother, parted from them, bought a return ticket to Zushi, and caught the train. That barbershop belonged to relatives of Osei’s family—when we first sent F to school, we had asked them to take him in temporarily—so its staff knew us well. Still, since the pharmacist from Zushi had indeed visited the school that morning, I felt certain the barber’s wife must have been mistaken about spotting F. As for that watch shop—F had gone there countless times to pester them about repairs; when my glasses broke once, I made him take my old prescription from a Tokyo eye doctor and wait there to buy cheap replacements; moreover, we passed its front daily on our way to the neighborhood bathhouse. The barbershop stood less than ten shops away. That F could be hiding in such familiar territory seemed unimaginable. Zushi still felt like the more plausible location. Whether his abductors had brought him back after losing patience, forced him into worse crimes, or whether F himself had begged them to make him an apprentice rather than return to me—in any case, this scheme exceeded his own cunning. Even his story about sleeping in the storage shed now rang false. If this all stemmed from some irreparable humiliation he suffered that night—humiliation rooted in my own disgrace—then he too deserved pity. Memories of my own sexual awakening at his age—twelve years and eight months—flooded back unbidden.

Shortly after the train departed, a passing shower—capricious as summer—came pouring down with a sudden rush. At that time too, I still had a persistent fever of about thirty-seven point two or three degrees. Moving my body was strictly forbidden. The unpleasant tingling sensation across my insteps and palms—those harbingers of rising fever—needled at me as I sat on the stool, further unsettling my nerves. When I reached Zushi, the rain had ceased. The pharmacy stood less than a chō from the station—not even a two-minute walk. It was a neat little shop displaying measurement tools and cosmetics in its front window. There sat the young mistress of the shop at the entrance, her hair arranged in a traditional topknot.

“Excuse me for asking—about a boy around fourteen who apparently came here yesterday or so—might he still be here? In truth, I’ve come from Kamakura Elementary School regarding this matter…” I said, presenting the pharmacy’s business card while carefully watching her expression to prevent any concealment as I began speaking. “Ah, I see,” “You’ve come about that child… Well, we did see such a child yesterday, but actually, under these circumstances, he returned straight to Kamakura…”

According to the mistress of the shop, F—still dressed in his school uniform—had suddenly come to visit and asked to be taken in as an apprentice, but the owner, stating he had business in Kamakura the day after tomorrow and would visit both the school and parents then before deciding on taking him in, told him to return home for now, gave him train fare back to Kamakura, and there was not the slightest ambiguity in her account.

“He said he’d walked here from Kamakura, that he and his father were living at such-and-such temple, and since his father was too ill to send him to higher school, he wanted to become an apprentice. He even said his father had mentioned this line of work. The boy didn’t seem ill-mannered, and truth be told, we’d been wanting an apprentice ourselves, so we told him we’d take him in. But when we sent him back, he looked utterly dejected—walking off toward the station in such a listless way that my husband ran after him and gave him train fare. That’s why what was meant for tomorrow became today’s trip to Kamakura. He must’ve stopped by the school… and likely your place too, I suppose? Well, that’s how it was, anyway…” The mistress of the shop widened her eyes with a mix of surprise and curiosity.

“So, I wonder—at that time, didn’t you happen to see anything like a companion around there?”

“Well, I didn’t notice anything like that—I don’t believe I saw anything of the sort…” “Then how did you come to know you needed an apprentice here?” “Well, we thought perhaps he’d seen the ‘Apprentice Wanted’ sign posted here and walked in, or maybe he had connections with someone acquainted near Kamakura Station and made inquiries there first—that’s what we assumed anyway.”

“Even so, could he have done this alone…?” I wondered, sitting on the stool at the shopfront and surveying the narrow street lined with stores—considering whether an accomplice had stood nearby observing F’s movements and fled after seeing him successfully enter the pharmacy, or whether they had planned to have him carry out goods that night. If such a suspicious person had been present, where might they have positioned themselves? However, seeing that he then headed back toward Kamakura, I surmised that when F failed and went to the station, that guy must have been waiting there.

The old woman from the back also came out and said, “Well, so that’s how it was, huh? You say you’re sick and lying in bed—why, you don’t look ill at all!” she said, eyeing my appearance. “If he had been staying at one of the inns around here—since there are some we know of—perhaps we could make inquiries if you’d like. It’s already about time for us to close up and head home… but since I came by bicycle,” the mistress of the shop kindly offered.

After leaving there, while waiting for the train time, I also went to the station police box and made a request. There was also a detective present, who said there was no trace of him having stayed at any inns. "If he comes back around here again, we'll apprehend him immediately." "As long as we're keeping watch here like this, there's no chance we'll let him slip away." "There are delinquent youths in Kamakura too, but... fourteen, right? At that age, they're bound to show up by the third or fourth day," the detective said.

“The watch shop matter?…” I pondered as I returned to Kamakura. Outside the ticket gate stood my younger brother in a navy high-collared uniform draped with a mantle and black fedora, his face somber. “Was F at the watch shop?” I asked immediately upon stepping out. “Well, you see…” my brother gasped. The watch shop venture too had failed. Around eleven o’clock when I’d sent the barber’s mistress there—two hours prior to that—F had already left. It mirrored his approach at the Zushi pharmacy. The previous night around eight, he’d suddenly appeared asking again to become an apprentice; they’d roasted mochi for him and let him stay. He’d clearly stated his younger brother’s Ushigome address in Tokyo where he claimed to be staying. I too had pretended to reside in Tokyo but gave a random false address. F declared he’d come from Tokyo seeking apprenticeship. Though the watch shop likely suspected some domestic trouble behind his running away, F’s coherent explanations—how he enjoyed tinkering with machinery and wanted to become a watchmaker—convinced them to have the owner’s brother, a technical officer at the Navy Ministry, visit my brother after work to finalize arrangements. F swept the storefront before breakfast and accompanied the watchmaker’s child to buy flowers from a nearby florist—the moment when the barber’s wife spotted him. Soon after, F announced he’d return to Tokyo for proper consultation with his uncle before recommencing, then shook off the owner’s brother who urged waiting until his Tokyo return, setting off aimlessly. The owner returning from errands hadn’t yet noticed F taking the watch then chased him by bicycle later, catching up at Gokurakuji-mae where F tried heading toward Gokurakuji slope. When advised to take the train back if bound for Tokyo, F produced a commuter pass declaring “With this I’ll visit Enoshima first,” boarding the tram from Hase—so went the account. …The barber’s mistress had brought back this story from the watch shop.

We turned back to the barbershop once more, with Osei present, and listened again to the mistress’s account—but now we were completely at a loss. “After all, did that guy come to take him away?” “He didn’t take anything out, did he?” “…At the watch shop—you didn’t mention anything like that there, did you?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t say anything like that…” replied the mistress of the shop in a clear tone.

“In any case, there’s nothing else to do but rely on the police.” “He’s utterly hopeless…” We were utterly at a loss and disheartened, just about to leave the barbershop when Osei’s sister-in-law from S-ya burst in, gasping for breath as if charging headlong into the room. “Oh, perfect timing! Just now there was a call from the Yamanochi substation to Kenchoji Temple—apparently F was caught by an officer trying to sell a watch at a shop in Koshigoe. They’re holding him at the substation and said to come retrieve him. Since you were all out, I answered instead. The Yamanochi officer said you should stop by the main station first before heading straight to Koshigoe… Well, it’s just as well you’re all here.” “When they mentioned it was in town, I thought if I stopped by here to ask, I might learn something… so I really rushed over,” the sister-in-law said, exhaling deeply.

“I see… Thank you very much,” I said with a sigh of relief, though even just the concern we had caused the S-ya family since the night before last struck me as immense. We hurriedly went outside and had walked about half a block toward the police station when Osei called out and came chasing after us.

“...Mr. K, do you have your watch?” she asked in a hurried tone. “My watch?… I have it… Should have it… Why?” I flusteredly replied to her sudden question—or had I somehow forgotten it? Feeling as though I had said as much, I hurriedly pulled out the watch from my obi and showed it. “I see. If that’s the case… but they say F-chan was trying to sell it again, claiming it was Father’s watch…” Osei cast a careful gaze at my face but hesitated as she said this.

“Ah, right…,” I finally realized, “but the watch shop said nothing was stolen. That’s exactly why it’s even worse." "We had no way of knowing whose watch it was." “In any case, we’ll go to the police…” With these words, we parted from her. Looking back later, our failure to return to the watch shop and investigate then and there—despite Osei’s warning—was a major oversight. After we left the barbershop, a discussion arose among the mistress, my sister-in-law, Osei, and the others—after all, since F had stayed at the watch shop last night… anyone could assume it must have been there. So they had Osei chase after us to warn us, but at that time my nerves were thrown into disarray by the invisible shadow of delinquent youths, and since no theft had been reported at the watch shop, I figured that as long as we apprehended F himself, such matters could be dealt with later. If we had turned back then and realized that F had taken them from the watch shop, we could have made him confess at the Koshigoe substation—thereby preventing him from inventing those delinquent youth fabrications—and perhaps resolved the incident without letting it escalate to such an extent. But due to a careless oversight at that time—our nerves had gone slack upon hearing F had been apprehended—we never went to investigate. By the time I visited, we had already been cast into an irredeemably wretched position.

The watch shop hadn’t noticed that the items had been taken out until the detective brought them back for inspection—so they claimed. I wanted to believe the owner’s words. When F was sweeping the storefront in the morning, the front door remained closed, leaving the shop dimly lit. At that moment, F stole two items from among the twenty or so non-functioning, damaged pieces of machinery placed atop the shop’s glass case: a small nickel stand with one side gold-plated and a nickel wristwatch. According to the craftsmen there later, the two together were worth about ten yen. However, since F had selected them under the belief they were gold watches, a certain newspaper had written a headline—"Novelist's Son Steals Gold Watch"—which was psychologically accurate in its phrasing. However, once again, while F was walking toward Gokurakuji-zaka, he stopped by the Hase watch shop and asked them to buy the two [watches] for fifty sen, but was refused. Then it seems he also tried to sell them at a metalworking shop in front of Gokurakuji—the owner, who had chased after F by bicycle upon seeing him leave there, reportedly watched as F boarded the tram from Hase. This is a parent’s grumbling, but—the fact that up until then, F’s taking [the watches] out had not been discovered by the owner was not born from any base desire to shield my own child’s crime, yet proved terribly unfortunate for F.……

At the police station, a veteran officer with a burly frame and ruddy complexion phoned the Koshigoe substation to say the child’s parent would soon come retrieve him. I recounted everything since two nights prior. “It seems he stayed last night at that watch shop near Hachimangu Shrine, again begging them to take him on as an apprentice. We checked there just now too—no signs of theft. Given this, we’ll need to thoroughly trace where that watch came from on Koshigoe’s end as well. But procedurally speaking, we’ll drag that brat here too—make sure you grill him properly and give him a proper talking-to when…” Having assumed Koshigoe fell under Fujisawa Police’s jurisdiction, I’d reasoned that even if released there, cases involving delinquents like this ultimately required Kamakura Police’s handling—hence my statement.

“Well, that depends on the procedural circumstances at the time.” “In any case, once things are settled over there, I’ll stop by briefly on my way back.”

“Understood,” I replied. “In fact, we were instructed by the Yamanochi substation to stop here first on our way...” Reassured by the police officer’s competent demeanor, I urged my brother—who had been sitting on the bench outside the entrance—to board the Fujisawa-bound train from the nearby station, already crowded with sightseers in peak season. It had been merely five days since F rode this same train to accompany his grandfather, and now we brothers found ourselves taking it again to retrieve him—though what state of mind he might have been in during his journey three hours prior, I could not fathom. We paid no attention to Shichirigahama’s scenic views, sitting instead in heavy silence.

"If he’d been found even in the mountains, that would’ve been better..." "...If they made him sell that watch, what were they planning next?" "Were they going to give him travel money and send him off to you? Or have him wander around here while he still had cash?" "Well... I suppose if they’ve got such ideas, he must be roaming about while there’s still some money left." "But still—delinquents who’d make F-chan peddle watches like that can’t be much of a threat..."

“I suppose I was a bit too careless this time.” “I was away for a bit too long…”

“Well, at least it’s not like they found a corpse or anything… We’ll just have to resign ourselves,” my younger brother said in a consoling tone.

When we alighted before Ryukoji Temple, the police substation stood immediately nearby—a tidy little building on a modest elevation to the right, overlooking the thoroughfare. Upon stating our purpose, the young wife emerged and received us cordially: "His Highness is presently attending worship services, hence [the officer] has stepped out accordingly, but he shall return directly. Please..."

It was a cramped reception room with a round table and three or four simple chairs. F sat on a bench beneath the glass window in an adjacent room of similar appearance, still wearing his overcoat with his school bag slung over his shoulder. I thought F might burst into tears upon seeing us, but there was no sign of it—his face was flushed crimson, rigid, and he showed no trace of fear.

“As for the watch shop—he went there saying he was going to Tokyo but had lost his money, so could they please buy Father’s watch—but well, he’s still just a child. So the watch shop ended up notifying the substation down the hill, and…” said the wife.

“I must apologize for causing such unexpected trouble. But thanks to your help in apprehending him, we can have him properly interrogated here. While he hasn’t shown signs of kleptomania thus far, he does tell lies—and regarding that watch, since it isn’t mine, if he didn’t steal it from the Kamakura watch shop, he must have either stolen it elsewhere or received it from someone—though receiving it would be strange, making me wonder if some evil influence has taken hold—in any case, I want you to thoroughly impress upon him that lies won’t work here……”

“Oh no, it was merely a child’s momentary lapse…” replied the wife with practiced diplomacy.

“Show me that watch,” I said to F, whereupon he pulled out a gold-plated one from his cloak pocket.

“Where did you get this watch?” “Got it…” “You got it…? …From who?”

“From a boy named Akiyama…” “From a boy named Akiyama…? Where’s that kid from? Why’d he give it to you?” “He told me to go sell it…” “He told you to sell it—so did that boy come all the way to Koshigoe with you?” “Hmm…” “What happened to that child?” “I don’t know…” “You say you don’t know—where’s this kid from? You must know where he lives.” “He comes from behind Hachimangu, but I don’t know where he lives.” “Was that child alone?”

“Another one named Kei-chan…”

“Where’s that kid from?” “He’s a kid who comes from around Myouhonji Temple, but I don’t know where he lives.” “What are they, both of them? Students?” “They’re kids who go to Zushi Middle School…” “What did he tell you to make you come sell this watch?” “Just go sell this watch…” “…‘If you don’t do as I say, I’ll slap you,’ he said.”

“Who?” “A boy named Akiyama…” “Is this Akiyama’s watch?” “Hmm…” “Was it also those two who took you to the pharmacy in Zushi?” “Hmm…” “Why on earth did they take you along?” “You—become an apprentice… If you don’t do what I say, I’ll slap you…” “Did those two also take you to the watch shop near Hachimangu?”

“Hmm…” “And did they come calling for you again this morning?” “Hmm…” “When exactly did you first meet those two?” “When I was coming back from seeing Grandfather off…” “Where was that?” “Behind Hachimangu Shrine…” “Then what happened?” “You—become my underling…” “…‘If you don’t do like I say, I’ll slap you,’ he said.” “What did you say back? And you didn’t get slapped even once?”

“I wasn’t slapped then.” “I just kept walking silently…” “That night before last when you didn’t come home—were you slapped?” “Were you dragged into some soba shop that night and forced to eat noodles?” “You told Osei-chan you slept in the storeroom that night—that’s a lie, isn’t it?” “The part about sleeping in the storeroom isn’t a lie.” “I didn’t go to any soba shop.” “So then—you told Osei-chan that on your way home from school that day you got into a fight with friends and hurt your face and didn’t come home because I would scold you—but that was a lie and you were actually slapped by those Akiyama guys?”

“...” “Did you sleep alone in the storeroom…”

“I slept alone…” In the time before the police officer returned, F and I had repeated such exchanges, but I couldn’t grasp how much was true or false. Still, I felt certain this wasn’t something he’d done alone. Now that they’d apprehended him without life-threatening injuries or visible exhaustion, I could let other matters slide—but whether he’d suffered violence... The thought left me utterly wretched. That single point I wanted clarified beyond doubt—to ensure those bastards received full punishment. Yet when I considered how he’d sunk to this state unnoticed, his figure sprawled on a bench in such a place—that stubbornly vacant gaze making him seem wretchedly ugly, almost feral like some small wild creature—I couldn’t help but think of my own cursed existence.

“When the officer comes back soon, you’re going to tell everything clearly and honestly.” “Even if you lie, it’s no use.” “It’s different here compared to when you’re with me—lies won’t get through.” “So if you confess everything honestly, we’ll beg them to show mercy, but otherwise they’ll have to keep you here for days.” “Since we can’t clarify where that watch came from, there’s no other way.” “So listen—when the officer comes, no matter how hard it is, spit out everything honestly. If not, it’ll lead to something irreversible. Lies won’t work here.” “Understand?……” My younger brother and I alternated saying these things, then went back to our chairs in the reception room and smoked.

Before long, the police officer returned, and the three of us examined the contents of F’s school bag and lunchbox, but nothing particularly suspicious turned up. In the lunchbox he had taken out the day before yesterday and not used since, there were rice grains that had hardened and stuck to it. “Then we’ll step out for an hour or two.” “He’s quite a stubborn wretch, you see, and prone to lying—so feel free to beat him as much as necessary—I beg you to make him confess the truth.” “Since he may not tell the truth easily…”

We listened from the reception room as the police officer interrogated him, altering his tone to demand, "Hey brat! Where did you steal this watch?" But F kept repeating the same story he had told us, and since this was getting nowhere, we took our leave from the officer and stepped out into the heavy rain that had begun falling earlier, making our way down to the main street and entering a nearby soba shop. Since the wind had picked up and was blowing inside, we removed the shop curtain and closed the front door; facing each other across the low dining table in the dimly lit room—we who hadn’t eaten lunch—ordered soba and sake.

“Would it be bad if we go back reeking of booze? They’re probably timid souls, after all.” “That’s probably not the case. It’s probably fine.” “What do you suppose happened to that fellow who was with him? Did they run off after seeing F get hauled in, or are they still hanging around here, reluctant to part with the watch and waiting for him to be released any moment now?” “No—of course those bastards aren’t still hanging around here like idiots.”

“In any case, it must be those guys from Kamakura.” “They might even know my name,” he said, as images of seventeen- or eighteen-year-old delinquent middle schoolers began to take vivid shape in my mind. Drifting on this late March spring air, skipping school to wander aimlessly through these parts—it began to seem like the work of those without any real scheme. “Even so, what could be the reason they’d talk about locking up the kid?”

“Well, wouldn’t it be that F-chan himself said that because he found it hard to come home?” “You think so?…”

As dusk was falling, we returned to the police substation, and in the reception room were the same officer and chief from before, sitting on chairs smoking cigarettes. F was sitting on the bench in the next room just as before. “Thank you for your trouble.” “Well? Has he confessed by now?” I asked, but the two men only showed suspiciously sneering looks, their responses remaining evasive.

“Well now, I tried asking every which way, but he’s being quite obstinate...” said the police officer. “Then what about that watch from earlier—what became of that?” “Hmm... We still can’t seem to get a clear answer about that either...”

“Is that so? In that case, if possible, we’d like you to keep him here for as many days as it takes to clarify matters—though truthfully, we ourselves remain completely unable to grasp the full picture...” I had thought this area fell under Fujisawa Police Station’s jurisdiction and had therefore suggested we might return to Fujisawa, but it turned out to be within Kamakura’s precinct after all. “No—we’ve no space to keep him here any longer. In any case, since they’ll investigate properly at the main station eventually… You’ll need to go to the main station...” It was an attitude that said, “Since it’s no longer our responsibility here, take him away quickly.”

“In any case, this is quite a predicament.” “He’s a hopeless fellow.” “Since it’s just the two of us living together, I ended up not paying enough attention—but he really is mentally deficient after all.” “You see, he’s the child of a very early marriage, so it seems he simply lacks the brains—and that’s how we ended up like this……” Feeling both disappointed and tearfully amused by the two men’s standoffish attitude, I said. “No—far from being mentally deficient, he’s quite capable… really, quite the accomplished child… Why, for a fourteen-year-old, he’s remarkably steady…”

The police officer said this in a tone of utmost admiration, exchanging looks with the chief, but at the same time, they both fixed their gazes on me with terribly awkward smirks.—What a fool of a parent… That this was what those words had meant—I hadn’t been able to grasp it at the time.

While we were out—or perhaps even earlier, at the very moment F was apprehended—there could be no doubt that everything F had done had already been made clear via telephone from the main station. If only F had honestly confessed then. He had convinced himself he could keep deceiving them indefinitely—that stubborn, twisted childishness of his proved woefully inadequate. The fact that he’d fallen into the particular machinery of the police—had he been some city-bred youth of exam-taking age, he might have grasped such things—but for him, raised mostly in rural wildness, he’d had no capacity to comprehend any of it. The difference between police and parents—he likely couldn’t even conceive it as significant. Though admittedly, this must have been desperate for him—even we couldn’t ultimately sympathize with that obstinacy of his, that attitude bordering on arrogance—what a fool of a parent I was! ……Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to suspect F that deeply. Though the officers’ evasive manner troubled me, still half-doubting, I dragged F out into the now pitch-black night. After all, he was already a rat in the bag—I’d let things follow his claims and doggedly uncover his truth. With this resolve, and relieved he’d at least been caught safely, I thanked the officers and left the substation.

Since the train wasn't coming, we three left the village and walked to the coastal station. The rain had stopped, but the sky stayed dark, and the waves rang out loudly. Though I hadn't seen F since yesterday morning, walking side by side like this felt strangely like a reunion after years—yet this wasn't my usual F. He seemed still leashed by some invisible control, a child grown foreign who wasn't fully my own F anymore, and speaking felt like too much effort.

“What did the police officer say?”

“Kid—where’d you steal this watch from…?” “What did you say?” “A kid named Akiyama told me to sell it and come back…” “Is that all?” “Did they ask you anything else?” “They didn’t ask anything…” “Did they hit you?” “Uh-huh.”

“How many?” “One…” “You said that Akiyama followed you all the way to the Koshigoe watch shop—is that right?” “That’s not it—we came together as far as Shichirigahama, and he said he’d wait there…”

“Then was Kei-chan also with you?” “That’s not it… He said he’s waiting near Hase Station…”

“Isn’t that a lie? Once things have come this far, lying won’t help anything. Act like a man and tell the truth honestly. Isn’t that a lie?” “It’s not a lie…” My brother and I took turns pressing him, but F stubbornly clung to this version of events. “Then did that Akiyama kid also turn back from Shichirigahama to Hase?”

“Uh-huh.” “What did he say?” “You sell the watch and come back to Hase,” he said. “If you don’t come back, they’ll make you suffer a terrible fate……” The more we pressed him, the more confusion and frustration we felt. Following F’s instructions regardless, when we arrived at Hase Station, we separated from him at the train exit, went outside the ticket gate, positioned ourselves about sixty feet behind him, and let him wander around the area. F would head toward darker stretches of Kaigan-dori only to turn back across the tracks toward Daibutsu, zigzagging along rain-dampened paths in his fair-weather clogs. Clad in hakama trousers and a short hooded cloak with hunched posture like a cat’s arched back, he meandered ahead of us. He would slip into shadowed alleyways then reemerge into lit areas—this went on for over thirty minutes—though perhaps it was my imagination, but his pace seemed to gradually quicken.—Later I realized his legs must have begun trembling then, forcing that gait naturally—but at the time I thought nothing of it. Though telling myself this was his own doing—having eaten nothing since breakfast at Hachiman-mae’s watch shop while likely starving and thoroughly cowed by those delinquents’ threats—I pitied him, imagining his nerves fraying from fear of their vengeance should they catch him. Yet watching him drift ahead in silence with his hood pulled low over that short cloak, he seemed less my child than some ill-omened crow-spawn—a cursed boy bewitched by sinister forces.

We grew tired from walking. We couldn’t find any trace of such figures. “Didn’t any of you notice two student-looking men around here—about eighteen or nineteen, wearing bird-hunting caps and splashed-patterned kimonos—loitering about?” I asked the two or three young men standing before what might have been a crossing keeper’s or switchman’s hut near the station.

“Well… I didn’t notice, but what time was that about?” “I can’t say exactly what time it was, but he was supposed to be waiting around here…” “Well… I didn’t notice anything……” Since I’d been loitering around that area repeatedly since earlier, one of them spoke with a look suggesting he thought me—wearing an old-fashioned bird-hunting cap—to be a detective.

The three of us boarded the train again from there, got off at the station entrance, entered the soba shop right in front of the police station, and while my brother and I drank beer and served F a tempura rice bowl, we questioned F again about the same matters. But no matter how much we pressed him, F’s answers remained the same. “Is this really not a lie?” “Once it’s taken to the police, there’ll be nothing we can do anymore.” “No matter how stubborn you get—there are detectives here—your lies won’t hold up.” “As long as this stays unclear, they’ll detain you for days.” “If you tell the truth now, we can beg however needed to get them to forgive you—but if you keep lying at the police station, this won’t end with just minor trouble. Even I’ll be dragged through hell because of it. So tell me the truth now, please……” we pleaded desperately, our entreaties growing more persistent,

“It’s not a lie…” F insisted. “There’s nothing more we can do like this, I suppose,” we had no choice but to resign ourselves. Even if we could consider this merely a matter of the watch, the relationship with those delinquent youths was something beyond our control. I even asked the owner sitting at the counter, “Are there any middle school students around here named Akiyama or Kei-chan?” but he said he didn’t know. We left the soba shop, crossed the street, opened the door to the police station directly opposite, and entered—the three of us now standing before the police inspector. In addition to the daytime police officer, six or seven other officers were seated around the table. I had to explain everything about F—the entire course of events this time—to the police inspector there as well.

The police inspector was still young—a beardless man with full cheeks who maintained the composed demeanor expected of an officer. “……Under these circumstances, he insists he was told by those guys to go sell this watch and come back, and they say nothing was stolen from the watch shop where he stayed last night—so we can’t make heads or tails of it. You see, I’ve been away for an extended period this time, and apparently he skipped school during that stretch—maybe he got mixed up with such characters then? Though he claims it only happened very recently… At any rate, we’re completely baffled, so we’d like you to investigate this matter thoroughly on our behalf—you may detain him for however many days required……”

“Stayed at a watch shop… Which one was it?” “Apparently, it’s a watch shop called S right there in Hachiman-mae.” “S… That’s outrageous—letting a child stay there without permission… Have someone call an inn near the watch shop and tell S to come here immediately,” said the Police Inspector, whereupon one police officer went out saying he’d handle the call himself, but soon returned and— “They said S had gone to Zushi and wasn’t home—they’d send him over as soon as he returned.”

“I see…” The Police Inspector nodded. The gold-plated watch had been placed on the Police Inspector’s table the moment we arrived. “Now that you mention it,” I remarked, “it does seem like the sort of watch delinquent youths might carry.” However, according to the watch shop owner’s later account, that watch had apparently been sold to the shop by a police officer dispatched there that very night—the same officer who then casually picked it up from the table, recognized it as his own sale, and consequently visited the shop in person rather than making a call. This meant that even without any report from the watch shop by then, the police had already clearly established F’s theft. They had specifically allowed two more hours—perhaps intending to convey that once the owner arrived now, everything would come to light, so he should confess while he still could— But F refused. As for F—even when facing the owner’s imminent appearance—he likely meant to persist with his delinquent youth fabrication, which proved disastrous. And having gone that far without noticing it myself—I, that oblivious fool of a parent—had been utterly blinded by F’s insinuations about those delinquents.

Moreover, by that time, F hadn’t even produced the other watch. That too must have been discovered when they examined him in Koshigoe—whether he had torn a corner of his cloak’s hem or it had ripped naturally, he had hidden it there—that too must have been discovered. At the police station, everything had become clear. They might have harbored some professional suspicion that there could be a shred of basis to this "delinquent youth" story—but upon dragging the boy out and examining him with their so-called police intuition, they instantly recognized the entire fabrication as utterly childish. Of course, they had already extracted that information from the watch shop as well. In short, it had become necessary to investigate only F’s so-called degree of corruption, circumstances, and family situation. And all of those factors—intended to elicit the police officers’ sympathy—simply had too few points to their credit, I suppose.

“Zushi’s Kaisei?… That can’t be right… Then perhaps Kamakura Middle School?… They say they’ve got delinquent youths there too…” sneered the Police Inspector, watching F’s face as if trying to provoke a reaction. “Do you usually let him carry money around?” “It’s not as if I particularly let him carry any money around…” A police officer inspected F’s physique, checked the inside of his lower eyelids, and examined the two hook-shaped tears in the hakama,

“What happened here?” “When I slept in the storage room, I tore it on bamboo.” “So at that time, you were really alone, weren’t you?” “I was really all alone.”

And that police officer, “Even delinquent youths don’t do things like taking money or… whatever without some purpose,” he said with an ambiguous laugh, returning to his seat. “Even so—it seems you slept in the storage room two nights ago without eating dinner or breakfast and still went to school. Quite something to manage without eating anything…” said this morning’s police officer seated beside the Police Inspector.

"That does seem to be true. When he gets into one of his moods, he can go nearly a day without eating and still be fine, you see..." "Oh? So that's how it is...?" The police officer tilted his head and cast a meaningful glance my way before falling silent. "You shouldn't be too strict with him all the time. A child truly needs careful attention at this stage. Having him walk all the way back there alone after dark every day—that alone shows your utter lack of care."

The Police Inspector said to me in an admonishing tone. "It's not that I'm being particularly strict—it's just that he isn't very capable academically, which is why I made him do more rigorous preparatory studies. But then this time he skipped school while I was away, so I scolded him for that. Though normally I'm not that strict to begin with."

I said defensively.

"But even if he's incapable... whether he can enter middle school or not—that's not the real issue, is it?" "In any case, you shouldn't do things that provoke him too much..." he said in a reproving tone, fixing me with a penetrating stare from his single-lidded eyes.

It was well past ten o'clock, but the watch shop owner remained nowhere to be seen. From the confusion and agitation, I felt an asthma attack might seize me at any moment. F had stood rigid before the Police Inspector's table throughout, but with the interrogation having ceased, he now kept his face stubbornly bowed. "Well then, perhaps Uncle should take a turn questioning you... Come over here."

The Police Inspector said this, curled an inscrutable smile at the corner of his mouth, stood up, and led F toward the back.

So was this delinquent youth business actually true after all? Though it had only been about thirty minutes, for me it was a long, cruel stretch of silence.

The face of the Police Inspector, who had returned to his seat, was completely expressionless and drawn tight.

“So does that mean… the delinquent youth story is actually true after all?” I asked this way, but the Police Inspector merely cast an expressionless glance and did not answer. Then, pressing his palm to his forehead for a short while, he appeared to be deep in thought before picking up the glass pen beside him with an air of resolve and setting it to paper. Our side had already adopted an attitude of not even deigning to turn toward them. “So then, what kind of kimono does this Akiyama boy usually wear?”

“An ikat-patterned kimono…” “Is the ikat-patterned fabric cotton or silk?” “Cotton…” “What kind of pattern was it? Is it cross-shaped, or does it have a pattern like the one you’re wearing? Which is it?” “A smaller version of the pattern like the one I’m wearing…” “How much smaller?… About this size?…” “Hmm…” “What color was the haori cord?” “Tea-like…” “How thick was it?”

“Not too thick…” “The obi? “Cotton or silk?” “What color was it?”

“……” “Cotton or silk?… One like Father’s obi, or merino?” I interjected, but the Police Inspector shot me a look that said *unnecessary—*. “Merino…” “Color?” “………”

“Is it something like that?” the Police Inspector said, pointing toward the wall. “Something like that… but darker…” “Hmm… And what kind of geta is he wearing?” “Flat-soled hiyori ones for fair weather…” “What’s the thong made of—leather or cloth, huh?” “Cloth-like…” “What color?”

“It’s black…” “Are you certain it’s black, huh?” “Hmm…” “You’ve gotta speak properly. You mustn’t make mistakes…” I cautioned F in a supportive manner. “Are you certain it’s a black cloth thong, huh?” “Like velvet…” “Hmm… Like velvet…” The Police Inspector proceeded with the interrogation while occasionally drawing symbol-like lines in the corner of the paper. “Then what kind of hat?” “A bird-hunting cap…” “Does he always wear a bird-hunting cap?”

“Hmm…”

“What color?” “Greyish…” “Greyish… And does it have a checkered pattern or something?”

“It has…” “It has... And is there a badge on it?” “Hmm…”

“What kind of badge?” “Like crossed pens…”

“Like crossed pens… What about tabi? Does he always wear them or not…?” “He isn’t wearing them…” “Does he always go without tabi?” “He never wears them…” “What about his hair? Is it long and parted, or cut short?”

“It’s a bit long, but it isn’t parted…”

In this manner, they proceeded to meticulously examine each facial feature—skin color, bone structure, height, and so forth. The other one called Kei-chan also had generally similar clothing, but his physique and appearance were different. “So the one called Akiyama is thin with a long, dark face, right? And the one called Kei-chan is plump with a round face, right? And that one is fair-skinned, right? So that’s how it was, right?” “Hmm…”

“They’re both around eighteen years old—and how tall are they, both of them?” “Ordinary height…” “Ordinary how?”

“...About four feet eleven inches,” F said resolutely, his face turning bright red.

“Can you really state something like ‘about four feet eleven inches’ so precisely?” I couldn’t help interjecting again. And then I glanced at the police officer beside me, “Would someone around eighteen even have that kind of height?” I couldn’t help blurting out, “Well, I suppose that’s about right,” the police officer said indifferently.

“Did he have gold teeth or something?” the Police Inspector continued. “He didn’t…” F answered, but then in a manner suggesting he had remembered, “There weren’t any in front, but there were some further back,” he corrected. “Which one was it—the one called Akiyama or the one called Kei-chan?” “The one called Akiyama…”

Having come this far, I inadvertently sighed and said, “How could someone who describes things so clearly do something so foolish just from being threatened by those delinquent brats…” I muttered these words like a soliloquy, but feeling tears welling up, I glanced at the police officers’ faces—and in their eyes too, I sensed a momentary flash of something inscrutable and strange. When it came to parental emotions, even police officers were no different.

F’s interrogation was concluded roughly along these lines.

It remained unclear what he had confessed when taken into the back room, but F’s attitude during the interrogation left a rather poor impression. Pressed by the Police Inspector, he responded with noncommittal “Hmm, hmm”—it sounded both unbearably arrogant and yet also like words forced through teeth clenched in extreme pain. His face flushed crimson as he contorted his lips grotesquely, occasionally darting sidelong glances toward my face while his entire body trembled, repeating those “Hmm, hmm”s. I found myself wishing I could curse the fact that I hadn’t been made to stand in his place instead.

“So then, were those delinquent-looking figures with him after all?” “Well, we’ll need to investigate thoroughly…”

“So then—were there any signs of violence being inflicted…?” “We’ll investigate thoroughly first…” replied the Police Inspector with his characteristically evasive manner, his face betraying irritation. “The truth is, due to entrance examination requirements, I plan to send him to Tokyo immediately after this school’s certification ceremony concludes in two or three days—approximately how many days will it take to determine matters?” “Once the certification ceremony ends, would there be any problem with sending him to Tokyo?” “...as we can recall him from Tokyo at our convenience whenever needed.”

“Well…” The Police Inspector seemed to ponder for a moment. “Then we’ll keep him here for just one week.” “We should be able to figure it out soon enough.” “Actually, since the entrance exams begin on the 25th, I’ve already submitted the application for that as well…” Upon hearing “one week,” I said in a pleading manner, perplexed. “I see… Then, considering tomorrow is a holiday, and the day after—that leaves two days,” the Police Inspector mused, then declared resolutely.

“I see.” “Thank you very much.” “In that case, starting tomorrow, we too will drag this brat around and apprehend those scoundrels.” “Until those scoundrels are caught, we’ll keep this brat with us…” “Then go ahead and try that.” “We’ll leave this watch in your custody until we apprehend those scoundrels,” I said, though I felt confident I could catch them as early as tomorrow. Now that things had become this clear, I resolved that I could no longer rely solely on the police’s power.

“Even if we were to take custody… we haven’t completed those formalities yet.” “But since it would be improper for us to bring such delinquents’ belongings back home, please let the watch stay here…” “Well, there’s no point in us keeping it either, but…” The Police Inspector said with a wry smile as he pushed the watch aside.

“Then if you bring in those fellows he mentioned and confirm his story matches, might I humbly ask you to grant leniency for this brat’s punishment alone? Given that the certificate ceremony approaches and this could hinder his school admission, I earnestly beg you to show mercy regarding his punishment,” I pleaded in a supplicant’s tone, staring into the Police Inspector’s face—

“Ultimately, after discussing it with the Police Superintendent tomorrow, everything rests on his decision…” he said in the same indifferent tone. Stepping outside, we returned by automobile from the station front to the temple, utterly exhausted—and Mr. Ide had also come from Tokyo. “What you told the police wasn’t a lie, was it?” “If you’re lying, it’ll be disastrous—this has already become an official matter.” “But if it’s a lie—even now, if you’d just say it was a lie—I’d go apologize right away…” I pressed, though something still didn’t sit right with me.

“I’m not lying,” F said. “What did they ask you in the back with the Police Inspector?” “Things like whether I have a mother or not, and why we’re not together…” “Was that all?” “That’s right.” “Even so—how could someone who gives such proper answers before the Inspector do something so idiotic just from being threatened by those brats? Watch yourself!” I scolded him, though the fact this wasn’t solely F’s own scheming provided me some small consolation.

“My, my, could such people really exist?” Even the temple’s old women and Osei were astonished.

The following day was the Spring Kōreisai, and the weather shone clear and splendid. Cherry blossoms had begun blooming here and there in the temple grounds. The three of us planned to use F as decoy bait to flush out the delinquent brats. The scheme held some small interest. "Well then," I said with a laugh, "ill-fated though we are, shall I embark on this vendetta?" "Since my own creativity runs dry, F here has concocted this preposterous fiction," I remarked. We dressed F in yesterday's same clothes. "He can leave the satchel—the cloak will hide it," I declared, though I made him wear the keyhole-patterned hakama unchanged with weatherproof sandals. We each carried walking sticks while Mr. Ide hefted a thick bamboo pole. "Such impudence from delinquent brats!" "If we catch them, let's beat them senseless!" Mr. Ide proclaimed, flexing his burly arms. "But remember—scum like that likely carry blades," I cautioned. "Stay vigilant." Before police could apprehend them, we'd capture the youths ourselves—persuade them to repent through earnest dialogue, perhaps even join them in apologizing to authorities should circumstances permit. So I resolved.

“Well then, we’re off! Make sure you prepare a proper feast for tonight—we’ll need a victory celebration when we return!” I instructed Osei, and the four of us left the temple just past nine o’clock. With my younger brother at the lead, followed by F about twenty ken behind him and then myself and Mr. Ide another twenty ken further back walking side by side, we proceeded at a leisurely pace down the street in front of Kenchōji Temple toward town. Our mood felt incongruous with the radiant light of the spring day. We climbed the stone steps before Hachiman Shrine, prayed for success before the deity, descended the tall front steps, and in areas like near the Bugaku Hall and before the stone torii within the precincts—where F would be particularly noticeable—we had him loiter about while keeping a watchful distance. Then, walking along the street before Hachiman Shrine between cherry blossoms beginning to bloom on both sides, we went to the station, sat on a bench outside, and had F walk back and forth across the station square. With his head hung down, mechanically, as if neither us nor the surrounding bustle entered his vision, F paced back and forth with shuffling steps.

“What sort of state of mind makes him walk like that?” I said, recalling my impression from the previous night in Hase. “What state of mind? Well, he must be worrying about all kinds of things,” my brother said. “He’s probably scared of those thugs too—and if it actually comes to a confrontation, something might come out that exposes his own shortcomings.”

“In any case, it being a holiday made things inconvenient.” “If it weren’t for that, they’d definitely get caught lying in wait here to ambush us whether coming or going, but…”

“That’s right.” “So even the police have a general idea, but since today’s a holiday, they might’ve told them to wait another day.” “That’s probably how it is…”

As we were talking like this, my eyes suddenly caught on a man who had come from outside—a man of imposing build not wearing a hat but dressed in a coordinated Oshima or similar kimono with serge hakama, arms crossed in a haughty manner. Hm? I thought, but immediately realized it was the same police officer who had been on duty yesterday. His face was shaved to the point of being unrecognizable.

"That's last night's police officer." "What an imposing figure!" "When he carries himself like that, you'd hardly take him for an officer." "Today must be his day off—could he still be patrolling on our account?" I whispered to my younger brother as we watched the figure enter the waiting room. The officer soon departed. Though my bow had been clumsy, I became convinced our very act of walking about like this must have made a favorable impression. The police's sincerity felt deeply gratifying.

Taking over from my brother who was unfamiliar with Kamakura, I now led the way as we left the station after about an hour. Since Akiyama was said to always come from the direction of Myōhonji Temple, we inquired at shops in that area about anyone with the surname Akiyama, entered the temple grounds, and even asked a student around seventeen wearing a Zushi Middle School cap who was playing there—but we still found no leads. “Attaching badges to hunting caps is absolutely not permitted at school,” the student said. Then we emerged onto Ōmachi-dōri toward F’s school—since F had mentioned that those guys sometimes came around on Sundays to throw balls, we set up surveillance there for a while, but no such figures appeared. From the nearby station stop, we put F alone on a train to Hase and decided to board the next one ourselves. However, the following train was having some trouble and wouldn’t come for a long time, so we grew anxious that our decoy might be snatched away.

“Given what they’re like—probably being quite sharp—they might stay hidden and not show themselves for a while.” “That might be the case. They might have a proper hideout set up—they could be surprisingly professional ones after all. If they’ve staked out territory all the way to Zushi and Yokosuka and are constantly up to such things, it’s rather tricky,” my younger brother also said. “After all, carrying out a vendetta is no simple matter. People of old must have spent years searching around, but in any case, carrying out a vendetta is truly a grueling affair,” I said as I exchanged a bitter smile with my brother, but all three of us were already beginning to feel quite weary.

And once again, my own dark memories surfaced in my mind.

It was one of the first stains that had been reproached whenever recalled over many long years since my boyhood, yet since yesterday in Koshigoe it had been freshly reawakened, ceaselessly writhing in painful torment at the depths of my mind. When I was eight years old, our impoverished family moved to my mother's village and spent one winter living together at her parents' home. I had just entered the village school as a second-year elementary student when it happened. One day I forgot my textbook or something at school, went home once to retrieve it, and returned to school—but with upperclassmen still in lessons and nobody around, I noticed the many skates piled in the geta box by the exit. They were simple things—wooden platforms with basic metal runners attached. On impulse, I got the urge to snatch the most worn-out pair with straw straps among them. Hiding them under my haori, I brought them home, then pried off the metal blades against the foundation stone of our storehouse out back before throwing each straw sandal into the stream beside our house. After throwing them in, I became terrified that I'd done something terribly wrong and irreversible, and though just a child, felt intensely bewildered—but I hid the two metal blades I'd pried off under the eaves for a couple of days. Had I told Mother, she might have bought me proper ones—but being only eight years old, I was still too young for metal-bladed skates anyway, and unlike the village children who'd practiced since early childhood, I had no experience. Father fashioned me practice skates with bamboo runners instead, but feeling ashamed in my childish heart, I avoided practicing on public roads and instead packed down snow in a vacant lot behind our house. Yet another grievance festered within me: before our move to the village, I'd received a pair from my middle school-aged cousin, but these had disappeared during relocation—either lost in transit or given away by Mother after our arrival—leaving me bitterly resentful. Mother said she’d thrown them away because the metal had broken—or so she claimed—but regardless, I felt resentful. Such things may have contributed. At any rate, I kept them hidden under the eaves for two or three days like that. Whether I lacked the boldness to attach them to my own skate base and go out walking, or whether even as a child I exercised caution, I claimed to an older neighborhood child and my cousin that I had received them as gifts. After exchanging them for that child’s blades and wearing them for barely a day, it turned out by chance that what I had stolen also belonged to a nearby child—and this was exposed through the very person I had made the exchange with. Since the owner’s name was engraved on the back of the metal blades, there was no room left for denial. I was made to take a day off from school by my mother and subjected to a harsh interrogation, but I stubbornly insisted that I had received them from my cousin. When night fell, Mother lit a lamp before the household altar, filled a bowl with water, floated something called gomaki wood in it, and said she would make me drink it. “If it’s not a lie, nothing will happen. But if it is a lie, when you drink this, you’ll vomit blood from your throat and die instantly.” “Are you sure you want to stick with that?” “Now drink up…” As the bowl was thrust before me, I became utterly terrified, burst into tears, and begged for forgiveness. At that time, I was thoroughly chastened.

Yet nearly thirty years after that time, karmic retribution had come for F. I myself never attempted theft again, but when I found F at Koshigoe Police Substation yesterday and was shown the watch, I felt an eerie dread—had that same blood been passed down to him after all?

Eventually, the three of us boarded the train, but being made to recall such things made me grow increasingly melancholy, my resolute mood from that morning slipping away. Since the police had confiscated it and F had stated matters so clearly up to that point, I thought it could hardly be a lie—yet still I couldn't dispel this vague, opaque, tormenting sensation lingering somewhere.

“Just now, over there at the crossroads, a group of five or six guys who looked like delinquents were gathered talking—couldn’t those be them?” Mr. Ide said as the train passed through the coastal villa district, but feeling it too bothersome to turn back from Hase, we ended up entering the Great Buddha’s precincts regardless. On the stone benches placed here and there beside the Great Buddha, the three of us sat each in separate spots, still letting F wander around, but aside from sailors taking photographs in front of the Buddha, groups of four or five university students arriving, and tourists coming and going in constant rotation, no suspicious figures could be seen. The cherry blossoms deep in the temple grounds were barely beginning to bud, but beneath them a crowd of drunken revelers sang and danced. We had grown awkward even exchanging words and left after about an hour there, but this time as I led the way along Hase’s street while being showered in automobile dust, I was utterly exhausted both physically and mentally. In the vacant lot behind the station, a women's sumo tournament had begun, and from the high turret of the makeshift stalls, the steady pounding of drums could be heard since morning. In front of the stalls, several provocative billboards of women sumo wrestlers were displayed, vigorously calling out to customers, and though it seemed like just the sort of show that would appeal to delinquent youths, we lingered before it for a while, but ultimately couldn’t muster the courage to go inside. Perhaps on that evening of the 18th when F didn't return home, he had been tempted by these drum sounds on his way back from school. Since it wouldn't have been much of a detour, passing by the stalls might have made him feel like going inside and caused his delay—this seemed more plausible than him entering a movie theater. Yet even if I were to question F about this now, I felt it would be futile, and couldn't bring myself to ask. Then we went out to the station front and even tried asking four or five students wearing Zushi Middle School caps who were playing in the street, but still obtained no further leads.

It was already three o'clock. While we were eating a late lunch nearby, my younger brother and I drank beer, “After all, they’re not students or anything like that.” “They’re factory workers or something,” my younger brother said.

“That does seem to be the case. First off, there’s no way middle schoolers these days would go around in hunting caps and splashed-pattern kimonos. They say he carries a sturdy leather bag, but it’s probably just a lunchbox case. When they head over there, they likely change into blue work uniforms—that story about commuting to Zushi is a lie too. They must be factory workers from Taura or Yokosuka. Getting caught by those types—probably threatened to make you their errand boy or something for kicks—but F, you really got tangled up with some worthless lot, didn’t you! That’s how it is, right? That talk about middle school students was all lies, wasn’t it?” I said in this scornful tone, trying to provoke F, but—

“No—that’s not it! They weren’t factory workers or anything,” F denied, his face suddenly flushing red. I concluded he’d colored because we’d struck true by naming them as factory workers—his shame laid bare. That they might be mere laborers suggested violence could have been avoided—this thought surfaced too, though nothing had been proven. “Then what sort of books were in that bag?”

“What kind of books...” F stammered before trailing off, then deflected evasively, “Well... like the sort Father would read...” “The kind I read? Lies. They’re probably just storybooks or something. Even factory workers read those as their main fare,” I said, feeling my words ring hollow as I looked at F’s face. F remained silent. As evening approached, we left that place—my younger brother and F headed straight for the station, while Mr. Ide and I intended to make another round through Hachimae before stopping by the watch shop to inquire about developments. When we slid open the glass door of S Watch Shop, we found only the owner—an acquaintance of mine—inside repairing a pocket watch.

“I’m the father of the child from last night. I should have come to apologize much sooner, but I thought it best to wait until everything was fully investigated before properly expressing my regrets—though I ended up being quite rude in the delay…” I then explained the circumstances of F’s running away and how since morning we’d been walking around trying to track down those delinquents. “Haa, so that’s how it is…” The owner smirked faintly, his suspicious eyes boring into my face. “...Given those circumstances, we completely believed him too—he spoke so convincingly, you see. We thought there must be some family situation—different mother or whatnot—and that he’d come from Tokyo looking for an apprenticeship. That’s what the boy himself claimed, after all. So today I actually had my younger brother stop by your uncle’s place in Ushigome on his way back from the government office to settle matters—the boy insisted we contact his uncle too... Well, we’d fully trusted him, you understand.” His tone carried a hint of apology as he explained in detail everything that had happened since last night.

“And how did he describe me?” “Well, he did mention you and that you were in this line of work, but since the boy insisted everything should be discussed with his uncle, we...”

“What did he say about my address?” “He did mention something about Tokyo... but said it was no use consulting his father, so we should go to his uncle instead.” “I see…” I said, but it suddenly struck me that here too, just as with the Zushi pharmacy incident, he might have actually revealed the truth about me. The owner also mentioned F had remarked how this watch shop was among Kamakura’s more prosperous establishments—but such words seemed implausible coming from a child who had suddenly arrived from Tokyo. After all, there was F’s cap bearing his school emblem, his bag holding school-printed name cards, not to mention how he had commuted through this area daily for a year and a half, and had even been sent here on my errands multiple times. Judging him a Kamakura student should have been obvious from any number of clues. That they couldn’t make even that basic judgment—thinking him a complete drifter—and took him in was utterly beyond belief. F had likely pleaded with them by claiming either that I was abusing him or—as he told the Zushi pharmacy—that he needed to become an apprentice due to my illness and poverty. Half-excuse, half-defiance, he might have genuinely convinced himself of this narrative. Knowing direct appeals to me would fail, he probably requested they consult his uncle in Tokyo instead—this being how he might have framed his entreaties. The watch shop likely believed his story—choosing to first contact my younger brother in Tokyo rather than approaching me directly, intending to negotiate with me afterward to rescue F from his predicament... That might have been their plan. However, F fled before the owner’s brother returned from Tokyo—he must have anticipated that everything would be exposed upon the brother’s return. If the two watches he took off with had sold for fifty sen at the Hase watch shop, he probably would have used that as train fare to flee to my younger brother’s place in Tokyo. Or perhaps he continued his vagrancy while he still had the money and became more deeply involved—that remained unclear. Afterward, when the owner chased after him by bicycle and F emerged from the pawnshop he had gone to sell [the watches] a second time, I couldn’t guess what conversation passed between the owner and F—or perhaps,

“You’ve got the watches, don’t you? Leave them here!” When confronted by the owner like this, “No—one’s my father’s and the other’s mine! I didn’t steal them…” F might have bluffed this way. After all, this occurred on a public street against a child—even if he had disclosed my address or they assumed he’d come from Tokyo seeking apprenticeship—letting him stay without notifying me or the police remained an undeniable lapse. Considering these factors, the owner likely confirmed F boarding the train from Hase Station without confrontation, then promptly reported it to have police intercept him at Koshigoe. This was unquestionably the shrewdest method to prevent future complications.

“Well, it was already past eight o’clock, and he hadn’t eaten dinner either—we felt sorry about making him go all the way back to Tokyo. So we grilled some rice cakes in the back and let him eat...” The owner spoke with that same suspicious gaze, yet never broached the subject of the watches. When I had visited my younger brother’s house in Tokyo yesterday, a young man who appeared to be the owner’s brother entered from outside. He plopped down on the shop counter and listened silently while looking down at my profile—I was sitting on a round stool in the earthen-floored area talking with the owner—but though I never turned toward him, I remained piercingly aware of his cold, contemptuous expression.

“So that watch still isn’t ours, then? As for that watch—the truth is I’m in quite a predicament...” Naturally assuming the owner had already been summoned by the police and shown the watch by now, I asked with an unsettled feeling. “Well, as for that—it still belongs to us after all...” The owner said with a faint smile that showed his glinting gold teeth. “After all, did he steal it alone?”

“Well, I suppose so… Truth is, a detective came this morning. When he asked if I recognized this watch and I said I did, they nearly got away with covering it up! Then he told me to stamp the theft report here—so I pressed my seal and he took it away. Said something about today being a holiday so they’re off duty now…” “I see…” I said, but what floated in my mind was the image of the police officer in traditional clothing I had glimpsed at the station that morning. They hadn’t been searching for delinquents on our behalf at all—they’d simply finished handling the theft report, then casually showed up at the station… Was that how it went? ……And I felt pathetic. After my head flared up violently, with a deep, despairing sigh, I felt myself swaying toward collapse.

“When that brat went out, did you notice anyone coming to call for him?” “No particular signs of that.” “They say some kid came out from behind Hachimae—seventeen or eighteen, looked like a middle schooler or factory worker. Name was Kei-chan. You don’t know any child by that name?” “Don’t know…”

“Both when he came out of that pawnshop and when he boarded the train—was he alone?” “That’s correct.” “Whereabouts is that pawnshop you mentioned?” “It’s right near the K motion picture theater in front of Gokurakuji Station. Truth be told, I hadn’t noticed anything about the watches at that time either—I did send some craftsmen after him, but they came back muttering something rather unclear. So since I happened to have business in that area anyway, I ended up speeding over on my bicycle, so to speak…” The owner didn’t provide any clearer details beyond this.

Outside had grown dim. “So he stole them after all. All that talk about delinquents was lies. ...What a monstrous wretch!” I said to Mr. Ide waiting outside, feeling heat rise behind my eyelids as I heaved a deep sigh. With a dull thud, I felt myself plummeting into an abyss of endless darkness. Even if I could attribute this to an accidental mistake born of my own carelessness—a responsibility I should rightfully bear—the very essence of F, who had dragged us through his deceptions until the bitter end, filled me with loathing. I felt contempt for my own flesh and blood. These emotions now turned inward, cruelly gnawing through my chest.

“Why on earth did F-san do such a thing?! Where was the need for such actions?!” Behind Mr. Ide’s thick nearsighted glasses, I caught a glimmer of tears. In my heart, I thanked him.

Walking along Hachimae’s back street toward the station side by side with Mr. Ide—my feet feeling as though they weren’t touching the ground—I suddenly encountered Kencho-ji Temple’s elderly priest approaching from the dim twilight ahead with robust strides. I halted, straightened my posture, and bowed while gazing into the priest’s eyes, which held a deep gleam that showed no sign of fading.

“I’ve been remiss in visiting…” I said, offering my usual apology for neglecting solitary visits.

“Are you going somewhere? Are you going somewhere?” the Kencho-ji Temple Priest asked, taking two or three steps forward as he spoke. “I’ve had nothing but unfortunate matters... One trouble after another...” I replied, feeling apologetic in every conceivable sense. “Let us visit that pawnshop as well. After all, there’s no telling what might have transpired there. He’s not one to be handled through ordinary means—you must investigate exhaustively before confronting him.” Having said this, we made our way toward the police station to board the train when everything since the incident came rushing back all at once,

“What a dreadful boy!… Do you understand this too, Mr. Ide…? Isn’t this like he’s slipped a noose around his parents’ necks to drag us about?… What an absolute fool!” I cried out, striking the deserted path beneath the pine tree with all my strength until the sturdy ebony-like walking stick snapped cleanly at its midpoint. Clutching the broken cane, I boarded the train and alighted at Hase to visit that pawnshop. A young man who appeared to be the owner emerged with bewildered eyes, claiming he’d seen no such child before shutting me out. Fearing F might notice and flee again, I raced alone by rickshaw from Hase Street. Yet F showed no particular change—still listless but dutifully playing decoy at the waiting room entrance. On a bench near the doorway sat my younger brother, his face clouded with gloom.

“Just as I thought—no use. Those delinquents and everything else… all lies.” “It was entirely his doing.” “At the police station, they’d already made the watch shop file a theft report this morning…” I sat down beside my younger brother and spoke in a low voice. “So that’s really how it was after all…” My younger brother twisted his lips into a pained expression. “F, come here,” I called out, making him sit between us, though I no longer had the energy to be angry. “You… it was all lies.” “The police had known everything from the start.” “That you told such lies in front of the Inspector last night—that was the worst part.” “……You also went to that pawnshop near Hase’s motion picture theater to sell them, didn’t you?” F remained silent and nodded.

After waiting for Mr. Ide to arrive, the three of us—F, my younger brother, and I—went to the police station. Though it wasn’t our assigned officer, we deeply apologized before the department head, requested that a message be passed to the officer in charge, and left. But even on our way back to the temple, we had no energy left to speak to each other. The foolish actions of this entire day—actions that didn’t even rise to comedy—lay wretchedly exposed in retrospect. That night until past two o'clock, F endured even harsher reprimands from me. While it seemed too neat that his police statement had been pure fabrication—indeed, I suspected some grain of truth might still lurk beneath—if one were to accept that nothing else remained for him to feel guilty about, even without this confession springing from his own volition, then as a child he ought to have shown in his demeanor at least half-measure of that relieved brightness that comes with being largely forgiven. No such signs appeared. Even when pressed by his uncle to bow his head, it felt forced. Though my tears flowed uncontrollably, he—normally such a crybaby—remained dry-eyed. Just as during his interrogation before the Inspector earlier that day, his slightly mismatched eyes glared bloodshot and fierce, his lower lip jutting out grotesquely as his entire body shook with violent tremors. Or was this instead fierce rebellion against me—this arrogant attitude persisting even now meant to demonstrate some fundamental defiance? I found myself unable to settle this doubt.

"Is there truly nothing else—no other misdeeds—left? If there’s anything remaining, say it now. Once we go to the police tomorrow, everything will come out anyway—better to speak up now if there’s anything left. Are you absolutely certain there’s nothing?" "Nothing…"

“You say there’s nothing—isn’t that a lie? Now that it’s come to this, you ought to lay everything out plainly like a man. Everyone makes mistakes—but once things have reached this point, you shouldn’t cling to cowardly pretenses. If you’re such a spineless creature, you couldn’t become a proper villain even if you tried! So if there’s anything else, speak up like a man now!” “Nothing...” “Is that truly not a lie?”

“It’s not a lie!” he shouted, his whole body trembling violently as he clenched his teeth.

At the police interrogation, matters concerning time had been largely abbreviated—they’d had no need for such details from the very beginning. And so, this time I too imitated the assistant inspector’s methods—taking down every detail in writing as I pressed him step by step, starting from the time on the evening of the 16th when I had seen off my elderly father. Yet for all its seeming clarity, snags began to emerge somewhere in the process. When pressed about his motive for trying to become an apprentice, in desperation he began spouting nonsense—claiming it wasn’t a middle schooler or laborer who had threatened him into apprenticeship, but rather some liquor store apprentice from Sengakuji—once again attempting to lead us down a tangled path; but after being sharply rebuked, he obediently fell silent. When he seized Osei’s moment of inattention to escape, he went out toward Sengakuji and then tried to return to school again; but unable to bring himself to enter after all, while loitering about the streets near the school, he encountered a cart returning from Yokosuka and, suddenly deciding he had no choice but to become an apprentice, followed that cart all the way to Zushi. That was why he had dragged out this story about a liquor store apprentice from Sengakuji and such, but despite having supposedly confessed everything with such forthrightness, I—who lived with him day in and day out, paying attention even to the minutest shifts in his expression—could sense no trace of it. There’s still something lurking! The intuition that something still lurked within him—this I pursued relentlessly through my drunken interrogation, yet could not dull. I had heard that methods like keeping suspects awake for nights on end during interrogations until they fall into unconscious states and confess were actually employed, but eventually even I began to feel such cruel impulses, and though I attempted to take advantage of his fatigue by repeatedly grilling him—changing the order of questions and digging into every detail—he suddenly stood up as if unable to endure the extreme tension any longer,

“If you’re going to keep calling me a liar, I’ll go to the police right now and apologize myself!” He shouted as if lunging forward and made to put on his hakama.

“You damn fool! What time do you think it is? If this were something you could settle by going alone to apologize, we wouldn’t all be making such a fuss. Whether it’s Uncle or Mr. Ide, they’re busy people, you know. You know about my illness too, don’t you? For whose sake do you think everyone’s been put through this idiocy, dragged all the way to the police to suffer such shame? Try thinking about that for once, you damned fool! A guy who can’t grasp basic human decency like you isn’t worth a damn! …You damn fool!” I shouted these words, but I ended up utterly disheartened. Even overcome with creeping dread, I put F to bed.

“Given what he’s like—that he’s capable of anything—keep your guard up tonight as well,” I warned my younger brother. The idea that he might try to escape or even kill himself—just thinking about it terrified me.

The next morning around ten o'clock, I awoke from an exhausted sleep, but finding neither my younger brother nor F in sight, I asked Osei, who had come over, "What happened to F and the others?" Upon hearing her explanation, I instinctively cried "Damn it!" and sprang out of my futon. My younger brother had consulted with Osei’s grandfather, and the two of them had taken F to the police station, it turned out. “Has it been very long?”

“It’s probably only been about thirty minutes—they left just a short while ago. As for Uncle, it seems he didn’t sleep a wink last night either. When I came this morning and saw how utterly exhausted you looked, he said it’d be pitiable to trouble you further—that perhaps he should go alone to the police station instead, since it’d be better to go as soon as possible. So I suggested, ‘What if my grandfather accompanies you? He may not be much help, being elderly…’ With that, I went home to fetch Grandfather. I must apologize if this was presumptuous…”

“They’ve really gone and made a mess of things.” “Now that it's come to this—it'd be inexcusable even to the police for me not to go—I can't do something so cowardly.” “No matter what kind of illness I might have—it’s my own child’s doing—there’s no way I can’t go out and deal with this.” “Moreover—there are matters that won’t be understood unless I go and properly make requests myself—and that brother of mine—though he seems unexpectedly reliable—to do something underhanded in such a crucial situation just shows his lack of education after all.” “Anyway—if we don’t go while everyone’s still at police station—once they’ve been taken back—that'll be end of it—and there's school and newspapers too—so hurry up call automobile for me.” “They’ve really gone made mess things…”

Borrowing Kencho-ji Temple's phone to have them call the automobile shop in front of the station, then rousing Mr. Ide, we washed our faces and waited for the automobile to arrive—but when it showed no sign of coming, we decided to go wait on the main road instead. As we set out together, there at the gate opening onto the thoroughfare stood a young police officer keeping solitary watch. "I wonder if something's happened?" I thought, but recognizing him as the officer whose face I'd come to know at the police station two nights prior, I greeted him saying, "That delinquent's been nothing but trouble." "I'm off to the station again now," I added with a forced laugh while we talked—just as an empty automobile came from the opposite direction, likely having turned around further down the road. Raising my hand to hail it, I called out "To the police station!" and climbed in. After we'd driven a short ways, I noticed the fine lap rug inside,

“Are you from the automobile company in front of the station?”

“No, that’s not the case.” “I see. Actually, I’d called the automobile service in front of the station and was waiting for them to arrive any moment, so when I saw your car, I assumed it was them and stopped you, but…” “I see. On my end, I saw you talking with that police officer over there and assumed you were with them. But really, it’s no bother—I was heading back that way anyway.” With that, he gave us a ride all the way to the police station.

Not having encountered them along the way, I clung to a thread of hope as I opened the police station door and entered, only to find just the usual Assistant Inspector and yesterday’s kimono-clad police officer handling paperwork in the emptied-out room, where a quietness different from nighttime’s stillness hung in the air. I repeatedly apologized before the Assistant Inspector, but “It’s already been settled,” he said with impatient coldness, then refused further engagement.

“So if you could at least keep this discreet with the school... given the diploma ceremony is in two or three days,” I finally said, unable to bring myself to explicitly beg them not to publish it in the newspapers—knowing full well such entreaties would prove futile now—yet still wanting to sound out their intentions. Clinging to this final pathetic appeal, I made my request, only to be met with a frigid glance utterly devoid of emotion.

Stepping outside, we boarded a carriage in front of the station and began our return journey bathed in spring sunlight, weighed down by the desolate conviction that everything was truly over. As we crested Kobukurozaka Hill, I suddenly noticed several yards ahead—along the narrow thoroughfare’s left side—the Police Chief I recognized gripping his sword hilt while following a procession of two or three women and four or five children. Connecting this with the officer stationed at the gate, I realized he must be providing security for some noble visitor’s pilgrimage to Hansobo. The Police Chief himself turned at the sound of our carriage wheels, fixing us with a piercing glare, but in that split second I could neither prepare to alight nor organize my thoughts—images of my delinquent son surfacing amidst the confusion—and so we rode on past. Kencho-ji Temple’s gate stood just a few yards beyond; no sooner had we disembarked than the procession arrived behind us, prompting the gate officer to snap into a full salute. While feeling intense panic, I thought to myself: So everything had been decided by this Police Chief’s opinion after all... As this thought took hold, I became acutely aware of the Police Chief’s sharp gaze burning into my back, sending an indescribable, prickly sensation crawling down my spine. For the first time, I found myself developing a somewhat clear impression regarding the duties of police officers.

“How did it go?” I asked my younger brother, who had returned. “They didn’t say anything particularly difficult.” “It was settled with just a simple warning.” “And F?” “They took him to the back where someone who looked like a detective made him listen to a written statement. When they asked if there were any discrepancies and he said no, they made him write his name and press his fingerprint on it...”

"Is that all?" "They said to him, 'You were supposed to enter middle school—but forget middle school! If you pull this again, you'll get thrown straight into jail...'" "I see," I said, though there was no longer any purpose in speaking. As dusk fell and we were about to make F tend to his luggage and bedding, a young man arrived bearing S Watch Shop's business card—a craftsman from their store. He sat facing me across the brazier and spent over thirty minutes piling up aimless remarks—leaving us wondering if he might be simple-minded or what exactly he meant to say—before finally declaring they believed F must have another watch and demanding its surrender.

“To tell the truth, we hadn’t noticed either,” he said with a tone that was far from simpleminded—thoroughly cautious instead. “But last night at the fire brigade meeting—since the Hase watch shop belongs to the same brigade—the matter came up. They said a child had brought two watches, saying ‘Fifty sen for both is fine.’ When they described him, we finally realized—yes, that must be the case…” “F, you have it, don’t you?... Hand it over,” I said to F, who had been listening nearby. He immediately produced it from the hem of his coat—an old nickel wristwatch that, like the other one, wasn’t working.

“Do you have anything else? “If you have anything else, just get it all out. “If you get it all out, you’ll feel relieved…” my younger brother also said.

"Phonograph needles..." "A whole box?" "I only took about half." "Is there anything else?" "There's nothing else."

“You idiot.” “That’s why I questioned you so thoroughly last night, wasn’t I?” “I kept sensing something remained—even after all that pressing, you wouldn’t confess—so now we end up like this,” he burst out.

"So you did report it to the police after all?" "Not at all—we would never handle this inappropriately on our end. However, the owner requests that you first visit our establishment..." he replied in the same evasive, cautious tone. "In that case, I'll have my younger brother come right over. Given how matters stand—since it's been reported to the police—we must follow proper procedures through them..." Having said this, I sent him back without surrendering the watch; without clarifying whether a report had been filed, the craftsman departed.

“They had filed a report, but since the police considered the matter closed, we were told to handle it directly ourselves—and then they lectured us about how this whole mess happened because you people took in the child without permission,” my younger brother later reported after returning. “They must have thought we’d cause trouble if we didn’t hand over the watch here—that’s why they came so cautiously.” “There you have it, F—watch yourself. This is how the world works. They probably think you’re fully committed to thievery now—that as a thief’s parent, I’d even hide some worthless watch. Utterly shameful.” “Were you planning to take that watch to Tokyo again? Lie to Grandfather and your uncles and aunts that someone gave it to you? Strut around with it on your wrist?” “Pathetic. Hadn’t I promised a nickel wristwatch if you entered middle school? If you wanted one so badly, I’d have given you mine—bought you dozens.” “I’ve learned my lesson—I’ll never own another watch. Don’t you dare repeat this.” “Everyone errs—I’ll forgive you this once. Now shape up—become someone who benefits others.” “I may stay poor forever, but Grandfather secured your school funds.” “Don’t cultivate this wretched miserliness.” “...Well? Feeling somewhat reformed? Then bow to your uncle.” F’s expression had finally softened.

“What happened to those phonograph needles?”

“I played by making torii gates and such at Shichirigahama.” I already knew he used to get old ones from Osei’s house, sticking them into wood pieces to make torii gates and all sorts of little crafts to play with. Still, I felt grateful for our fate—that he hadn’t been swept away by those rough waves—imagining how he must have played alone for hours on that turbulent Shichirigahama shore, bathed in spring sunlight with an empty stomach, utterly lost in his makeshift games.

They ate their farewell dinner, had the luggage and bedding transported to the rickshaw company, and departed a little past eight. I even considered asking Mr. Ide to stay for two or three days, but ultimately decided it would be better to remain completely alone. Steeling myself, I resolved to spend the long days of seclusion that would begin tomorrow—prudently in this desolate ten- and eight-mat connected dark room—with utmost determination.