Pathway to Japanese Literature

From late January for about a month and a half, I had been away in Tokyo. Since this wasn't the first time such a thing had occurred, I had assumed, as usual, that F was attending school. However, in a letter sent from the temple about half a month later, it stated that after I had left, F had completely stopped attending school, and no matter how much they urged him, he insisted he wouldn't go until I returned; they were at their wits' end and had been urging me to come back quickly. Then later still, a certain friend in Tokyo sent me a postcard addressed to my younger brother's place, cautioning me—"Your child has contracted melancholia in Kamakura—are you aware of this?"—though how such rumors had spread, I couldn't fathom.

On February 16th, I departed Tokyo and, intending to shake off my utterly exhausted and gloomy mood even slightly, made a round trip through the Tohoku region by train. Having visited my wife in my hometown and made preliminary arrangements such as discussing that if F could enter a Tokyo middle school we would set up a household in the suburbs or somewhere, I returned on the 23rd and, upon seeing those letters and postcards, sent Mr. Ide—a humanities exam candidate staying on my younger brother’s second floor—to Kamakura on the 24th. “He’s impossible. At any rate, bring F here. If he won’t listen, it’s fine to 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 movies, reasoning that if he could just drag him as far as Tokyo things might work out—but having failed to show the films, he found himself returning alone in a daze after F had slipped away from Shinbashi Station. So I grew even more furious and sent Mr. Ide back again the next day, but feeling uneasy about this approach, I said to my younger brother who had returned from work in the evening: “Since Mr. Ide clearly isn’t working out, could you go bring him back instead? “He’s impossibly stubborn. “He knows full well what he’s doing but keeps persisting in this defiance—it’ll become a habit…” I urged as I sent him off. Before long, Mr. Ide returned alone once more, saying, “He absolutely refuses—no matter what I say…” Then as dusk fell, F arrived with Osei—the twenty-three-year-old daughter from S shop who handled his meals and care—both wearing frightened expressions. The younger brother, having missed them during his trip, returned late on the final train.

Given this situation, F had to be scolded quite severely. The next day brought snow, and though I lay feverish beneath my futon, I shouted, "A brat like you should become some shop apprentice!" After scanning the newspaper advertisements, I even considered having Mr. Ide take him away somewhere—but was dissuaded by my younger brother's family and the elderly father who had come to stay since late last year. Of course, calling him a shop apprentice was merely an empty threat.

That afternoon, F returned to the temple with Mr. Ide. Mr. Ide would study during the day and oversee F's delayed schoolwork in the evenings. After that, I remained in Tokyo—as my financial situation hadn't improved—and on March 14th, after a month and a half, I persuaded my elderly father to leave my younger brother's place and returned with him to the temple. My elderly father with disabled legs spent his days hunched over a brazier in the two-mat space beside the entrance, passing idle hours reading newspapers next to the infants' bedding where my year-end-born younger brothers slept. I practically dragged him out by the hand despite his profound reluctance.

My elderly father could hold his liquor better than I could. Delighting in the quiet temple room, he drank with me from morning onward over two nights; on the afternoon of the sixteenth—though somewhat late—he declared he would tour Enoshima for the first time and left in high spirits, his drunken form being tended to by Mr. Ide. That day I specifically made F skip school to accompany them. The three ate whelk pot-roasts and rice bowls at a teahouse before Enoshima's pier before proceeding to Fujisawa, where F alone parted ways at Ōfuna Station to transfer trains back—their return to the temple around ten-thirty struck me as somewhat too late, though I gave it no particular thought. On the seventeenth he returned around seven o'clock as usual while doing preparatory studies. On the evening of the eighteenth I stayed up waiting until past two o'clock, but ultimately F did not return home. Turning over possibilities—the excessive lateness of that sixteenth night and more—the suspicion that delinquents had claimed F during my prolonged absence tormented my heart with wretched confusion. Shop apprentice and delinquent youth—these suggestive labels F exploited until the very end came haunting me relentlessly.

The previous night—after F had entered his futon in the adjacent room and before he could fall asleep—knowing he remained awake, I deliberately let him overhear me as I drank sake and spoke to Ms. Osei about his flawed character. I particularly condemned how he had recently gone to Tokyo under Mr. Ide's supervision, been treated to movies in Asakusa and meals out, then outwitted Mr. Ide to return alone from Shinbashi Station. F seemed to have thought I remained unaware of that particular matter. He had been listening from his futon. And it wounded his heart. When I later reflected upon it, that night's events appeared to have formed the motive for the incident. Later in the newspapers—"After leaving school, entered movie theater; worried about being scolded by Father for returning home late" and such—there appeared such reports, but those were mistaken.

In any case, F found himself alone with me and was utterly terrified. Though he'd been severely scolded in Tokyo, he hadn't been alone with me there. When my elderly father returned on the 16th, that evening of the 17th—though I normally did nothing but berate him—something felt different that night, and on the morning of the 18th when he came to my bedside as usual to say "I'm off now," our gazes failed to meet as they normally did. F had sensed this too. And so that day he returned right on time yet couldn't bring himself to enter immediately, standing outside on the damp veranda behind closed shutters, peering in at the situation within. As time passed, when I opened the shutters and washed my hands at the basin, F must have thought I'd noticed him standing there—but since I hadn't, I simply closed them again. Convinced I remained angry about the previous night, he stood outside for two hours before slipping into the storage shed, then around five the next morning left quietly for school again without eating dinner or breakfast......

The 19th was a Sunday. However, since preparatory students weren't supposed to take Sundays off—and thinking "what if"—the temple's elderly caretaker grew concerned and borrowed the telephone from the lower abbot's quarters to call the school, but when the homeroom teacher came on, he replied that F was studying there as usual. So I immediately had Osei go fetch him. Where had he slept last night? Where had he eaten?—As these thoughts arose, my mind could only conjure wretched images of delinquent youths. Yuigahama Elementary School stood about twenty chō away.

Unable to endure sitting still in my room any longer, I paced back and forth atop the high stone steps before the temple. With it being Sunday, the street below the stone steps bustled with pilgrims visiting Hansōbō. It had been about a year and a half since I brought F from our hometown, but lately, the psychological toll of this unnatural life—just father and son alone together—had become increasingly unbearable for us both. F had contracted severe pleuritis from an influenza outbreak the spring before last, barely escaping death, and after being brought out from the mountains of Ōshū in October following an extended summer convalescence, he began attending Yuigahama Elementary School starting November; due to these circumstances, both his academic progress and health had severely deteriorated. Two winters of coastal elementary school life—the damp mountain-top temple serving him only as a place to sleep—had considerably strengthened his body. It seemed his lagging studies had gradually begun to recover. However, his disposition had increasingly grown gloomy and neurotic, requiring attention in various aspects. There was no doubt that this lifestyle was problematic. I too had realized this and had several times considered sending him back to my wife in our hometown. The last attempt had been in November of last year, when I specially summoned my younger brother from Tokyo and even had him haul out F's trunk, but it coincided with my elderly father arriving from our hometown after closing up the house there, causing that plan too to fall through. And the graduation ceremony had now drawn near, with only a few days remaining.

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

“Uncle, right now—Ms. Osei accompanied F all the way here, but when they reached inside the gate, F ran off again, so she says you must come right away...”

“I see, thank you…” I said, but couldn’t bring myself to dash out immediately. How far did he mean to torment me, this cursed brat!... was what seethed within me. “Then please tell Ms. Osei—‘It’s fine, don’t trouble yourself further—just return.’ Could you do that?” “Truly incorrigible…” I told the boy, then retreated into the house with leaden despair.

Osei returned gasping for breath.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it seems he did come back to the storage shed there last night and slept.” “He said that on his way home from school, he got into a fight with another child and hurt his face, so he didn’t come home because Father would scold him—but then he turned around and claimed he didn’t come home because Father was angry about him going to the movies with Mr. Ide! He kept saying he didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to go home all along the way, so I practically had to drag him here by force, but…” Osei explained haltingly.

“What about his meals?” “He apparently didn’t eat last night or this morning either.” “The lunchbox was empty too.”

“Then he’ll probably come back when it gets dark again.” “Since he’s likely feeling pleased with himself acting like that, leave him be.” “He’s hopeless.” That night we searched with lanterns at intervals—as cautiously as if restraining sleeping birds—checking storage sheds and eaves and circling Kenchō-ji Temple's great gate below; yet even when midnight deepened, no shadow emerged.

“Then he must have gone back to the delinquents’ place after all.” “Last night’s story about sleeping in the storage shed might also be a lie,” I said, sinking into complete despondency.

"Is that so..." "Could he have been possessed by such things, I wonder..." "But F doesn't seem like that kind of boy either..." "No, that might very well be the case." "He might have used those delinquents as an excuse to skip school - or if not that - since the timing doesn't match when he saw off the old man that night - perhaps something happened on his way back then." "In any case, this isn't ordinary business - could you call my younger brother's place?" "...Since F has vanished, get some money ready and come early tomorrow," I instructed. Having my younger brother summoned from a liquor store near his Tokyo residence, I borrowed the main hall telephone and had Osei relay the message.

The next morning around nine o'clock, when my younger brother arrived, the two of us decided to at least go check the school. "I think it's probably these mountains—he must be hiding somewhere like a cave in them. After all, he hasn't eaten, and nights grow cold. By now he's likely staggering weakly, unable to move. Since time's passing won't help matters, once we've checked around town, I'll start searching from Mount Hansōbō right away." "It's not in the direction of town..." my younger brother said as we walked.

“Or perhaps—since yesterday he apparently went down toward the lower area intending to walk to your place, and knowing the Yokohama road from taking that shared taxi back and forth all through January—he might have set off staggering toward Tokyo.”

“Is that so? If that’s the case, first we’ll search the mountains. If we don’t find him, I’ll walk all the way to Tokyo myself—even if I collapse along the way. The police should know if he’s turned up somewhere…” My younger brother declared his intention to walk alone as far as Tokyo. At the school, we met his homeroom teacher—a young man—who reported there’d been no noticeable changes in F’s recent behavior. They summoned a student who shared F’s desk to the classroom corridor and inquired whether he had mentioned going to see movies lately, but the student denied hearing any such talk. With guileless eyes, he stated that both the day before yesterday and yesterday morning had been entirely ordinary—F had joked and played as usual. The teacher produced the academic record book for our inspection. His average appeared to hover around seven points. Conduct remained marked A.

“When he came to school, he was one who studied earnestly.” “His grades had been gradually improving each term.” “Regrettably, there was nothing particularly outstanding to note…” the teacher said with sympathy.

"I had thought it was even worse." Perhaps having convinced himself of this and grown timid, it seemed he hadn't shown me his report card these past two semesters. He must have resigned himself to never passing Tokyo's middle school entrance exams—with the days relentlessly drawing nearer, this too must have weighed heavily on his mind—though being fundamentally taciturn by nature...

"That said, while every student has one or two particularly close friends, it seems F didn't have any friends he was especially close with." I could sympathize with F's lonely state of mind. The unfulfilled, lonely heart of this boy must have been seized by delinquent temptation like a sparrow in a predator's grip. The entrance exam pressure—if he failed to gain admission, his mother and sisters would be unable to come to Tokyo—this crushing responsibility?... And he himself knew he wouldn't pass a Tokyo middle school's exam. I had always shown F particular favor. I deny my own existence. Having resigned myself to an early death—precisely why the hopes I placed on him grew so excessive. This differed from the affection I held for my wife and daughters. Toward them, I had never felt this sacrificial impulse. Only with F could I sustain it. They had lived as dependents at my wife's family home for years. But F alone transcended myself. Yet there was something unnatural in how these feelings operated within me. To him, I must have been merely a harsh, unforgiving father to fear. His desire to become an apprentice constituted both rebellion against me and a desperate cover for his own sense of inadequacy. Yet the outcome manifested full delinquent tendencies—before long he'd joined their ranks and deteriorated...as one newspaper put it, though truthfully he possessed such natural cunning that such descriptions became unavoidable.

“Ah yes,” the teacher said in a tone of sudden recollection just as we were about to leave.

“Just earlier today, a man claiming to be from a pharmacy in Zushi came by and mentioned that F had apparently gone there yesterday saying he wanted to become an apprentice. He asked us to tell him about F’s grades and character—we informed him it was acceptable on our end—but he also mentioned he might call on you as well. Did you meet him?” “He should have left his business card…” Having said this, the teacher brought the business card from the faculty room and showed it.

“Is that so… In that case we must have missed each other somehow, but I truly don’t understand—I have no inkling of such a thing at all.” “Then has he been grabbed by those delinquents around Zushi after all?” “He’d never go alone to such a place… He’s never even been to Zushi before…” I said, but by then the suspicion of delinquents I’d dismissed as unthinkable now felt like an immovable fact, and I grew dizzy.

We borrowed the business card and went outside. The younger brother's resolve to search the mountains was nullified. He too no longer went—no longer bound by the same dark associations as I. “This has turned into quite the predicament…” he sighed.

“Anyway, let’s go to Zushi. Whether he’s at that pharmacy or not—it’d be good if they’re keeping him there—but whatever happens, we can’t afford to be too late.”

As we were talking like this and walking toward the station under the railroad underpass, we encountered Osei rushing toward us from the opposite direction. Osei was out of breath.

“After you all left, I meant to consult the fortune-teller at Hachiman Shrine—so I stopped by there first, then dropped in at the barbershop for a bit.” “Then the barber’s wife said—she definitely saw F this morning leading the watch shop owner’s child who goes to kindergarten by the hand, passing right in front of the barbershop.” “Since she didn’t know anything about that situation, she said she kept wondering what F had been up to—found it all rather strange…”

“So he’s still here?”

“He must be there.” “But if I were to rush in abruptly and have him escape again, that would be trouble. So I asked the barber’s wife to go around back to the watch shop and explain things to the watch shop’s wife to keep him from running away. Then I came looking for you all.” “Then you go make sure that rascal doesn’t escape—drag him over to the barber’s shop and keep him there for me, will you?” “I’ll go check Zushi regardless—who knows what’s happened there.” “And don’t get careless and let him slip away again.” “This isn’t just that brat’s scheme alone—stay sharp.”

Having said this to my younger brother, I parted ways with them, purchased a round-trip ticket to Zushi, and boarded the train. That barbershop was a relative of Osei’s family—when we sent F to school we'd entrusted his lodging there—so its people knew us well. Still, given someone from Zushi Pharmacy had indeed come to school that morning, I felt certain the barber's wife must have mistaken someone else for F. As for that watch shop—F had often gone there pressing for repairs; when my glasses broke I'd made him take an old Tokyo ophthalmologist's certificate we kept beforehand—had him wait there while buying cheap glasses—and since we always went to the nearby bathhouse we passed that house constantly. The barbershop stood less than ten shops away. It had never crossed my mind F might hide in such familiar places. I became convinced Zushi held real answers—whether kidnappers kept him longer forcing more crimes; whether F himself begged them for apprenticeship rather than returning home—clearly this went beyond his lone scheming. I believed even his storeroom story pure fabrication.

That night, having received an irreparable insult and out of shame before me, if this was how things had come to pass, then he too became a pitiable wretch. I found myself recalling my own sexual memories from his age—he being twelve years and eight months old.

Shortly after the train departed, a capricious summer-style shower came pouring down. At that time, I still had a fever lingering around 37.2 or 37.3 degrees. Moving my body was precisely what I shouldn't have done. The unpleasant prickling sensations - those telltale signs of rising fever in my insteps and palms - intensified my unease as I sat on the station bench. By the time I reached Zushi, the rain had stopped. The pharmacy stood less than a hundred meters from the station. It was a tidy little shop displaying weights and measures alongside cosmetics. A young mistress with her hair arranged in a traditional topknot sat at the storefront.

“Excuse me for inquiring—a boy around fourteen apparently came here yesterday. Might he still be present?” “Actually, I’ve come from Kamakura Elementary School regarding this matter...” I began, producing the pharmacy’s business card while warily observing her expression to prevent any concealment of facts. “Ah—is that so... “You’ve come about that child... Well now, such a boy did appear here yesterday, but under these circumstances he returned immediately to Kamakura...”

According to the Pharmacy Mistress’s account, F—still dressed in his school uniform—had suddenly visited them and asked to be taken on as an apprentice. However, the proprietor had told him to return home for now, explaining that he would visit both the school and F’s parents when he had business in Kamakura the day after tomorrow, after which they would decide about taking him in. He then gave F train fare back to Kamakura and sent him off. In the Pharmacy Mistress’s telling, there was not the slightest ambiguity. “He said he’d walked all the way from Kamakura and was staying at a temple with his Father, but since Father was too ill to send him to higher school, he wanted to become an apprentice. Father had also mentioned this being our family trade. He seemed decent enough at a glance, and truth be told, we’d been wanting an apprentice ourselves—so we told him to go home for now. He looked utterly dejected but just staggered off toward the station all listless-like. Our people followed 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… likely your place too… Well, that’s how it was, I suppose…” The Pharmacy Mistress widened her eyes with mingled surprise and curiosity.

“And what might that be? At the time, did you happen to notice anyone accompanying him around that area?”

“Well, I didn’t notice anything to that extent, but I didn’t particularly see anything of the sort…” “Then how did he come to know you needed an apprentice here?” “Well now—whether he noticed the posted notice seeking an apprentice there and entered on his own, or perhaps had connections with a household he was acquainted with near Kamakura Station—having made requests there too—and heard about it from them…that’s what we’d thought here, but…”

"But could that rascal have acted alone...?" I wondered while sitting on the shopfront bench, surveying the narrow street lined with stores—considering whether an accomplice had stood nearby stealthily observing F's movements, confirming he successfully entered the pharmacy before fleeing outright; or perhaps intended to make him carry out goods that very night; speculating where such a rogue might have positioned himself. However, considering that he then headed back toward Kamakura, it seemed likely that when F failed and went to the station, that rogue had been waiting there.

From the back came an old woman too. “Well now! So that’s how it was? You claim Father’s laid up sick—but this doesn’t look like any ordinary illness,” she said while scrutinizing me.

“If he had stayed at an inn around here, we know some likely places—perhaps we could make inquiries if needed.” “It’s nearly time for us to close up shop, but… since I came by bicycle,” the mistress offered kindly.

After leaving there, while waiting for my train’s departure time, I went to the police box before the station and filed a report. A detective was present, stating there were no traces of him having stayed at any inns. “If he shows up around here again, we’ll pick him up straightaway,” he said. “With us keeping watch like this here, there’s no chance we’ll miss him. They say there’s delinquents in Kamakura too… Fourteen, right? At that age, he’ll surely turn up by the third or fourth day.” Perhaps the watch shop instead?… Turning this thought over in my mind, I returned to Kamakura. Outside the ticket gate stood my younger brother in a navy high-collar uniform draped with a mantle and wearing a black fedora, his face darkened as he waited.

“Was F at the watch shop?” I asked as soon as we stepped outside. “Well, that...” My younger brother drew a sharp breath. The watch shop attempt had also failed. Around eleven o'clock, when we had the barber's mistress go inquire—two hours prior to that—F had already left the watch shop. It followed the same pattern as the Zushi pharmacy incident. The previous night around eight, he had suddenly appeared there too asking to become an apprentice—they roasted mochi to feed him and let him stay overnight. He claimed to be staying at his younger brother's place in Tokyo, clearly stating the Ushigome address of this brother. I too had pretended to be in Tokyo, though giving a random false address. F spoke as if he'd come from Tokyo seeking apprenticeship work. At the watch shop, they presumably thought he'd run away from family troubles, but F—saying he liked tinkering with machinery and wanted to become a watchmaker—presented such coherent reasoning that they'd arranged for the proprietor's brother, a Naval Ministry technician, to visit my younger brother after work today to finalize matters. F had swept the storefront before breakfast and gone flower shopping with the watchmaker's child—that being when the barber's mistress spotted him. Soon after, declaring he'd return to Tokyo for proper consultation with his uncle before starting anew, he shook off their attempts to detain him until the proprietor's brother returned from Tokyo, setting off toward those parts. The proprietor returning from errands hadn't yet noticed F taking watches then, but later gave chase by bicycle and caught up at Gokurakuji-mae. When F tried heading toward Gokurakuji slope, the proprietor advised taking the train back if returning to Tokyo—whereupon F produced a commuter ticket, announced he'd visit Enoshima first with it, and boarded the tram from Hase—so went the account. ...This was essentially the story the barber's mistress brought back from the watch shop.

We had once again returned to the barber shop—with Osei present—and listened once more to that account from the mistress, yet now we were more lost than ever.

“After all, did that guy come to drag him out?” “Didn’t he take anything out?” “……At the watch shop—didn’t they mention anything like that?”

“No, they didn’t mention anything like that at all…” replied the barber’s wife in an unclouded tone.

“In any case, there’s no other way but to involve the police.” “What an utterly hopeless fellow…”

We were utterly at a loss and disheartened, just about to leave the barber shop when Ms. Osei’s sister-in-law from S Shop came rushing in breathlessly, as though dashing into the room. “Oh, what perfect timing! Just now there was a call from the Yamanouchi police box to Kenchōji Temple—apparently F was caught by officers trying to sell watches at a shop in Koshigoe, and they’re holding him at the station until someone comes to retrieve him. Since you were all out, I took the call myself. The Yamanouchi officer said you should stop by the main station first before heading straight to Koshigoe… How fortunate you’re all here together now.” “When they mentioned it was in the town area, I thought if I came here to ask, I might understand the situation better… I truly rushed over…” said the sister-in-law, heaving a sigh of relief.

“I see... Thank you very much…” I too let out a sigh of relief as I spoke, but even just the worry we had caused the S Shop family since the night before last struck me as an immense burden. We hurriedly went outside and walked about half a chō 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 flustered at the sudden question—or had I somehow forgotten it after all? Feeling as though I’d said as much, I fumbled at my obi and produced the timepiece. “I see. “In that case… but they say F was out there again trying to sell what he claimed was your watch...”

Osei cast a careful gaze at my face but faltered mid-sentence after saying this. "...Ah, right," I finally grasped, "but the watch shop says nothing was stolen. That only makes it worse." "There's no telling whose damn watch that was." "Well... anyway... we'll go to the police station..." We parted from her after these words.

Looking back later, our failure to immediately return to the watch shop and investigate—despite Osei’s warning at that moment—proved to be a critical oversight. After we had left the barber shop, discussions arose among the barber’s wife, sister-in-law, and Osei’s group—since F had stayed at the watch shop the previous night after all... Anyone could have reasoned it must be connected to that place, which was why they had Osei chase after us to warn me. But at that moment, my nerves were frayed by the invisible specter of delinquent youths and disordered, and with no mention of theft at the watch shop either, I clung to the belief that everything could be sorted out later so long as we apprehended F himself. Had we turned back then and realized F had taken watches from the shop, we might have been able to make him confess at Koshigoe Police Box, resolving the matter without giving F room to fabricate stories about delinquent youths—perhaps then we could have settled things before letting the incident escalate so severely. However, due to that momentary oversight—our nerves already frayed by having supposedly apprehended him—we ultimately missed our final opportunity; by the time I went to investigate, we had already been cast into an irredeemably wretched position.

It was said that at the watch shop, they hadn’t noticed the items had been taken out until the detective brought them back for investigation—I wanted to believe the watch shop owner’s account. When F was sweeping the shopfront in the morning, the front door remained closed, leaving the interior dimly lit. At that time F stole two items from among twenty or thirty broken machines atop the glass case—a small nickel base with one gold-plated side and a nickel wristwatch. Later according to their craftsmen, these were apparently worth about ten yen altogether. Since F had selected what he believed to be a gold watch, one newspaper wrote under the headline “Novelist’s Son Steals Gold Watch”—psychologically speaking an accurate portrayal. Yet again while walking toward Gokurakuji Slope, F stopped at a Hase watch shop asking them to buy both for fifty sen but was refused. He then apparently tried selling them at a metalworking shop before Gokurakuji—the proprietor who chased him by bicycle found him exiting there and reportedly saw him board a tram from Hase. Though this sounds like parental complaining—not from any base desire to shield my child’s guilt—that earlier encounter hadn’t revealed F’s theft proved terribly unfortunate for him......

At the police station, a burly officer with a ruddy face and veteran-like demeanor called Koshigoe police box to inform them the child's parents would soon come retrieve him. I recounted everything since two nights prior. "Last night he apparently stayed at that Hachiman-mae watch shop after again asking to become their apprentice," I explained. "We've just had them questioned, but they show no signs of stolen watches. Given this, we'll thoroughly investigate where those watches came from on your end too, but due to procedural matters we'll be bringing the rascal here as well - please interrogate and admonish him properly..." Having assumed Koshigoe fell under Fujisawa Station's jurisdiction, I added my reasoning: "Even if released there, with delinquent youth cases like this, we'd still have no choice but to involve Kamakura Station - that's what I told them."

“Ah, that would depend on circumstances at the time. ...In any case, once things are settled there, I’ll just drop by briefly on my return.” “Understood. Actually, we were instructed earlier by the Yamanouchi police box to stop here first on our way...” Reassured by the officer’s practiced demeanor, I urged my younger brother—who had been sitting on the bench outside the entrance—and boarded the Fujisawa-bound tram from the nearby stop, already crowded with sightseers in this tourist season. Just five days earlier, F had ridden this same tram to see off his elderly grandfather; what state of mind had possessed him when boarding it three hours prior? Now it was we brothers who rode to retrieve that same F, paying no heed to Shichirigahama’s vistas as we sat steeped in mutual silence.

“It would’ve been better had they found him in the mountains though...” “...If he’d sold that watch—what exactly was he planning to do next?” “Was he meaning to get travel funds and have you take him in? Or keep drifting through these parts while he still had coin?” “Well... I suppose so long as he’s got those things on him and some money left, he’d keep wandering about.” “Still... delinquents who’d make F pawn such worthless watches can’t be much to speak of...”

"Well, I was rather careless this time." "My absence lasted a little too long..." "But at least it's not like they fished up a corpse or anything... We'll simply have to accept it, I suppose..." my younger brother said consolingly.

When we got off in front of Ryūkōji Temple, the police box was right there. It was a neat little building on a slightly elevated spot to the right, overlooking the street. When we stated our business, a young wife came out and greeted us cordially, saying, “There’s currently a visit from His Lordship for worship, so he’s out for that, but he should return shortly. Please...” It was a narrow reception room with a round table and three or four crude chairs. F was seated on a bench beneath the glass window in the adjacent room of similar appearance, his school satchel hanging and still wearing his mantle. I thought F might burst into tears upon seeing us, but there was no such sign—his face was flushed as if in a rage, rigid, and showed no trace of fear.

“He went to the watch shop saying he needed to go to Tokyo but had lost his travel money, so would they please buy this watch that belonged to his father—but since he’s just a child after all, the watchshop notified the police box down below…” said the wife.

“I must apologize for causing such unexpected trouble. “But thanks to this, we’ve caught him now, so we’ll conduct a full interrogation here. “Up to this point there’s been no sign of habitual theft, but since he does tell lies—as for that watch, since it isn’t mine—if he didn’t steal it from the Kamakura watch shop, then he must have stolen it elsewhere or received it from someone—though receiving it would be strange indeed—I can’t help wondering if some evil influence has taken hold of him—in any case, I do think it best you thoroughly impress upon him that lies won’t be tolerated...”

“Oh no, it was just a child’s passing whim…” replied the wife with practiced tact. When he said to F, “Show me that watch,” F took out one of the gold-plated ones from his mantle pocket. “Where did you get this watch?” “I got it…” “You got it...? ...From whom?” “From a boy named Akiyama…” “A boy named Akiyama? Where’s this kid from? Why did he give it to you?” “He told me to go sell it and come back…” “He told you to go sell it and come back—so did that child come all the way to Koshigoe with you?”

“Umm…”

“What happened to that child?”

"I don't know..." "You say you don't know—where exactly is this kid from? Do you at least know his house?" "He comes from behind Hachimae, but I don't know his house."

“Was that child alone?” “There’s another one named Kei-chan...” “Where is that child from?”

"He comes from around Myōhonji Temple, but I don't know where he lives." "What are they, students?"

“He’s a kid who goes to Zushi Middle School…” “What exactly did they tell you to say when selling this watch?” “He just told me to go sell this watch and come back.” “…If you don’t do what I say, I’ll hit you,” he said. “Who?” “A kid named Akiyama…” “Is this Akiyama’s watch?”

“Umm…” “Was it also those two who took you to the pharmacy in Zushi?”

“Umm…” “Why on earth did they take you there?” “Become my underling... If you don’t do what I say, I’ll hit you...” “To the watch shop at Hachimae too?”

“Umm…” “And did they come to summon you again this morning?”

“Umm…” “When exactly did you get to know those two?” “On my way back from seeing Grandfather off…” “Where?”

“Behind Hachiman Shrine…” “And then what did you do?” “Become my underling,” he said. “...If you don’t do what I say, I’ll hit you.” “What did you say?” “And they didn’t hit you even once?” “I wasn’t hit that time. I just kept walking in silence…” “The night before last when you didn’t come home—were you hit then?” “That night—were you dragged into some soba shop and made to eat noodles?” “You told Osei-chan you slept in the storeroom that night, but that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“It’s not a lie that I slept in the storeroom.” “I didn’t go to any soba shop or anything.” “So that day after school—when you told Osei-chan you didn’t come home because you’d fought with a friend and got a facial injury, fearing I’d scold you—that was a lie, wasn’t it? You were actually beaten by those Akiyama guys, right?” “...” “Was it just you alone who slept in the storeroom…” “I slept alone…” In the time before the police officer returned, F and I repeated such exchanges of questions and answers, but I couldn’t grasp how much of it was true or lies; yet at any rate, I felt certain that this wasn’t something he had done alone. Now that we had apprehended the boy—who showed no life-threatening injuries and didn’t even appear particularly haggard—most other matters seemed trivial compared to whether he had been subjected to violence or not; when I considered this, my heart sank into profound wretchedness. I wanted to clarify that one point beyond any doubt and make sure those bastards received full punishment. And yet, when I thought how he had sunk to this state without my noticing, seeing him there on the bench in such a place—with that stubborn, wilted gaze of his exposed for all to see—appearing wretched and ugly, even taking on something of a wild small animal about him, I couldn't help but think of my own cursed existence.

“In any case, when Mr. Officer returns, you must tell everything clearly and honestly. “Even if you tell lies, it won’t work. “It’s different from dealing with someone like me—here, lies won’t pass. “So if you confess everything honestly, we’ll plead however we must to get them to show mercy—but if not, they’ll have no choice but to keep you detained here for days on end. “As long as that watch’s origin remains unclear, there’s simply nothing to be done about it. “So listen—when Mr. Officer comes, you’d better cough up every last ugly truth, no matter how hard it is to say. Otherwise, there’ll be no undoing what comes next. However you slice it, lies won’t get through here. “Understood?...”

Taking turns saying such things to each other, my younger brother and I returned to the chairs in the reception room and smoked cigarettes.

Before long, the police officer returned, and the three of us—the officer, my brother, and I—searched through F’s school bag and lunchbox, but nothing particularly suspicious came to light. In the lunchbox he had taken out the day before yesterday and not touched 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 obstinate and given to lying, so even if you must resort to beating him, I earnestly implore you to extract the truth. He may not confess readily...” We listened from the reception room as the officer interrogated him—“Hey kid! Where’d you steal this watch?”—his tone shifting abruptly. But F merely parroted the same story he’d told us. When it became clear this would yield nothing, we took our leave and plunged into the driving rain that had begun earlier, eventually taking shelter in a nearby soba shop. Having missed lunch, we faced each other across the tea table in that dim room—its noren removed and front door shut against the howling wind—and ordered soba with sake.

“I wonder if going back reeking of booze would be a problem?” “Those officers are timid sorts after all.”

“That’s probably not the case.” “A little should be all right.” “What do you suppose became of that guy who came with him?” “Did they run off after seeing F get dragged away, or are they still lingering around here—clinging to those watches while waiting for him to be let out any minute now?”

“No—those brats wouldn’t have lingered around here moping about.” “It must’ve been those Kamakura punks.” “They might’ve at least known my name,” I said, conjuring images of delinquent middle-schoolers—seventeen or eighteen—in my mind. Through this late March haze of spring, it seemed the work of directionless youths—kids skipping school to drift through the area without any real scheme.

“Even so, what could possibly be the reasoning behind trying to lock up the kid?” “Well now—couldn’t F himself have said that because returning home had become difficult for him?” “Could that be…?” As dusk approached, we returned to the police box where the same officer and chief sat smoking cigarettes in chairs within the reception room. F remained seated on the bench in the adjacent room exactly as before.

“Thank you for your trouble. How did it go? Did he confess?” I asked, but the two men only exchanged skeptical, sneering looks and gave vague, inconclusive replies. “Well now, I tried asking all sorts of things, but he seems quite stubborn...” said the police officer.

“Then what about that watch from earlier—what became of it?” “Well... I’m afraid that remains unclear as well...” “Is that so? In that case, if necessary, we would like you to keep him detained here for however many days it takes to clarify matters—though truthfully, we ourselves can’t seem to grasp the full picture either...”

I had thought this area fell under Fujisawa Station’s jurisdiction and had therefore suggested transferring him there, but it turned out to still be within Kamakura’s precincts. “Well, we don’t have space to keep him here any longer. In any case, we’ll send him to the main station—they’ll investigate things properly there eventually, so off to the main station he goes…” It was an attitude that said, “Since we’re no longer involved here, take him away quickly.” “In any case, I’ve been so terribly troubled.” “He’s utterly hopeless.” “Since it’s just the two of us living together, my attention must have slipped—but he really is feeble-minded after all.” “You see, he’s the child of a very early marriage—so it seems he simply doesn’t have enough brains—that’s how we ended up in this mess…” I said, feeling both disappointment and a bitter smile rise within me at their evasive attitudes.

“Oh no, not at all—far from being feeble-minded, he’s quite capable… Why, he’s actually a remarkably well-composed child… And the things he says—how remarkably mature for a fourteen-year-old…” The police officer spoke in this tone of genuine admiration while exchanging looks with the chief, but simultaneously wearing an intensely awkward smile as they both stared into my face.—What a fool of a parent… That this had been what those words truly meant was something I couldn’t perceive at the time.

While we were out—or perhaps even earlier, at the very moment F was apprehended—the main police station must have received a call that laid bare everything F had done. It would have been better had F simply confessed then. That naïve stubbornness—the twisted obstinacy of a child convinced he could deceive them to the end—proved his undoing. That he'd fallen into the particular clutches of the police—something any city-bred child his age taking middle school exams would have understood—was beyond comprehension for him, raised mostly wild in rural areas. As for any real difference between police and parents—perhaps he hadn't considered it particularly significant. Admittedly, this must have been desperate for him, yet even we couldn't ultimately sympathize with that obstinacy—an attitude verging on arrogance. What a deluded parent! ......Even then, I hadn't yet come to doubt F so thoroughly. Though unsettled by the officers' evasive manner, still half-doubting, I dragged F out into streets now fully darkened. After all, he was already a rat in the bag—I'd let him spin his tales while doggedly uncovering his truth. With this resolve, and relieved he'd at least been safely caught, I thanked the officers and left the police box.

Because there was no train coming, the three left the village and walked to the coastal station up on the shore. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained dark, and the sound of the waves rang out loudly. Though I hadn't seen F since the morning two days prior, walking side by side like this gave me an odd sense of reunion after long separation—yet this wasn't the usual F either. He seemed a stranger still tethered to some unseen authority, not fully my own F, making even the effort to speak feel burdensome.

“What did the police officer say?” “Kid… where’d you steal this watch from…” “What did you say?” “To a kid named Akiyama… to go sell them and come back…” “That’s all? Did they ask you anything else?” “They didn’t ask anything else…” “Were you hit?” “Yeah.” “How many?”

“One…” “So that Akiyama kid followed you all the way to the watch shop in Koshigoe—is that right?” “No… He came with me to Shichirigahama, and said that kid would be waiting there…” “Then was that Kei-chan kid with them too?” “No… That kid said he’d be waiting near Hase Station…”

“You’re lying, aren’t you? Once things have come to this, telling lies won’t do any good. Be a man and speak honestly. You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“It’s not a lie…”

My younger brother and I took turns questioning him, but F persisted obstinately in this manner throughout.

“Then did that Akiyama kid also go back from Shichirigahama to Hase?” “Umm…” “How did he say it?” “If you sell the watches, come back to Hase,” he said. “...and if you don’t come back, he’ll make you suffer something terrible.” The more we pressed him, the more we felt both confusion and frustration. Following F’s instructions exactly, when we arrived at Hase Station, we separated from him at the train’s exit, went outside the ticket gate, stayed about ten ken behind him, and let him wander around the area. F headed toward the dark stretches of Kaigan-dori Street, doubled back across the tracks toward Daibutsu, meandering through rain-dampened lanes in his weather-worn geta. Wearing hakama trousers and a short mantle with its hat, hunched like a cat, he meandered ahead of us. He entered path-like areas and emerged into brighter spots, wandering about like this for over thirty minutes—though perhaps it was my imagination, but F’s gait seemed to gradually quicken. Looking back later, his legs must have begun trembling then, naturally forcing that hurried pace—but at the time I didn’t consider this. Though his suffering was self-inflicted, having only eaten breakfast at the watch shop near Hachimangu and likely starving, and being utterly cowed by those bastards’ threats—terrified of repercussions should they catch him—I couldn’t help pitying him. Yet seeing him walk ahead of us in that deeply hooded mantle, silently meandering back and forth like some ill-omened crow fledgling—no, like a cursed child bewitched by such dark portents—I felt an inescapable dread. We grew tired from walking. We couldn’t find any figures resembling that.

“Did you happen to notice two students around here—eighteen or nineteen years old wearing hunting caps and splashed-pattern kimonos—loitering about?” I asked the two or three young men standing near what might have been a crossing guard’s hut or switchman’s shack beside the station. “Well… We didn’t notice that. What time was that supposed to be?” “I can’t say exactly what time it was, but they were supposed to be waiting around here…”

“I’m afraid we didn’t notice anything...” One of them said with a look suggesting they took me—wearing this antiquated hunting cap—for some sort of investigator, since I’d been loitering around the area repeatedly just now. The three of us boarded the train from there, got off at the station entrance, entered the soba shop directly in front of the police station, and while my younger brother and I drank beer while serving F a tempura rice bowl, we pressed him again with the same questions. Yet no matter how far we pushed, F’s answers stayed unchanged.

“Is it truly not a lie? Once we go to the police station, it’ll be too late to do anything about it. No matter how stubbornly you cling to this story, there are detectives there—your lies won’t hold water. They’ll detain you for days until this gets sorted out. If you tell the truth now, we can apologize profusely and beg forgiveness for you—but if you keep lying even at the police station, this won’t end with mere reprimands. Even your father will face serious consequences. So tell us the truth now...” we implored desperately, voices fraying with urgency,

“It’s not a lie…” F insisted. “Then there’s nothing more to be done,” we resigned ourselves. Even if we could consider it merely about the watches, those delinquents’ involvement remained beyond our handling. We asked the shopkeeper at the counter—"Might there be middle schoolers named Akiyama or Kei-chan around here?"—but he claimed no knowledge. We left the soba shop, cut across the thoroughfare, pushed open the police station’s door directly opposite, and stood before the assistant inspector. Alongside the daytime officer, six or seven policemen sat facing the table. There too I had to explain everything concerning F—the full details of this incident—to the assistant inspector. The assistant inspector was young still, full-cheeked and beardless, carrying himself with an officer’s cool composure.

“...Given these circumstances—the boy maintains he was ordered by those ruffians to sell these watches, while the watch shop where he stayed last night claims nothing was stolen—we simply cannot comprehend his account. Having been away for an extended period myself, during which he apparently stopped attending school and may have become entangled with such delinquents recently... though his explanations remain utterly incoherent... We earnestly request your office’s investigation into this matter—you may detain him however many days required...”

“Stayed at a watch shop… Where was that?” “It’s apparently the watch shop called S right by Hachimangu.” “S… That’s outrageous, taking in a child without permission… Someone call an inn near the watch shop—tell S to come here immediately,” said the assistant inspector, whereupon one officer left saying “I’ll go make the call,” but soon returned and...

“They said S has gone to Zushi and isn’t home, but will have him come over immediately upon his return.”

“I see…” The assistant inspector nodded.

The gold-plated watches had been placed on the assistant inspector’s table the moment we arrived. “Now that you mention it,” I ventured, “these do look like the sort of watches delinquents might carry.” However, according to the watch shop owner’s later account, those watches had been sold to his shop that evening by a police officer sent there on an errand. It seemed this officer had casually picked up one from the table, recognized it as his own sold item, and thus gone to the shop in person rather than phoning. This meant that even without any report from the watch shop by then, the police had already clearly established F’s theft. They’d specifically allowed a two-hour grace period—perhaps intending to say, “Once the owner comes now, everything will be exposed. Confess while you still can.” But F refused. From his perspective, he likely meant to maintain the delinquent charade even when facing the owner—a fatal miscalculation. And having come this far, my parental blindness still hadn’t noticed—completely dazzled by F’s insinuations of gang coercion. Moreover, by then F hadn’t even produced the second watch. That one too must have been discovered during his Koshigoe inspection—whether torn from his mantle’s hem or found where hidden—it had surely been uncovered. At headquarters, everything lay bare. They might have professionally doubted whether any basis existed for these “delinquents,” but hauling him out for questioning, their cop eyes instantly saw through the childish fiction. Naturally they’d already extracted this from the watch shop too. In short, all that remained was investigating F’s so-called moral decay, circumstances, family situation— All factors meant to court police sympathy yet fatally lacking in redeeming points.

“Zushi’s Kaisei? ...That can’t be right. Then perhaps Kamakura Middle School? ...Though I hear they have delinquents there too...” The assistant inspector flashed a sneer while studying F’s face, testing him with these words. “Do you normally let him carry money around?” “It’s not as if we particularly let him carry money around…” A police officer inspected F’s physique, looked under his lower eyelids, and examined the two hook-shaped tears in his hakama,

“What happened here?” “When I slept in the storage shed... tore it on bamboo.” “So you were truly alone at that time?” “I was truly 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 and returned to his seat. “Even so,” said this morning’s police officer seated beside the assistant inspector, “you slept in the storage shed the night before last, then went to school without eating supper or breakfast. Remarkable you managed without food at all...”

“That does appear to be true. When he takes offense, he’s precisely the sort who can go a day without eating and remain perfectly composed...” “Hmm... In that case—?” The police officer tilted his head, casting a meaningful glance my way before falling silent. “You mustn’t be overbearing with him ordinarily.” “This is truly a pivotal age for children.” “Letting him trudge back there alone every day after nightfall—that’s sheer negligence from the start.”

The assistant inspector addressed me in an admonishing tone. "No, it's not that I'm being particularly strict—it's just that he's rather incapable academically, so I had him do some rigorous preparatory study. But this time when he skipped school during my absence, I did scold him—though I'm not usually that harsh about such things." I said defensively. "But even if he's incapable—whether he can enter middle school or not—isn't that kind of issue beside the point? In any case, you really shouldn't do anything too provocative..." he said reprovingly, directing a piercing gaze from his single-lidded eyes.

Ten o'clock had long passed, but the watch shop owner was nowhere to be seen. From the confusion and agitation, I felt an asthma attack might come upon me. F remained standing before the assistant inspector’s table throughout this time, but with all questioning having ceased, he kept his face stubbornly bowed down. “Well then, perhaps I’ll try questioning you myself… Come over here.”

Having said this, the assistant inspector rose to his feet with an inscrutable smile playing at the corners of his mouth and led F toward the back of the room. So were those delinquent youths real after all? Though it lasted only thirty minutes, to me it felt like an eternity of cruel silence.

The Assistant Inspector’s face tightened into complete impassivity as he returned to his seat.

"So after all, are these delinquent youths real?" I posed this question, but the Assistant Inspector merely gave an impassive glance and offered no reply. And for a short while, he pressed his palm to his forehead, appearing lost in thought, but with an air of having resolved himself, he took the glass pen beside him and brought it to the paper. By now, they adopted an attitude of not even turning toward us anymore.

“So, what kind of kimono does this Akiyama boy usually wear?” “A splashed-pattern kimono…” “Is the splashed-pattern cotton or silk?” “Cotton…”

“What kind of pattern was it? Is it shaped like a cross, or like what you’re wearing? Which is it?” “Something like what I’m wearing... but smaller...”

“How much smaller are we talking? ...This sort of size?”

“Um...”

“What color was the haori cord?” “Like brown…” “How thick was it?”

“Not too thick…”

“What about the obi?” “Cotton or silk?” “What color was it?” “……” “Cotton or silk?… A Father-style obi, or merino?” I interjected, but the assistant inspector shot me a look that said that’s unnecessary—.

“Merino…” “What color?” “……”

“Like that one?” The assistant inspector pointed toward the wall. “Like those… but darker…” “Hmm… And what sort of geta does he wear?” “Magnolia-soled fair-weather…” “What material for the thongs—leather or cloth?”

“Like cloth…”

“What color?”

“Black...” “Is it definitely black?” “Um...” “You’ve got to speak properly.” “Don’t get it wrong…” I cautioned F supportively.

“So the thongs are definitely black cloth?”

“Like velvet…”

“Hmm... Like velvet.” The Assistant Inspector occasionally made symbol-like marks in the corner of the paper as he pressed forward with the interrogation. “So what kind of hat was it?” “A hunting cap...”

“Does he always wear a hunting cap?”

“Um…”

“What color?” “Grayish…”

“Grayish-looking, and does it have a grid pattern or something?”

“It has…”

“It has... And does it have a badge attached to it?” “Um...”

“What kind of badge?” “Like crossed pens…” “Like crossed pens… What about tabi—do they always wear them or not…?” “Not wearing…” “Does he never wear them?” “They never wear them…” “What about his hair—is it grown out and parted, or cut short?” “It’s a bit long… but not parted…” In this manner, they proceeded to examine each facial feature in detail—skin color, bone structure, height, and so on. The other person called Kei-chan also had generally similar clothing, but his physique and facial features were different.

"So this Akiyama is thin with a long, dark face? And this Kei-chan is plump with a round face—and he's fair-skinned? Is that right?" "Um..."

“Both around eighteen years old—and their height? What’s that like, both of them?”

“Average height…” “What do you mean by 'average'?” “...About four shaku nine sun (4’9”),” F said, his face turning crimson as if forcing out the words. “You can state something as specific as four shaku nine sun (4’9”)?” I found myself unable to remain silent. Then I turned toward the police officer beside me,

“Is it possible for someone around eighteen to be that short?” I couldn’t help but ask,

“Well, I suppose that’s about right,” the police officer said indifferently. “Didn’t they have gold teeth or something?” continued the Assistant Inspector. “There weren’t any…” F answered, but then with an air of recalling something, “They weren’t in front, but they were in the back,” he corrected himself. “Which one was it—the one called Akiyama or Kei-chan?” “The one called Akiyama…” Having come this far, I found myself letting out a sigh as I spoke.

“How could someone who can state things so clearly have done such a foolish thing just because they were threatened by some delinquents...” I muttered this to myself, but noticing tears beginning to well up, I glanced at the police officers’ faces—yet even in their eyes I sensed an indescribably strange flicker pass through them for an instant. When it came to parental emotions, even police officers were no different.

F’s interrogation was, for the most part, concluded in this manner.

I didn't know what he had confessed when taken into the back room, but F's attitude during the interrogation left a distinctly unfavorable impression. Pressed by the Assistant Inspector, he would answer with hesitant "Um..."s—responses that could sound either unbearably arrogant or like words forced through teeth clenched in extreme pain. His face flushed crimson, lips twisting grotesquely as he occasionally shot sidelong glances at me, his entire body trembling while repeating those faltering "Um"s.

I rather felt like cursing the fact that I myself hadn't been placed in his position.

“So after all, were those delinquent youths following him?” “Well, we’ll need to investigate thoroughly...” “Were there any signs of assault being inflicted after all?…” “In any case, we’ll have to look into it thoroughly first...” The Assistant Inspector maintained his evasive manner to the end, stating this with an annoyed look. “Actually, due to entrance exam arrangements—once the graduation ceremony here concludes in a couple of days—I intend to send him straight to Tokyo. Roughly how many days will it take for that determination?” “Once the graduation ceremony concludes, would there be any issue with sending him to Tokyo?” “We can summon him back from Tokyo at your convenience whenever required...”

“Hmm…” The Assistant Inspector appeared to ponder for a moment. “In that case, we’ll have you leave him here with us for just one week. We’ll have it sorted out one way or another before long.” “The fact is, since the entrance examinations begin on the 25th, we’ve already submitted an application for that as well…” When I heard “one week,” I said in bewilderment, my voice pleading. “I see… Well then, considering tomorrow is a holiday, and the day after—that leaves two more days,” the Assistant Inspector said hesitantly at first, but then continued in a tone of firm conviction.

“I see.” “Thank you very much.” “In that case, starting tomorrow, we’ll take this brat around to catch those bastards ourselves.” “Until those bastards are caught, we’ll keep this brat here with us...” “Then go ahead and try—see for yourself.”

“We’ll keep this watch here until those bastards are caught,” I said, though I felt confident I could apprehend them by tomorrow and prove it. Now that matters had become this clear, I resolved we couldn’t rely solely on the police.

“Even regarding our custody procedures… we haven’t completed the necessary paperwork yet.” “But keeping such delinquents’ belongings in our home would be improper. Please let us leave the watch here...” “Well then, there’s little point in us holding it, but…” The Assistant Inspector pushed the watch aside with a wry smile. “In that case, if we apprehend those scoundrels and confirm his story matches, could you possibly show leniency regarding his punishment? With the graduation ceremony approaching and entrance exams at stake, I beg you to consider mercy in his disciplinary measures,” I pleaded while staring into the Assistant Inspector’s face, but

“Ultimately, after consulting with the Police Chief tomorrow, everything rests on his opinion…” he said in the same indifferent tone.

Exiting 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 this is a lie, you’re in real trouble—it’s all official now. But if it’s a lie—if you say it was a lie—even now I’ll go make apologies...” I pressed, still unable to reconcile this in my mind. “It ain’t a lie,” F said. “What did the Inspector ask you in the back?” “Things like whether I even had a mother or not, why we weren’t living together...”

“Was that all?” “That’s right.” “Even so—how could someone capable of mounting such a defense before the Inspector have done such an idiotic thing merely from being threatened by delinquent brats like that? Watch yourself!” I scolded, though the fact that this wasn’t solely F’s own scheming provided me with at least some small consolation.

“Are there really such things? Goodness gracious!” Even the temple’s old woman and Ms. Osei and the others clicked their tongues in astonishment.

The next day was the Spring Kōreisai, and the weather was clear and fine. The cherry blossoms in the temple grounds were beginning to bloom here and there. The three of us would use F as a decoy to hunt out the delinquent youths—that was the plan. It was at least something of interest. "Though it's an ill-fated bond, shall we set out on a revenge mission?" I said with a laugh. "Since I'm not much good at fabrication, that rascal F went and pulled off an outlandish one," I remarked. I had F wear the same clothes as yesterday. "You can leave the bag behind; with the cloak on, it won't be noticeable," I said, though I had him wear the torn hakama with straw sandals. We each carried walking sticks and such, while Mr. Ide held a thick bamboo rod. “Such impudent delinquent youths!” “If we catch them, should we give ’em a good beating?!” Mr. Ide said, flexing his brawny arm. "But since they're that sort of bastards, they probably carry blades or something—we mustn't let our guard down," I cautioned. Before they could be caught by the police, we would apprehend them ourselves, appeal to them sincerely to reform, and thought that depending on the circumstances, we might even join them in apologizing to the police.

“Then we’ll be off. Have a grand feast prepared by evening—we must hold a victory celebration upon our return…” I told Ms. Osei, and the four of us left the temple past nine o’clock.

With Younger Brother at the head, followed by F about twenty ken behind, then another twenty ken back with Mr. Ide and I walking side by side, we set out at a slow pace along the road before Kenchō-ji toward town. Our mood felt incongruous with the radiant light of that spring day. We climbed the stone steps before Hachiman Shrine, prayed at the altar for success, descended the tall front steps, and in areas like near the Mai-gaku-den Hall or before the stone torii gate—places where F would be particularly visible—we made him wander aimlessly while keeping watch from a distance without lowering our guard. Then, walking along the avenue before Hachiman Shrine between cherry trees beginning to bloom on both sides, we proceeded to the station, where we sat on an outdoor bench and made F wander back and forth across the station square. F walked back and forth in small, mechanical steps, head hung low, apparently oblivious to both our presence and the surrounding commotion.

“What state of mind is he walking in, I wonder?”

I said, recalling my impression from the previous night in Hase. "What state of mind... He must be anxious about all sorts of things," Younger Brother said. "Afraid of those bastards too—and if it comes to confronting them, his own flaws might get exposed." "In any case, this holiday’s timing was inconvenient." "If not for that, staking out here to catch them coming or going would’ve surely nabbed them."

"That's correct." "So even the police have a general lead, but since today's a holiday, they might have told us to extend it by another day." "I suppose that's how it is..." As we spoke, my gaze suddenly caught on a man entering from outside—hatless, wearing a coordinated Oshima-patterned kimono with serge hakama, arms crossed in a defiant posture, his physique imposing. Oh? I thought, then immediately recognized him as yesterday's desk officer. His shaved face made him nearly unrecognizable.

"That's last night's police officer. Doesn't he cut an imposing figure now? Looking like that, you'd hardly take him for an officer. He must be off duty today—but could he still be investigating our case?" I whispered to Younger Brother as we watched his figure enter the waiting room. The officer soon departed, and I gave a hurried bow. That we were conducting ourselves this way must surely have made a favorable impression on him, I thought. The police's earnestness felt truly appreciable.

Taking over from my younger brother who was unfamiliar with Kamakura, I now led the way as we departed the station after nearly an hour. Since Akiyama was said to always come from the direction of Myōhon-ji, we inquired at shops in that area about anyone with that surname, entered the temple grounds themselves, and questioned a student of about seventeen wearing a Zushi Middle School cap who was loitering there—but still found no leads. “Attaching badges to hunting caps is absolutely not permitted at our school,” the student said. Then we proceeded along Ōmachi-dōri toward F’s school—since F had mentioned that those guys sometimes came to throw balls around on Sundays and such—and set up surveillance in that area for a while, but not a shadow of them was to be seen. From the nearby station, we had F board the train to Hase alone, while we decided to take the next one. But no matter how long we waited, the next train simply wouldn’t come, and we grew anxious that our decoy might be snatched away.

“Since that’s how those bastards are—and being quite sensitive—they might lie low for a while without showing themselves.” “That may well be,” Younger Brother replied. “They might actually maintain proper hideouts—surprisingly professional types. If they’ve staked claims all the way to Zushi and Yokosuka while keeping up these antics constantly, it does complicate matters considerably.” “After all,” I said, exchanging a bitter smile with him, “this vendetta business is grueling work. Our ancestors supposedly spent years tracking their targets—no wonder revenge missions take such toll.” All three of us were growing palpably weary now. And once more, my own shadowed memories rose to haunt me.

It was one of the first stains that had been reproached whenever something touched upon it through the long months and years since my boyhood, but since yesterday in Koshigoe it had been newly reawakened, ceaselessly squirming painfully at the bottom of my mind.

When I was eight years old, my impoverished family moved to my mother's village and spent one winter living together in her family home. Having just entered the village school as a second-year student at an ordinary elementary school, I one day forgot my notebook or something and temporarily returned home. When I went back to school to retrieve it, the upperclassmen were in lessons and no one was around. As I left, from among the many skates piled in the geta box—though these were just wooden platforms with simple metal runners—I felt compelled to snatch the most worn-out looking straw-corded pair. Concealing them beneath my haori, I brought them home, knocked the skate platforms against the foundation stone of our storehouse to detach just the metal parts, and threw each straw sandal into the stream beside our estate. After throwing them in, I became suddenly terrified that I’d done something horribly wrong and irreversible, and though just a child, felt utterly bewildered—but I hid the two detached metal runners under the eaves for two or three days. Had I told Mother, she might have bought me proper skates, but being only eight years old, I was neither of age to wear metal-bladed ones nor had practiced like the village children. Father fashioned practice skates with bamboo runners instead, though childish shame kept me from using them openly—I secretly trained by tamping down snow in the back lot rather than venturing to main paths. Yet another resentment festered: before our move to the village, I’d received a pair from my middle school cousin that vanished during relocation, either lost in transit or given away by Mother after our arrival, leaving me bitterly aggrieved. Mother had said she’d thrown them away because the metal parts had broken—or something to that effect—but regardless, I was resentful. Such things might have contributed. In any case, I kept them hidden under the eaves for two or three days—whether I lacked the boldness to hammer them onto my own skates and go out walking like that, or whether, child though I was, I exercised caution—but after trading that child’s metal parts by claiming I’d received them from an older neighborhood boy and my cousin, wearing them for barely a day, it turned out by chance that what I’d stolen actually belonged to another nearby child, and everything was exposed by the boy I’d traded with. Since the owner’s name had been engraved on the back of the metal part, there remained no room for evasion. I was made to take a leave from school by Mother and subjected to severe interrogation, but I stubbornly maintained that I had received them from my cousin. When night fell, Mother lit a votive lamp at the household altar, filled a bowl with water, and told me to drink it with something called gomagi sticks floating in it. “If you're not lying, nothing will happen. But if you are, drinking this will make you vomit blood from your throat and die right away.” “Do you still insist?” “Now drink up…” When the bowl was thrust at me, I became utterly terrified, cried out loud, and begged for forgiveness. I was thoroughly chastened at that time. But nearly thirty years had passed since that time, and karma had come to repay F. I never attempted theft again after that, but when I found F at the Koshigoe police box yesterday and they produced those watches, I was struck by an eerie dread—had that same blood indeed been passed down to him?

Eventually, the three of us boarded the train, but these recollections made me grow increasingly despondent, and the determined resolve I'd felt when setting out that morning began to slip away. Though the police had intervened and F had stated matters so clearly up to that point that I thought it couldn't possibly be a lie, I still couldn't shake off this vague, opaque torment that lingered somewhere within me. "Back at that crossroads just now—five or six rough-looking boys clustered together talking—might those be them?" Mr. Ide suggested as our train passed through the seaside villa district. But the prospect of doubling back from Hase felt too wearisome, so we instead entered the Great Buddha's precincts.

On the stone benches placed here and there beside the Great Buddha, the three of us sat apart from one another, still letting F wander about, but aside from sailors taking photographs before the statue, university students arriving in groups of four or five, and sightseers coming and going in constant rotation, there was no sign of our targets. The cherry blossoms deep in the temple grounds were still only just beginning to bud, but beneath them a large crowd of drunks sang and danced. We had grown too weary to exchange words, and after an hour emerged from that place to trudge along Hase Street while being showered with automobile dust—my body and spirit were completely exhausted. In the vacant lot behind the station, a women's sumo performance had begun, its temporary hut's high scaffold echoing since morning with the rhythmic pounding of drums. Provocative posters advertising the sumo event hung before the hut, eagerly beckoning customers—entertainment seemingly tailor-made for delinquent youths—but though we lingered before it awhile, we ultimately couldn't muster the courage to enter. Perhaps on that eighteenth evening when F hadn't returned, walking home from school he'd been lured by these drumbeats; passing the hut would have required no real detour, making it plausible he'd entered and lost track of time—a more credible scenario than his movie theater claim. Yet questioning him now felt futile, so I never asked. We then approached four or five students wearing Zushi Middle School caps who were playing near the station entrance, but obtained no further clues.

It was already three o'clock. While eating a late lunch nearby, my younger brother and I drank beer, "After all, those aren't students we're dealing with." "They must be factory workers or something," Younger Brother said.

“That does seem to be the case. First off, there’s no way middle school students these days would go around wearing hunting caps and splashed-pattern kimono. They say he carries a canvas bag, but it’s probably just holding a lunchbox. When they go over there, they probably change into blue work clothes or something. Their story about commuting to Zushi is a lie—they must be factory workers from Taura or Yokosuka.” I shifted my tone to scornful provocation: “Those bastards probably grabbed you and threatened to make you their lackey just for kicks! That’s right, isn’t it? That bit about middle school students was all lies!”

“No, that’s not it! They weren’t workers or anything!” F denied, his face abruptly flushing crimson. I judged this blush meant we’d struck true - he’d been shamed by our accurate identification of them as factory hands. The thought occurred that if they were mere laborers, physical violence might have been avoided - though this too remained unverified.

“Then what kind of books were in that bag?” “What kind of books...” F stammered briefly before deflecting, “...they were like the ones Father reads...” “The sort I read... That’s a lie. They were probably just kōdan storybooks or something—even factory workers read those,” I said with hollow casualness, watching F’s face. F remained silent.

As evening approached, we left that place—Younger Brother and F heading straight for the station, while Mr. Ide and I intended to circle past Hachimangu once more before stopping by the watch shop to check on developments. We slid open the glass door of S Watch Shop and entered, finding only the owner—an acquaintance of mine—inside repairing a pocket watch.

"I am last night's brat's old man," I began, bowing slightly. "Truth is, I meant to come apologize proper once we'd sorted everything out—figured I'd wait till we had the full picture before making my excuses—but..." I trailed off, then launched into explaining F's running away and our morning spent combing Kamakura for phantom delinquents. The shopkeeper's lips twitched in that thin smile of his, eyes narrowing as they bored into mine. "...Ah yes," he drawled, fingers stilling on the watch mechanism. "See now, we'd taken him at his word—spoke so proper-like for a lad. Figured there must've been... complications at home." His voice took on a greasy, apologetic cadence. "Different mother situation maybe? Said he'd come up from Tokyo hunting an apprenticeship—begged us to speak with some uncle in Ushigome through my brother here, government clerk that he is..." A defensive shrug. "Well now, we believed every word."

“And how did you describe me?” “Well, he did mention you and that you were in this line of work, but since he insisted that everything be discussed with his uncle, we...” “How did he describe my address?” “He did mention some part of Tokyo, but since he said consulting you, Father, would be pointless, he insisted we go to his uncle instead…” “Is that so…” I said, but suddenly it struck me—here too, just as with the Zushi drugstore incident—that he might have actually revealed the truth about me. The owner said F had also mentioned things like, “This watch shop is one of the more prosperous in Kamakura”—but it seemed unlikely a child who’d suddenly come from Tokyo could utter such remarks convincingly. After all, there was F’s hat with his school’s emblem, his bag containing business cards bearing the school’s name, not to mention how he’d been passing through that area daily for a year and a half. He’d even been sent on errands for me several times—anyone could have easily deduced he was a Kamakura student. The fact that he took him in without making even that basic judgment, believing him to be a complete drifter, was utterly unbelievable. F might have pleaded that he was being abused by me or, as he told the Zushi pharmacist, that I was ill and impoverished so he had to become an apprentice—half as an excuse toward me or out of defiance, truly convincing himself of this narrative. But since approaching me directly would be futile, he likely requested they consult his uncle in Tokyo instead—that may have been how he made his appeal. The watch shop owner likely believed this story and therefore postponed contacting me, first trying to reach my younger brother in Tokyo before negotiating with me to rescue F from his predicament… But F escaped before the owner’s younger brother returned from Tokyo—F must have anticipated that everything would be exposed upon his return. Had those two watches he took managed to sell for fifty sen at the Hase watch shop, he probably would have used that money for train fare to flee to my younger brother’s place in Tokyo. Or perhaps he continued his vagrancy while he still had that money and became further entangled—that remained unclear. Afterward, when the owner chased after him by bicycle and F emerged from the metalworking shop he had gone to sell them a second time, I could not speculate what conversation passed between the owner and F, but perhaps—

“You’ve got the watches, don’t you? Leave those here!” When told this by the owner, “No, this one’s Father’s and this one’s mine—I didn’t steal them…” F might have feigned ignorance like this. After all, it was a public thoroughfare and the other party was a child; even if the owner had disclosed my address—or conversely, even if he thought F had come from Tokyo seeking apprenticeship without disclosing it—housing the child without consulting me or the police remained undeniably an inexcusable oversight. Considering all this, the owner may have witnessed F boarding the tram from Hase Station at that time, refrained from taking a forceful stance to let him go, immediately reported it to the police, and resorted to having them apprehend him in Koshigoe. That was undoubtedly the wisest means to avoid future troubles.

“After all, it was already past eight o’clock, and since he hadn’t eaten dinner yet—and I felt sorry to send him back to Tokyo—I had him eat some grilled mochi in the back…” The owner said this with the same skeptical look, but never mentioned the watches. Having visited my younger brother’s house in Tokyo yesterday, a young man who appeared to be the owner’s brother entered from outside, plopped down on the shop’s sales counter, and silently listened while looking down at my profile as I sat talking with the owner on the round stool in the earthen-floored area. Though I never turned toward him, his coldly scornful expression pierced my awareness incessantly.

“Then after all, this watch isn’t yours? As for that watch, I’m actually in quite a predicament...” The owner—who had no doubt been summoned by the police and shown the watch by now—asked with uneasy apprehension. “Well actually... it does indeed belong to our establishment,” the owner said, wearing a thin smile that revealed his glinting gold teeth. “After all—was it that he stole them alone?”

“Well, I suppose so… To tell the truth, a detective came this morning asking if I recognized this watch. When I said I did, he nearly had the wool pulled over my eyes! Then he told me to put my seal here on the theft report and took it away with him. Said since today’s a holiday, they’d be off duty now… and left just like that.” “Is that so…” I said, but the image of the kimono-clad police officer I’d glimpsed at the station that morning rose in my mind. They hadn’t been searching for delinquents for our sake at all—they’d simply finished filing the theft report and then casually shown up at the station… Was that it? ……And I felt utterly despondent. After my head had flared up with a crackle, with a deep, despairing sigh, I felt myself dizzily on the verge of collapse.

“When he went out, was there any indication someone else had come to summon him?” “I didn’t notice anything of that sort.”

“They say he comes out from behind Hachimangu—looks like a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old middle school student or factory worker, and apparently goes by Kei-chan—you wouldn’t happen to know a child by that name, would you?” “I don’t know...” “When he left the metalworking shop, and when he boarded the tram—was he alone in both instances?” “That’s correct.” “Whereabouts would that metalworking shop you mentioned be located?” “It’s right near the K movie theater in front of Gokurakuji Station, you see. To tell the truth, I hadn’t yet noticed the watches were missing at that time either, but I had my craftsman chase after him. However, he came back saying something rather unclear... Well, since I happened to have business in that area myself anyway, I ended up rushing over by bicycle...” The owner offered nothing clearer beyond this.

Outside had grown dim. “So it was that brat who stole them after all.” “Those delinquents—it was all lies!” “...What a terrible brat he is!” I said to Mr. Ide, who had been waiting outside, feeling my eyes grow hot with a deep sigh. With a heavy thud, it felt as though I’d been kicked down into the bottomless depths of darkness. Even if I could consider this as an accidental mistake by F arising from my own carelessness—a responsibility I ought to bear—the innate deceitfulness of F, who dragged us through his lies until the very end, made me feel contempt for my own child despite myself. Such emotions had to return to me and cruelly gnaw through my chest.

“Why did F do such a thing! Where was there any need for him to do such a thing!” Behind Mr. Ide’s thick nearsighted glasses, I caught a glimmer of tears. In my heart, I thanked him. Along the backstreet before Hachimangu, walking side by side with Mr. Ide toward the station, I walked with a feeling as though my feet weren’t touching the ground—when suddenly, from within the dim twilight ahead, I encountered the Kencho-ji Temple priest approaching with a steady gait. I came to a halt, straightened my posture, and bowed while gazing into the priest’s eyes—those eyes that, as ever, held an undiminished deep gleam.

“I must apologize for my prolonged neglect...” I said, offering my customary apology for failing to maintain my solitary visits. “Are you going out somewhere, sir? Are you going out somewhere, sir?” inquired the Kencho-ji Temple priest, taking two or three steps forward as he spoke. “It’s simply... an unfortunate situation—nothing but unfortunate situations...” I replied, feeling mortified in every conceivable sense.

“Let’s go check that metalworking shop too.” “There’s no telling what state things might be in there.” “After all, he’s not one to yield to ordinary methods—we must investigate exhaustively before making our move.” Having said this, we emerged toward the police station to board the tram together, but everything since the incident first occurred came surging back to pierce my chest,

“What a terrible brat he is!… Can you even grasp this, Mr. Ide…? Wasn’t he practically dragging us by a rope around our necks?... What an utter fool he is!” I shouted these words and struck the deserted path beneath pine trees with all my strength, snapping the sturdy imitation-ebony walking stick cleanly at mid-shaft. Boarding the tram with this broken cane, I alighted at Hase and visited that metalworker’s shop—but the young proprietor emerged wearing a befuddled expression, claiming no knowledge of such a child and refusing further engagement. Fearing F might detect and flee again, I raced alone by rickshaw from Hase Street—only to find F still listless yet unchanged, playing decoy at the waiting room entrance. On a bench near that entrance sat my younger brother, hunched with shadowed countenance.

“It’s no use after all—those delinquents and everything else were all lies,” I said in a low voice, sitting down next to my younger brother. “It was all his doing alone. The police had already made the watch shop file a theft report this morning...” “So that’s how it truly was...” My younger brother responded, his lips twisting into a pained expression. “F, come here,” I called, making him sit between us though I no longer had the energy for anger. “It was all lies from you, wasn’t it? The police had known everything from the start. That you told such lies before the inspector last night—that was your gravest mistake... You even stopped by that metalworking shop near Hase’s movie 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 offered a formal apology before the department head, requested that a message be relayed to the officer in charge, and then left. Even on the way back to the temple, we lacked the energy to exchange words. The foolish actions of this entire day—actions that didn't even rise to the level of a comedy—lay wretchedly before me in reflection.

That night until past two o'clock, F received even harsher reprimands from me. If his police statements had been entirely fabricated, it seemed almost too convenient—I still harbored suspicions that some truth might lurk beneath them. Yet even if this confession hadn't come spontaneously, if no other guilt remained beyond this, then as a child he should have shown signs of relief—the demeanor of one half-forgiven at best. No such signs appeared. Even when he bowed his head at my younger brother's urging, the gesture felt unnatural. Though tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, he—that habitual crybaby—remained dry-eyed. Just as during his interrogation before the police inspector, his slightly misaligned eyes glared bloodshot and fierce, his lower lip jutted out grotesquely, his entire body trembling violently. Or perhaps this constituted fierce rebellion against me—that this fundamental motive drove him to display such arrogant defiance even now—I found myself trapped in uncertainty.

“Is there truly nothing else—no other wrongdoings left besides this?” “If there’s anything else, out with it now!” “Since everything will come out once we go to the police tomorrow, it’s better you say whatever there is now.” “Is there truly nothing else?”

“There’s nothing…” “You say there’s nothing—isn’t that itself a lie? Now that it’s come to this, you should man up and confess everything properly. Everyone makes mistakes—once things have reached this point, you shouldn’t cling to such cowardly behavior. If you’re that spineless, you couldn’t become a proper villain even if you tried! So if there’s anything else, speak up like a man right now!” “There’s nothing…”

“Is that truly not a lie?” “It’s not a lie!” he said, his entire body trembling violently as he clenched his teeth. At the police interrogation, they had almost entirely glossed over matters of timing—they hadn’t needed such details from the start. So this time, imitating a police inspector myself, I began interrogating him step by step from that evening of the 16th when I had seen my elderly father off, writing down every detail—yet while things seemed clear, inconsistencies began to emerge. Pressed about his motive for trying to become an apprentice, in his desperation he began spouting nonsense—claiming the one who had threatened him into apprenticeship wasn’t a middle school student or factory worker, but rather a liquor store apprentice from Ōgigayatsu—thereby once more attempting to spin threads through the labyrinth. But when I barked at him, he obediently fell silent. When he had slipped away during Osei’s moment of inattention and headed toward Ōgigayatsu, then turned back toward school again—though ultimately unable to enter, loitering about the streets near campus—he had encountered a cart returning from Yokosuka. In that instant, he resolved there was nothing left but to become an apprentice, and so followed behind that cart all the way to Zushi. Such was the reasoning behind bringing up that liquor store apprentice from Ōgigayatsu—but despite his having supposedly confessed everything with sincerity—a sincerity I, who live with him and pay attention to even his subtlest expressions morning and night, should have been able to sense—I could detect no trace of it. Something else was still lurking! Driven by this intuition, I had been interrogating him while drinking alcohol, but I couldn’t dull it. I’d heard they sometimes used methods like keeping suspects awake for nights on end during interrogations until they slipped into unconsciousness and confessed—and now even I felt that same cruel impulse surging up. I began attempting the same thing myself, repeating questions in different orders, digging relentlessly into every detail to exploit his exhaustion—but he suddenly stood up as if unable to endure the extreme tension any longer,

“If you’re going to keep insisting it’s all lies, then I’ll go to the police right now and apologize on my own!” He shouted this as if lunging forward and made to put on his hakama. “You idiot! What time do you think it is? If this were something that could be settled by you going alone to apologize, we wouldn’t all be making such a fuss like this. Even Uncle and Mr. Ide are busy people, you know. You know about my illness too, don’t you? Who do you think everyone’s suffering through this foolish ordeal for—being dragged to the police and humiliated? Just think for once, you damned fool! Someone who can’t grasp basic human decency like you isn’t fit to be called a proper person! …You idiot!” I shouted like this too, but I ended up feeling utterly dejected. Even overwhelmed by an ominous dread, I made F go to bed.

“Given what he’s like—that boy who’d do anything—be on your guard tonight too,” I cautioned my younger brother. He might try to run away—he might even try to kill himself—the thought filled me with terror.

The next morning around ten o'clock, I awoke from an exhausted sleep only to find my younger brother and F missing. I asked Osei—who had come over—"What happened to F and the others?" Upon hearing her explanation, I instinctively cried out "Damn it!" and threw off my futon. My younger brother had consulted with Osei's father and taken F to the police station. "Has it been long?" "It can't have been more than thirty minutes—they left just moments ago." "As for Uncle—well... Uncle apparently didn't sleep at all last night. When I arrived this morning and saw how dreadfully exhausted you looked—it pained me so—he said perhaps he should go alone to handle things at the police station right away. So I suggested having my father accompany him instead—though he likely wouldn't be much help at his age—and went home to fetch him myself. I do apologize for overstepping..."

“That’s quite a mess you’ve made. At this point, for me not to go would be improper even toward the police—and I can’t bring myself to act so cowardly. No matter what illness I may have, isn’t this my own child’s doing? There’s no avoiding me going out there. Besides, there are matters only I can clarify by going and making proper appeals—and that brother of mine, though he seems reliable enough, resorting to underhanded measures at such a critical juncture just shows his lack of scholarly training. In any case, if we don’t go while everyone’s still at the police station, once they take him away that’ll be the end of it—and with the school and newspapers to deal with too—just hurry up and call a car for me! You’ve really gone and caused trouble…”

Borrowing Kencho-ji Temple's telephone to have someone call the car shop in front of the station, waking Mr. Ide as well, we washed our faces and waited for the car to arrive—but when it still didn’t come after some time, we decided to go wait out on the main road instead. The two of us had just set out when we found a young police officer standing guard alone at the gate along the thoroughfare. "I wonder if something’s happened?" I thought, but since it was an officer whose face I’d come to recognize at the police station the night before last, I greeted him and said, "We’ve been quite worn out by these delinquent youths, you see. As I laughed and said things like 'I’m just heading back to the police station now,' an empty taxi came from the opposite direction—likely having turned around a bit further down the road—so I waved it to stop, boarded after saying 'To the police station,' but only after riding a short distance did I notice the fine lap robe inside.

“Are you the car from in front of the station?” “No, I’m afraid not.”

“I see.” “The truth is I’d called for a car from in front of the station and was waiting for it to arrive around this time, so I assumed this must be it and stopped you, but…”

“I see.” “Well you see, I was talking with that officer over there, so I figured you must be police folks—but never mind that, I was headed back there anyway.” With that explanation, he drove us to the police station.

Having not encountered them along the way, I clung to a sliver of hope as I pushed open the police station door and entered—only to find the usual inspector and yesterday's kimono-clad officer still handling paperwork alone in the deserted room, where a calm atmosphere unlike nighttime's hung in the air. I repeatedly apologized before the police inspector, but “It’s already been settled,” he said impatiently and coldly, offering no further response.

“Then could you at least keep it confidential with the school... It’s just two or three days until the graduation ceremony,” I said, unable to bring myself to explicitly beg them not to publish it in the newspapers—knowing even if I pleaded now, it would be too late—yet still wanting to gauge his disposition, I made this final clinging request. All I received in return was a cold, impassive glance devoid of any reaction.

Stepping outside, I boarded a carriage from the station square and rode back bathed in spring sunlight, steeped in desolate resignation that everything was finished. As we crested Kobukurozaka hill, I suddenly noticed four or five yards ahead—along the narrow thoroughfare’s left side—the Police Chief I recognized following behind a procession of two or three women and four or five children, gripping his sword hilt. Connecting this with the officer standing guard at the gate, I realized this must be an escort for some noble’s pilgrimage to Hansōbō. The Chief himself turned at our carriage’s sound, fixing us with a piercing glare, but in that abrupt moment—unprepared to alight and with thoughts of my delinquent son surfacing amid the turmoil—we rattled past. Kencho-ji’s gate stood barely yards beyond; no sooner had we disembarked than the procession arrived behind us, the gate officer snapping into full salute. While I felt intense panic, I thought to myself: So it’s by this Police Chief’s judgment that everything has been decided... As I thought this, I became acutely aware of the Police Chief’s piercing glare directed at my back, and an indescribable prickly discomfort ran down my spine. For the first time, I felt as though I had been made to perceive the duties of police officers with some clarity.

“How did it go?” I asked my younger brother, who had returned. “No, they didn’t say anything particularly difficult.” “It was settled with just a simple warning.”

“What about F?” “He was taken to the back and made to listen to something written by a man who looked like a detective. When they asked if there were any mistakes and he said there weren’t, they told him to write his name and press his fingerprint…”

“Is that all?” “You’re supposed to enter middle school, but if you do something like this again, they’ll throw you straight into prison—I tell you…” “I see,” I said, but there was no strength left in me to argue any longer.

We were going to have F stand there until nightfall anyway, but just as we were about to make him sort out his luggage and bedding, a young man arrived bearing S Watch Shop's business card and claiming to be their craftsman. He sat facing me across the brazier, rambling on with thirty minutes of incoherent talk that left us wondering if he was simple-minded or working up to some revelation—until at last he declared we must have another watch and demanded its surrender.

“Truth be told, we hadn’t noticed either—but last night at the fire brigade meeting, since Hase’s watch shop belongs to the same brigade, this story came up: a child had brought two watches saying fifty sen for both would do. When they described him, we finally realized—yes, that must be the one…” His tone proved thoroughly cautious, far from simple-minded. “F, you have it, don’t you?... Hand it over.” I said to F, who had been listening nearby. He immediately produced it from his coat hem. It was an old nickel wristwatch that also wasn’t working.

"Is there anything else? If there's more, just hand it all over now. Getting everything out will make you feel lighter..." the Younger Brother pressed. "Phonograph needles..." "A full box?" "I only took about half." "Anything else?"

"There's nothing else."

“What a fool you are. That’s exactly why I questioned you so thoroughly last night. I had a feeling something remained hidden—even after all that questioning, you wouldn’t come clean—so this is how it ends up,” he blurted out. “So... you’ve still filed a report with the police after all?” “No, rest assured we’ve handled nothing improperly on our end—it’s simply that our master wished to request you visit us first...” he replied in the same evasively cautious tone.

“In that case, I’ll send my younger brother right after. Given how things stand now—since a report has been filed with the police—we must go through the proper procedures…” With that, I sent him back without handing over the watch; yet without confirming whether a report had been filed, the craftsman departed. “They did file the report, but since the police consider the case closed now, you should deal with them directly—they lectured us about how this whole mess happened because your household let the child stay over without permission in the first place,” my younger brother reported after returning later. “So they must have thought that if we didn’t hand over the watch here it would cause trouble, and that’s why he came out so cautiously like that.”

“Look here, F. Mind yourself.” “The world’s all like that.” “They’re convinced you’re hellbent on thieving over there—thinking I’d hide even that worthless watch because I’m a thief’s father. Disgraceful business.” “Was your grand scheme to haul that watch back to Tokyo? Lie to your grandfather and uncles and aunts that someone gave it to you? Strut about with it on your wrist?” “Pathetic wretch—hadn’t I promised you a nickel wristwatch if you made middle school?” “If you wanted one so badly, I’d have handed over my own! Bought you dozens!” “I’ve had my fill—won’t own another watch till I die. Don’t you dare pull this again.” “Any man can err—I’ll forgive this once. But shape up—become someone who matters.” “Poor I may stay forever, but your grandfather’s set aside school funds proper.” “Don’t go turning miserly on me.” “...Well? Feeling halfway decent now? Then bow to your Uncle,” I told F. F’s expression had finally eased.

“What happened to those phonograph needles?”

“He played around making torii gates and such at Shichirigahama Beach.” I myself knew he would get old ones from Osei’s house, stick them into wood scraps, and play at crafting torii gates and various things. Even so—that he’d played alone for hours at that wave-crashed shore, bathed in spring sunlight with an empty stomach, utterly lost—yet hadn’t staggered into the surf to be swept away... For this mercy, I felt gratitude toward our fate.

They ate their farewell dinner, had their luggage and bedding transported to the carters, and the three departed past eight o’clock.

I had even considered asking Mr. Ide to stay for two or three more days, but ultimately decided it would be better to be completely alone, steeling my resolve to spend the long days of confinement that would begin tomorrow in this dark, cavernous room of connected ten- and eight-mat spaces with austere discipline.