Pathway to Japanese Literature

Ⅰ It was a warm early evening. Pale red moonlight filtered through the grove of ginkgo trees freshly tinged with light green. The woods behind Sensō-ji Temple saw little foot traffic, yet by the pond, the clamor of the crowd mingled with the music from motion pictures to create a tumultuous din. A woman who had exited the waiting area beside Hikan Inari Shrine passed behind Asakusa Shrine and attempted to go toward the side of Kannon Hall. When she reached the large ginkgo tree standing at the right roadside, a burly man in a fedora—who appeared to have been hiding in the trunk’s shadow—emerged fluttering like a bat and brushed past her. At that moment, she thought she felt his hand brush against the right sleeve of her coat. Then, bending his body to the left with a demonic leer, he walked away briskly.

In the direction the burly man went, there stood a corner of a soba shop’s wall adjacent to the waiting area from which the woman emerged. The moonlight brightly illuminated the area around the sign nailed to that wall that read “Park District 5.” “Isn’t that Sanshi?” called a voice from the side. The burly man stopped in his tracks upon hearing a familiar voice. A small-statured man wearing a hunting cap stood there. “Iwamoto? Where you headed?” “No particular place. I was just walking around here. You?”

“Me? Had an appointment to meet him here, but something went sideways. Ditching it to head elsewhere.” “Bullshit. You botched the drop.” “Since when do I chase nursemaid gigs?” “Quit it. That crone by the hilltop bench—your mark?” “Not some backwater hustle.” “Artificial flower racket then?” “I ain’t that gutter-tier. Ah, whatever—let’s hit the club. Beer’ll loosen your ears.”

The two of them left laughing through the Nio Gate together, turned toward the ward office, and entered a small bar beside it. About six tables stood arranged with around ten customers scattered among them. The two sat at a table in the left-hand corner and ordered beer, whereupon a familiar plump waitress brought two Western-style cups.

“Why don’t you tell me—what was that terrifying ‘advertised item’ just now?” Iwamoto said with a sneer. “Let me wet my throat first…” Sanshi took a sip while eyeing a black-bearded man at the neighboring table arranging two or three Masamune bottles. “Originally from Yanagibashi,” he continued in a low voice, smiling. “Now by Komagata Hall—ship-plank fence with an overhanging pine out front. And she’s quite the beauty, I tell you.”

“Listen here—you’re not chasing another mark just to wind up in a detention cell again, are you? When I ran into that bucktoothed detective around Senzoku-cho last night, he was asking about your recent activities,” Iwamoto said in a low voice. “If they approached me first, what choice did I have?” “Detention cells stay cold even in spring.” “No need to worry—they provide flaming scarlet crepe nightgowns.” As their Western-style cups emptied, Sanshi ordered more beer and said while wetting his lips, “Just wait ten more days—I’ll show you something worth envying.”

“You say that, but is it true?” Because Sanshi’s story differed from his usual talk, Iwamoto stopped his teasing and leaned in. “It’s true.” “Then I’d like you to explain the movie.” The two men wet their throats with beer while talking obsessively about the woman. These two were hoodlums who prowled Asakusa Park; Iwamoto lived in Senzoku-cho and made his trade putting up motion picture advertisement posters, while Sanshi was the son of a barber in Umamichi.

Gradually the bar became crowded, and customers wearing Western suits came to their table as well. Iwamoto noticed this, twisted his body around, and looked at the octagonal clock hanging on the pillar above the counter.

“Oh, it’s already half past ten. I’ve got business to attend to.” “Which way’s your net cast tonight?” “Commercial affairs,” he said, grinning through his pockmarked mouth as he straightened his hat. “Much obliged.”

After Iwamoto left, Sanshi called the waitress, paid for the beer, and attempted to exit. But as he lifted the blue curtain hanging over the entrance, he recalled the letter he had thrown behind Kannon Hall and wondered whether that woman had already seen it.

II

The outdoors was bathed in beautiful moonlight. As motion pictures and plays were letting out, pedestrian traffic had increased. Sanshi passed before night stalls lining Denbō-in's wall and headed toward the pond. As he walked, he imagined the woman might arrive as soon as tomorrow evening...between eight and nine o'clock...If Iwamoto were present then, he'd make him burn with envy. He had heard from a customer at his own shop about a woman kept by a pawnbroker serving as ward councilor who was carrying on an affair with an entertainer. Having located the place through surveillance and waited for her return to toss in a blackmail letter, he now plotted to extort her into submission.

"...Please come to the XXX Bar beside Asakusa Ward Office between 8 to 9 o'clock at night within ten days starting tomorrow. You'll recognize me by the red ribbon tied to my cloak cord. Should you fail to come, I'll expose you to your husband and publish this in the Asakusa Bulletin." Recalling the wording of the blackmail letter he had written, he thought she would be cornered by this and would surely come.

The night was windless and quiet. The willow trees around the pond had their branches hanging perfectly straight. The illumination from the motion pictures across the pond, which appeared to burn fiercely on dark nights, looked blurred in the moonlight.

Sanshi Tokiji, having walked almost unconsciously onto the earthen bridge, suddenly noticed a lovely young girl approaching from the other side. That was a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old fair-skinned girl wearing a vividly beautiful yuzen-patterned haori.

Sanshi’s eyes were drawn to the young girl. The young girl walked over with leisurely steps as if out for a stroll, passing Sanshi—but as they brushed past each other, her clear black eyes, luminous between brows and lids, gazed at his face with an enraptured intensity. [...] He checked behind her for companions, but only three or four drunken laborers approached, none resembling an attendant. Sanshi’s wicked heart stirred. He passed by the group of laborers, then turned back and began following the young girl. The group of laborers overtook the young girl and, turning back, called out something as they went off.

The young girl turned left and entered the woods. In the dim grove, gas lamps flickered here and there as people passed sporadically. A suspicious woman with white-powdered face went by. Around there came faint voices from people sitting on benches placed at intervals. Among them were those whose noses were reddened by the firefly-like glow of their cigarettes. The young girl passed through that space and quietly headed toward the teahouse. Sanshi Tokiji kept a distance of about six feet, walking slowly and cautiously as he advanced. This was both to avoid startling the young girl and partly to evade the notice of detectives prowling the park.

The yuzen pattern on the young girl's haori stood out vividly in the darkness, glowing like pallid light. When he stared intently, the design proved unlike any familiar floral or avian patterns he knew. It had been rendered with delicate lines suggesting seaweed from the depths or—depending on one's perspective—something akin to whirling water currents.

Passing in front of the teahouse and proceeding to the wisteria trellis behind the aquarium—finding no passersby nearby—Sanshi closed the distance and called out. “Hey there.” As she walked, the young girl revealed a glimpse of her pale cheek. “Where are you going?”

Sanshi forced his voice into gentleness. The young girl’s pale cheek came into view once more, seeming to smile faintly. Sanshi felt as though he’d already gotten a firm grip on her. “Care to walk together?” The young girl kept walking while showing her pale cheek again. Sanshi forgot all about detectives and pressed close behind her. She turned right past Kannon Hall toward its shadowed rear. He thought he was steering them into darkness—had her cornered now.

“Where’s your house?” Sanshi spoke with increasingly presumptuous familiarity. The young girl walked with her body leaning supplely, as if awaiting a more forward proposition from the man’s lips. “What’s wrong with telling me where you live?”

The young girl seemed to pause for a moment but immediately started walking again. Sanshi tried to place his own hand on her right hand. Just then, as two or three geisha-like female companions approached from ahead, he pulled back the hand he was about to reach out. The two had already arrived before the fountain. The statue of Bishamonten, having ceased its water spout, stood exposed to the moonlight, tinged yellow. Sanshi absentmindedly cast his eyes toward the Bishamonten statue while attempting to grasp the young girl’s hand where she now seemed to stand at his right side—but there was no hand there... While thinking "Huh?" and directing his gaze, the young girl’s figure was already gone. Sanshi was startled. He spun around and scanned his surroundings, but the young girl’s figure was nowhere to be seen.

"This can’t be right."

Sanshi Tokiji ran toward the back of the hall, but even there, the young girl’s figure was nowhere to be seen. He returned to the fountain and paced urgently around its perimeter, scouring every inch. “Where’d she go?”

Sanshi Tokiji walked through the nearby woods, searching round and round, but she was nowhere to be found. Still unable to give up, he went to the Nio Gate and searched around the pond as well, but ultimately found nothing.

III

Sanshi was waiting at the XXX Bar next to the ward office for the woman he had blackmailed to come. He alternately watched the hands of the octagonal clock above the bar counter languidly advancing their positions and kept glancing at customers entering through the parted blue noren curtain. The clock’s long hand pointed to ten. ...Just ten minutes left. Will she come? he wondered, unconsciously letting his gaze drop to his chest. The red ribbon tied to the right base of the tea-colored flat cord on his silk Oshima haori appeared like a flower. He shifted his gaze back toward the entrance. A tall student wearing serge hakama was leaving....Before long, she might have gone to a waiting room and could even send a maid to call for me, he thought again.

Once again, the image of the young girl he had lost sight of by the fountain last night surfaced in his mind. His mind drifted unbidden in that direction. He could see her Yuzen-patterned haori resembling a blue noren and her stark white face... Still, why had she disappeared? She couldn't have just vanished into thin air—could she? He pondered the young girl's bizarre behavior—how she'd suddenly disappeared as if evaporated. He rested his cheek—glinting gold at the corner of his mouth—at a slant upon the back of his hand draped over the worn armrest. Then the clock struck nine... So it's nine already—he shifted his gaze from the clock back to the entrance. The blue noren hung lazily, absorbing the lingering scents of alcohol and tobacco in the earthen-walled room.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Sanshi? You’re acting awfully reserved tonight, aren’t you?” said the thick-lipped bartender girl from the front. He looked at the bartender girl and said nothing. He grew impatient waiting for the woman who wasn’t coming. He perched on the edge of his seat watching the entrance. Two customers came in with companions, but the woman’s figure remained absent. The clock’s hands passed five minutes, then ten. ...She might not come right away—you never know, he found himself thinking. ...If she didn’t show after another night or two, he’d need to send another threat...

The thought of the young girl resurfaced. ……She might be here again tonight—the moment this notion took hold, he found himself wanting to see her. He hurriedly settled his bill and went outside. Outside hung the same moon as last night.

He carefully picked his way through the shuffling crowd under moonlight toward the pondside. Having left Denbō-in Temple’s wall behind and reached the pond’s edge, he spotted among the crowd approaching from the left a young girl wearing a Yuzen-patterned haori. He quietly moved toward her and stared intently at her face as he smiled. The young girl turned to meet his gaze with entranced eyes. ……Tonight I won’t lose her. “When’d you slip away last night?” Sanshi leaned in close to peer at her face.

The young girl merely turned a softly smiling face toward him and said nothing.

“What’s your name?” Sanshi said again. “I’m called Minawa,” the young girl said in a small voice. “Minawa... Miss Minawa, right?” Sanshi found the young girl unbearably cute. “Where are you?” The young girl responded with nothing but a smile. “Why don’t we walk together?”

He noticed something brushing past him peering into his face as it went. He walked in silence for a moment.

The young girl crossed the earthen bridge and ascended the mountain. Sanshi, thinking they could talk on the upper bench, happily followed after her.

“Why don’t we rest here?” The young girl silently descended the mountain to the right and headed toward the bridge spanning a small pond.

Moonlight was blocked by the grove of trees, leaving the surroundings dark. When Sanshi stepped onto the bridge, he smoothly approached and tried to grasp her hand. And then, before he knew it, the young girl’s figure was gone. Sanshi frantically searched the surrounding area. A man and woman who had crossed the bridge passed by, staring at Sanshi’s face as he peered around on the bridge.

IV

Sanshi was walking around the pond.

He had been waiting at the XXX Bar that evening for the woman he was blackmailing, but when she still hadn’t appeared by nearly ten o’clock, he went out once more to search for the young girl. Before long, all the park’s attractions closed down. The crowd around the pond thinned out, but the young girl did not appear. He sat on benches—on the hilltop, in the grove—resting his weary legs.

"...Tonight’s no good," he muttered as he walked past Egawa’s ball-balancing act. He had given up circling the pond and was about to head home, but finding himself unwilling to return to his house and sleep right away, he walked on while thinking of the woman at the butcher shop near the post office.

That night held thin clouds that veiled the sky, leaving the moonlight hazy. The flow of people grew ever sparser, and shops made clattering sounds as they closed their shutters. Nakamise Street too had shuttered most of its storefronts and lay dimly lit. Sanshi walked before the stone-paved stretch of Nakamise Street, dragging his geta as he moved toward the tram thoroughfare.

Just as he reached the center of Nakamise Street, a girl emerged from a side alley to the right and appeared before his eyes. It was that young girl. The pattern on her Yuzen-patterned haori—resembling a bluish glow—was clearly visible. “Hey,” Sanshi called out. The young girl came to a halt and turned her pale face toward him. “Miss Minawa, you slipped away again last night, didn’t you?” The young girl faintly smiled. “Where you headed now?” The young girl turned her face toward the tram street.

“Mind if I come along?” The young girl walked with a nod. Sanshi followed after her. As he walked, he... I won’t let you get away tonight—and kept his eyes fixed on the woman.

After exiting Nakamise’s frontage, the young girl turned toward Azuma Bridge and walked along the roadway’s edge. The tram approaching its last run had people sporadically boarding and alighting. Sanshi abruptly thought to take the young girl to the cheap Hanakawado inn he knew. “We won’t stop anywhere I’m familiar with—I’ll treat you proper.” The young girl smiled faintly and glanced back.

“Let’s go over there.” “You have somewhere to go?” The young girl nodded and strode on. Sanshi wondered what kind of girl she was—she couldn’t possibly be a streetwalker... Though suspicious, he thought pressing further might frighten her away, so he followed as she directed.

The two passed by the police box at the foot of Azuma Bridge and walked on. A police officer standing at the entrance was scrutinizing the young girl and the burly man. Sanshi found that vaguely unnerving. “Aren’t your feet sore?” Sanshi forced a friendly tone to show the officer he wasn’t suspicious.

The two walked along the left side of the bridge. The clatter of geta echoed. Beneath the bridge, the Sumida River’s waters—spread out like a mouse-gray carpet—flowed as though they were a river from the realm of dreams.

At the far end of the bridge stood another police box, its officer slumped against the entrance as though asleep. Sanshi was relieved. The young girl turned left at the corner and walked along the riverbank. To the right towered a brick building belonging to a beer company, its color resembling dried blood. There were no longer any passersby. Sanshi suddenly thought that perhaps the young girl had nowhere particular to go but, finding crowded places embarrassing, was simply wandering aimlessly toward deserted areas.

“Is it still far?” he asked. The young girl turned her face toward the man with an expression that seemed to say, “Almost there.” “Your house.”

The young girl shook her head. The two came to the corner where they were about to turn toward the foot of Makurabashi Bridge. There, near the riverbank, stood a public toilet. When they went in front of it, the young girl suddenly ran off toward the stone embankment along the riverbank. Sanshi thought he must not let her escape again, so he followed after her. At the base of the stone embankment, the already full river water lay still and brimming. The young girl, fluttering the sleeves of her Yuzen-patterned haori, suddenly leaped into the water—yet not a single splash sounded. Sanshi stood hunched on the stone embankment, able only to watch as the woman’s body disappeared into the water, powerless to act. The woman’s hair, which had become disheveled when she leaped, also vanished from sight. The Ōkawa River that had swallowed the woman’s body flowed serenely beneath the hazy moonlight, showing no trace of disturbance.

Sanshi ran back and forth along the stone embankment, peering into the water's surface while fumbling with his obi at his waist—as if expecting the woman's figure to materialize at any moment. The young girl's form never reappeared. Then Sanshi became aware of himself—flustered by her sudden leap into the water. He remembered how disastrous it would be if someone spotted him. Forgetting his own culpability, he darted his eyes about to survey the surroundings before hastily retightening his half-undone sash and turning toward Makurabashi Bridge to leave.

Ⅴ

Sanshi, terrified, ceased going out from the next day onward. Keeping a low profile at home, he skimmed through the two or three newspapers delivered to his shop and listened to the conversations of guests visiting his house while watching for rumors about the drowned young girl—a consequence he himself had forced upon her. Yet even after four or five days, no such rumors surfaced. He grew somewhat relieved—the corpse must have been carried out to sea, he told himself, which explained why it hadn’t been found; if that were true, there was nothing left to worry about. Moreover, when he considered his surroundings, it began to seem that a man who had prowled for women day and night suddenly shutting himself indoors would only heighten others’ suspicions—so on the sixth night, he warily ventured out.

And then, as he walked, he recalled the artificial flower shop in Senzoku-cho; he entered through the Nio Gate, cut across the park, and made his way into the alley known as Sarunosuke Yokocho. In the labyrinthine tangle of alleys where paths intersected paths, small houses with bamboo lattices—once home to unlicensed prostitutes until a year or two prior—had once stood haphazardly with their eaves crowded together. Now all were prohibited, and the few remaining houses hung suspicious signs that read "Artificial Flower Shop," their narrow shelves lined with various artificial blossoms.

The place Sanshi was heading to lay two or three houses down, winding through alleys from lane to lane. At that corner stood an oden stall with a red lantern hung out. The red moonlight that had been spreading evening darkness for about an hour lay upon its eaves. Wanting to steel his nerves, Sanshi thrust his head through the curtain. A student-looking man sat alone eating oden.

“How about pouring me a drink?” Sanshi said, looking at the familiar face of the old man. The old man took a bottle of sake from the shelf on his right, opened it, passed it behind him, and said, “Here’s your warmed sake.” There was a long hibachi with a copper pot set into it, and sitting there was a young girl he had never seen before. “Right away.” The young girl quickly took the bottle the old man had produced and immersed it in the copper pot. “What would you like for your side dish?” said the old man, holding long chopsticks.

“If there’s squid available, I’ll have that.” “Unfortunately, we’re out of squid, but we do have ganmodoki if you’d like.” “Then I’ll have the ganmodoki and hanpen.” The old man fished out ganmodoki and hanpen from the pot and placed them before Sanshi, then set out a cup—just as the warmed sake became ready. Sanshi bowed over the counter, eating the side dish and drinking the sake, but the liquor soon ran out. “Old man, another round of sake.” The old man was snip-snipping away at the pickles. He couldn’t free his hands just then, so he spoke while turning toward the back as though looking over his shoulder.

“Minawa, another round for the sake. This old man’s hands are tied—you handle it.” At the word “Minawa,” Sanshi started and peered through the billowing steam from the pot toward the young girl. The young girl rose to approach the shelf, flicking a glance at the customer as she smiled. This was his young girl—the one with tranquil space between brows and eyes glistening moistly—who had plunged into the water. That haori too bore Yuzen patterns shimmering with vivid blue radiance. He dropped his chopsticks.

“Old man, that’s enough—how much?” he said, trembling. “So, stopping the sake then?” “Enough, enough—how much?” “That’ll be twenty sen.”

Sanshi’s hands trembled as he pulled two ten-sen bills from his coin purse, slapping them down before staggering out in panic. Forgetting entirely about the artificial flower shop now, he kept heading toward bustling areas—bustling areas thick with crowds—but his mind spun too wildly to grasp direction. After doubling back through the same alleyways again and again, he finally spilled out onto a lively main street packed with pedestrians and managed to steady his nerves somewhat……Yet even so, he thought, that woman who’d leapt into the water showing herself before him—this surely meant she harbored a grudge against him. The terror became unbearable.

And then, an electric-lit bar came into view. He hurriedly entered it. The store in Nijō or Sanjō, with its selenite dining tables, was packed with a crowd of customers. He went to its right side and sat down. “Can someone come over here? We have a customer.”

The bartender girl who had been standing in front of a customer on the left handling payment said while looking toward the counter. Then a bartender girl appeared from nowhere and stood before Sanshi. “What can I get for you?” “Bring me a beer,” Sanshi said, and as he spoke he looked at the woman’s face. That was the face of the current young girl—serene between the eyes and brows. Blood rushed to Sanshi’s head. He suddenly stood up and fled outside.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you darting your eyes around like that?” said a man who had come up from behind and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Sanshi was startled and came to a halt. The one who had placed his hand was Iwamoto. "You're ridiculously jumpy—did you pull something again?" Iwamoto laughed. Sanshi silently fixed his jittery eyes on Iwamoto’s face. "What’s wrong—you get spooked by some mountain fox?" Iwamoto laughed again.

Sanshi finally came back to himself.

“Oh, it’s nothin’—just got some business weighin’ on me,” he joked, though his voice caught in his throat. “Ah, whatever—let’s head to XXX Bar.” When Iwamoto said this, Sanshi figured XXX Bar would be safe enough. The pair went together toward the ward office, but Sanshi—still uneasy—couldn’t make himself take the lead into the bar’s entrance. He edged in behind Iwamoto, eyes darting over the four or five bartender girls’ faces—all regulars he knew by sight, nothin’ suspicious about ’em.

“What’s with all the frantic looking around?” Having been cautioned by Iwamoto, Sanshi finally took his seat.

“How about beer?” said Iwamoto. “I’ll have whiskey.” Sanshi wanted to get thoroughly drunk and steel his nerves.

Soon beer arrived before Iwamoto and whiskey before Sanshi. “Haven’t seen you for four-five days—what’ve you been up to?” “Couldn’t get out—shop’s been swamped.” “Awfully proper all sudden. Those detectives hassle you again? Yapping ’bout some ship-plank fence near Komagata Hall...” “Nah—shop was packed solid.”

“Seeing how desperately you’re making excuses, something unfortunate must’ve happened.” Sanshi, thinking his crimes must not come to light through such matters, vehemently explained himself. “Your excuses grow more pathetic by the minute—but for friendship’s sake, I’ll humor this ‘shop was busy’ story,” Iwamoto said with a laugh throughout.

“Mr. Sanshi, there’s a customer for you,” called the bartender girl. Sanshi was startled and looked up. At the entrance stood a sturdy, maid-like woman who appeared to have business. Sanshi, thinking it might be that suspicious young girl again, looked closely—but this was a round-faced woman who appeared to be eighteen or nineteen. “Mr. Sanshi, you there,” called the bartender girl, rising up to look at him. ...Could this be from that mistress? Sanshi wondered. He hurriedly left his chair, went toward the entrance, and stood looking at the woman’s face.

“You are Mr. Sanshi Tokiji, I presume?” the woman asked with a smile. “Yes, I am Sanshi Tokiji,” Sanshi said. The woman, upon hearing this, calmly took out a blue-enveloped letter from the fold of her kimono and presented it. “Please read this and give your response immediately.”

Sanshi opened the letter and read it. ...there are various matters I wish to discuss with you, so I humbly request that you come quietly with my envoy so as not to attract attention... was written. It had come from the Komagata woman. “Alright, please wait here a moment—I’ll just wrap things up over there and return,” Sanshi said before returning to his seat, where he whispered into the ear of Iwamoto, who had been watching with wide eyes. “I’m heading out for a bit. Cover the payment together later,” he said, taking two fifty-sen bills from his purse.

“So it’s finally Komagata?” Iwamoto asked enviously. “Well, around there.” Sanshi briskly went off and left together with the woman. Driven by both envy and curiosity to see where Sanshi was headed, Iwamoto hastily added a few more coins to the money Sanshi had left behind and tossed them onto the table.

“Hey, there’s 1 yen and 20 sen here. If it’s not enough, I’ll settle it tomorrow night,” he said, hastily stepping outdoors.

Outside, mist rose, blurring the moonlight. Iwamoto, assuming it was Komagata, first turned right from the bar’s entrance to look and saw the woman and Sanshi walking side by side about eighteen meters ahead, conversing as they went. The woman wore a petite blue Yuzen-patterned haori. "...She’s quite a looker for a maid," he thought. When the two emerged onto Hirokoji Avenue, they crossed the streetcar tracks and turned onto the sidewalk on the other side toward Komagata. Iwamoto also followed from behind, maintaining a distance of about eighteen meters. A pale gray mist appeared to intermittently envelop the woman’s figure.

When they reached Komagata Hall, the two quickly crossed the streetcar tracks and descended from the front of the hall. Iwamoto trailed them while taking care not to be noticed... So that really was the woman after all. That bastard must’ve gotten his hands on her by now, he thought, consumed with envy. The two emerged into a back alley and retreated five or six ken to the left, but when they opened a black door that appeared to be a rear gate, Sanshi’s figure vanished from view. The woman slipped halfway through while closing the gate, revealing her small pale face toward Iwamoto before disappearing. "...Damn it... He’s really gone in now," he clicked his tongue and walked toward the gate. There stood a two-story house with a ship-plank fence, its main gate serving as a side entrance where a small eave light glowed beside a nameplate reading “Yamaguchi Hana.” “…I won’t let this slip either,” Iwamoto read the nameplate’s characters two or three times over.

VI

Five or six days later, Sanshi’s mother came to Iwamoto’s house in Senzoku-cho and said her son had disappeared. When they inquired about the day he had left home, it turned out to be the very evening he had gone to the Komagata woman’s house. Iwamoto reluctantly recounted the events of that night, and the two of them went to the Yamaguchi Hana residence in Komagata.

An elderly woman who seemed to be a servant came to answer the door, and following her, a mistress with a round chignon who appeared to be in her mid-twenties emerged. "Might my son have come to your esteemed household?" the mother asked. "Your 'son,' who might that be?" the mistress asked suspiciously. "That would be Sanshi Tokiji." "Sanshi Tokiji... I’m afraid I don’t know any such person." "Is that so? My son has been missing for four or five days now. When I asked Mr. Iwamoto here—my son’s friend—he told me that on the very evening he disappeared, your maid came to see him at the ××× Bar and took him away. This Mr. Iwamoto followed them out of curiosity and swears he saw them enter through your back gate."

The mistress had been listening with an exasperated look, but— “There must be some mistake,” she said, turning toward Iwamoto. “Even if one were to bring someone through the back gate, my house’s back gate faces the river—you couldn’t enter except by boat. And as for this ‘maid’ of ours—what kind of woman was she?”

“She was about sixteen or seventeen, fair-skinned, wearing what looked like a Yuzen-patterned haori,” said Iwamoto. “Ah, then this most certainly isn’t my house,” the mistress declared conclusively. “In my household, apart from the old woman who just answered the door, we’ve never employed any maids.”

The two left dejectedly with nothing more to say, but Iwamoto—who had clearly witnessed them entering through the back gate—couldn’t shake his doubts and went to examine what seemed to be a rear entrance on the gate’s left side. There was indeed a gate door coated in coal-tar, and when he gently tested it, the door’s pivot immediately gave way. The area appeared to be a wholesaler’s unloading dock nearby, with the Yamaguchi family’s ship-planked fence standing on the left and the neighboring house’s brick wall on the right. The two ventured inside.

At the dead end stretched a single-plank pier built against a stone wall like an engawa-style veranda, and beneath it, the waters of the Ōkawa River lay full and heavy, as though cradling some secret of things. After gazing at the river’s surface, they silently exchanged glances and stood frozen.

Soon after, strange rumors of the Water Demon began to circulate. Sanshi’s whereabouts remain unknown to this day, and it is said they will likely never be known.