Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The questioner,

(What is the most abundant thing in the world?)

When the questioner asked, the one who answered,

“That would be human beings,”
said the one who answered.

The questioner pressed further:
“Then what is the scarcest thing in the world?”

Then the one who answered replied:
“That would also be human beings.”

There exists such a tale.

Nabeshima Kai-no-kami, the Edo Town Magistrate, would always recall that story and think that among humans, the most abundant must be evildoers; each time he entered the courtyard for trials, he felt disgust toward humanity and would often lament to others that he had taken on an accursed post.

They arrested and arrested, yet crimes in the city never ceased; the courtyard for trials grew busy welcoming evildoers as dawn broke each day.—No—rather, the more they arrested, the more spitefully it seemed to him that the number of evildoers multiplied.

“The Denma Prison can’t hold any more. Unless we undertake prison construction—”
“—unless we undertake prison construction—”

To the extent that his subordinate cried out in desperation and made such appeals, Kai-no-kami had once applied himself so diligently to his duties.

Now, had this actually reduced evildoers in the city at that time? Incidents in entertainment districts, scandals in unlicensed pleasure quarters, burglaries, extortions, murders—the tabloids of late Bunsei society remained as bustling as ever, and Edo’s streets showed no signs of becoming any more peaceful.

“This won’t do!”

At one point, Kai-no-kami had even considered resigning from his post.
However, this persisted only until about his second year in office; after four or five years had passed, his way of thinking began to change.

"When I truly reflect upon it, there is not a single true evildoer in this world."

He spoke this to others and held the conviction deeply within himself.

“Even a revered figure like Hōnen Shōnin declared himself a common mortal guilty of the Ten Evils.”
“Did not Shinran Shōnin himself explicitly declare—‘Even the good attain birth [in the Pure Land]; how much more so the wicked!’—?”
“If viewed through that lens, there should be no evildoers in this world.”
“Rather, it is equivalent to the magistrate’s office forcibly manufacturing evildoers.”

After that, Nabeshima Kai-no-kami felt much lighter in spirit.
He strove to apply the law in a way that brought out the good in people.
And he, having deeply devoted himself to the Buddhist prayers of Hōnen Shōnin, held absolute faith in the religion that had instilled this turning point in his judicial philosophy; integrating social policy with religion, he resolved to transform his jurisdiction into a Pure Land in this world.

II

That very Kai-no-kami was today at the investigation office displaying a rarely seen manner of anger and roaring.

“Silence! From the very start, no matter what I ask, you do nothing but repeat ‘Your words are most reasonable’—how am I to discern your true intentions this way?”
“Will you reconcile or refuse? Answer me clearly!”

In the courtyard for trials, seven or eight townspeople were prostrating themselves like dried flounder.
The two people in the center were likely the parties to the lawsuit.
One was a refined elderly woman around sixty years old, wearing a modest kimono with fine patterns and a neatly tied obi, constantly dabbing at her tears.

The other party was a small-statured townsman of forty-five or forty-six years old, who likewise appeared timid and mild-mannered. Perhaps due to some chronic ailment, his sallow skin lacked luster, and his narrow eyes—shadowed beneath their lids—remained perpetually downcast, radiating unease.

Kai-no-kami’s rebuke was directed at that man.

The town elders and attendants waiting at the back flinched, holding their breath as they watched to see how Hikobei the moneylender would respond.

“Y-yes…”

Hikobei bent his thinly fleshed body from the waist and, peering up at the magistrate through his brow, repeated his answer in the mechanical rhythm of a rice-pounding pestle.

“Y-yes… Truly, Your Honor’s words are most reasonable.”
“As Your Honor states, your words are indeed most reasonable, but…”

Nabeshima Kai-no-kami was growing increasingly impatient,

“You impossible wretch!”
“Cease with this ‘most reasonable’ nonsense!”
“In this official inquiry regarding the lawsuit, you need only answer what we ask of you here.”
“—Will you accept the Widow Osuge of Handa-ya’s terms, or refuse?”

“With all due respect… I must decline that proposal.”

“So you refuse reconciliation.”

“If the principal and interest are repaid in full, I would be willing to reconcile.”

“In that case, there would be no lawsuit.”
“…How about it, Hikobei? Even you could stand to do a good deed once in your life.”

“If it is a good deed, I would desire to perform it at any time.”

“That’s precisely what I’ve been telling you. The townspeople call you a demon, but through Kai-no-kami’s eyes, you are by no means inherently such a villain—I see that deep within you lies goodness. It is simply that the moneylending profession has made you into a demon, I suppose.”

“Your words are most reasonable, exactly as you say.”

Hikobei fidgeted with apparent delight, narrowed his already thin eyes even further, and gazed up at the magistrate’s face as though at a familiar acquaintance.

“See? When praised, you’d feel pleased, wouldn’t you?”
“The same holds true even for trivial good deeds.”
“Perform a great good deed, and you’ll know joy just as great.”
“You wouldn’t want to spend your life being called a demon or inhuman wretch—to have society spit on you until death.”

“Yes…”

“Resolve to perform one good deed in your lifetime—withdraw this lawsuit and reconcile with Widow Osuge of Handa-ya. Was not Handa-ya your former master from your youth?”
“You lent money at ruinous rates to your fallen lord, evicted his family under collateral pretense, and now dwell in his house—society will brand you an evil demon or venomous serpent.”

“Yes…”

“Widow Osuge of Handa-ya.”

Kai-no-kami shifted his gaze to the other elderly woman.
Osuge was shedding tears of gratitude at the magistrate’s handling of the matter.

“Hikobei appears convinced by my words. Given your debt’s exorbitant interest rates, you shall have him lower them as previously stated, then repay the principal in annual installments henceforth without fail to Hikobei.”

“…………”

The widow sobbed and bowed in reverence to the magistrate’s mercy.
Kai-no-kami thought that today as well he had done another deed that would please the founder, Honen Shonin, and his own heart felt uplifted.

“You understand now, Widow Osuge of Handa-ya.”

“Ah… I humbly thank you.”
“…Then regarding the shop we currently reside in—as Mr. Hikobei insists—would it be permissible for us not to vacate it even now, at this very moment?”

“Certainly—as long as the debt is repaid, Hikobei should have no objection.”
“Now then, Hikobei.”

Then Hikobei smirked as though hearing a jest.

“Your Honor.”
“In that case, would it not appear as though you yourself were lending money to Handa-ya?”
“This humble one cannot accept Your Honor’s current proposal.”
“I beg you to kindly consider once more that the money lent is indeed mine.”

(What a detestable man.)

Nabeshima Kai-no-kami could not remain unmoved by personal feelings.

Looking toward the clerk’s desk,

“Show me the contract again.”

Pulling it close to his knees, Kai-no-kami tried to find any point that would be advantageous to Handa-ya.
But the contract’s wording left not even a loophole as fine as a needle’s eye.

There existed no statute stating that money lent to a former master could not be collected in accordance with the contract—
Rather, the statutes were even positioned to protect creditors.
Kai-no-kami had never felt as powerless as he did today in his role as the enforcer of the statutes.

III

Handa-ya was a long-established lacquer wholesaler in Tadesho-cho, Nihonbashi.
The premises were spacious enough that the numerous black square pillars with a lacquered sheen caught the eye, comprising four buildings in total—shop storehouses and main house storehouses.

Hikobei was originally a man from Etchu who had been hired from a lacquer-producing region to work there, and every day at the shop front, he would sit alongside others in the sun scraping lacquer sap. Then twenty years later, Hikobei the lacquer scraper had become a moneylender in Koamicho. Conversely, the master of Handa-ya had suffered a stroke several years prior, the family fortune had declined, and they had resorted to borrowing at high interest from Hikobei—who had once been their shop employee—managing to barely sustain themselves through the past year or two. (Because he was a man who used to work at our shop—)

Widow Osuge had clung to that glimmer of hope somewhere within herself.
But when the deadline arrived, Hikobei showed no mercy.
He demanded they vacate the house taken as collateral, just as agreed.

Even in poverty, they maintained the sprawling household of a grand merchant establishment.
The widow was nearing sixty, but she thought letting collapse in her time the pioneering lacquer shop that had been among Edo’s earliest would leave her no face to show her ancestors.
Ever since first taking her place in the magistrate’s trial courtyard, she had come here time and again—

(From now on，we will take the lead in reforming our family’s lifestyle to one of frugality，personally urging our sons and employees，so that within two or three years we will surely repay the debt—so please，Mr. Hikobei，out of compassion and remembrance of our past bond，allow us a little more time before evicting us from the house.)

She did nothing but plead and weep before the magistrate.

(How pitiful... No matter what—)

And so, Kai-no-kami attempted to mediate this lawsuit.
Initially, he had left the matter to the yoriki’s examination, but since Hikobei obstinately refused to withdraw the lawsuit, Kai-no-kami himself had summoned him during the past two sessions to attempt persuasion.

But today, even Kai-no-kami had thrown in the towel.—Now, even as he took the contract in hand, from a legal standpoint there was no gap to exploit, and even if he tried to grasp at some leverage against him, this Hikobei had—to such an extent that he even bore the nickname “Hikobei of Perpetual Acquiescence”—whether they threatened, coaxed, or even brandished the authority to strike, (Yes, as you say. Yes, as you say.) [He] was a man who did nothing but bow his head while doggedly sticking to his hollow “‘as you say.’”

There was no choice left but to appeal to compassion, thought Kai-no-kami. For he had seen many times over that even in those deemed most wicked—like old wells—if one draws out all the foul water, pure water will eventually well up from the depths.

IV

“What say you, Hikobei? Will you not reconsider once more?”
“Indeed, from the perspective of the statutes, your claim holds true.”
“But through humanity’s lens, you’ve used gold’s power to strangle your former master.”
“Though the law cannot punish you, society shall surely despise you.”

“As you say.”

“Speak plainly! Answer with honesty!”

“Nay, for I too deem that as you say—”

“Then why won’t you agree to a settlement?”

“Even if I were to consent, the contract will not consent.”

“The contract you had written—it can be altered by your will.”

“That is precisely where this humble one differs slightly from society.”
“This humble one is but a servant employed by the contract, not a master who may alter it at will.”
“That is precisely why this humble one has attained the status to lend money to others.”

“Do you not find it pitiable that your former master laments so?”

“As you say—however, in this world there exists nothing more self-serving than those who borrow money. When taking loans, they worship this humble one as if I were a god or Amida Buddha himself. Yet when repayment comes due, they call us demons, pretend absence from home, spew vile abuse—and in the end, some even refuse payment while making threats. Of a hundred borrowers, ninety-nine prove thus—how could any mercy stir within me for such as these?”

“But in this case, is it not your former master? Even temporarily—if you abandon the shop you once served to perish or survive solely by your own judgment—you’ll scarcely know peaceful sleep again.”

“……”

Just when it seemed he might say "As you say" once more, Hikobei remained silent with his head bowed.

Pressing further,

“First of all—do you mean to resell that house immediately after seizing it as collateral? Even were you to sell it elsewhere, you must leave it vacant for at least half a year or a full year.”
“More than that—if this could become one virtuous deed in your lifetime, could there be any worthier act?”

When Kai-no-kami admonished him,

“No.”

And—unusually for this man—he shook his head vehemently.

“This humble one intends to move in and reside there immediately.”

“Use it as a residence?”
“…But you live alone with just your adopted daughter Otaka, do you not?”

“But I do intend to live there at least once.”
“The reason is that this humble one was, in days past at that very shopfront of Handa-ya, scolded with vulgar abuse like a beast of burden, kicked underfoot, and even struck with a lacquer stick by its master.”
“At such times, a crowd would gather in the street, watching with apparent amusement as people were beaten, while there in the accounts office, the Madam would look on with an impassive face.”
“In the end, since this humble one was driven out from Handa-ya’s shop, I must at least once reside there and nail up my nameplate facing the street to find satisfaction.”
“Yes, Your Honor’s words and the Madam of Handa-ya’s words are as you say, but given these circumstances, this humble one wishes to abide precisely by the authorities’ law and the stipulations of the contract.”

Having said that, Hikobei muttered under his breath,

"Namu Amida Butsu."
"Namu Amida Butsu..."

he was reciting a Buddhist prayer.

This man, like Magistrate Nabeshima Kai-no-kami, wore prayer beads around his inner wrist.

V

Handa-ya, the pioneering establishment of Tadosho-machi, had closed its doors.

Thereafter, Hikobei himself went and nailed his nameplate in its place.

“If I were to live there, one or two lanterns wouldn’t suffice.”
“Just repapering the shoji screens alone would become an immense undertaking.”
“This requires careful consideration.”

He had nailed up the nameplate but appeared to have abandoned plans to move in.

Instead, he posted a “For Sale or Rent” notice.

He had many other rental properties as well.
Hikobei’s job was to go around collecting rent and interest every day.

“Landlord, if you don’t fix the threshold of the water outlet, I’m going to be in trouble.”
“It’s already rotten.”

“As you say.”
“I shall manage it somehow in due course.”

In that manner, wherever he went and wherever he was pressed, he would retreat behind “As you say.”

“You’re the worst two-faced hypocrite around!”
“I ain’t payin’ no rent ’til you fix that roof—get that through your skull!”

There were those who shouted at him, but even in response to that, he would offer a forced chuckle and an “As you say.”

Otaka, his adopted daughter, was most worried in the evenings when her father was late returning home.

(That bastard'll surely come to no good end.)

Such voices from society naturally found their way to her ears too.

VI

It was the evening of the summer festival.
The portable shrine of Sugi no Mori Shrine jostled through the sweat-reeking town.

Otaka’s house alone stood like a missing tooth, its festival lanterns unlit.
Hikobei, the adoptive father, had severed ties with neighborhood relations, begrudging even such expenses.

Stepping outside the lattice, Otaka looked at the lanterns of neighboring eaves.
Otaka was wearing a beautiful kimono, but

(Good evening...)

Not a soul passing by greeted her.
Rather, even her beauty, along with the money her adoptive father had amassed, was seen as a target of curses.

What’s happened…?

She had grown accustomed to loneliness in society, but the loneliness within the home seemed unbearable.
Otaka was anxiously waiting for her adoptive father, who was late returning.

“Could he be delayed at Mr. Tamiya’s house? …”

As she thought this, Otaka suddenly grew anxious.
It was the house of Tamiya Ginzaemon and his son Shinnosuke, a masterless samurai.
The samurai residence where the father and son lived was just across Kakihamabashi Bridge in the neighborhood, and it was customary to stop by there last during one’s daily debt collection rounds.

“Could it be… again?”
“……”

Closing the lattice, Otaka crossed Kakihamabashi Bridge while seeking the cool air.
She encountered no one along the way.
The Tamiya father and son lived in the back tenement of the lumber dealer across the bridge.

The alley swarmed with mosquitoes that seemed to strike one’s face.
When she entered as anticipated, her adoptive father’s voice reached her from the dimly lit entrance.

“This proves most troublesome. While your circumstances may warrant a hundred or two hundred considerations, my livelihood permits no further delays.”
“Per the contract’s explicit terms, I must now dispose elsewhere of the Goto-carved menuki [sword fittings] held in collateral. I trust you will comprehend this necessity.”

It was Hikobei—a man who had never once shown anger.
Even at such a critical juncture, his face and voice remained devoid of emotion.

The one restraining him by the arm was Tamiya Ginzaemon—a masterless samurai of respectable bearing but clad in a frayed hemp robe and wearing a single worn ornamental hairpin at his waist, far older than Hikobei.

“If those are sold off, I would be utterly ruined.”
“I beg you for just two more months’ extension.”

“But the contract explicitly states that should repayment not be made by the deadline, the items may be disposed of at any time without objection.”

“The truth is… the truth is… though it shames me to say—those items belong to another. Through your recommendation, the matter of securing an official post nears settlement, and my son Shinnosuke is even now calling at that very household. So I implore you—at least until my boy returns—”

“As you say, but the deadline expired yesterday.”

“But from yesterday to today—isn’t that too harsh?”
“That’s most regrettable.”
“Since you refuse to wait…”

“I shall take my leave.”

“Master Hikobei!”

Once outside, Ginzaemon grabbed his sleeve.

“If those menuki were to pass into another’s hands, we father and son could never again face our benefactor with dignity. Moreover, we would inevitably lose the post you’ve worked so hard to secure for us.”

“Your reasoning is sound—I fully comprehend your position—but—”

“I swear I’ll not cost you a single coin in principal or interest.”
“The borrowed sum was two ryō, yet those Goto-carved menuki are worth twenty pieces at minimum.”
“Is this not too unjust?”

“No, these mosquitoes are dreadful. Please release me.”
“Every single point is quite right—yes, quite right.”

Hikobei bowed his head so excessively that it left no room for the other party to become angry.

And then, exiting the alley as if fleeing,

“Wait! You monster! I’ve one more thing to say! Wait!”

The sound of pursuing footsteps approached.

VII

“Ah… y-you terrible man!”

Holding his sandals in both hands, Hikobei dashed into his house’s kitchen.

“Otaka—fetch me some water.”
“Otaka.”

Receiving no reply, he stepped into the sink area himself, noisily splashed water to wash his muddied feet, glanced furtively around the back door, then—despite the sweltering heat—closed it and slid the locking bar into place.

“Where did she go?”

After looking around the house, Hikobei muttered to himself, but then immediately entered the next dark room and removed the prayer beads from his wrist.

“Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu…”

For Hikobei, this was his sole indulgence.
After doing something that weighed on his conscience, he would surely enter there and chant Buddhist prayers.
It seemed he believed that if only he chanted Buddhist prayers, any karma would vanish on the spot.

“……Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu…”

Apparently feeling somewhat uneasy tonight, his Buddhist prayers were prolonged.
At the foot of Kakihama Bridge, he had been caught by Ginzaemon, who seemed to have gone mad, was slapped two or three times on the cheek, and though he didn’t know what was said, he just kept repeating “Quite right” over and over and barely managed to escape with his life.

(He won't come anymore.)

Though he thought this, Ginzaemon's eyes—which had glared at him while gripping the sword hilt—still remained etched in his mind, and terror refused to leave his spine.

“Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu…”

Then, with a forceful clatter, the sound of the front lattice door opening rang out.

“Otaka—is that you?”

When he stretched his neck forward, a young man in matching festival yukata—mud still clinging to his feet—suddenly leapt onto the tatami and fanned outward with a festival uchiwa.

“Hey! Let’s ram Lord Tenjin into this antisocial demon’s den—this self-serving bastard’s house!”

The barrel mikoshi they’d been jostling under the opposite eaves advanced toward them in time with their chants.

With metal rods clanging, bells ringing, and sweat-soaked shouts driving them onward, they first smashed the mikoshi’s prow against the lattice with a thunderous crash.

The house groaned like an earthquake. They trampled both the fusuma sliding doors and shoji paper screens to pieces, then hurled the barrel mikoshi into the center of the tatami room.

“Where’d that dog bastard disappear to?”

“He went spinning and scrambling up to the second floor!”

“Serves you right!”

A tremendous burst of laughter erupted both inside and outside the house.
And then, each and every one of them vehemently vented all the grievances they had long wished to express.

From outside the commotion,

“Miss Otaka—is Miss Otaka here?”

A pale-faced young ronin shouted.

VIII

The group of young men who had thrown the barrel mikoshi into the destroyed house and were resting,

“Oh! It’s the son of the temple school!”

“It’s Mr. Shinnosuke.”

They looked slightly deflated.

For Shinnosuke’s expression had lost all trace of its usual kindness.

He was a young man well-regarded in the neighborhood as steadfast and devoted to his parents, despite being of an age where he should already have taken a wife.

“What are you all doing?”

“Exactly what you saw.”
“Well, this kinda thing ain’t nothin’ unusual at Lord Tenjin’s festival.”

“No matter how you look at it, this is excessive violence. Why don’t you disperse quickly before the town officials arrive?”

“Since even the town officials are sayin’, ‘Ah, enough already,’ they ain’t comin’.”

“Enough! Clear out of here.”
“If you refuse, I’ll take you lot on myself.”

“Give it a rest, Mr. Shinnosuke. Word is you’re sweet on Otaka here, but once you see the father she’s got, you’ll live to regret it.”

“Keep your idle talk to yourself.”
“Remove that mikoshi at once!”

“Ain’t worth scrappin’ with the likes of you.”
“Well then, outta respect for Mr. Shinnosuke here, suppose we’ll haul it out.”

IX

It was a scene as if a tsunami had passed through.
Of course, all lights were extinguished.

Through the broken window’s bamboo blind，only the faint light from the festival lanterns on the opposite side flowed in.

“Otaka… Otaka!”

Shinnosuke stood amidst it, calling out.

Outside the kitchen door,

“I’m here!… Open up!… It won’t budge!”

It was Otaka’s voice.

As Shinnosuke tried running toward it, the door came loose before him and Otaka tumbled inside.

“Father? …Father?”
“……”

“Don’t know!”

Noticing both the desperate strength in his embrace and his deathly pale complexion,

“Sh… Shin… What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“It’s goodbye—for you and me.”
“What?”
“——”

The man took a deep breath and hung his head.

Otaka trembled, her voice breaking into sobs as she shook Shinnosuke’s chest.

“Why… Wh-why… I hate this!”

“Ask your father about it later.”

“...I understand.”
“So, because Father made a cruel demand tonight, that’s why you got angry too, Shin-san?”
“Please forgive.”
“Father still doesn’t know about our relationship, because…”

“It’s not just that.”

“Then… what in the world have you done?”

“My father—”

Shinnosuke, choking back a sob,

"My father, Ginzaemon—just now, he went to his benefactor's residence and committed suicide."

"Ah—for my father's sake?"

“It goes without saying.”
“I came here to kill Hikobei and avenge my father—but seeing these muddy footprints, I’ve reconsidered even that folly.—Otaka, this ends now.”

“Please wait.”
“Sh-Shin-san, please take me with you and escape!”

“The enemy’s daughter? Don’t be absurd!”

“An enemy? —What of the bond between us?”

“Society won’t permit it.”

“Then you’re telling me to die… Shin-san, I… this body isn’t mine alone anymore—is it?”

“……”

Shinnosuke, recalling a mass of blood that had nearly taken human form in the darkness within darkness, shuddered in terror at the undeniable consequences of his own actions.

——The man and woman seemed to have left through the back door.

Hikobei, stretching his neck out from the top of the ladder stairs, was quietly listening to the whispers from below.

(They probably wouldn’t commit lovers’ suicide.)

Having thought this, he consoled himself—but if they were to go on living, what would that man and woman do?

There was no sign they had laid hands on the strongbox downstairs. If they hadn’t taken money with them, he might suspect they intended to die.

“I’ve raised this adopted daughter from age five until today… To have her taken by someone like that…”

Hikobei suddenly found O-Taka’s body as precious as gold. Even if she’s pregnant, the child could be dealt with later, he thought.

“That’s right.”

He immediately rushed out through the back door to give chase.

The figures of the man and woman were nowhere to be found.
But even if he could locate them, he thought confronting Shinnosuke head-on would pose considerable danger.
He had no confidence he could take Otaka back, nor did he feel he could approach them recklessly.

"What should I do...?"

When faced with situations beyond his own power, Hikobei would always immediately invoke the authorities' legal codes in his mind.
The nation’s laws seemed to have been crafted for his own benefit, he seemed to believe.

“I beg of you.”

He rushed into the neighborhood guard post and rapidly appealed to the wardens and officers who were outside on the cooling platform sharing festival sake.

The town officials fell silent and exchanged glances.
They had just been discussing rumors about the barrel-shaped mikoshi.
When they saw Hikobei’s livid, contorted face, the officers—perhaps finding it amusing—laughed while tearing dried squid and said:

“Hikobei, you might as well rush straight to the magistrate’s office.”
“For your opponent’s a samurai, and where Shinnosuke’s father cut his belly looks to be the estate of some high-ranking retainer to the Lord of Unshu.”
“Tricky business, this.”

“W-well… is that so?”

Watching Hikobei’s flustered figure scurrying away, on the cooling platform, the laughter and banter resumed with vigor.

Ten

Magistrate Nabeshima Kai-no-kami listened without uttering a single interruption from beginning to end to Hikobei’s ceaselessly gushing pleas.

“Hmm.”

Nabeshima nodded—

“Now then, Hikobei—your petition is to have your adopted daughter returned to you, I take it?”

“Y-yes, that is indeed the case.”

“Why not let them have her? If those two who care for each other can live peacefully, surely that would bring you some relief.”

Hikobei had completely forgotten both his habitual deferential posture and stock phrases tonight.
He became somewhat defensive and argued with pedantic logic.

“Your Honor, with all due respect, would that not render the authorities’ laws as though they did not exist?”

“Why?”

“Elopement is prohibited by law, as it should be.”
“I believe it is the law that you capture them and make an example of them at the base of Nihonbashi Bridge.”
“Moreover, this Shinnosuke fellow incited the festival mikoshi riot, had those youths trample my house as if it were an open field, and under cover of that commotion abducted my adopted daughter—he is a vile man.”
“If Your Honor does not punish this, we powerless townspeople cannot live in peace under your jurisdiction.”

“Indeed, you are quite well-versed in the law.”
“Such prohibitions do exist. Yet cases where elopers were truly made into public spectacles have been few—but if you insist, I shall have them pursued.”

“My deepest gratitude.”

“However—should Shinnosuke submit a lawful petition offering to return your daughter in exchange for his father’s life being restored, how would you answer?”

“Mr. Tamiya curtailed his own life through his own deliberations.”
“This humble one bears no knowledge of such affairs.”
“Moreover, I believe no august law exists that would condemn this humble one.”

“True enough—no such august statute exists. Yet that reasoning holds only between a townsman like yourself and the legal codes.”
“When samurai confront one another, while the august law remains law, an entirely separate sense of duty and compassion commands respect among their kind.”

“No matter what they may say, I believe there is nothing in this world as unshakable as the august law.”
“Yes—even if they come making such claims, I will not entertain them.”

“Then settle it amicably.”
“In truth, before you came here, a complaint has been filed by Lord Matsudaira Izumo-no-kami’s retainers, stating various matters.”
“I have no cause to bind you myself, but the Lord of Unshu’s retainers may be waiting outside the gate for you to leave here.”

No sooner had he spoken than—

“Stand!”

he commanded.

“……”

Hikobei did not stand up.
Or perhaps he hadn’t stood up at all.
He was trembling violently.

“Stand, Hikobei!”

“W-wait… just a moment… please.”

“What?”

“Are those words you just spoke… entirely truthful?”

“The magistrate does not lie.”

“Then if I leave here, I may be killed.”

“It seems Ginzaemon’s acquaintances have heard the circumstances and are greatly enraged.”
“There’s no telling what they might do.”

“I hesitate to ask, but… could you perhaps allow this humble one to stay tonight in some corner of the prison cells?”

“Want to spend the night in jail?”

“Y-yes.”

“One night won’t suffice.”
“Spend three years in there, and try thinking a bit about what you’ve done.”
“There are probably about ten people in there for your sake as well.”
“Such a thing as three years—I cannot possibly endure that long.”

“Then get out.”
“I will not bind you.”

“……”

“Or would you rather enter?”

“……”

Hikobei remained motionless, both hands planted on the ground as he clung to the courtyard for trials.
The loop of prayer beads was wrapped around those wrists.

Standing rigidly in place, Kai-no-kami glared at him with terrifying eyes and spoke with anger from the depths of his being.

“Y-you villain!”

And then, he snapped off the prayer beads that had been hanging around his own wrist and hurled them at Hikobei’s head.

(September 1936)