Pathway to Japanese Literature

Preface—A Flying Machine from a Century Ago

A century ago, flying machines had already been invented in Japan. Regrettably, they were never granted the opportunity to develop into later airplanes; destroyed by ignorance, ambition, and wicked hearts, they perished leaving behind only a single essay and a sorrowful tale. Yet who can guarantee that those pioneers' dauntless vision and bloodstained research were not a humble foundation stone for the aviation world's miraculous development now seeking to conquer today's skies?

In the fourth year of Ansei (1857), the essay "Brushwork Diversions" by renowned scholar Kan Chazan included the small story presented on the left.

1. Ingenious Mechanism: Sukekichi, a mounting artist from Okayama in Bizen Province, captured a pigeon to measure its body weight and wing dimensions. Comparing these against his own weight, he fashioned wings for himself and constructed a mechanism to manipulate flapping flight before his chest. Unable to ascend from the ground, he instead launched himself by flapping from rooftops. One night while running through the outskirts and looking down upon a banquet in the fields, he attempted to approach thinking they might be acquaintances. But as he neared the ground, the wind's force weakened unexpectedly, causing him to fall. The men and women screamed in surprise and fled, leaving behind abundant food and drink which Sukekichi devoured voraciously (omission)... Later when this incident came to light, he was summoned before the magistrate's office. Though claiming his unprecedented acts were mere amusement, they were deemed criminal - his wings confiscated, his residence banished from the ward, and he was forcibly relocated to another district. (omitted below)

Thirty years after this incident, around the beginning of the Tenpō era, Sukekichi the mounting artist had secluded himself on Mount Hakusan in Kaga, where he continued his research on flying machines with increasing intensity and advanced his discoveries from flapping-wing flight to glider aircraft.

Half-Faced Beauty

“Thanks to that rest, I’ve completely recovered. Bean paste and bitter tea make for quite the feast when the timing’s right. Let’s try to get closer to the mountain while the sun’s still high.” The thirty-two- or thirty-three-year-old traveler rose to his feet while gazing at the sunlight, his split luggage shouldered. Every inch the Edo merchant in appearance, he bore a sun-bronzed complexion and sharply defined features—a physique and bearing allowing no slackness. Yet when he smiled, that face etched with bitterness revealed unexpected charm, creating an oddly endearing masculine presence.

It was early autumn in the second year of Tenpō (1831), when the mountains' autumn colors still remained faint. From Tsurugi Town in Kaga Domain, the path ascending sacred Mount Hakusan along the Tedori River's main stream peeked intermittently through glimmering white and green.

“Where might you be heading, sir?” The tea shop proprietress asked the unusually generous customer while counting the copper coins for the tea. “I intend to pay my respects at Mae-dake’s Hakusan Shrine due to a vow—”

The traveler sat back down on the bench once more. There was something undeniably grave about the tea shop proprietress's face. "You mustn't climb Mount Hakusan—take my word for it." "Why's that, ma'am?" A faint suspicion stirred even across the traveler's defiant face. "You being from Edo might not know this, but Mount Hakusan has had all sorts of strange happenings for over twenty years now—it's been made a restricted mountain."

“Hmm.” “Kanazawa’s mountain officials have blocked all climbing routes—not a single villager can approach anymore, and even timber harvesters and charcoal burners can’t go up the mountain now, I tell you.” “Hmm.” “The imperial envoys making offerings to sacred Mount Hakusan do climb it two or three times a year. And word has it those very envoys are entering the mountain around today.” The proprietress stepped outside the reed screen and shaded her eyes toward Kanazawa. “If all you say is there are suspicious happenings, I can’t very well turn back now after coming this far. What exactly are these suspicious happenings, ma’am?”

The traveler pressed his inquiry. "They do say on clear days, a monstrous great bird - like a bat spreading its wings - drifts back and forth between Mount Hakusan's inner peaks. Not that I've laid eyes on it myself, mind you, but folk claim it's the vengeful spirit of Ōtsuki Denzō, put to death by imperial command ages past—"

The tea shop proprietress’s words had some basis in reality. Moreover, there were several villagers who had witnessed monstrous birds at Mount Hakusan’s peaks, while across the Northern Provinces at that time spread legends claiming these creatures were vengeful spirits of Ōtsuki Denzō and Asao from the Kaga Disturbance—transformed into avian forms to torment the Lord of Kaga and ignite Kanazawa’s great fire. “That’s a frightening tale—but still, didn’t a young woman just climb up alone earlier? With indigo gaiters for snake protection and attire far too flashy for mountain trekking—I caught a glimpse of her profile—stunningly beautiful. You’d rarely find such a woman even in Edo.”

The traveler's story leapt about in all directions. When he had entered this tea shop, the beauty of the right half-face shown by the woman passing him on her way out appeared to have seared itself into his memory like a brand. "Heh, heh, heh—caught your eye, did she? That woman's right profile's famous throughout Kaga Domain. Though mind you, if you saw her left half it'd freeze your blood—but she's clever about never showing newcomers that ruined side."

“?” “Next time you meet her, move to her left side and get a proper look—though mind you, there’s reason behind that woman entering the mountain. We call her Otsū, you see. She’s Mount Hakusan’s sacred messenger princess. Though human through and through, since she dwells half each year in the mountains, even the authorities overlook it.”

The tea shop proprietress’s words left an inscrutable mystery lingering in the air. "That's intriguing—messenger princess or whatever she may be. If a woman can climb that mountain so casually, there's no law forbidding a grown man from doing the same. Even if Ōtsuki Denzō's vengeful spirit appears, it holds no power over an outsider like me. I'll climb it regardless." "Oh sir! What if the mountain officials hear such reckless words? They say speaking of demons summons their presence—those must be the imperial envoys we were warned about! If they find an outsider loitering here when their investigation begins, think of the trouble it'll bring this shop! Hide yourself away this instant, sir!"

The tea shop proprietress dragged traveler Kiyohito into hiding behind some objects.

Before long, a group of eight imperial envoys from Kanazawa approached, having their sacred rope-draped palanquin carried forward.

Tsugujirō's Entourage

Okumura Tonomo, a Kaga retainer, had four young samurai carry a large palanquin while accompanied by two substitute laborers. Together with a young man in samurai attire—Ōno Tsugujirō—they thudded down onto the tea shop’s bench. “Hey Oyajii—any flashy-dressed woman come through here? Right side of her face pretty enough to scare ya straight?”

Tsugujirō asked the tea shop proprietress. A man around thirty who lacked samurai bearing—fair-skinned with red lips, exuding a strangely seductive air.

“If you mean that person, she hurried off toward the mountain about a quarter-hour ago.” “Tch, that nimble-footed tart.” Tsugujirō affected nonchalance as he spoke in crude tones. “It’s your poor rein handling that’s to blame—thanks to that, that headstrong mare keeps staying one step ahead everywhere she goes.”

Lord Okumura also seemed vexed. "If ascending the mountain brings such complications, shall I dash ahead and restrain that woman?" Tsugujirō adopted an obsequious expression. “Hold. While in town I indeed relied upon your craftiness, but mountain affairs fall to this unworthy one’s charge.” “Overstepping will not be brooked.” “Hee—” “My daughter most earnestly warned—‘Tsugujirō must never approach that woman.’”

“Heh, heh.”

Tsugujirō, having seemingly been struck in a sore spot, kept rubbing his own forehead to hide his embarrassment. "That was a joke—even if that woman meets Sukekichi a step ahead, what difference would it make? Those two will become discarded scarecrows once their purpose is served anyway. As long as you remain here, the entire Kaga household can rest assured." “I’m deeply obliged.”

While exchanging such words, the party began making their way toward Mount Hakusan. "What formidable imperial envoys these are."

After seeing them off, traveler Kiyohito emerged from his hiding place. “Oh sir, you’re still here?” “You can’t forget now—wasn’t it you who hid me, Ojii-san?—Ah well, judging by that story, Mount Hakusan ain’t what anyone’d call peaceful by any measure. Ōtsuki Denzō’s ghost don’t scare me, but I’ll tell you what does—folk who’ve lost all sense of shame. Let’s do like you said and call off this mountain trip.”

“That’s wise indeed. Whatever prayer vow brings you here, entering Mount Hakusan these days amounts to casting your life away.” “My thanks—then fare you well, Ojii-san.”

The young traveler appeared to head straight back toward Kanazawa upon leaving the tea shop, but in reality, he slipped through thickets, passed through groves, and quietly doubled back toward Mount Hakusan.

Mountain pass permit

“Wait, wait, wait!” The mountain officials scattered out like gravel through the tree-shaded darkness, blocking the path of traveler Kiyohito as he reached the mountain trail. “Hee, hee, hee.” Kiyohito nearly fell flat on the ground, and they pressed down upon him, “Where do you think you’re going, scoundrel? Can’t you see the mountain entry prohibition notice?” They brandished their six-foot staves with clamorous shouts. “In my haste, I carelessly erred, hee.”

Kiyohito knelt on the ground and removed his sunshade cheek guard. "You seem to be from another province—where's your birthplace?" "I was born in Edo and am called Kiyohito, hee."

“Where do you think you’re going?” “I have a matter regarding a vow to Hakusan Gongen. To speak truthfully—my father who passed three years prior apparently made a pledge to Hakusan Gongen in his youth. Though he remained thoroughly troubled about never having fulfilled that vow, in his final moments he strictly charged me, his son, to make a thanksgiving pilgrimage to Hakusan Gozen Peak’s Gongen-sama within three years in his stead—hee.”

Kiyohito argued his case with crisp articulation. “Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!” “Hee-hee.” “If this pilgrimage were truly vital, you’d observe proper formalities! Where are your ritual garments? Your pilgrim’s staff?” “Well, that’s...” “Sneaking into restricted mountains dressed like this proves you’re suspicious! We’ll interrogate you thoroughly—come!” Three mountain officials seized Kiyohito by both arms. “I beg your mercy.” “Denied!”

The commotion was at its peak.

"My, what a commotion! Kiyohito, you’re really something—putting on that act where there’s no one to watch it. Ho, ho! And that face of yours!" With a smooth, beautiful voice that seemed to brighten the surroundings, emerging sideways from the shadows as if pushed forward, standing slenderly before the mountain officials was the woman the tea shop proprietress had mentioned—Otsū, who possessed a blazingly beautiful half-face.

“Oh—it’s Otsū.” The mountain officials exchanged strangely awkward looks; they seemed chronically flustered by this woman. “Otsū?—Don’t be absurd. Every last one of you has taken your petty jabs at me before—hmph!—yet here you stand acting all proper.” “This man belongs with us—call him our retainer if you like. Kiyohito’s his name—thirty-two years old—Edo-born but half a fool as people go—you’ll show him kindness now.” Otsū spoke these words while letting bloom a beautiful smile upon her radiant half-face.

“Is that true, Otsū?” “There’s no truth or falsehood here—didn’t I go all the way to Kanazawa Castle Town to find help for this major undertaking? If you set up checkpoints here and obstruct crucial personnel, it’ll render our official duties useless. Don’t you agree?” Otsū had no hesitation whatsoever. Traveler Kiyohito gazed at that half-faced expression as if entranced. In her posture—showing only half her face like figures in Egyptian murals, moving with the precision of paired hakama-clad performers—the woman’s mysterious beauty exuded an unfathomable charm.

“You do have proof of that, I trust?”

The mountain officials erred on the side of caution. “How could I make such claims without evidence? Here—I received this mountain pass permit from the senior officials but carelessly forgot to give it to him. There, see?” Otsū presented the mountain pass permit she had taken from her pocket before the officials.

“Very well, very well—if you insist so strongly, there can be no mistake.” “If there’s any mistake, please lay the blame on me—though mind you, I may never come down from this mountain again—” “What?” “This way—well then, everyone, come along now. Kiyohito.” Otsū hurried along the mountain path, stopping just short of taking Kiyohito’s hand. From Tsurugi to Shiramine measured ten ri; from there following the Tedorigawa River for three and a half ri brought one to Hakusan Hot Springs; from the hot springs, heading straight east along Nagamine—sandwiched between the deep valleys of Yu no Tani and Yanagi-dani—for another three and a half ri reached Midagahara Plateau at seven thousand six hundred shaku above sea level. From Midagahara, climbing Goyōzaka brought one to Gozen-daira; further ascending 1,001 shaku to the summit of Gozen-dake—which pierced the cloud line—there lay the main shrine of Hakusan Shrine.

What was Kiyohito’s true identity? “Let’s take a short rest here.” When they came within about one ri remaining to Gozen-daira, Otsū spoke for the first time—not a trace remaining of the bold, unruly tone she had used earlier before the mountain officials. At this spot by the roadside grasses—where reaching out could gather rock bellflowers, Hakusan wind dews, and eerie yet lovely black lilies; where gazing afar might glimpse the Japan Sea beyond Kehi Pine Grove on clear days—Kiyohito sat beside this mysterious half-faced beauty, turning myriad thoughts in his mind.

“Where exactly do you intend to go?”

Otsū continued.

“After paying respects to Lord Hakusan, is there no path descending toward Hida’s Takayama?” Kiyohito raised his face. She was a woman who evoked a strange excitement and bashfulness, as though sitting amidst a heat haze. “Are you aware of the dangerous mountain?” “I don’t believe Ōtsuki Denzō’s evil spirit would appear.” “No, not such beasts—it’s the glinting eyes of those two-sword bearers. Though with this, there’s nothing to fear.” “――” Otsū took out the mountain pass permit from her pocket and flaunted it.

“That certainly proved useful earlier, didn’t it—this mountain pass permit stamped with the Kaga senior officials’ seal—though for someone like me who walks these mountains year-round and is known by all the officials, it’s quite unnecessary—but you want it, don’t you?” Eyes that seemed to see straight through the man’s intentions challenged him.

“――” Kiyohito—unsure how to respond—could only smile and gaze at it. "If you want it, I'll give it to you—climb up to Gozen-daira and properly observe whatever it is you seek." "Huh?!"

Kiyohito was startled. "These days I detest every single one of Kaga’s dealings—though even I can’t predict what may come—you needn’t guard against me." Otsū’s reflections, paying no heed to Kiyohito’s astonishment, continued to leap freely as she desired. “Otsū-san, I’m grateful you’d kindly offer that mountain pass permit, but as I am now, there’s no way I could properly repay you.” “Oh ho—you think I’d meddle with Kaga’s schemes just for some reward? Though truth be told, I do have one request of my own.”

“?”

Kiyohito held his breath in suspense. “Nothing untoward—but about one ri up from here at Gozen-daira, there’s a peculiar construction hut where an old man around sixty lives alone. The hut sits wedged between rocks, hidden among young pines—invisible from the villages below—but the path is single-track, so you can’t miss it. Would you be so kind as to deliver this letter to that old man?” “And now, right here, please swear to the gods and buddhas that you will not utter a single word about anything you’ve seen or heard in these mountains.”

Otsū stiffened. All coquetry vanished as her expression transformed into one of mysterious severity, like those found in revered Indian Buddhist paintings. “I’ll undertake to deliver that letter to the old man, but—”

“?”

“I beg you to spare me from swearing an oath of silence about what I’ve seen and heard in these mountains—though it would be easy enough to deceive Otsū-san with some half-hearted promise, doing so would feel like selling out you who’ve done me a kindness, and my conscience couldn’t bear it.” Kiyohito masked his true feelings with a lonely smile. “Just as I thought—your true identity, hmm.”

“—” The two of them fell completely silent for a while. “Gozen-daira lies just one peak beyond here—likely making this letter unnecessary—but should you reach that old man before I do, tell him this woman says... (Everything’s gone wrong—there’s no telling what horrors await—escape over the mountains to Hida or Shinano at the first opportunity—). Oh—someone’s already coming up the path—”

“――”

Otsū made Kiyohito grip the mountain pass permit and, clinging to that hand, continued. "For all my bold words, I'm still just a weak woman—when I realize even my life is targeted, I can't help wanting to cling to someone dependable like you." "Don't laugh—the grand performance of my life is about to begin. Look—the rogues have all assembled, coming this way—you must conceal yourself and watch silently, no matter what occurs."

“My duty is to watch everything in silence—I won’t intervene no matter what happens.”

“Well then, Kiyohito-san.”

“Otsū-san.”

The two parted as they were—Kiyohito retreating into the rock’s shadow—Otsū remaining in the road’s center.

To the valley bottom

“Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

The young retainers who had carried the ceremonial chest flared up. Otsū, who had suddenly blocked the path, wore a hand towel like a streamer over her head, her beautiful half-face flickering in glimpses through the mountain wind as she pressed firmly against the ceremonial chest. “I can’t let you take that up the mountain. Go back!” Otsū’s voice resounded resolutely.

“What do you think you’re doing, woman? This is His Excellency’s ceremonial chest!” “That’s precisely why I’m stopping you! Mount Hakusan is a sacred wild mountain. Letting filthy laborers like you haul up some cargo of unknown origin with an official-sounding name—you’ll bring divine retribution upon us all, you bastards!” “Wh-what did you say? The filth lies on your side, woman! If you don’t move aside, I’ll show you the valley floor!” “Then show it to me.”

“What the hell?!”

From behind the clamoring young retainers, Lord Okumura and Tsugujirō of Ōno finally caught up. “Isn’t this Otsū? Putting on such haughty airs—stop this! How unbecoming for a woman to carry on like this.” Lord Okumura clicked his tongue bitterly. “Oh my, Lord Okumura—whether you’re some high-ranking official in Kanazawa’s castle town matters not here, for in this place, I am the mountain’s mistress. You may have your say later—first let’s have you produce that scoundrel hiding behind you. Come out now, Tsugujirō—Tsugu-kō—what, scared of a mere woman? Even with both hands full, your true nature can’t be denied. Quit gawking like a fool, you fox bastard!”

Otsū’s tongue lashed out scathingly. "What?! You slut! Who'd fear scum like you?! Let this slide before Lord Okumura and there'll be no end to your insolence!" The one who leaped out from behind Lord Okumura was Tsugujirō, the handsome man. “Hmph—dog bastard... monkey brute—no, even dogs and monkeys show more kindness than you.” “You play the bold man in public now, but wasn’t it mere months ago you crawled at my feet, groveling for my favor?”

“Liar!” “With your schemes laid bare like this, you ought to at least blush—who was it that sweet-talked me with empty promises of marriage, sneaked into Father’s workshop, stole his crucial mechanisms, and fled?!” “Lies! Lies!” “You’re the grand thief bastard who applied your Takeda puppet-maker’s crafty modifications to those mechanisms, marketed them to Kanazawa’s high officials, received the lord’s own commendation, and got yourself promoted to samurai status—aren’t you?!”

“Shut up! Huh?! Won’t you shut up, woman?!”

Tsugujirō shouted desperately, but Otsū's tongue showed no sign of relenting. "On top of that, didn't you cozy up to Lord Okumura, deceive some clueless princess called Lady Satoyo, even secure a marriage promise? What about making vows with me half a year ago?" "I've no lingering feelings for a fox bastard like you—but your deeds are so heartless and wicked, I decided to tear that mask clean off!"

“Lies! Lies!” “Shall I show Lord Okumura the sworn oath you forged?” “――”

“Lord Okumura—you may have your justifications—but whose fault is it that you deceived my father? That for thirty years you confined him deep in Mount Hakusan and denied him even a semblance of human life?” “Shut up!” When the spearhead turned toward him, Lord Okumura flared up. “I won’t be silenced! Of course the mighty 1.02 million-koku Kaga Domain would strain every muscle to complete their flying machine—it’s vital for military use! But if that’s so, couldn’t you have shown a shred of care for Father? Thirty pitiful years you confined him in these dreadful mountains! Now that his flight apparatus is finally complete, you quake at attracting shogunate spies—so you had Tsugujirō steal its mechanisms and orchestrate Sukekichi’s obsolescence! Who’s the puppet master here?!”

“Shut up! Shut up!” “Do you think I, his daughter, haven’t known how Father’s been nearly killed time and time again since then?” “Huh?! Won’t you shut up?!” “Who was it that treated me like a madwoman—me who intended to go directly to His Lordship in Kanazawa’s castle town and voice my complaints—confined me, assigned that fox bastard Tsugujirō of all people as my guard, and forced me to endure endless horrors—who was it?!” “Do you think I’d stay silent after being treated like this?—Too bad for you, but through my own mouth, I’ve informed the shogunate spies that His Lordship of Kaga Chūjō has been making flight apparatuses with clear rebellion in mind—surprised?!”

“Oh my! What do you have to say for yourselves now?!”

Lord Okumura was utterly astonished. The recent rumors of a suspicious man loitering within the domain and even ascending Mount Hakusan now appeared more than mere hearsay. “The Kaga Domain’s 1.02 million koku already stands under the shogunate’s scrutiny—what with making Zeniya Gohei handle smuggling and even amassing military funds! In Edo, they say war might erupt any moment now.” “Don’t you know Kaga’s doomed to be blown to splinters?—Serves you right!”

Otsū’s blistering denunciation arched like a rainbow. “You insolent ranter—this ends now!” Lord Okumura drew his blade and strode before the woman. “Do you mean to kill me?” “Oh, I’ll grant that wish.” The sword flashed downward—Otsū twisted aside but couldn’t escape. Her right shoulder took the deep slash, and she collapsed backward with a heavy thud. “What madness is this?!” The traveler Kiyohito burst from the bushes, shielding the wounded Otsū. Duty forgotten, status discarded—he stood revealed in unvarnished resolve, a man consumed by passion.

“Who the hell are you?!” As Lord Okumura re-gripped his bloodied sword and barked an order, Tsugujirō cowered behind him while the seasoned young retainers fanned out in three directions, closing in on Kiyohito.

“It matters not who you are—to harm that woman is nothing short of inhumanity.” “What business is that of yours?—More importantly, skulking about this mountain now marks you as a suspicious bastard—there!”

When Lord Okumura raised his hand, the six young retainers lunged abruptly from three directions. “Now that it’s come to this—I won’t hold back! Come on!”

He flung one or two of the lunging attackers aside like stray dogs, but tragically, Kiyohito—bound by his undercover duties—was forbidden from carrying even a single blade as his opponents pressed forward with their weapons. “Run! Please run!—You mustn’t stay here—Leave this place to me—”

Though the injured Otsū called out from behind, now that matters had reached this point, Kiyohito—who had vowed not to intervene—could no longer retreat. “Don’t worry—I’ll save you.” Kiyohito flung yet another man aside. Seizing a brief opening, he scooped up the injured Otsū and swiftly retreated toward the least guarded direction. But what a terrifying trap of fate that was. Concealed by creeping pines and weeds, there gaped open the mouth of the thousand-fathom valley.

“Ah!”

In an instant, Kiyohito’s body—still clutching Otsū—plummeted clattering like a single stone into the unfathomable valley depths.

Lord Okumura and his young retainers alike, overwhelmed by the utterly unexpected turn of events, momentarily forgot how to speak.

“――――” At length, the young retainers—having peered into the valley’s mouth in a shuffling group—could do nothing but withdraw, exchanging glances as they gazed at stones large and small plummeting like bullets through distant thickets and weeds they had cut down.

“If you fall here, there’s no surviving—the bodies would likely become unrecognizable.” “To reach the valley bottom, you’d have to go all the way around via Ōmawari Pass—a two-day journey.” The knowledgeable one was saying such things.

Risking his life,

“Otsū-san! Otsū-san!” Kiyohito finally managed to sit up, then lifted Otsū—who lay unconscious beside him with the beautiful half of her face turned upward—into his arms. What fortune—though they should have fallen to the thousand-fathom valley bottom, they had caught on a bush merely thirty shaku below and been gently deposited onto a palm-sized patch of flat ground concealed beneath the cliff.

“Otsū-san!” Having sustained injuries and tumbled down a thirty-shaku cliff, it was no wonder she had lost consciousness—but the problem was this place offered neither water to give nor means to tend to her.

“Otsū-san!” Kiyohito took out prepared medicine from his paper wallet but couldn’t devise how to get it into her mouth. Fortunately, Lord Okumura’s party appeared to have ascended toward Maemodaira without noticing anything. Timing it for when their figures vanished from view, Kiyohito secured Otsū’s body to his back and—relying on thickets and rock ledges—after countless hardships, finally managed to return to the original path. When they reached that point, he recalled there was a hut built slightly downhill—constructed long ago during Mount Hakusan pilgrimage’s prosperous era.

Entering the hut, searching for what little water he could find, administering medicine down Otsū's throat—Kiyohito's struggles through it all—but more than that, how much futile effort must he have expended: covering the left half of her face she so detested showing with a hand towel, yet striving not to look himself. "Ah... t-t-t..."

“You’ve come to, Otsū-san?” Otsū finally regained consciousness—though her grievous wound made survival seem unlikely—and he thought it would be truly regrettable if she were to die here and now; Kiyohito’s devoted efforts appeared to have been rewarded after all. “Thank you—Kiyohito-san… Even if I die, even if I die… I’ll never forget this kindness.” Otsū’s beautiful half-face followed Kiyohito’s countenance like an infant seeking its mother’s visage.

“Stay strong, Otsū-san—the wound isn’t deep.” “No, I don’t expect to survive anyway—though I do wish to see Father just once.” “Admittedly so, but—”

When he saw the tear welling in Otsū’s right eye, it felt as though his flesh were being sliced—yet there was no way to secretly move this wounded woman to Maemodaira. “No, I’ve given up on that. “But more importantly, Kiyohito-san—you’re a shogunate spy.” “Wha—?” “There’s no need to hide anything from me now that I’m dying. Knowing it’s your duty, I’ll speak plainly.” “Fortunately, my mind has settled—perhaps because death is near, my strength has grown even more.”

Otsū’s account was lengthy, but to summarize—

Otsū’s father was Sukekichi, a mounting artist from Okayama who discovered flight apparatuses during the Kyōwa era and was driven from his homeland on charges of creating things humans should not make, drifting until he entered Kaga Domain some thirty years ago now. Lord Narihiro, the Kaga Chūjō of that time, possessed grand ambitions and—impressed by Sukekichi’s talent—had him create flight apparatuses. But when Nariyasu succeeded him as lord, senior vassals grew clamorous out of deference to the shogunate’s designs. They established a research facility deep in Mount Hakusan, confining Sukekichi as if imprisoned under official surveillance while prohibiting all public access to the mountain.

When Sukekichi still lived in the village, he took a wife and fathered a daughter. But his wife soon died, and their daughter Otsū alone grew into remarkable beauty and wisdom until reaching twenty-three years of age. Five or six years prior, while assisting her father in crafting flight apparatuses, a bent green bamboo snapped back and struck her cheek, leaving the left half of her face unrecognizably crushed—yet being her own error, there had been none to blame. Three years ago, a Takeda puppet craftsman called Tsugujirō used petty cunning and masculine appeal to win over domain executives, securing permission to enter the mountains as Sukekichi’s assistant.

Having abandoned all hopes of marriage due to her severe facial injury, it stood to reason that Otsū had been deceived into a betrothal and that the flight apparatus secrets were easily stolen. But Tsugujirō returned to Kanazawa bearing those secrets as his trophy, was promoted to samurai status, then incited Lord Okumura’s daughter Satoyo into becoming his fiancée. Growing ever bolder, he petitioned to compete against Sukekichi in both flight apparatus craftsmanship and piloting skill.

“Sukekichi’s under surveillance by shogunate spies—who knows, he might even be colluding with them”—it was Tsugujirō who first voiced this suspicion. They promptly stored the flight apparatus assembly materials in a large Tang-style chest, and Lord Okumura himself accompanied them—all part of his ulterior motive to compare Sukekichi and Tsugujirō’s flying skills deep in Mount Hakusan, intending to eliminate Sukekichi if necessary to protect the domain’s secrets. “This is how things stand. I’m prepared to be cut down, but if left unchecked, Father will be in danger—the letter in my bosom from earlier—please deliver that to Father, I beg you.”

Having finished her long account, Otsū slumped and covered her beautiful half-face.

“I understand. I’ll deliver it without fail. You should rest assured.” “And please escape this mountain as quickly as possible. If anything were to happen to you...” “I’m well aware of that—but steady yourself. Once my duty is fulfilled, I’ll take you to Edo. Since entering Kaga Domain, it’s been nothing but unpleasantness—but Otsū-san… since meeting you, even someone like me has found life worth living.”

“Thank you, Kiyohito-san—even knowing someone like me was once a woman who made marriage vows with that villain Tsugujirō—” “Nonsense—after twenty-odd years in these mountains, even foxes and monkeys grow dear to one’s heart. That’s human nature—though coming straight from Edo’s very center myself, to these eyes you appear more beautiful and dear than anything—and that’s not from mountain living.” “Even with a face like this...” “Your face—I only look at the right half, but that right half’s beauty seems not of this world.”

“The horror and ugliness of my left half—you—” “I don’t know—when nursing you, when you lay unconscious—I never looked at your left half.” “Then please—even when I die—don’t look.” “I won’t look. Never again.” “I’m happy… Kiyohito-san—even dying would fulfill my dearest wish.”

“No—you must not die.” The two were clutching each other’s hands tightly.

“Kiyotake-san—no, no—that isn’t your name. Please tell me your real one.” “————” “I beg you—I haven’t much life left. Even staying like this drains all my strength—I could die any moment—if I cross to that other world without knowing the true name of the man who pledged to meet me again in another life—how desolate I’d feel.”

“Well now, Otsū—” “Please tell me—softly.” “————” “Ah—my eyes are beginning to fail.”

“————” “My ears too.”

Otsū wept, her wounded half resting on Kiyohito’s lap—

“Very well—I’ll tell you. Listen closely.” “I’m glad.” “Do you understand?”

Into her now-failing hearing’s final moments, Kiyohito desperately whispered his true name. “—Shogunate direct retainer—Ichinomiya—Lord Hayato—” “Shh.” “Ichinomiya—Lord Hayato—” “Otsū.” “Yes.”

Their tears dissolved all barriers between them. The sincerity flowing through their tightly clasped hands—though their affection had lasted but a single day—was a searing truth and a fate staked with their very lives.

Two Feuding Flight Machines

Burying Otsū’s remains without looking at the left half of her face proved no small difficulty even for Kiyohito—Ichinomiya Hayato.

Yet around the time that work was nearing completion, a discussion between Sukekichi, Lord Okumura Tonomo, and Tsugujirō was progressing in the Maehira workshop. “So you’re ordering this Sukekichi to compete against Tsugujirō in a test of skill?”

An indescribable look of displeasure swelled across Sukekichi’s face. After being driven out of Okayama thirty years prior, by this time he was already a sixty-year-old man, but the vigor of his research and self-respect were nothing like what Lord Okumura or Tsugujirō had imagined. “Precisely—such is my lord’s will. You’ve secluded yourself in these mountains for over twenty years—nearing thirty now—yet still haven’t completed the flight apparatus? That’s inexcusable. Tsugujirō here is barely thirty, yet he’s already perfected his flying machine and mastered its operation—or so he claims.”

"That’s because he led my daughter astray and stole every last one of my inventions!" Sukekichi could no longer contain himself. "Don’t talk nonsense! That Tsugujirō may be an acclaimed Takeda doll artisan—but to imagine he could fashion a flight apparatus merely by pilfering your techniques? A monumental error!" "Enough debate—let us settle this through trial of skill!"

Tsugujirō thrust his sickly pale face forward from the side. “Seven days from now—we’ll hold it in this very valley. Agreed?”

Lord Okumura Tonomo issued an uncompromising order. Then began the assembly of their two flying machines. In adjacent workshops they kept themselves shut away in their respective spaces. While Sukekichi worked alone—laboring diligently yet fretting over his daughter Otsū’s safety—Tsugujirō maintained a raucous workshop atmosphere with four young attendants as helpers, singing and clamoring through their tasks.

One night, a blood-soaked Otsū appeared in Sukekichi’s dream. “Father! Father!” As he was shaken awake and jolted back to consciousness, something had been thrown through a gap in the window onto his bedside. ? Sitting up and holding it to the moonlight, he saw a mottled, bloodstained letter. When he opened it, the contents were unmistakably in Otsū’s hand, detailing in minute script the Kaga officials’ malice, the peril to her own life, and even the targeting of her father’s.

When he finished reading, there was another letter tucked inside—written in masculine script dashed onto folded paper with a portable brush—and Sukekichi’s complexion visibly changed before his eyes. Streaming tears down the old man’s cheeks—

From the following morning, Sukekichi’s demeanor transformed as if he were a different person—a cold steel core had taken root in his emaciated body, and he worked in silent urgency to complete his creation. At last, on the seventh appointed day, what lay in majestic form throughout the hut was the flight apparatus—an imposing figure resembling a giant bat. The great accumulation of experience from thirty years—destroying and rebuilding time and again—had here for the first time become a flying machine embodying full confidence.

On that day, Tsugujirō’s flight apparatus—assembled by a five-man team—was also completed. As if ordained by fate, it was truly perfect weather for Mount Hakusan. Before Lord Okumura Tonomo—who had ascended from the foothills precisely for this day—the two men presented their confidence-filled creations.

“Are you prepared?”

Perched on a rocky outcrop was Lord Okumura Tonomo. Before him stood Sukekichi and Tsugujirō, fully prepared. Exchanging glances brimming with mutual hostility, they donned their respective flight apparatuses. “Let’s go, Tsugujirō.” “Proceed.”

The two stood on the slope of Maehira, waiting for a favorable wind. Before long, Tsugujirō launched forth—from the slope out over the deep valley—and as his ornithopter swayed unsteadily into view, Sukekichi’s flight apparatus followed suit, caught by the wind and gliding out smoothly. Whereas Tsugujirō’s flight apparatus continued operating desperately—its hands and legs moving frantically—Sukekichi’s flight apparatus was a glider aircraft that utilized wind pressure against its wings. Neither its hands nor wings moved as it flew with utmost tranquility over the thousand-fathom valley, swaying gently like a giant kite.

From between the trees on the opposite peak, there was a man gazing unwaveringly at this spectacle. Needless to say, that was none other than the traveler Kiyohito—Ichinomiya Hayato. At this moment, two of Japan’s first flying machines soared above the inner valley of Mount Hakusan, their wings spread side by side like a pair of monstrous birds.

“Ah!” Ichinomiya Hayato involuntarily cried out. No sooner had Sukekichi’s glider aircraft abruptly changed direction than it charged straight toward Tsugujirō’s cumbersome ornithopter!

Tsugujirō could only panic in surprise, unable to do anything. The exquisite sophistication of Sukekichi’s thirty-year-honed techniques and his secret method of executing sharp-angle turns reached their zenith. In the blink of an eye, the two rival flight apparatuses clashed midair with a metallic shriek—entangled together, they plummeted screeching into the thousand-fathom valley depths. The traveler Kiyohito—the shogunate spy Ichinomiya Hayato—having witnessed it all, offered a silent prayer toward the distant valley depths before brushing the dust from his clothes and rising to his feet.

Autumn in the depths of Mount Hakusan faded away quietly, ever so quietly, as if nothing had happened.