Pathway to Japanese Literature

After exchanging morning greetings, Tsuneyuki’s Mother said with a puzzled expression.

“I recall that you crossed the garden last night.”

“No, such a thing did not occur.”
“Did you see someone?”

That was indeed a human figure she had perceived.
In the moonless night when only starlight illuminated the pond’s far shore, someone had slipped through a thicket of withered bush clover and silver grass.
“Since they wore a head covering,” Mother said, “their face remained unclear—was that not you?”

“Then it appears it was indeed a woman after all.”

“A woman?”

Tsuneyuki asked whether the woman had been one of the attendants or not.

“Then, a short while later—before I could even fall asleep—I saw the figure cross the garden again and return. I also recall hearing the sound of the sliding door opening from the pond path to the rear garden.”

“Then I can only conclude it was someone who emerged from the direction of the women’s quarters—but for a woman to venture into the garden at midnight is unthinkable.”

“I too thought it might have been a dream—but having seen that figure twice in one night, it can hardly be a dream.”

“Did you clearly hear the sliding door open?”

Tsuneyuki knew how stubbornly that door resisted silence—no matter how carefully one might try to open it, even with utmost caution in midnight’s depths, some creak would always escape.
He himself remembered that particular rasp of wood.

“The second time came the sound of it closing too.”
“That door has groaned for years—I know its voice better than any.”

“And have you noticed any unusual behavior among the attendants?”

“I cannot tell which woman it might be, but have you any notion?”

“I have not the slightest notion at present, but I shall keep it well in mind.”

“She must be an exceedingly bold woman.”

“Even the attendants until now have been too frightened to cross the night garden—a woman could not make such a crossing without considerable resolve.”

Tsuneyuki, having enumerated the attendants—Tachibana, Hagino, Mayumi, Tae, Suou—found that the one who immediately pierced his thoughts was Hagino.
Her long black hair held a luster akin to seaweed, and her smooth limbs—which even Tsuneyuki himself had deeply admired—now allowed him to recognize that very vitality within himself.
The one who could contain such swiftness to cross the garden was none other than Hagino.
More than anything, her voluptuous charm seemed to seethe with a healthy flush that might burst into flames at any moment.
When Tsuneyuki understood that Hagino’s beauty was of a troubling nature, his mind had already concluded it could be none but Hagino.
Yet Tsuneyuki restrained himself from carelessly uttering that name before his mother.
Were he to mention that name even once, he carefully noted how it would confirm Hagino—who could not slip free from his mother’s watchful gaze—as the culprit.
Moreover, Hagino was Mother’s attendant.

“Tsuneyuki.”

Mother began anew.

“When I consider now that this garden crossing was not the first instance, I do recall something.”

“Did you occasionally catch sight of it?”

“I do not recall it being three or four times.”
“It seems moonless nights are being chosen.”

Mother said that while that one had risen from the townspeople, her demeanor was as proper as that of a samurai’s.
Tsuneyuki simply nodded in response.
Since coming from the town last autumn, she had committed no faults and seemed to harbor a certain intelligence within her, yet on the surface this was not apparent.
She also got along well with her fellow attendants.
However, the brilliance in her features was entirely a dangerous kind of brilliance that seemed ready to be handed over to a man at any moment—and no matter how much one tried to wipe it away from Hagino, it could not be fully removed.
Tsuneyuki concluded that this dangerous, unsettled quality likely existed not only in Hagino’s features but also in her very heart.
It became clear when she had brought the hot water earlier that faint traces of fatigue beneath her eyelids had already begun to show.
Moreover, she knew of the weariness within her own face.
The meticulousness with which she had known and come to fix her makeup made it clear to Tsuneyuki, even from this alone, that Hagino was no ordinary woman.
Nowhere—not in her eyes, nor in any traces of sleep deprivation, fatigue, or listlessness—could be seen.

However, if Hagino had crossed the garden last night, where and to whom could she have stolen away? There was nowhere Hagino would likely sneak off to other than to his younger brother Sadaaki—last night Sadaaki had been in the northern mansion. Having finished his evening meal early while off-duty, he had secluded himself, and Tsuneyuki had not encountered him face-to-face.

Sadaaki’s northern mansion traversed the garden, encircled by pines and cypresses; at night even the servants kept their distance—only a mute old man lodging in the mansion’s outbuilding, with none coming or going.
Whatever he was doing, whoever might be sneaking in—it was not something known to anyone but Sadaaki.

Tsuneyuki left his mother’s presence and walked toward the other side of the pond separated by the central island.
The winter-bare path, its form well-outlined by shadows, had yet to be swept.
Tsuneyuki carefully examined the layers of fallen leaves, but near where they had shifted lay footprints left by someone.
Moreover, though the displaced leaves showed fresh signs of disturbance, they revealed unmistakably a woman’s footprints.
Tsuneyuki circled the pond and proceeded along the path continuing to the broad garden—one branch leading to the plaster storehouse, the other to Sadaaki’s residence.
The disarray of fallen leaves extended as far as the mansion’s vicinity, but no traces suggested anyone had walked toward the plaster storehouse.

Tsuneyuki stood before the northern mansion, but such traces could never reveal a woman’s stealthy movements. Just as Tsuneyuki turned to leave, Sadaaki abruptly emerged from the mansion and caught sight of him. A sardonic sharpness glinted in Sadaaki’s eyes as his words shot forth.

“What a rare occurrence—Elder Brother’s visit is entirely unexpected.”

“It’s not that I came to see you—since spring approaches, I thought it necessary to inspect the garden paths.”

“Oh? Your own inspection, Elder Brother?”

Sadaaki’s words snapped back immediately.

“What’s wrong with inspecting?”

“Not at all—I do declare my appreciation for your noble efforts.”

Showing even insolent speech he couldn’t relinquish, Tsuneyuki suddenly found himself envisioning—as if this were the nature of half-brothers—the differences in their features, dispositions, and physiques.
Sadaaki, born to a servant woman, had been taken in and raised by Mother after their father’s death, but his unnatural wildness and dissolute temperament revealed a character entirely different from Tsuneyuki’s.
His lack of compassion toward animals went without saying; his frequent misconduct toward the serving women was likewise, and even his manner of drinking sake from a bowl differed little from that of a town ruffian.
His true mother Kasugano had vanished around the time her son was taken in; some said she had been seen in Tsu Province, others claimed at a Yamato shrine priest’s household—conflicting rumors abounded.
Kasugano, who had been among the lower-ranked servants embroiled in illicit relations, once freed from the burden of the troublesome infant, drifted through Tsu and Yamato as though slipping through the hands of several men.

Sadaaki neither reflected on nor gave any thought to how well his knowledge of his own upbringing harmonized with his dissolute behavior.
The bluish-black blood of his mother that had ingrained itself into his flesh—what calamity was it revealing to him? Whenever he found a moment to spare, he would indulge in drink at the northern mansion.

“Your negligence in court duties has been severe of late.”

Tsuneyuki looked at his brother’s face, which bore the signs of a hangover.

“If I must perform tedious court duties, I’d find it far more agreeable to debase myself as a peasant.”

“Do you intend to abandon your duties?”

“That’s for the day itself to decide.”

“Then you mean not to remain in our household any longer?”

“Naturally.”

“How dare you persist in spouting such brazen nonsense! Where do you mean to go after leaving this residence?”

“The wilderness lies open everywhere.”

“How would you prepare meals? Food doesn’t rain from heaven’s skies in the wilds.”

“Rather than gnaw at your provisions, Elder Brother, I’d sooner chew sweet grasses in the fields—what glorious freedom that would bring!”

“You refuse to eat this brother’s fare?”

“I tired of it long since.”

“Then why linger here? If it disgusts you so, you should have settled this without ceremony!”

“I shall come in due time.”

“To say something so unbecoming—remember that tongue of yours.”

“I shan’t forget.”
“What falsehood could there be for one who shall soon dwell in the wild?”
“I’ve long been sick to death of Elder Brother’s food—and Mother’s meals and words besides.”

“Cease disparaging Mother. Should you speak ill of her—she who has watched over you since childhood—your tongue will rot.”

“What of it? It’s Mother’s affair—something I’ve no part in. Even if you hold true affection for her, Elder Brother, it remains utterly irrelevant to me.”

“Do not speak of Mother—such presumption exceeds all bounds!”

“I cannot say whether it’s presumptuous for you, Elder Brother, but Mother holds no connection to me. Were you to stand in my place, you would comprehend everything without exception.”

“You insolent wretch—rot your ears off!”

Tsuneyuki raised his hand and struck Sadaaki’s cheek repeatedly.
Sadaaki, his face ashen, grabbed his elder brother’s shoulder.

“I was struck.”

“For a wretch who spouts beastly words like yours, there’s no recourse but to strike.”
“Take this slap!”

When Tsuneyuki was about to raise his hand again, suddenly Sadaaki—flying into a fit of rage—rushed into the mansion and, carrying a short sword, stepped down barefoot onto the garden rock.
His hands trembled violently on the hilt, so agitated he could no longer speak.

“You fool—what manner of disgrace is this?”

Tsuneyuki approached and struck the hand gripping the short sword with force.

“Do you think such a blade can be drawn within this mansion? Even were you to assail me, what victory could possibly be won?”

Even Sadaaki felt ashamed that drawing the short sword had been an act of excessive agitation.
Yet the brothers stood at that precarious brink where retreat had become impossible.

“Where does victory reside? Such matters remain unassured.”

“Go, you fool.”

Tsuneyuki departed.

Knowing the futility of escalating matters further—aware as he was of Sadaaki’s habitual imprudence and impatience—Tsuneyuki departed without meting out punishment.

That night too, a darkness like flowing soot mingled with a sky frozen stone-hard, and the garden permeated with a chill from the water’s depths.

Just three mornings prior, Tsuneyuki had seen garments hung out to dry by the rear well.
They were Hagino’s nightwear—or so they appeared—their hems bearing uniform mud stains that seemed to have broken through ice, leaving moisture in the fabric.
When he witnessed her changing clothes the following night—to confirm whether they were indeed Hagino’s—he concluded they must be hers.
To cross the garden could mean only one destination: Sadaaki’s residence.

Tsuneyuki lay with his ear pressed to the pillow toward the lower servants’ quarters where a dim night light flickered faintly, as the household staff rested.
The garden could be glimpsed through gaps in the shutters, and the mansion lay so deeply asleep that any sound would carry clearly from anywhere.
Just as Tsuneyuki made to adjust his pillow, the sliding door below opened with a soft whoosh like drawn breath.
Then again with that same breath-like sound, the door closed.

Tsuneyuki sat upright.
Through the shutter slats he discerned Hagino poised to enter the garden, her kimono hem hitched up and hair cascading down her chest.
The audacity with which she had slipped through that multitude of maidservants—smooth as spilt oil—marked this as no ordinary garden crossing.
Though Mother had sanctioned relations between Tsuneyuki and Hagino—even cycling through other serving women first—Hagino should have long understood the protocols befitting a samurai’s daughter; Tsuneyuki knew robes from Mother’s own wardrobe—hair ornaments, layered court silks—had been secretly bestowed upon her, had once reposed faith in her very flesh. Yet now even words exchanged at dusk rang hollow in his ears.

Tsuneyuki went ahead and descended into the garden, then crouched behind the pond.
When she went to visit Sadaaki, she had to pass around the back of the pond and would inevitably appear near where Tsuneyuki crouched; he felt the garden scenery—ordinarily unnoticed—transform utterly in that instant.
The pine and cypress trees he was accustomed to—those that formed the harmonious chorus of the deep valley—did not in the least become the familiar scenery they usually were to Tsuneyuki; instead, he felt a detached sensation as though gazing upon some coldly indifferent garden from another place.
It was the first time he had gazed upon such cold, aloof scenery.
From his unpleasant gloom, Tsuneyuki tentatively called out.
Where was this place anyway? What reason could there be for me to be crouching here like this?

There was no wind.
The lingering harshness of winter bit fiercely, the cold seeping into ears and soles. Hagino, who had finally emerged into the garden, no sooner set foot there than she began moving with swift steps through the withered bush clover, between pine trees and low evergreens, her pace so hurried it nearly broke into a run.
The skillful path she wove through shadows seemed less human than some murky flow of crumbling darkness—a thing easily lost to sight.
Tsuneyuki, having approached, discerned with clarity and proximity that the slender figure emerging from the yew tree’s spreading lower branches was unmistakably Hagino.

“Hagino.”

Suddenly, Hagino came to a halt, staggered forward two or three steps as if about to collapse, but her legs—rooted by shock and fear—refused to carry her further.

“Yes.”

It was indeed Hagino—so short that her very stature seemed rigid with wariness.

“Where do you presume to go?”

“…………”

Tsuneyuki strode forcefully closer.
The young woman’s heated face—so vivid it seemed to emit fragrance even to night-adapted eyes—radiated its scent incessantly into the night air.

“Where do you intend to go at this midnight hour?”

There came no reply; Hagino’s body grew heavier, her head hanging low.
It hung so low it nearly pressed against her chest.

“Give me your reply. Remaining silent leaves the matter incomprehensible.”

Hagino had now been cornered where she could neither move nor voice a response.

“I am going to replenish the lamp oil at the North Hall.”

“You fret over oil at midnight?”

At that moment, with abruptness characteristic of Hagino—as though realizing she ought not linger—she smartly pivoted to withdraw.
Yet she couldn’t discern whether her oil pretext had sufficiently enabled escape from this predicament.

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

Those words were cold.

“Wait. Won’t you speak with me?”

“It is already past midnight.”

“You who would go to Sadaaki’s very abode refuse even to speak with me?”

Tsuneyuki’s eyebrows shot up, crimson with rage.

“Yes, Lord Sadaaki is Lord Sadaaki, and you are you—they are entirely separate matters.”

“So…”

Tsuneyuki shouted impatiently.

“I shall take my leave here.”

Hagino, having composed herself and shown clear reluctance, turned her back and began to walk away.
It was as though Tsuneyuki did not even exist within Hagino’s mind.

“Hagino.”

There was no reply.

“Wait.”

At that moment, Tsuneyuki struck Hagino—who had turned toward him—with a flint he had been fiddling with in his hand, almost as though it had been prepared precisely for that decisive throw.

“Ah!”

“Don’t move.”

However, Hagino—swift as ever—vanished to the far side of the pond even as her cry still hung in the air.
The flint had indeed grazed her forehead; its impact left no room for doubt.
What if it had struck true? Would it have drawn blood? Tsuneyuki’s conscience lashed him with sudden force before he smothered it beneath crude indifference.
“Later’s problem,” he snarled through clenched teeth, each ragged breath fueling his spiteful rage.

Just as Tsuneyuki was about to turn on his heel, suddenly—as though it had been waiting for this very moment—a voice arose from the thicket’s shadow toward the northern mansion; though its source remained unseen, it called out behind him.

“Who’s there?”

Tsuneyuki traced the direction of the voice with his eyes, but its location remained unclear for a moment.

“What manner of cur are you?”

“And what exactly are you?”

The voice belonged to Sadaaki, who stood poised before the thicket at the pond’s edge.

“It is Tsuneyuki. For what purpose did you call out to me at this hour?”

“Brother?”
Sadaaki pressed on challengingly.
“What business could you possibly have in the garden at midnight?”

“You’re the one wandering through the garden at this hour—what business brings you here, you suspicious character?”

“Brother, given your status, I find it difficult to comprehend you roaming about at night.”

Tsuneyuki sneered.

“If it were a woman, I would have driven her back—force-fed her stones and chased her off.”

“Stones?!”

“I struck her forehead—that vixen needed striking.”

Sadaaki erupted in fury.

“Leave, Brother. Even if you are my brother, I’ve reached the limit where I can no longer show mercy. In this darkness—this profound darkness—I cannot be held responsible for what I might do.”

“Are you coming at me?”

There was no answer; the human voice echoing through the withered trees was like striking a hard stone.

“Leave.”

And Sadaaki’s voice seemed to shout a warning—one that even he himself did not know what he might do—to both his own being and Tsuneyuki.
Soon it became no different from Elder Brother Tsuneyuki’s agitated state—a thing that showed not the least alteration.

“You should withdraw—can’t you see what approaches may decide your fate within moments?”

“That same peril now hangs over you too, Elder Brother.”

“Fool.”

“……”

Unbeknownst even to themselves, they had drawn closer in succession—this closing distance acting as a signal that drove them to the precipice where their heavy bodies could no longer avoid clashing.
Tsuneyuki seized his younger brother’s shoulder, while Sadaaki twisted his hands about his elder brother’s chest.
In terms of duration, it had not taken minutes.

“Leave,” Tsuneyuki commanded.

Sadaaki was thrust backward.
What could no longer confront him transformed into a strange dread toward his elder brother, leaving Sadaaki rigid and frozen.
The moment he began to crouch slightly, Tsuneyuki suddenly felt a heavy impact on his forehead.
It happened when Sadaaki—having crouched and risen—hurled one of his pre-positioned shoes at blinding speed against Tsuneyuki’s brow.

“Coward!”

As Tsuneyuki’s shout faded, the remaining flint struck the back of Sadaaki’s legs as he turned to flee.

“Ta...”

Letting out a strange noise, Sadaaki suddenly crouched and crumpled his entire body onto the path.

Tsuneyuki left.
He tried to tell himself it was just a single woman—no more than that—but those words had become nothing but vain bravado.
Could there be any declaration more certain than this—that the woman despised Tsuneyuki? Though Mother allowed her position, she had turned traitor to side with Sadaaki. There was nothing left for him to ponder now.
When he thought of why he had wandered the midnight garden and grappled so wretchedly with his younger brother, his eyes sharpened even as his heart quivered unnaturally.
He tossed and turned endlessly, heaved deep sighs, curled his limbs tight only to stretch them again—but peaceful sleep would not come.
Uncertain how much time had passed, he suddenly glimpsed movement through a shutter crack and jerked upright in alarm, pressing close to peer outside.

Around the outer pond, a figure darted by with such speed it seemed to pierce the eyes. Unmistakably human—and female at that. Who could declare with certainty this was Hagino? Yet there was no mistaking her. Tsuneyuki—who mere hours before had witnessed this woman’s shocking defiance—now saw her stubbornly crossing the garden again at midnight, having cast aside everything to reach her man. Frozen in astonishment, he could not tear his eyes from her strength—that single-minded resolve burning through her very being. Hagino’s figure vanished toward the northern mansion.

Could a woman’s passion truly be this fierce? The ferocity of her heart—fearing nothing, yielding to no one—this was ultimately her unfeigned truth that drove her onward. Here lay neither deceit nor pretense. Tsuneyuki felt the folly of descending into the garden once more to pursue Hagino. Having reached this point, no matter what one might try to say, it would only bring shame upon the speaker—Tsuneyuki could only stand dumbfounded by this realization.

The next morning, finding no prying eyes around, Tsuneyuki called out to Hagino.

“What of the wound on your forehead?”

“You are already well aware of it.”

At her cold gaze, even Tsuneyuki faltered. Moreover, in her refusal to openly declare that this wound had been sustained for his sake lay something undeniably feminine—and Tsuneyuki found himself unable to comprehend it.

“Then why do you not reproach me?”

“As it is but a mere scratch, I believe reproaching you would serve no purpose.”

Hagino forced a smile.
Was she enduring this like a man? Tsuneyuki wanted to trample that writhing beauty.

“And then you crossed the garden again last night—after that.”

“No.”

Hagino shook her head in denial, but a fleeting look of panic scattered across her face.

“And I saw you return after a moment.”
“No, the pain from my forehead wound made it impossible for me to even lie down. I did not go anywhere.”
“How do you explain the mud stains on the hem of the robe drying by the well?”

Hagino did not know she had been observed to that extent.
Tsuneyuki pressed on.

“For what reason is your complexion so pale?”

Hagino’s face flushed unexpectedly.
No matter how perceptive Tsuneyuki might be, she thought, there was no way traces of her dealings with the man last night would show on her face—he could never discern it.

“I can only attribute it to my wound’s pain.”

“I’ll tell you this, Hagino—the look on a woman’s face the morning after lying with a man reveals itself immediately. Filthy and worn out.”
“Your face bears an indecent appearance.”

Hagino hadn’t known enough men to properly interpret such words. Yet what had been so thoroughly unearthed now reawakened a familiar sensation across her itching breasts. She moved to leave for that Rikouge place again. “I must excuse myself now…”

“Wait.”

Tsuneyuki called out sharply.

“I will confirm once more—you will no longer remain in this house.”

“Yes, eventually?”

Startled, Hagino realized Tsuneyuki had made his move.

“Will you leave eventually?”

“Yes.”

It was a resolute answer.

“What will you do with Tsuneyuki?”

“Your affairs are your own; I have no knowledge of them.”

“So you choose to die like a dog?”

Tsuneyuki flared up and spat.

“To one so cruel as to strike a woman’s face with stones, there exists no woman in this world who would obey.”

Before those words, Tsuneyuki could not take another step forward.
At last, he flung out a reckless phrase.

“Go.”

Hagino left the veranda.

The moment his head went numb was simultaneously one of utter emptiness; no good ideas came to mind.

A few days later, Sadaaki left the mansion and disappeared; then, exactly one day after that, Hagino also departed the mansion without disclosing anything to anyone.
Though their pact was evident, even when spring came and autumn was half over, their whereabouts remained unknown.
Tsuneyuki did not disclose anything even to his mother, nor did he search for their whereabouts.
The official resigned and closed the doors of the northern mansion.

Sadaaki, who had neither provisions nor domain, would likely meet his end dying like a stray dog in the gutters. When the year waned and winter returned once more with spring approaching its turn, Tsuneyuki heard from the keeper of the northern mansion that a man resembling Sadaaki was said to have gathered at Minamino Field's farthest edge—not within any proper manor structure, but dwelling in what might be called a makeshift hut lying exposed to the wilderness.
Of course Hagino remained with him, but after over a year spent in that wilderness hovel, their clothing had frayed away to rags, and since they made no effort to prepare meals themselves, they were frequently starving.

Even worse rumors—that they were stealing belongings from travelers and villagers—were circulating among the people.
If there were any more plundering of travelers’ and villagers’ belongings, the villagers might drive them out of the field; even if that didn’t happen, they had already ceased approaching the border between the mountain foothills and the field, leaving no footprints behind.

The winter of that year lingered long; the cold and frost delayed the crops in the fields, signs of famine appeared by early summer, and rain did not fall for months on end.
The villagers had to post guards over their meager vegetable root plots—so little food grew at all.
The field—so scarce it could barely be counted as having a single stalk of greens—was ravaged at night and fell victim to theft.
It was as if the villagers themselves had begun stealing meager yet irreplaceable vegetable roots from plot to plot, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities—and these thefts were claimed to be the work of the man and woman at the border between field and foothills.
The villagers had never had a better pretext to shift blame for their own thefts.

The villagers gathered and discussed how to capture this man of samurai lineage, but as the field lay distant and he was a warrior, they could not act rashly to hunt him down.
In the end, they discussed a certain shameful idea—one that seemed to have arisen naturally on its own.

“Set fire to the field.”

This plan itself was the sole method to eliminate the thieves.

“We’ll burn the field from all sides so no one knows who did it—set fire and let the thieves burn to death there.”

The villagers clapped their hands and applauded the plan, reasoning that since the grasses were dry from lack of rain, they would burn well, and on a day with a tailwind, the entire field would turn pitch-black in an instant.
Thus the meeting reached its resolution.

“One of them said.”

“Do we burn the woman too?”

“The woman is just as guilty as the thief. If we don’t burn the woman, who should we burn? Behind every theft there’s always a woman.”

The villagers all waited for the day when the tailwind would rise.

During that time, one night in the field, a villager who discovered a thief was struck down after a prolonged chase and suffered a grave wound.
And so the field’s crops were plundered, which only further stoked the villagers’ fury.
The wounded villager said,
“He was a young samurai with a face as pale as a sword blade, wearing an antiquated long sword.
Since he seems skilled with the long sword, be on guard,” he warned everyone.
He vanished like a gale, but it was also said he disappeared toward the mountain foothills.

“We must not delay even a moment. Let us settle this without waiting for some windy day that may never come.”

The next day, the villagers piled up mountains of dead grass on all four sides of the field and, seeing there was a rather fierce tailwind at that very moment, all together made preparations to set the fire.
The grass had dried like old straw, the field was as hot as a furnace, and the day grew so sweltering that even the soil seemed ready to catch fire.
Just as they were about to set fire from all sides, they suddenly spotted a samurai on a swift horse galloping into view with three attendants in tow.
The horse ran cutting diagonally across the field.

“Set the fire quickly!”

The villagers shouted one after another as they finally set fire to the dead grass on all four sides.
The fire, within a mere moment, transformed from licking flames connecting tip to tip and from a single vast expanse into a solid mass.

At that exact moment, the mounted samurai blocked the road ahead of them as they tried to flee.
The villagers formed into a single mass and retreated backward, moving into a position as though returning to where they had set the fire.

“Put out the fire! Burning the field is a grave crime—put it out!”

The villagers said.

“We’re burning thieves—how could that be any grave crime?”

“A grave crime it is—a death penalty offense! Quickly, put it out! If you extinguish the fire, your crime will go unpunished—hurry!”

The villagers faltered at the word “death penalty.”
The samurai shouted again.

“If you do not extinguish the source of the fire, I will sentence every last one of you to death!”

While the villagers still hesitated, the samurai cut down one of them.
The slashed villager was immediately captured.

Just then, the bell tolled; an air of emergency descended upon the villagers. If they continued to hesitate any longer, they would all be arrested—the samurai bellowed.

“Put out the fire.”

The villagers began extinguishing the fires they had set, but unfortunately, under the relentless tailwind, the flames—now beyond control—transformed into dark smoke and powder-spewing blazes from all directions. The ink-like shroud of smoke showed no sign of abating until it had consumed everything in its path.
The villagers all turned out, but the fire swelled and spread, gouging deep into the wilderness’s belly as it surged toward the mountain foothills—a roaring firestorm with thunderous undulations.

Realizing there was nothing more to be done, the mounted samurai alone cut across the field, set his course toward the mountain foothills, and galloped onward.
The flames grazed past him on horseback with ferocious intensity, while a fiery path surged ahead, blazing past his course and racing to match the speed of the galloping horse as it burned onward.

There was a stream.
Near that stream, a path trodden by people wound its way naturally among the grasses, and the path came to an end before a cave lying between the mountain foothills and the edge of the wilderness.
Though weeds covered the cave’s entrance, the rounded smoothness of its edges—as if someone had shaped it for habitation—left no doubt that someone dwelled within.
When he arrived there, the flames were both behind and before him, pursuing in countless layered streaks twisted into striped patterns.
The faint crackling of burning patches of susuki grass and reeds swelled into a single symphonic surge.

“Get out! It’s dangerous!”

As the mounted samurai’s shouts persisted, a man emerged from the cave wearing an expression utterly unperturbed by the raging flames.
He fixed the mounted samurai with a cold, penetrating gaze.

“What brings you here, Elder Brother?”

“The field has been set ablaze. Flee this place at once.”

The samurai on horseback was Tsuneyuki.
“And where exactly should I go—the flames are right before my eyes!”

“Do you intend to burn to death?”

“If there is nowhere else to go from here, then it must be as you’ve surmised.”

Sadaaki’s face betrayed no trace of agitation.

“Do you harbor no regrets about this resolve?”

“Regrets may exist—but none remain now. Let me do as I please.”

“Then do as you will. I have already fulfilled my obligations.”

The fire pressed inward from all sides.
Dark smoke advanced toward the cave entrance like a tsunami.

“Fool! Won’t you move?!”

“If moving suits me, I’ll move as I please—I’ve no need for your meddling.”

It was then that Tsuneyuki was drawn back to a strange thought.

“Hagino?”

“Women would never attach themselves to a lice-infested beggar samurai.”

“Why didn’t you kill the woman?”

“The woman—I could kill her, but I can’t. Ha.”

The fire came flickering and burning toward them at their feet.
The villagers’ voices had vanished; only crackling sounds remained, and if one focused, the scorching wind threatened to choke their breath.

“Sadaaki.”

“What do you want?”

“I’ll say it again—why don’t you move behind my horse?”

Tsuneyuki demonstratively tapped the horse’s flank.
True to form, Sadaaki hesitated, adopting a pose as if furrowing his brows, but in the next moment, the stubborn man remained unyielding.

“Don’t interfere.”
“Spit it out, you fool—then burn and blister away!”
“If it grows too hot, I’ll flee.”

Suddenly, Sadaaki let out a derisive laugh.

They parted in this way.
The audacious Sadaaki, climbing toward the mountains like a man possessed, did not take the road to the capital but let his feet carry him through the mountain pass.