Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

“I have a request, but…………”

When Narumi looked back, a middle-aged man in beggar’s attire—leaning against the same handrail—gazed up at his face from below and spoke with polite formality.

On that spring night atop Umayabashi Bridge—though not yet late—the sparse foot traffic created an eerie desolation where accosting by disreputable figures made one’s skin crawl.

At a glance, this was no ordinary beggar—a battered bowler hat pulled low over his eyes, tattered garments arranged with meticulous care, one leg swathed in ash-gray bandages (whether truly maimed remained uncertain), all supported by crutches that reeked of artifice.

Given the time and place—where requests for cigarettes or at most train fare were the usual ploys—Narumi Shiro thought even as he reached into his pocket to pull out his lightened wallet when—

“No, no—I’m not saying I wish to receive money from you.”
“I beg you—step a little away from my side, keep facing the other way, and listen to what I have to say while acting as though you have no connection to me whatsoever.”

For a beggar, his speech was refined, and what he said was extremely strange.
Such an outlandish request would never be readily heeded except by a young man of robust curiosity—but Narumi Shiro, fortunately still youthful, unmarried, and though lacking in funds, possessed curiosity in abundance.
As for social status, he was a newly graduated, lowest-ranking company employee—whether facing a beggar or thief held no cause for surprise.
As instructed, he took two or three steps back and faced the sparsely lit Honjo riverbank,

“There, that should do.”

As if declaring he’d play along, he urged the man onward.

“I must apologize for my rudeness… but to tell the truth, I am currently under surveillance by formidable enemies, so I thought it would be unwise to speak to you directly and risk causing you trouble.”
“Even as we stand here, I can’t tell where or what eyes might be watching us.”

He said increasingly unsettling things, but on the other hand, one thing was certain—this man was no true beggar.
For a beggar, his speech was surprisingly intellectual, and though his beard grew wild and unkempt, his demeanor had an air of someone sociable who’d been raised in luxury.

"The truth is—"

The beggar spoke reluctantly, his words faltering.

"In a little while, a young woman will arrive at this bridge."
"I can't help worrying that some unforeseen disaster might befall her."

"For example, what kind of thing?…"

"Such as throwing herself into the river—or being attacked by villains—"

"Even though you know that, why aren't you protecting her?"

When Narumi Shiro posed this straightforward question, the beggar became visibly flustered and,

“Th-that’s precisely why, given the circumstances I’ve just explained, I cannot so much as show my face—let alone rush out to save her.”

“Hey, cut it out! I may look like this, but I’m not drunk. If you’re going to mock me, at least do it when I’ve got a bit more pocket money to spare. First off—no matter how carefree someone might be, there isn’t a soul who’d loiter around on a bridge where a suicide might happen! At worst, I’d get mistaken for the one jumping or scolded by an officer. If you think I’m lying, go ask at the police box by the bridge entrance.”

Upon hearing Narumi’s words, the man in beggar’s attire let out a relieved sigh.

“You are quite right—it’s no wonder you find no credibility in what someone like me, of such unsavory appearance, would say to a passing stranger. However, I have been praying to the gods and buddhas that there might be at least one honest soul who would unconditionally trust the words of someone like myself and rescue that young woman from her imminent peril. Even that is likely my futile wish—there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“You’re crying, aren’t you? If you go that far, it can’t be entirely a lie. But it seems cruel to keep doubting you—don’t you have some sort of proof that this girl will actually come?”

“Very well—though it’s not what one might call evidence, allow me to demonstrate that my words are by no means baseless. After I leave, count to twenty or thirty—then look at the spot where I stood. Is that acceptable? Now—one, two, three, four—five—”

The man in beggar’s attire seemed to have moved from his position; the voice counting numbers grew gradually distant. When he turned around after judging the moment right, there on the bridge planks two or three steps away lay a faintly white object—a single sheet weighted down by a small stone—fluttering in the river wind. When he picked it up and held it against a distant light, this proved unmistakably a purple 100-yen banknote—moreover, neither counterfeit nor imitation, but an honest-to-goodness 100-yen note showing little sign of age.

While 100 yen could not be called a fortune in today’s world, from the perspective of Narumi Shiro—fresh out of university—it was an amount that would require giving change if received as monthly salary, not such a trivial sum to emerge from a beggar’s pocket and be left upon bridge planks.

"This seemed no ordinary matter," he thought.

Narumi Shiro stood on the temporary bridge of Umayabashi and inadvertently uttered this soliloquy.

Two

“Sir, please return that.”

A man dressed like a rogue emerged from the darkness, jerked his chin upward, and pulled his hand out of his pocket.

“Wh-what?”

“Heh heh heh—you can’t go hiding it now. That purple-patterned paper scrap you picked up from the bridge—we need that...”

Topped with a hunting cap in bat-like guise, wearing a thin lined kimono ill-suited for the chill, three shaku of fabric hanging loosely from his waistband over hemp-lined sandals—despite such shoddy villainy, his eyes alone gleamed with uncanny intensity.

“Don’t talk nonsense!”

“Who’s talkin’ nonsense? That ain’t no beggar’s money! Get caught filchin’ goods an’ you won’t walk away clean! C’mon—quit makin’ this ugly. Hand it over nice ’n easy.”

A wrist slid out from the pocket and mockingly brushed past Narumi Shiro’s nose with a swift stroke.

“What d’you think you’re doin’?!”

As Narumi instinctively recoiled from his challenger’s demeanor and tried to reset his stance—too late—the rogue’s left hand darted from beneath his sleeve and snatched the 100-yen banknote from Narumi Shiro’s right hand. Without uttering a word, he spun on his heel and sped off toward Kuramae.

“Ah! Th-thief!”

Even if I gave chase, it would be futile—the man moved with terrifying speed. By the time I reached the bridge entrance, he had vanished without a trace.

It wasn’t that he felt no attachment to the 100-yen banknote, but as he might be delayed—and considering the young woman the beggar had mentioned could appear on the bridge at any moment—Narumi Shiro, perhaps because he thought the money wasn’t originally his to begin with, turned heel without much clinging and returned straightaway to his original position on the bridge.

How many hours had passed since then? The blackness of the water seeped into one’s very being, the laborers had largely vanished, and the famous dry wind—still carrying remnants of scattered blossoms—swiftly whipped up sand dust across the bridge.

Then, from the direction of Shitaya came a young woman in rubber-soled sandals, taking careful steps as she glanced warily about her. She stepped onto the bridge, swept her gaze across the surroundings once, then hunched her shoulders slightly and slipped past Narumi with a quiet swish.

Even though there was a bare electric light on the temporary bridge's handrail, its meager light was sparse from the start; there was no way to clearly make out the faces of passersby.
Yet at that moment, the face of the young woman Narumi Shiro saw must have been something even the night's darkness could not fully contain—a beauty that truly glowed.

"This is no simple matter."

Muttering once more, Narumi’s feet unconsciously began following the young woman.

From west to east, then east to west, the young woman made two or three round trips across the bridge.
Maintaining an interval of about nine meters, Narumi Shiro kept following behind her, yet she showed no sign of noticing.

As streetlights went out one by one—swallowed by the darkness—the bridge grew steadily lonelier.
Had a lone young woman and her pursuer kept crossing this bridge repeatedly, even the policeman at its entrance would have inevitably taken notice.
I should just call out to her already... Narumi Shiro was precisely contemplating this when—

Before she knew it, the young woman stood at the bridge's midpoint; for a time she peered down at the river's surface as if entranced until—shuddering suddenly—she drew back and clutched her own shoulders tightly before standing there dejectedly.

However, this too was short-lived. Once more at the handrail—this time folding both sleeves over it—she gazed intently into the night-dark waters, when suddenly she removed her crimson-thonged sandals, leaned her upper body over the rail, and began sliding down toward the black currents of the Ōkawa River.

“Hold it!”

Narumi Shiro involuntarily shouted and leaped forward.

3

The steps involved in rescuing someone from suicide need not be explained in tedious detail.

Unlike an elderly man crushed by poverty or a hysterical woman, this was a young woman with a strong will to live—once prevented, she readily ceased her attempt, which proved fortunate. Yet in exchange, no matter how he pressed her with questions like “Why did you decide to die?”, she wouldn’t utter a single word.

“As you can see, I am but a lowly clerk—I cannot do much—but if this is something money can solve, I could even borrow from eight different places to make it work… Isn’t that what this is about?”

At this,

“No, it isn’t.”

She even shook her head in a childlike manner.

“When it comes to strength, I may possess more brawn than brains—but surely this isn’t something brute force could solve…”

“No, sir—it’s nothing of that sort.”

“Then perhaps an unwelcome marriage arrangement—”

“No! Truly not!”

Though her face flushed crimson, the violent shaking of her head suggested this wasn’t some romantic matter—as one might expect from a maiden her age.

“Please... don’t ask anything more... I... I won’t... think of dying anymore.”

That was all she could manage; pearl-like tears glistened on lashes turned from the light.

Since they couldn’t remain on the bridge indefinitely, he urged the young woman toward Shitaya while pressing her with questions—yet she refused to reveal even her name or address, much less what had driven her to suicide.

Despite this, she didn’t seem particularly afraid of Narumi Shiro, nor did she appear to dislike him.

"This seems like no simple matter."

Recalling how remarkably accurate the beggar’s prophecy had been, Narumi Shiro once again muttered to himself.

When viewed under the city lights, she appeared every bit a young woman raised in refined circumstances—her hair done up in a modest bun, her cream-hued skin bearing not a trace of powder, with natural brows, almond-shaped eyes, a nose as elegantly carved as ivory sculpture, and finely defined lips. Nineteen or twenty years old, she carried an air of quiet intellect—yet radiated utterly irresistible charm.
Her slightly too-plain merino wool clothing somehow added an innocent charm, elevating this young woman’s dignity all the more.

“Thank you very much. This will suffice.”

Suddenly stopping, the young woman spoke thus.
In the depths of a certain alley in Shitaya Takechō—without thinking anything in particular and being led by the young woman—he ended up coming to such a place.

“Is this your home?”

“No, it’s the nursemaid’s house.”

From below where the knocking came, a plump woman in her fifties casually opened the door.

“Oh my! If it isn’t the Young Mistress! Whatever could have happened at this hour? And the gentleman accompanying you—”

Caught off guard by the unexpected young man, the nursemaid grew suspicious and abruptly cut off her words.

“I’ve properly handed Miss over to you—you must take great care not to make any mistakes. Just tonight, I barely managed to rescue her as she tried to jump from Umayabashi Bridge and accompanied her all the way here. Do you understand?”

“What?! Then does that mean the Young Mistress tried to throw herself into the river—”

“Hey—if you shout that loudly, the neighbors will hear.”

“Young Mistress, to go that far—oh my!—that the Master would do such a thing...”

As the nursemaid was mid-sentence, the young woman seized her hand and pulled her deeper inside.

I thought asking that kindly-looking nursemaid might reveal the full story, but lingering further would feel like currying favor—an unpleasant notion.

Tomorrow I'd find some way to investigate.

With only that resigned thought, Narumi Shiro returned to his boarding house.

4

The beggar’s prophecy, the 100-yen banknote, the rogues—the mysterious events of the previous night that had swirled up like a vortex—ignited a crimson flame in the otherwise flat and mundane life of Narumi Shiro, the lowly clerk.

Especially that beautiful girl who had even attempted to take her own life—the strangely clever girl who had deliberately led Narumi, the man who saved her life, to the nursemaid’s house in Takechō and concealed both her home and name.—Those tear-filled, beautiful eyes like black onyx had been etched into Narumi Shiro’s memory so thoroughly that he could neither erase nor forget them.

The next day was fortunately Sunday; though the cherry blossoms had scattered, the weather remained ideal for a stroll. On ordinary days, his Sunday cheer would have had him boarding the suburban train to dash off toward vistas of greenery, but today he couldn’t muster such inclinations. In a light spring coat, gray soft hat, and thin walking stick tucked under his arm, he wandered over to the house in Takechō from the previous night—arriving just past noon.

When he looked, there stood a dreadfully shabby candy store, its dust-covered shelves lined with suspicious goods resembling pebbles, while the plump old woman from the previous night appeared to be working in the back without tending the shop.

“Good morning.”

When he called out,

“Oh my! Thank you ever so much for last night. Thanks to you, the Young Mistress was saved—I heard about it afterward and was truly astonished. She must’ve been drifting toward death in her pitiable state… Ah, but venturing onto that bridge so late at night—why, it’s no wonder Death itself latched onto her…”

Being bombarded with a continuous stream of words, Narumi Shiro found himself unable to get a word in edgewise. Finally finding a break in her words,

“By the way, has Miss gone out somewhere?”

“There was some business requiring attention—she went out together with her lodgings just now.”

“Where to?”

“Well, I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea about that.”

She prattled endlessly about trivial matters, yet when it came to actual business, she hadn’t the slightest clue.

“That young lady seems to be from a respectable family, but just who exactly is she?”

He casually posed what he thought might be a promising question, but the nursemaid’s expression suddenly hardened.

“Though I appreciate your kindness… that alone I cannot disclose… that alone…”

Contrary to her fearsome loquacity, she suddenly clammed up like a pond snail. Even if I pressed further, it didn’t seem likely to yield any significant information.

When he decided to give up, his feet were already heading toward Umayabashi Bridge.
The premonition that he might stumble upon some new development so soon after last night made Narumi’s chest flutter with excitement.

At the approach of Umayabashi Bridge, last night’s beggar was already pacing back and forth—he must have claimed this area as his territory.
Hiding for a while behind utility poles and under shop awnings to observe, Narumi noticed—perhaps it was his imagination—that the beggar seemed oddly restless and showed no signs of begging from passersby.

Admittedly, for a beggar who would toss aside a 100-yen banknote without hesitation, it might indeed seem strange that he would beg for one or two sen in alms.
Narumi, with both his wallet and spirits light, suddenly thought of such things and let out a bitter smile.

After a while, the beggar—likely comparing shopfront clocks—was peering into the merchant houses along the approach when, startled by something, he suddenly began clattering his crutches and hurried across the bridge toward Honjo.

Needless to say, Narumi followed him while keeping out of sight. However, after crossing the bridge to the right and turning down two or three alleys from the Yokoami area, the beggar’s figure vanished as if whisked away.

"This is bad."

He clicked his tongue once, muffled his footsteps, and wandered blindly until he collided with a large barrack-like shack that appeared to be an empty warehouse. After circling around once, he emerged right back where he started, as if by magic.

When he noticed, muffled whispers of voices came from somewhere. When he instinctively looked around, there was a large hole in the wall to his right. Peering in a crouch, the vacant lot beyond appeared as if he could reach out and touch it.

The irregularly shaped vacant lot, sandwiched between an empty warehouse, a wall, and a river, was indeed an ideal place for a secret daytime rendezvous.

The ones talking were the mysterious beggar he had been following until now and the beautiful daughter who had attempted to drown herself.

“Father, what happened last night? I went to the place you instructed at the time written in your letter, but you did not appear. I thought everything had gone irreparably wrong…”

The beggar and the daughter—were they truly parent and child?
Not entirely unexpected, yet Narumi Shiro involuntarily held his breath and strained his ears.

“I know. You were disappointed and tried to throw yourself from that handrail, didn’t you?”

“What?! Then Father, did you witness that?”

“I was hiding behind the plank barrier outside that handrail. I wanted desperately to leave, but at that time, I was being watched by terrifying eyes from both sides and couldn’t move a muscle. ...I thought you might do something rash out of excessive worry, so I asked a seemingly honest young man to save you in your moment of peril.”

“Father?”

“I know everything… Why on earth have you fallen into such foolish thoughts again?”

“Father…”

The beautiful daughter clung to her father in his filthy beggar’s guise, her choked sobs catching in her throat.

“Look, if you hadn’t conceived such a reckless notion and endured minor hardships—why couldn’t you stay quietly at the Komagata Villa? …In just two or three days, I’ll have obtained a passport.”
“Once I obtain a passport, escaping to South America via Taiwan or Manchuria as a foothold will be nothing difficult. Didn’t I firmly promise that once settled in South America, I would immediately dispatch a trustworthy person to bring you over?”
“Even though I explained it to you so thoroughly, why can’t you understand?”
“Even you should be able to endure just six months or, at most, a year… The Komagata Villa is under your name, so no one in society will know your true identity. If that displeases you, you may go stay with Baa-ya in Takemachi—just six months or a year…”

With his hand placed on the beautiful daughter’s shoulder, the filthy beggar’s earnest way of speaking—what a bizarre spectacle it was! Despite their feelings appearing utterly serious, Narumi Shiro found himself feeling as though he were watching a scene from a film.

V

“Father, Father, I understand what you say.”
“But Father—why must you go to a place like South America? Why won’t you come forward instead, accept whatever punishment you deserve, and resolve to do what must be done?”
“Father, instead of harboring such feelings of fleeing and hiding, please resolve to come forward for the sake of the many.”
“If we but walk the righteous path, I would not feel the slightest hardship even sitting with you at that bridge’s edge… The deceased mother watches over us.”
“If I must live like this—in shame, fleeing and hiding—then even if I truly became a beggar, I would feel neither sadness nor hardship.”
“Father!”

Amid the pouring tears, the daughter—her body almost lifting from the ground—clutches frantically at her wretched father’s knees and chest.

The midday sun harshly illuminates this uncanny scene. What reached the ears—the nearby lapping of waves, the distant rumble of the metropolis—seeped strangely deep into the core, striking the chest with an eerie stillness out of place for the location.

“Don’t spout such nonsense! What good does losing heart now do? This beggar’s guise isn’t meant to last a lifetime—this father is maintaining this drunken pretense temporarily to live like royalty in South America.”
“Don’t spout such nonsense and ruin our hard-wrought plans!”

“No, Father—I don’t feel the slightest envy for lives of royalty or whatever.”
“If I could dissolve the resentment of the multitudes and live even a single day with peace of mind, I would willingly become a beggar in Japan.”

“Don’t spout such nonsense! The job’s eighty percent done! Ah—”

The beggar, appearing startled, looked around in all directions,

“It seems someone’s coming. You go home now.”
“When you need to contact me, send a letter to Takemachi. Understood? Wait bravely. Don’t you dare think of dying again. Got it? Now go home.”

The beggar ushered the daughter into an alleyway, watching her dejected retreating figure for a time—then suddenly startled by something—he leapt toward an escape route in the opposite direction.

“Not so fast!”

Before him, spreading his arms wide to block the way stood the rogue-like man who had snatched the 100-yen banknote from Narumi’s hand the previous night—

“Heh heh, pardon me—I’ll just be heading over there.”

“I don’t know where you’re headed, but if you wanna pass through here, you gotta pay the tax.”

“Huh?!”

“No need t’be surprised—after gettin’ pounded two-three days straight, you’re cleaned out. That fancy mug o’ yours ain’t worth a hundred. Ain’t askin’ much—just hand over a bit o’ that stash you’re hoardin’.”

Narumi Shiro was utterly astonished.
That someone would shake down a beggar in broad daylight in the middle of Tokyo—it was beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Boss, you mustn’t jest like this. As you see, I’m but a beggar—clinging to people’s sleeves to receive a penny or two in alms, barely sustaining this wretched existence. A pitiful state indeed.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha! We’re well aware you’re a beggar and still aim to borrow your capital. Providence sees clear through to your pockets—quit yappin’ and strip yourself clean!”

“You mustn’t joke like this, Boss! Help me!”

Chasing after the fleeing man, their hands almost reached into his bosom—

“Whoa!”

As he swung up his crutch and his bandaged leg snapped straight, the beggar’s face became filled with unexpected murderous intensity.

“Hey everyone, lend a hand!”

“Understood!”

In response to the rogue’s voice, three or four others of equally unsavory appearance—scattered and emerging all at once from wherever they had been hiding—leapt out.

Seeing the situation turning against him, the beggar reached into his bosom, grabbed one handful, then another of gold coins, silver coins, and banknotes of various sizes, scattering them like autumn leaves—

“Go ahead and pick it up!”

After delivering his parting shot, he vanished without a trace.

“Hey, enough already! The real prize got away, didn’t it?”

“Huh?!”

“Don’t ‘Huh?!’ me! You ain’t got time to be obsessed with that stuff!”

“I see… We’ve messed this up.”

Before the small mountain of collected gold and silver coins and banknotes, the three or four gang members stood facing each other for a while.

“But y’know, we’ve mostly pinpointed that guy’s hideout.”

“Huh, whereabouts’s that at?”

“Didn’t you lot see the leg wrapped in bandages on that guy?”

The one who appeared to be the boss stated thus.

“Is it hidden in the bandaged leg or something?”

“That’s a stupid idea—didn’t you see the cement dust on his bandaged leg?”
“It’s not just the bandaged leg—that tattered rag that looks like seaweed? Look close—it’s all cement dust.”
“You get it? Here’s the deal—we’ve been dead wrong combing from Azumabashi Bridge this whole time. That bastard’s hideout’s gotta be near Asano Cement, not far from Kiyosu Bridge. Right?”

The gang leader’s eyes glinted sharply beneath his hunting cap.

“Indeed, no mistake about it.”

In an ordinary situation, this would have been where they resorted to their usual tricks, but for some reason, the underlings simply exchanged glances and quietly marveled.

“Alright, best act fast once you’ve decided. That guy’s bound to head straight to his hideout the moment the Military Funds are gone. Let’s head out right now and search every stone covered in cement dust, every piece of lumber, every shed or storage hut—leave no stone unturned.”

6

The next day, when Narumi Shiro had finished his company work and rushed to Okawabata, it was already past five o'clock—the lingering spring day was sinking into the evening mist.

When he walked around inspecting the riverbanks near Asano Cement, he found that indeed all stone walls, lumber piles, bridges and warehouses appeared to have been thoroughly examined. Yet strangely enough, none had been displaced or dug up.

"I wonder if they haven't found the hideout or whatever."

While thinking this, when he came to Shin-Ōhashi Bridge, there at the steamboat dock was the same gang of rogues from yesterday. When he saw their cement-stained, disappointed faces, it was clear their search had ended in failure.

When the steamboat arrived shortly after, they exchanged glances and wordlessly conferred. The subordinates remained on the shore, while the boss alone boarded the vessel.
Narumi Shiro hesitated for a moment about what to do, but thinking the lone boss more crucial than three or four subordinates, he immediately jumped aboard after him and began monitoring the boss's movements with feigned nonchalance.

Before long, the steamboat passed from Ryogoku through Komagata Bridge, gliding across the river surface approaching dusk until it neared beneath Umayabashi Bridge—then undergoing reconstruction.

Perhaps seeking to let the evening breeze cool his weary head, the gang leader had climbed the exit steps and half-emerged onto the low roof. But upon catching sight of the temporary bridge, he—employing a gymnastic maneuver—swiftly leapt onto the steamboat’s roof.

Since Narumi was right beside him, every single movement became perfectly clear.
Amid the crowded steamboat, the passengers—captivated by the magazine vendor’s spiel selling eight month-old issues for twenty sen—failed to notice the rogue-like man leaping onto the vessel’s roof.

Evening mist soundlessly filled the river surface, and the area had already deepened into the hues of twilight.
As this was a steamboat that concluded its voyages at sunset—likely being the final run—it sounded its dull whistle one after another and entered beneath the girders of the low temporary bridge,

The rogue’s body on the roof bent slightly for an instant, then snapped straight and swiftly leapt onto the bridge girders above his head.
A truly hair-raising, split-second feat of daring.

In the blink of an eye, the steamboat passed beneath the temporary bridge and, while tracing a gentle curve, arrived at Umayabashi Bridge’s landing.

Narumi Shiro, who had been watching this, flew out of the river steamboat like a cannonball. When he bounded up the steps in one leap and emerged onto the bridge in a wide arc, the owner of the disheveled head—who had crawled up from beneath the girders—was already gripping the handrail and attempting to vault over it.

“Mr. Narumi, please apprehend that beggar!”

From under the bridge came another person—needless to say, it was the rogue who had leapt from the steamboat’s roof.

Startled by hearing his own name called unexpectedly, Narumi looked to see the beggar—already over the handrail—bracing himself to flee toward Asakusa.
Should he apprehend him or let him go? Narumi, without even a moment’s hesitation in that instant of wavering,

“Ah, Father, don’t run… Please, just like this, just like this—allow yourself to be bound.”

A beautiful daughter—appearing from who knows where—was desperately struggling, clinging to the father in beggar’s attire.

“Let go! Hey, Tokiko, let go!”

“Father—please, don’t run away!”

The daughter’s voice choked with tears and vanished strangely into the air, yet her slender hands clung to her father’s body like creeping vines, continuing to struggle as though resolved to fight until death itself.

“Gendō! Show some backbone! Let your daughter bind you—the barest atonement you can make!”

A voice rang out with icy authority.

When he turned, that merciless rogue had torn off his hunting cap and stood transfixed, watching the uncanny spectacle of father and daughter locked in combat.

What an astonishing transformation this was! The once-petty villain—like a modernized Kōmori Yasushi—still clad in his striped unlined kimono and front-tied three-shaku obi, now radiated authority in all directions, standing as dashingly as though he were an entirely different man.

“Ah! I yield.”

The man called Gendō—still in beggar’s guise—clumsily sank onto the bridge floor, whereupon Tokiko, the beautiful daughter, collapsed like a crushed hibiscus flower, her consciousness slipping away.

The bridge was now packed with gawkers.

“Hey! Stay down!”

When the restraining police officer arrived, the rogue-like man called him to a spot nearby,

“This is Gendō Sanenosuke, the embezzlement suspect we have been searching for. Please telephone the main office and arrange escort procedures.”

“The Savings Demon?!”

It was only natural for the police officer to be shocked.
For he was the infamous Savings Demon who had first wrung several million yen from the poor through fraudulent savings schemes, then—upon seeing the company he managed collapse—appropriated every recoverable yen in cash and securities totaling over a million yen before vanishing, leaving behind the resentment and lamentations of hundreds of thousands.

“And what about you who’s making such claims?”

In response to the police officer’s question,

“I am Hanafusa Ichirō.”

“Ah!”

This—this merciless rogue—being none other than the renowned detective Hanafusa Ichirō defied all expectations. Even the police officer stood astonished, though Narumi Shiro’s shock dwarfed his twofold.

Having instructed his newly arrived plainclothes subordinates to search beneath the bridge again, they soon hauled up an imposing large trunk.

“That trunk likely holds over a million yen in cash and securities—funds vital for returning to the tens of thousands of depositors who curse Gendō with blood-tinged tears. Handle it carefully when transporting to headquarters.”

Having completed what needed to be done, Hanafusa Ichirō quietly turned to Shiro and spoke these words.

“Mr. Narumi, there’s no need for alarm—we had your name and particulars investigated last night. As you’re an essential witness, please look after this young lady and come to the Metropolitan Police Headquarters afterward by motor cab or similar means. That should be satisfactory, yes?”

The composed words, so incongruous with his rough exterior, somehow even fostered a sense of approachability.

Seven

After the case was resolved, the renowned detective Hanafusa Ichirō related the following account to Narumi Shiro.

“It was nothing extraordinary. Once we discovered Gendō had embezzled a massive one million yen and planned to flee overseas, we immediately established surveillance between Azumabashi and Ryōgokubashi Bridges.”

“There was a reason for this.”

“Anonymous letters occasionally arrived at his daughter’s vacant home—without exception, they were always postmarked from Asakusa.”

“Moreover, since there was a villa registered under his daughter’s name in Komagata where the trunk containing one million yen had been temporarily hidden, we concluded he must be operating somewhere between Azumabashi and Ryōgokubashi Bridges, centering on Komagata.”

The surveillance was extremely strict, and his face was widely known. If he had been alone, perhaps—but he couldn’t very well wander around openly with such a large trunk.
Moreover, were one in Gendō’s position, he would never part with that trunk even at the cost of his life.

When I disguised myself among rogues and kept watch over that area, I soon spotted Gendō who had transformed himself into a beggar’s guise, but the problem remained that we could not easily determine where he had hidden the trunk containing one million yen.
Simply catching such a major embezzler’s physical form proves futile—after feigning ignorance to evade responsibility, then quietly retrieving the hidden fortune years after serving their sentence and spending it is hardly rare.
"There have been countless such cases before."

So for a time, feigning ignorance, we let Gendō’s body roam free while we searched for the trunk’s location.

“The reason I emerged from the shadows and confiscated that 100-yen note you received from Gendō was my meddlesome concern to prevent any potential misstep on your part. That money represents ill-gotten gains squeezed from the lifeblood of paupers—not a single sen of it could be squandered. We had to return every possible fraction of the principal to those pitiful depositors.”

“When my subordinates and I ambushed Gendō in Yokoami, our purpose was twofold—to seize all illicit funds he carried and to force his hand. We reasoned that once stripped of every coin, he’d inevitably retrieve his hidden hoard.”

“Make no mistake—Gendō was a villain through and through. But his beggar’s guise proved him a true novice; lacking even a vagrant’s courage to beg alms, he couldn’t survive a day without stolen gold.”

“We were completely fooled by the cement dust,” Hanafusa Ichirō admitted. “That was Gendō’s scheme to draw us away—ah, what a laughable ruse…”

His voice carried both professional chagrin and reluctant admiration as he continued: “When we returned empty-handed from investigating Asano Cement’s vicinity, disappointment weighing heavy, a thick rope caught our eye on the bridge girder.”

The detective’s tone sharpened with analytical precision. “No reason for such a rope to exist there—either someone’s tied themselves to avoid falling, or without question, they’ve hidden a substantial package atop those girders.”

If Gendō were present, they would circle around from atop the bridge and let him slip away to the opposite side.
“Since we’d exhaustively studied every contingency, we couldn’t risk careless action.”
“Even barring that—had he sensed our approach—he might’ve flung that million-yen trunk into the river in desperation.”
“That’s precisely why I made an instantaneous decision and leapt from the river steamer’s roof to beneath the bridge.”

At any rate, securing that trunk with its million yen proved fortunate.
Through this, the tens of thousands of depositors swindled by Gendō and robbed of their life savings might finally find some redress—though capturing Gendō himself amounted to mere procedural theater, for we could have apprehended him ten days prior had we so wished...

“But that girl Tokiko is truly admirable! My report was significantly softened thanks to her noble disposition.”
“For such a villain to father such an exemplary daughter must be part of God’s profound design.”
“Even Gendō had his will broken by his daughter’s beautiful character—they say he’s completely reformed in the detention center for the accused.”
“If you can, please watch over her. Though society may coldly shun her as the Savings Demon’s daughter, you alone know her peerlessly beautiful soul... Eh?”
“You’re already caring for her? How swift! Though when it comes to matters of romance, even Hanafusa Ichirō here remains utterly oblivious—Ha ha ha!”

(Note: This main story was written seventeen or eighteen years ago when Umayabashi Bridge still stood as a temporary structure; deeming no revisions necessary, it has been published unchanged.)