Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

"Ah, how boring.
I simply can't endure such an uneventful world!"

Heikai Sanpei, the literature scholar, adjusted his pince-nez and let out a girlishly affected yawn.

"Absolutely! Isn't there some earth-shattering, thrilling incident like this?"

The one casually brushing up his shrike's-nest-like disheveled hair with his fingers was Asayama Kesao, a not particularly skilled painter.

The fifteen or sixteen gathered club members were all people who claimed to be troubled with how to use their money and time—some blowing smoke rings, others sipping their preferred drinks, indulging in idle chatter with utter disarray—but the one feeling shared by all members was being thoroughly bored to the core.

On the back second floor of a certain café in Jinbōchō—reserved exclusively for regular patrons during nighttime hours—there had somehow come into being this famously named "Unnamed Club". Though not officially the president, the one who had been recommended due to seniority, status, and reputation to lead the club was Viscount Tamaki Michitaka—that man leaning against the central armchair who had been smoking cigars continuously since earlier.

A handsome middle-aged man with a slightly receding hairline—his face gave a cold impression as if someone had peeled a hard-boiled egg and drawn features on it—yet his aristocratic lineage undeniably lent him an air of refined elegance. The club members—who had gathered as birds of a feather—consisted entirely of second and third sons from aristocratic families, wealthy heirs, literati, artists, and actors; while there wasn't a single poor person among them, neither was there a solitary socially useful individual to be found.

“Mitchyan, tea. Just the count.”

In response to the viscount's voice, the lovely waitress who had been sitting in the chair behind the screen stood quietly and began counting the attendees. She was likely called Mitsuko or Michiko, but among the club members, the seventeen- or eighteen-year-old beauty went universally by "Mitchyan"—petite and charming, with a refinement uncharacteristic of a girl in such employment.

“There’s something interesting—depending on how you interpret it, it could be an earth-shattering incident…”

Hachiya Buntarou, a newspaper reporter, muttered as if to himself while crushing a sugar cube into his black tea.
No one knew which newspaper he wrote for, but since he himself claimed to be a reporter, it was certain that he worked as one.
He was open-hearted, a skilled conversationalist, and the most popular member among the club members.

“What’s all this? Making such a fanfare about some earth-shattering revelation?”
“Don’t drag it out—just announce it straight!”

Tsutsui Tomaru, the corporate employee who never fell behind in his loathing of boredom, pounced immediately.

“It concerns an incident that occurred in Viscount Tamaki’s former domain—though I trust you don’t mind me speaking of it?”

"That would be problematic. I must ask you to spare us that particular matter."

The Viscount looked thoroughly dismayed, but

"Tell us. Once it reaches our ears, there'll be no containing it."

"I consent."

"All ears here!"

There was no stopping it now.

II

The strange tale of Tamaki Castle ruins had been a major incident that stirred newspaper headlines for a time, yet its truth remained unknown to the world.
Newspaper reporter Hachiya Buntarou spoke with the air of one who knew rather more about the matter than most—an occupational advantage.

"In Tenkyō 2, Taira no Masakado built a provisional palace at Shimōsa Sarushima, conquered the Kantō provinces, erected fortresses across the land, repaired castle moats and walls, then awaited the government forces."
"Three years later, he fell to Sadamori and Hidesato—the eastern rebellion was fully quelled... All this stands detailed in Japanese histories, hardly requiring my retelling now."

Hachiya Buntarou's story was quite elaborate.
The club members, who had been utterly bored until now, unconsciously leaned forward with faces shining like elementary school students brimming with curiosity.

"Now, among those fortresses across various provinces, there exists one called Tamaki Castle in Viscount Tamaki's former domain.
"It appears this was the most strategically vital stronghold of that era. Taira no Masakado reportedly ordered his general to store vast amounts of gold, silver, and jewels—allocated for military use—within the castle grounds. This account is preserved in both the Tamaki family's ancient records and certain unofficial chronicles."
"Eventually Masakado was executed and the Tenkyō Rebellion was quelled, but where exactly that treasure was hidden remained completely unknown."
"Though eras changed and people passed, humanity's obsession with hidden treasure never waned. From the age of warlords through the Tokugawa period, they thoroughly searched the castle grounds time and again, tearing off tiles and demolishing walls, but not a single Bunkyū-era coin emerged—let alone gold, silver, or jewels."

In the distant past, Japan had gold overflowing in abundance—records from various ancient texts indicate its production was especially prolific during the imperial court era. However, through Buddhism's introduction, the Three Han Campaigns, frequent exchanges with Korea and China via envoys like the Kentōshi missions, and later dealings with India and Southern Barbarian nations, even Japan's prodigious gold reserves gradually flowed overseas. By the Tokugawa period, it's said Japan had lost nine-tenths of its gold.

"In fact, just consider the gold that Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, Yoshimasa, and others squandered abroad during the Muromachi period—not to mention that Eiraku coins circulating domestically in Japan at the time were purchased from China in exchange for gold—the scale of outflow becomes truly staggering."

Though this digresses from our main topic, such prodigal expenditures of gold came later. During the Tenkyō era and such times, gold still existed in abundance within our country. If Masakado did conceal military funds, their scale must have been extraordinary.

Tamaki Castle, given the era in which it was constructed, was not a flatland fortress but rather a stronghold carved into a mountainside with piled stones and channeled waterways. Now not a trace remains of its moats or walls—only faint vestiges of the main keep and secondary enclosure linger in the imagination.
Moreover, ravaged by centuries of treasure hunting, every single roof tile and paving stone had been smashed, and the entire castle grounds had been dug up like a radish field.

“Now then, gentlemen of this esteemed assembly—rather than continuing to dwell in Tokyo’s dust, tormented by that chronic ailment called boredom—why not instead plan an expedition to these Tamaki Castle ruins and compete in the grand endeavor of treasure hunting? For hundreds of years, thousands have strained their wits yet failed to discover this treasure. Should we not be the ones to unearth it through our own hands? Would renaming our ‘Unnamed Club’ as the ‘Famous Club’ not be a man’s true ambition?”

The room was abnormally tense and uncharacteristically silent.
Having surveyed the situation, Hachiya Buntarou continued in a tone that suggested he had achieved his aim,

“I’ve omitted one important thing—at the castle ruins stands a stone monument inscribed with about fifty characters of classical Chinese text, but after so many years of weathering and erosion, they can no longer be properly deciphered. We can each attempt to read them once we’re there, but what I must mention now is that it contains the phrase ‘noon on the summer solstice.’ This interpretation remains uncertain—I cannot definitively confirm its accuracy—but given the longstanding local legend that ‘Tamaki Castle’s treasure emerges at noon on the summer solstice,’ I believe we may reasonably treat this as one crucial clue deserving measured trust.”

Speaking of the summer solstice—it falls on June 22nd, which is precisely tomorrow.
If you depart early morning from Ueno by train—a two-hour ride—and walk briefly from the small station on the Joban Line, you'll reach the castle ruins by ten o'clock.
“Those who are available, please assemble at Ueno Station at seven o’clock.”

“Agreed.”

“By all means, I shall join as well.”

While surveying the murmuring room once more, Hachiya Buntarou continued speaking.

“One more thing—while this expedition may appear innocuous at first glance, I must inform you that it actually entails significant danger.”

“In both the year before last and last year, on precisely the same summer solstice day at Tamaki Castle ruins, unknown individuals were killed by unknown perpetrators.”

“The year before last, at what was once the inner moat—now an irrigation ditch—an old man appeared to have emerged from the stone wall only to be struck dead by a massive stone.”

“However, since stones from stone walls don’t fly there on their own, we must conclude there was some underlying reason and that he was murdered by someone.”

“Furthermore, last year—again on the same summer solstice day—near what was likely the main keep’s ancient spring, a young woman of remarkably plain attire but incomparable beauty had her back gouged by a dagger in a single strike, dying stained crimson.”

“The Prefectural Police Department conducted an exhaustive investigation, but not only did they fail to apprehend the culprit, even now the victim’s identity remains unknown.”

“Most crucially, even Viscount Tamaki—the former lord present here and owner of these ancient castle ruins—is said to have no leads whatsoever regarding this matter.”

At any rate, there can be no doubt that approaching Tamaki Castle ruins on the summer solstice day entails life-threatening danger.
“To those intending to join tomorrow’s expedition—please commit this to memory. Anyone who harbors concerns about potential dangers or wishes to avoid perilous proximity—I earnestly request you withdraw from accompanying us.”

Hachiya Buntarou's uncanny tale came to an end.
“Should we go, or should we not?”

The anxiety and restlessness of thoughts like "I do want to go see it, but it does feel somewhat eerie" kept the club members in uneasy silence for some time.

"Mr. Hachiya has made some rather trivial remarks; this is a fairy-tale-like incident that occurred in my domain, and by no means an amusing diversion to relieve your boredom."

Viscount Tamaki leaned back in his armchair with a somewhat vexed expression as he spoke.

"Moreover, there's another unfortunate development. This thief called Judge Saburou who's been causing such a stir lately—he sent me a letter declaring such impertinent things.
'...The treasure of Tamaki Castle ruins shall soon be discovered by none other than myself, Judge Saburou. Though you may style yourself Tamaki's former feudal lord, dare not assert any claim over it—for this was hidden by Taira no Masakado in the Tenkyō era, and you possess not the slightest right to it...' Rather severe language, wouldn't you agree? Ha ha ha ha!"

“Whoa—”

“Has Judge Saburou appeared?”

“That’s terrible!”

Hearing that the phantom thief Judge Saburou had plunged into the heart of this affair, the group’s tension intensified further.
As if to dispel the somehow ominous atmosphere, Viscount Tamaki waved his hand while—

“Now, now—you mustn’t be alarmed.
“People utterly overestimate Judge Saburou—this belief that some phantom thief could accomplish superhuman feats is preposterous... Therefore, I have requested the Prefectural Police Department to deploy approximately one hundred fifty officers and fully secure Tamaki Castle ruins in preparation for tomorrow’s solstice.”
“Even if you were to go under such circumstances, there’s absolutely no chance it would prove interesting. You’d all do better to refrain.”

“No.”

Before the Viscount’s words had even finished, a young gentleman in kimono smoothly rose to his feet.
This was Ikutsuki Shunzou—a rising new theater actor at Teatoru Tsukiji, an exceptionally handsome man even among noblemen, his striking features so vivid they seemed to glisten.

“While I respect the Viscount’s words, I believe it would still be best for us all to embark on this expedition together for the club’s honor.”
“With one hundred fifty police officers surrounding us, I daresay there will be absolutely no danger whatsoever.”
“Moreover, if we were to fear a single Judge Saburou, we would lose all face to show others from now on.”

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Let only cowards remain!”

This was getting out of hand.
Viscount Tamaki settled heavily into his armchair with a strained smile, while Hachiya Buntarō rose upright wearing a smile of quiet satisfaction.

“Mitchyan, let’s liven things up with tea for everyone—a pre-celebration!”

“Huh... Yes.”

From behind the screen came the beautiful waitress’s voice—she must have been dozing off—responding thus with the air of someone who had just barely lifted her face.
From downstairs came the sound of jazz from a phonograph—in Kanda, eleven o'clock was still early evening.

Three

The group of twelve gathered at Tamaki Castle ruins around ten o'clock the following day.
From Kan Station on the Joban Line, after traveling about four kilometers along rice field paths and climbing two or three slopes, they emerged onto a plateau that had been carved out of the midslope of a small hill.
At first glance, they were unmistakably castle ruins; yet to the careless eye, they appeared only as landslide scars. What now served as an irrigation moat marked the former moat’s remains, and upon closer inspection, faint traces persisted—stacked stone walls and quadrilateral outlines of what might once have been castle fortifications.

“Whew, I’m exhausted. Since we’ve come all this way, I’d like to at least pick up a single koban coin.”

“Rather than a single koban coin, it would be better to devise a way to return home safely with your lives intact.”

“Ah, I don’t need my life, but I could really go for a beer.”

While exchanging such trivial banter, they reached the prime vantage point and each took a seat upon the creeping vines that sprawled across the stone pavement.

The mountainside blazed with eye-startling greenery under the crisp morning sun—nothing could match this invigorating freshness. Between thickets and copses flickered glimpses of what must have been the security detail’s hundred fifty officers. Such practical considerations dampened any poetic mood, yet the view overlooking the Kanto Plain still managed to scour clean their worldly preoccupations.

“Now that we’ve recovered from our fatigue, let us begin our work.”
“There’s only an hour and a half until noon.”
“If we waste time, we’ll lose this annual opportunity.”

Hachiya Buntarou was the first to stand up. After him trailed the eleven others in a straggling line, and as they followed, the path wound its serpentine way until emerging at the mountain's edge behind the castle. The rainy season mountain stream, swollen with water, cascaded down from the heights with tremendous force into the irrigation moat. The castle ruins were exactly as Hachiya Buntarou had described—dug up like a radish field, with the stone pavement and walls thrown into complete disarray, not a single trace of their original form remaining. Yet in the basin behind the ruins, a solitary stone monument stood quietly preserved like something sacred.

“Ah, this is it.”

“Let’s see.”

The twelve of them formed a circle around a natural stone monument measuring six or seven shaku and scrutinized it from every angle, but weathered by wind and rain and thoroughly overgrown with moss, they couldn’t decipher it no matter how they tried.

“Mulberry fields may change—jewels and gold—passed down—this much I can read. It likely means that even if mulberry fields transform, jewels and gold will be transmitted to descendants.”

Their guide Hachiya Buntarou brushed away moss while offering a clue.

“Next comes ‘Xiàrì Xiányáng, Bāshuǐ’... I can’t make out what’s written after that.”
“There’s also characters meaning ‘canal’.”
“And ones suggesting ‘hidden movement’.”
“Regardless, with just this fragment, I can’t get any grasp on its meaning.”
“The final four characters read—‘Xuán zhī yòu xuán.’ What do you make of that?”
“Have you deciphered it?”

Like an elementary school teacher posing a difficult problem, Hachiya Buntarou arched his back and surveyed the group.

“There’s no way they could figure it out.”
“For hundreds of years, thousands have racked their brains over this.”
“If this riddle were solved in an hour or two, that would be beyond human capability.”

The protagonist Viscount Tamaki was thoroughly resigned.

“I understand—truly, I do. There’s no such thing as a human-devised riddle that the human mind cannot solve…”

A voice brimming with confident dignity—the group turned as one to see Ikutsuki Shunzou, actor of the Tsukiji Theatre, dressed today in stylish Western attire. Standing some distance away from the group, he paced across the completely upturned stone pavement, tapping a slender rattan cane with the grand strides of a Westerner strolling through a hotel corridor.

“You understand? That’s remarkable—just what I’d expect from Ikutsuki-kun.”

A voice tinged with mockery—this was Viscount Tamaki.

“It truly can be understood. Those before us became too entangled in the monument’s extraneous words and overlooked the most vital matter.”
“I’ve pieced together most of it, but one final point remains unresolved until the appointed moment arrives.”
“Please wait until noon.”

“One hour and ten minutes remaining.”

Hachiya Buntarou took out his watch and spoke in an announcer-like, meticulous voice.

“It won’t take that long. Ten minutes will suffice.”

“Only?”

“...”

Without responding to that, Ikutsuki Shunzou stomped over to the empty well behind the stone monument—the so-called bottomless well—and began tearing out the weeds growing thickly around it.

“One hour and five minutes remaining.”

Hachiya Buntarou carried out his duties as coordinator without concerning himself with details.

“Gentlemen, devise your own plans and seize this once-a-year opportunity—or Hangan Saburou will beat you to it.”

The club members too, with time growing so short, found themselves powerless to act and could only gaze blankly at the dug-up castle ruins, the summer grasses flourishing over vestiges of samurai ambitions, and the glint of swords and shadows of caps from the police squad filtering through the trees—utterly bewildered and stupefied.

“One hour and two minutes remaining.”

The clock’s hands advanced relentlessly. The time allotted to Ikutsuki Shunzou—who had declared ten minutes would be sufficient—now had barely two minutes remaining.

“Now then—”

Just as Hachiya Buntarou, in a triumphant tone, was about to announce “One hour remaining”—meaning that Ikutsuki’s requested ten minutes had expired—

“I’ve got it!”

A definitive declaration.

Ikutsuki Shunzou, who had been peering into the empty well, turned toward the group and smiled faintly.

“What? You’ve solved it? H-how did you solve it?”

Viscount Tamaki leaned forward slightly in a flustered manner.
The incident had become critically significant for this person.

“It’s quite simple. Let me explain.”

Slowly, Ikutsuki Shunzou raised his cane and pointed at the monument and then at the empty well beyond it, buried in summer grasses.

IV

At that moment,

“Please wait.”

Tumbling out from the thicket’s shadow came a girl. Her single-layer robe resembling fine twill silk and an obi that looked like heavy satin—all shabby enough to warrant the “seems like” description—but even in that instant, her movements held the agility of a red sparrow and her features the loveliness of a white Java sparrow.

“Ah!”

“It’s Mitchyan!”

“What are you doing in a place like this?”

This exemplified speaking in unison. With Kanda's "Unnamed Club" having practically relocated to the ancient castle ruins, even their essential beauty "Mitchyan" now materialized as if summoned by magic—given this development, the simultaneous eruption of shocked and suspicious exclamations from twelve mouths became inevitable.

“Please wait. I must solve this mystery myself. Everyone, remain where you are for now.”

Mitchyan flushed faintly, her face scented like a dew-drenched gem as she tilted it upward, surveying the group with an air of entreaty.

“What’s wrong? This is no place for the likes of you to butt in.”

Tsutsui Tomaru.
Having had his crucial explanation interrupted, he uttered this with thinly veiled irritation.

“You know nothing... The reason I came here...”

“Idiot! Get out! This isn’t a place for the likes of you!”

The one hurling such vulgar abuse was none other than Viscount Tamaki—conduct utterly unbefitting his noble bearing. His refined, pallid face tensed, the area around his temples twitching like insects crawling.

“I am Tamaki Mitsuko. There is no reason for me to be unwelcome at these castle ruins.”

“Tamaki Mitsuko... Tamaki Mitsuko...? ?”

“If you don’t understand, shall I explain in more detail? I am Mitsuko, granddaughter of the late Viscount Tamaki Yoshimasa and younger sister of Tamaki Haruko, who was murdered at these ruins last year.”

“Lies! All lies! There’s no way such ridiculous nonsense could be true! You’re an impostor!”

The Viscount finally regained his composure and cast cold eyes upon the girl, yet still lashed out with somewhat hurried abuse.

“Impostor? You’re the impostor here. My father Terumasa, the previous viscount, wandered through China and India for many years before passing away, but he married my mother—a fellow Japanese—in Hong Kong and had my sister and me.”
"My father and mother have both passed away now, but I have prepared everything here—the marriage certificate, death certificates, all of it. How dare you call me an impostor without even investigating properly!"

It was unexpected enough that "Mitchyan," whom they had all simply thought of as a pretty young girl, turned out to be the heir to a prestigious family—but what truly left their familiar faces speechless with astonishment was her composed and formidable manner of response, without backing down an inch even when facing a grown man.
The scene differed tremendously from when she had worn an apron and carried trays laden with glasses through Kanda's clubhouse second floor—though her attire today was utterly plain, Mitchyan's face shone radiant as if bathed in a halo's glow.

“Don’t spout such nonsense! I know the previous viscount died in China, but there’s no way he could have had children.”
“My succession to the Tamaki family from a collateral branch was conducted through legally proper procedures—it’s none of some stray girl’s business who doesn’t even know her own pedigree!”

“Such matters are beyond my comprehension.”
“I’ve already engaged a lawyer, so the court will eventually settle things... But right now, I must solve the mystery of this stone monument.”
“Two years ago on the summer solstice, my uncle—my mother’s elder brother—came to these castle ruins to solve the mystery and was struck dead by a massive stone.”
“Last year on the summer solstice, my sister came to these castle ruins to solve the mystery as well, and was stabbed to death with a dagger.”
“Upon hearing that rumor, I returned all the way from China.”
“I may be killed, but before that happens, I must carry on the will of Mother, Uncle, and Sister and solve the mystery of these castle ruins.”

On beautiful Mitsuko’s cheeks, something that could not be told whether sweat or tears glistened under the summer sun.
Overwhelmed by the earnest girl’s eloquence, even Viscount Tamaki had now fallen silent.
With utter contempt, he occasionally gazed at this young girl while shrugging like a vulgar Westerner.

“Thirty minutes left.”

An utterly unexpected cold voice—it was Hachiya Buntarou’s call, he who had been staring at his timepiece.

“Oh, what am I to do? There’s still one part I can’t figure out—just one…”

Mitsuko went to the empty well’s edge and, gripping the precarious wooden frame, peered into depths that might have been hundreds of feet deep.

“Hundreds must have entered and explored that well... Empty down to its very depths... What could possibly be there?”

Having declared this in words bordering on cold scorn, the Viscount produced a white linen handkerchief and wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

“Ah!”

Suddenly Mitsuko’s body was shoved and flung onto the uneven stone pavement with full force.
The assailant was Ikutsuki Shunzou—who had been peering into the empty well beside her—thrusting her aside with one hand while swiftly withdrawing himself.

“Look out!”

“What are you doing?”

The literature scholar Heikai Sanpei rushed over to help the girl up, while painter Asayama Kesao advanced on this lawless actor as if to seize him by the lapels.
Pitifully sprawled on the stone pavement after striking her body hard against it, Mitsuko seemed unable to rise easily.

……

Ikutsuki Shunzou silently pointed diagonally upward.
On the branch of a large katsura tree that flourished beside the well, jutting out abruptly was an authentic blowgun—its bluish-glinting drill tip wrapped in pristine paper.

“A blowgun!”
“This was aimed at Mitchyan’s eye—stand right in its path and your life’s forfeit.”
Ikutsuki Shunzou had pushed the girl away to save her from that blowgun.

V

Before long, Ikutsuki Shunzou had completely taken control of the expedition team.
This man—the refined leading man who shouldered Theatre Tsukiji's popularity—acted with some profound rationale behind him, an irresistible force that overwhelmed others lurking within his deeds.

“Ten minutes left.”

Amidst this, only Hachiya Buntarou remained aloof, standing apart and staring fixedly at his wristwatch.
It was clear this man had some different idea in mind, but what exactly it was remained completely unclear at present.

“What should I do? Ten minutes left—I still can’t figure it out—just one spot remains…”

Mitsuko’s beautiful eyes looked up at Ikutsuki Shunzou’s face as if seeking salvation.

“Mitchyan, don’t worry.”

Ikutsuki, who had gently looked back at the girl, surveyed the expedition team with a sweeping glance,

“Everyone, please lend me your hands. Remove this well curb... It’s dangerous... Don’t look into the well. There’s a monster in there.”

When six or seven people combined their strength, the four-panel granite well curb was removed without difficulty, leaving the empty well gaping open like a pitfall on the stone pavement—a pitch-black maw yawning wide.

“Now, the boar’s about to leap out!”

When they removed the single large rock blocking this side of the mountain stream and sealed the opening to the irrigation moat, a massive volume of rain-swollen mountain waters rushed with a whoosh through the depression in the stone pavement. Crawling over the space where the well curb had been removed, it plunged roaring into the darkness of the bottomless empty well.

“Whoa! Brr!”

Emerging from the plunging waters was the boar-like mountain man—a bearded warrior who had hidden in the depression beneath the well curb and shot an old-fashioned projectile at the girl. Discovered by Ikutsuki, he found himself subjected to an unexpected deluge.

“Help!”

He finally let out a scream.
Barely managing to grip the stone pavement with both hands, he lifted his upper body for just a moment when the violent waters swept him down, nearly plunging into the bottomless empty well.

“There, our quarry.”

“Urgh!”

The one who finally moved into action was Hachiya Buntarou, who until now had been locked in a staring contest with his watch. Striding brusquely toward them, he seized both hands of the criminal barely clinging to the well’s edge and hauled him upward effortlessly.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

As the man’s body cleared the well, he wrenched free from Hachiya’s grip and tried to bolt—only to be flipped with a practiced wristlock and slammed against the stone pavement. The handcuffs clicked shut with finality.

“Quiet!”

A stern voice of command—this was no longer newspaper reporter Hachiya Buntarou.

"Mitchyan... No, Miss Mitsuko, was it?... This must be what you couldn't figure out."
"The boar's gone now."
"Come closer to the well without fear. Look inside properly."

Guided by Ikutsuki Shunzou, Mitsuko drew near and peered into the well where mountain stream waters thundered downward.

“At first glance, this well appears to be one of those hidden wells commonly found in mountaintop castles, but it certainly isn’t. If this were meant as a reserve water source during sieges, they wouldn’t have dug in such an odd location—they’d have found a shallower spot where water naturally emerges. No mountain castle’s well needs this depth to function.”
“Mitchyan, look closely.”
“No—Miss Mitsuko, was it? Ha ha ha ha!”

Laughing dryly all the while, Ikutsuki Shunzou adjusted and gradually reduced the water flowing into the well,

“If you don’t grasp the meaning of summer-solstice noon… even if you hole up studying in this well for three years, you’ll never solve the mystery.”
“The summer solstice goes without saying as the year’s longest day.”
“And when the sun stands highest at celestial zenith.”
“Here in the Northern Hemisphere, though the sun always tilts southward somewhat—winter’s angle being steeper than summer’s.”
“On June twenty-second’s solstice, sunlight strikes true along the northern meridian—the ecliptic path drawing nearest overhead through all the turning year.”
“This much any schoolchild knows—yet dig but slightly deep, and sunlight fails to pierce a well’s black heart.”
“Our latitude being what it is.”
“But at solstice noon—when Helios wheels nearest—his rays plunge deepest into stony bowels… There! See how they reach!”

Below where he pointed, sure enough, sunlight was streaming deep into the well's interior.

“Exactly twelve o'clock.”

Hachiya Buntarou, who had pulled the captured man closer with one hand, declared while looking at his wristwatch with the other.

“Perfect timing!”

In response to the echoing sound, Ikutsuki Shunzou peered into the well and answered.

"I aligned both the light entering through the well's mouth and filled the water right to the brim. If they'd measured the well's diameter and the sun's position, such elaborate methods wouldn't be necessary. But I thought it would be amusing to recreate exactly what those people did centuries ago—the ones who poured their lifelong wisdom into burying the treasure here—so I staged this little performance."

"When calculated mathematically, this depth is forty-eight shaku—no question about it."

When they lifted one of the stone pavements, there was a depression inside containing sturdy palm-fiber ropes, hooks, and pickaxes with short handles.

“I had a feeling it would come to this, so I made preparations.”
“You boredom-stricken invalids had better watch closely - consider it educational.”

Gradually, this refined man's words grew careless.
Twirling off his coat, he firmly tied one end of the palm rope to the large katsura tree beside the well and let the other end uncoil down into its depths.

“Mitchyan, you seem the most trustworthy. Keep a close watch on things here. And watch out for wolves around here.”

Ikutsuki Shunzou tucked the pickaxe under his arm and slid smoothly down the rope to the bottom of the well.

Six

When he descended to where sunlight kissed water's surface, using the palm rope's knot as his foothold, he scrutinized the four walls intently until finally,

“Hmm.”

He groaned, produced a U-shaped hook from his waistband, fastened it midway along the rope, secured it to his belt, then swung up the pickaxe with both hands and drove it with a thud into a gap in the stacked stone wall.

After two or three strikes, the stones crumbled and fell, and the water that had pooled in the well rushed into the hole with terrifying force.

“This should do it.”

He removed the hook, tucked the pickaxe under his arm, and tried to climb up the rope—only to freeze in shock.

Above the well, bathed in midday sun, a knife glinted.

“Look out!”

He instinctively ducked his head and held his breath, but strangely, the rope showed no signs of being cut.
When he frantically hauled himself up and nimbly popped his head out of the well, Mitsuko lay twisted against the stone pavement, a bloodthirsty knife poised at her slender neck.

"Ah!"

With quick-witted reflexes, the pickaxe thrown sideways from the well's mouth struck the knife-wielder—

“Ugh.”

Tamaki Michitaka collapsed.
When they looked—contrary to all expectations—there lay Viscount Tamaki Michitaka in his bloodthirsty, terrifying form.

“Mitchyan, that was close.”
“You tried to stop them from cutting the rope, didn’t you?”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’ll definitely repay you.”

“Oh, Mr. Ikutsuki, I’m the one who…”

Tidying herself up, the girl flushed red.
Had there been no onlookers, she might have even covered her face with her hands.

Hachiya Buntarou and the others were not there, having chased after the handcuffed criminal who had escaped.

The group returned noisily with Hachiya leading them, having captured the assailant through a patrol officer’s vigilance.

“Oh! Isn’t this the Viscount?”

After helping up Viscount Tamaki Michitaka—who had collapsed onto the stone pavement from a pickaxe strike—Tsutsui Tomaru raised his voice theatrically.

“Mr. Hachiya—let’s call you that for now—we’ll hand over the true culprit who killed Old Man Yamane at these castle ruins two years back and Tamaki Haruko last year.”

Ikutsuki adopted a more solemn bearing.

"Ikutsuki-kun—allow me to address you as such for the present."
"I appreciate your consideration."

Hachiya Buntarou strode boldly up to Viscount Tamaki, who had half lost his composure, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Now, get up."

"How dare you! What do you take Viscount Tamaki Michitaka for?"

Viscount Tamaki, who had barely managed to rise, took in the scene before him with a start, but quickly composed himself and roared with imposing ferocity.

“The true culprit of two murders.”

The composed voice of Hachiya Buntarou,

“On what evidence?”

“There’s more than enough evidence. I went through great pains to lure you here to obtain that final conclusive proof.”
“There.”

“What do you think you are? By what right…”

“I am Hanabusa Ichirou.”

The man who had introduced himself as journalist Hachiya Buntarou was none other than Hanabusa Ichirou of the Metropolitan Police Department, who had once been renowned as a detective.

“You hired a convict called Sanji the mountain man and had him eliminate obstacles twice over—today you tried finishing off the last one with a blowgun.”
“Though you knew treasure lay in that well, your inability to solve its mystery drove you to murder anyone who came close.”
“We know perfectly well you’re no viscount’s kin—nothing but a grand impostor. Save your excuses for the courtroom.”

Hanabusa Ichirou tapped the viscount’s shoulder and declared.
The shock of Tsutsui Tomaru, Heikai Sanpei, and their group was truly a sight too dreadful to behold.

At that very moment,

“Water’s coming out from a strange spot.”

One of the guarding police officers came running up and pointed at the stone wall of the irrigation moat.

“Got it! That’s more like it! The reason we’ve been pouring the once-stopped stream water into the well since earlier is for this… Now, Mitchyan, come out with me.”

Following Ikutsuki Shunzou, a group of over ten people rushed to the spot as one mass.
Looking closer at the irrigation moat's middle section where the stone wall had loosened—a powerful jet of water gushing through its gaps—Ikutsuki found footholds and smoothly descended. When he swung his pickaxe and struck sharply, stones fell from the wall one after another into the moat—two, three, four—leaving behind a gaping square hole about five shaku [~1.5m] across where they had been.

“Mitchyan, you’re the protagonist.”
“Come along with me.”

Taking the girl’s hand, he guided her down the perilous path along the stone wall. Flashlight in one hand and waists slightly bent, the two entered the hole.

Seven

After some time had passed,

“That’s him!”

Viscount Tamaki, who was being escorted by Hanabusa Ichirou, suddenly seemed to remember something and pointed toward the hole’s entrance while—
“That man is Hangan Saburou! Quickly, quickly arrest him!”

[He] began shrieking.

"I know."

With a cold remark, Hanabusa Ichirou remained utterly composed, showing no movement.

"Don’t let him escape, officers! Hangan Saburou is in the hole!"

Upon hearing the viscount’s voice, about ten police officers who had been nearby gathered atop the irrigation moat, but Hanabusa Ichirou continued staring at the hole where the two had entered without issuing any commands.

For a while, a terrible tension persisted under the blazing sun.

Eventually, when they had grown thoroughly tired of waiting, what appeared gracefully at the hole’s entrance was not Ikutsuki Shunzou—Hangan Saburō—but Mitchyan (Tamaki Mitsuko), alone.

“Mitchyan, what happened to him? Hangan Saburō—no, Ikutsuki Shunzou—where is he?”

When Tsutsui asked in a flustered manner, the girl silently shook her head and began climbing up the perilous stone wall in an unsteady manner.

“Here it is, everyone!”

A cheerful voice—turning around, they saw Ikutsuki Shunzou, who appeared to have climbed up from the well’s mouth using a palm rope. Wiping his mud-covered body, he leisurely put on the jacket he had taken off earlier while—

“It’s a polished stone chamber inside, full of gold, silver, and jewels. Calculated at current prices, it must be worth hundreds of thousands—no, millions of yen!”

—when his cheerful explanation was interrupted,

“Hangan Saburou, don’t move!”

Viscount Tamaki Michitaka, still restrained, writhed in frustration.

“Ah, so you’ve finally realized… There there, no need to panic.”
“Now listen well—at first I thought about keeping all this treasure for myself, but now that the true owner has appeared, I can’t very well take it.”
“All underground treasure belongs to Miss Tamaki Mitsuko—that is, my beautiful Mitchyan! None shall dispute this! If you understand, that’s all there is to it.”

“Hey, officers! Why aren’t you arresting Hangan Saburou? Hey!”

Ikutsuki gazed at Viscount Tamaki grinding his teeth with a faint smile.

“Calm down, calm down! I’m Ikutsuki Shunzou—an actor from Tsukiji Theatre. You don’t have a single shred of evidence that I’m Hangan Saburou! Even if I were Hangan Saburou, today I’ve only done official work for the authorities—I haven’t done a single bad thing!”

After saying what needed to be said, he swiftly turned around.

“Farewell, Hanabusa-kun. We’ll meet again.”

“Wait, Saburou.”

Hanabusa Ichirou, who had remained silent until now, barked a command from behind as if dousing them with cold water. The police officers—who had been watching Hanabusa’s expression without taking action—snapped into an iaijutsu stance with a sharp “Now!” and moved to leap after Ikutsuki.

“What’s this, Hanabusa? You’ve caught the true culprit behind two murders, Mitchyan has gained a vast fortune, and I’ve found myself a new lover.”
“Isn’t that sufficient?”
“Or do you still find it lacking?”
“Today’s contest of skill is evenly matched.”
“We’ll both have to put up with that.”
“Mitchyan, farewell—we’ll meet again over there, okay?”
“You mustn’t forget.”

Swiftly flipping around, he made for an unexpected mountainside, smoothly parting through thickets and groves until his figure vanished in the blink of an eye.