Pathway to Japanese Literature

*Ango’s Historical Tales*

In Katsu Kaishū’s Meiji 20 (1887), during the Rokumeikan era, there existed a passage in one of his written proposals that read as follows:

“Building many railroads domestically serves not only the people’s convenience but constitutes military preparations itself.”
“Instead of conscripting many people, allocate funds to railroad construction.”

An astute insight indeed.
This was the theory of a sixty-five-year-old man at that time.
Given the era’s context, such reasoning held water—though if we were to speak of national defense today, atomic bombs would stand as our sole recourse.
Military forces amount to useless relics.
To be sure, our true aim should lie not there but in preventing wars altogether.
Kaishū was a man who immersed himself in studying both domestic and foreign scholarship and realities until he grasped with every fiber of his being that governance had no purpose beyond securing peace for all people—a conviction he staked his life to implement.
In modern Japan’s history, he remains peerless—a genius towering above all others.

The victorious imperial forces of the Meiji Restoration may have rallied under cries of “Revere the Emperor,” but revering the emperor itself did not constitute governance. The Satsuma-Chōshū were burdened with their respective factional insularities, and in any case, their political capability had been limited to merely coordinating their steps to overthrow the shogunate.

However, Katsu Kaishū, the commander of the defeated side, lost with calculated confidence that the shogunate’s demise would contribute to Japan’s overall improvement. No—he strove to lose without waging war.

The one who thoroughly understood the flaws of the shogunate system and implemented a superior alternative with both theoretical and practical foresight was not among the victorious imperial forces—it was solely the defeated Kaishū. The certainty born of thoroughly investigated principles existed in him alone. He possessed a concrete vision for Japan’s growth after the shogunate’s collapse that far surpassed anyone in the imperial forces.

As the defeated commander, he was not appointed to post-Restoration politics; the Meiji new government had vigor but lacked certainty. That was only natural, for this was a new government without the capacity to accept Kaishū’s well-founded insights—insights derived from his thorough investigation of principles.

The period of about thirty years after the Restoration and that of the seven years since the recent defeat seemed strikingly similar.
It was mistaken to consider postwar Japan as different from the Meiji Restoration simply because it was under foreign occupation.

In the aforementioned Meiji 20 (1887) written proposal by Kaishū,

“Japanese politics are gripped by the Satsuma-Chōshū factions; it’s as absurd as if these two factions were merely competing for power.”

As stated here, in essence, the Satsuma-Chōshū were effectively an occupation force. If Japan did not gain independence from the Satsuma-Chōshū government, then it was not truly an independent nation. For over thirty years after the Restoration, it was as if occupation policies had dragged on endlessly; only Kaishū—who had cast off the shogunate—had consistently focused solely on the politics of a single nation called Japan, without regard for either the shogunate or Satsuma-Chōshū since thirty years prior.

In other words, the defeated shogunate and hatamoto were akin to what we would now call former militarists and right-wing factions in Japan.
The militarists and right-wing factions began to show their old-fashioned stirrings within six or seven years after defeat, but the Meiji-era hatamoto did not revive at all.
They had swiftly become just ordinary Japanese.
Kaishū, the great commander-in-chief, had not provided them with any means of revival at all.
It was not due to the political power of the Meiji new government.

Kaishū was neither swept up in nor elevated by the shallow public opinion of the hatamoto retainers who clung to him.
In him, there was not a speck of the instability that comes with being elevated by others.
Against his discerning eyes, honed through exhaustive pursuit of principle, even his entourage found no foothold.

The first principle of Kaishū’s political philosophy was that “high taxation destroys a nation.” Another was “avoid formalities.” His eyes were like precision machinery in that they would only engage with what was substantial and actively beneficial. However, because they had no choice but to conform to the era’s immaturity, the madness that arose from this was simply allowed to exist.

Such great masterpieces cannot be born without history.
What shaped him was his era and his talent—but in his case, there was also his father.
The protagonist of this story is Katsu Musui.
He was a hilariously eccentric old man, but the genius and backbone that Kaishū possesses were largely inherited from his father.

It’s not uncommon for someone to be a delinquent leader in their youth, but this old man remained a delinquent his entire life.

As a swordsman, he would go out to cross-style duels, defeat self-proclaimed masters, and make them his followers—but he was different from those fraudulent bosses.
He lacked the disposition to rely on subordinates.
He always rampaged alone.
He flaunted his vigor, built up quite a reputation, and delighted in this—but he wasn’t making a living from it; instead, it cost him money and kept him in perpetual poverty.
As the gokenin stipend was insufficient to support his family and being a swordsmanship instructor brought in no money, his devised main profession was primarily that of a sword broker.
He would invariably head to the night market’s tool fair, diligently scouting for deals as he bought and sold goods.
He would occasionally exorcise possessing spirits from the sick to receive rewards or pocket around two hundred ryō under the guise of settling grudges, devising various schemes—but since carousing and building his reputation cost money, despite earning greatly, he still had to perform hundred-day water austerities to cure his poverty.

Even extortionists like Kōzukayama require ingenuity and invention, but such swindlers are often commonplace.

Yet Musui, who devoted himself wholeheartedly to making money through carousing in the red-light district to build his reputation, found that the ingenious inventions he periodically devised—so painstakingly original and meticulously planned—failed to balance his finances.

In other words, while ordinary villains could earn dozens or hundreds of times more through mundane methods, he staked his life on rigorous training, deep contemplation, and divinely inspired schemes so cunning they could astonish demons and gods—yet his gains fell short of even the petty villains’ meager earnings.
In other words, he was a poet of life.

“Since I doubt there’s another fool in this world quite like me, I’ll tell these tales for my grandchildren and children’s sake—make sure they serve as a warning against outlaws and fools!”

This was the opening passage of *Musui’s Ramblings*, the bizarre yet uproarious autobiography he had left behind to chronicle his own wayward life as a cautionary tale for his descendants.

Yet while he gave some thought to ensuring his descendants would become decent human beings, he never considered becoming one himself. He lived out his purely wayward life to its end, all the while puzzling over why divine punishment never befell him.

“The reason it reads ‘for the admonishment of my grandchildren and sons’ without mentioning ‘the admonishment of children’ is that the children were well-behaved.”
In other words, even as children, Kaishū and his sister were so well-behaved that their father had nothing to admonish them about.
With no other recourse, he wrote a bizarre autobiography of unparalleled strangeness as admonishment for his unborn grandchildren and sons.
The preface’s closing phrases are as follows.

“As I’ve said before, I’ve never been able to read any difficult characters, so since there are many discrepancies between kana and kanji here, you must read carefully and thoroughly.”

The quoted sections were easy to read, but the main text—written in his usual rough-and-tumble vernacular with haphazard kanji substitutions—lived up to its guarantee of being utterly inscrutable; even after careful consideration, one could not grasp it in a single pass.
Yet his life appeared simple and straightforward at first glance while reaching even greater inscrutability.
This was because the poem completed in the child remained unfinished and formless in the father.

★

Perhaps because he was born into a household of swordsmanship practitioners, once he could walk, he vigorously fought with neighborhood children using secret techniques and made his name resound throughout the vicinity—yet he found formal swordsmanship training too tedious and never committed to it.

At fourteen, he reasoned that since a man could make a living doing anything in life, he resolved to run away to Kamigata and spend his days there. “Running away” here simply means leaving home.
Wearing momohiki traditional short trousers, he stole seven or eight ryō and set out, but in Odawara had his money stolen by a smooth-talking swindler; persuaded by the innkeeper, he ended up traveling while begging with a wooden ladle in hand.

Immediately after completing his pilgrimage to Ise, he developed a fever and lay bedridden in Matsubara for about twenty-three days, but a nearby monk kindly looked in on him and would bring him gruel and such.
When he could finally move again, he thanked the monk and, leaning on a cane, walked about four kilometers each day; whenever exhausted, he would be allowed into a beggar’s den to rest for six or seven days. But since he needed to gather food himself, whenever he went begging in the village, the village guards would strike him with their six-foot staffs and toss him outside—begging life was no easier when one fell ill.
That said, there were people who would sometimes say things like “Come serve in our household” or “Become our child,” but after five or six days, it would feel stifling, and he couldn’t stay long.
Once again becoming a beggar and wandering about, he fell off a cliff, struck his balls, and lost consciousness—which led to swelling and pus oozing from his balls—and at his wit’s end, he returned to his home in Edo; however, with his groin now ruined to the point where he couldn’t even sit or stand, he was unable to leave the house for two years.

Truly a father and son struck in the groin—and Kaishū too, at nine years old, had his groin bitten by a sick dog.
Since rabies was said to be incurable, this might not have been a rabid dog after all.
Yet he wandered at death's door and lay bedridden for seventy days.
When the surgeon trembled and couldn't stitch Kaishū's groin, his father planted a sword by the child's pillow, strained with all his might to suture the wound—and Kaishū didn't shed a tear.
But when the doctor declared he couldn't guarantee the boy would last the night, the family could only weep helplessly.
Enraged, from that day forth the old man bathed day and night in cold water while making naked pilgrimages to Konpira-sama; he cradled Kaishū constantly in sleep, permitting none else to touch him, raging daily—though it was the old man himself doing the raging.
(The reason for his fury remained obscure.) The neighbors claimed that swordsman had gone mad after his child was devoured by a dog.
Perhaps because the old man had absorbed rabies' madness himself, Kaishū recovered after seventy days abed.
*Musui's Ramblings* declares: "Since he's fine now, nursing's what truly matters for the sick."

From the age of sixteen, he began to rise and attend to his duties. He took the surname Katsu from his adoptive family, but in reality, he was raised in his birth family; it was the Katsu family that had tumbled into his birth home. This was because the Katsu family consisted solely of an old woman and a young granddaughter (who was the daughter that would become his wife), with both parents deceased. Thus, apart from becoming an adopted son of the Katsu family and marrying their daughter, he received no upbringing or education from them whatsoever.

It was from this point onward that he seriously began his training in fighting.
In other words, he began to devote himself to formal swordsmanship as well.

He had partners who were his nephews—Shintarō and Chūjirō, children of his elder brother—but one day when he faced Chūjirō in swordsmanship practice, the moment they clashed, Chūjirō struck him square in the torso, leaving him dazed.
Thereupon, he became greatly motivated, heard of the reputation from Chūjirō, and became a disciple of a teacher named Danno.

Additionally, Genbei, the retainer of Shintarō and Chūjirō’s household who was a swordsman, asked Musui if he liked fighting; when he enthusiastically replied that he did,

“I see,”
“The day after tomorrow brings Kuramae Hachiman’s festival—let us pick a fight there! Come along and test your mettle.”
(Except for altered characters, the text remains as in the original.)

Thus did Genbei the retainer take Musui, Shintarō, and Chūjirō to the Hachiman festival rites to instruct them in brawling’s arts.
A tutelage of unparalleled ferocity unfolded.

Scouting adversaries through the festival throng, they encountered two or three cocky louts sauntering their way, noses lifted in tuneful arrogance—whereupon Chūjirō launched spit full into one’s face.
When the wretch flew into a rage, charging with raised geta, Musui balled his fist and smashed the man’s jaw sideways, then blindly pummeled the onrushing others until they scattered like leaves.

As they were wandering around, about twenty men wielding hooked poles surrounded the four of them. Just as they drew their swords and started cutting through, their instructor Genbei shouted loudly:

“Get outside the gate quickly!
“If they close the gate, you’ll be trapped!”

he commanded.
Thereupon, the four exited Hachiman-sama’s gate while cutting down their opponents in unison.
Then about thirty new reinforcements rushed in, swelling enemy numbers to around fifty.
Leaving behind the latticework of what might have been a soba shop at Nakamise-dōri’s entrance, they clashed desperately and wounded four or five men; when they saw the enemy beginning to falter, sensing their moment, they slashed recklessly and knocked down about ten hooked poles.

Then new reinforcements arrived.
The newcomers brought ladders.
They say surrounding and capturing blade-wielding ruffians using four ladders was one of the apprehenders’ techniques—something that became advantageous with mastery.
Thereupon instructor Genbei—

“It’s hopeless now—you three must flee to Yoshiwara.”
“I’ll cut through the rest and return.”

he said.

“I can’t leave you behind alone, so let’s escape together.”

“No, I can’t have you all getting hurt—you must hurry and escape.”
“Hurry, hurry!”

he said.
Thereupon, Musui passed his own sword to Genbei.
Because Genbei’s sword was short.
Then, the four of them suddenly charged into the crowd; as a path opened up, they fled in a headlong dash and managed to reunite with three others at Kaminarimon Gate.
They had gone to Yoshiwara once, but since Genbei was concerned, when they returned to Shintarō’s place, he—true to his role as instructor—had already made it back properly and was drinking sake in the entryway.
So the four of them went to Hachiman-sama again with completely innocent faces and inquired at the jishinban, where they heard that there had been a massive brawl between four samurai and a combined force of sixty tobi and koyō workers, resulting in eighteen wounded who were now being stitched up at the surgeon’s.

From this time onward, they took Genbei as their instructor and devoted themselves to brawling practice. Moreover, the Seki no Kanehira he had lent Genbei during the fight was broken three sun above the tsuba. Since swords were a samurai’s most prized possession, he realized he had to take better care of this one—and from that point onward, he even practiced appraising blades. This would prove useful in later years, becoming the primary source of income supporting his livelihood. At that time, Musui was sixteen years old.

After devoting himself to formal swordsmanship, he not only frequented his own school’s dojo but also recklessly sought out matches at other schools’ dojos. Within Musui’s own school, Inoue Denbei of Kurumazaka appeared to be the most esteemed instructor, but Musui reportedly defeated all of his prominent disciples and effectively made them his subordinates. At the time, cross-school matches had fallen out of fashion, but Musui boasted that he was their restorer. Chiba Shūsaku of Kanda Otagawa Pond was a contemporary, but his name never once appears in his autobiography.

His brother served as a magistrate in Shinano, Echigo Mizuhara, and other regions, so Musui accompanied him on inspections and handled rice tax allocations—thereby gaining knowledge about farmers—and during these travels, whenever possible, he honed his fighting skills and broadened his experiences.

At twenty-one, having been driven to the brink in Edo, he ran away from home again.
Since he was prepared to die by the sword if anything happened, there was nothing he feared; and since his fellow disciples who had returned to the countryside and established households took good care of him—even training their disciples under his guidance—he had no intention of returning to Edo. But when Shintarō, his nephew and one of his partners, came to fetch him, he reluctantly decided to go back.

When he returned, he was summoned by his father and confined to the house confinement room that had already been prepared.
Within less than a month, he had prepared an escape route by making two pillars passable—but upon reflection, he resolved that everything had happened because of his own misdeeds—and from autumn at twenty-one to winter at twenty-four, over three full years, he endured life in house confinement.
During that time, he studied penmanship, read military chronicles and such, and since friends came daily, he enjoyed hearing about the outside world both inside and outside his cell.

Kaishū was born when Musui turned twenty-two; thus he too may have been a product of his father’s house confinement life.
This was the most devout three years of the old man’s life, during which he studied penmanship and fathered Kaishū.

However, his house confinement did not end with this single instance—when he reached the age of thirty-seven, he was to be confined again.
At that time, his eldest son Kaishū was sixteen; without voicing any complaints about their impoverished life, he applied himself silently and earnestly to his studies, devotedly served his father with filial piety, and cared for his younger siblings by diligently looking after them—thus growing into a remarkably exemplary youth.

This time, Musui did not obediently say “yes” and enter house confinement.

“I’m not who I used to be—now that I’ve made a name for myself, if I go in there I’ll never come out.”
“I’ll starve myself to death quick as I can.”
“Living long just means more trouble for the boy—might as well die.”
“There’s no reforming me while I draw breath.”
“And don’t even think I’ll try—not a chance.”

With that retort—and his apparent resolve to fast unto death—they couldn’t lock him up again, sending him home instead.
No sooner was he released than Musui marched straight to Yoshiwara for amusement.

The thirty-seven-year-old old man seemed little more than a stubborn spoiled brat who ought to swap positions with his sixteen-year-old son—but to that son Kaishū, he must have been an old man brimming with dependable strength.

To people’s eyes, he was nothing but a profligate good-for-nothing—a fool whose every haphazard act defied balance or recompense—yet this old man’s life ran straight and true, an unwavering core at its center. While appearing nonsensical, in truth, it never deviated from the unique ingenuity—wholeheartedly woven from a consistent trajectory—that defined his individuality. Society saw him as little more than garbage fluttering in the wind, but to those who truly encountered his essence, his life revealed itself as one firmly rooted in the earth, brimming with unshakable strength.

Allow me to introduce a few of his utterly nonsensical, completely haphazard yet individuality-driven and ingenuity-filled money-making schemes and secret techniques for getting by in the world.

★

On his way back from visiting Myōken-sama, when he stopped by a friend’s place, a man named Tonamura Nanpei had come.
The man,

“You appear devoted to the deity of Tenfu. Is that correct?”

When he asked this and received an affirmative answer,

“Indeed.”
“It is revealed in the august visage of Tenfu.”

Just as he was thinking what an interesting fellow this was, the conversation turned to a sick relative of his friend’s.
Then,

“It is being struck by a vengeful spirit.”

As he spoke, he described in detail the manner of death—how the vengeful spirit was a man who had died in such-and-such a way—and when the friend asked if this was true, he confirmed it was exactly so.

At this, Musui was greatly afraid,

“If I become your disciple, will you teach me the methods?”

“It would be most agreeable.”
“I will teach you quite a number of methods.”

Since Tonamura had consented, he took him back to his own home and received instruction—beginning with methods for venerating Inari—and over two months was thoroughly taught rituals like kaji invocations and Marishiten’s mirror communion techniques.

In gratitude, he spent forty to fifty ryo to establish a prayer hall for Tonamura Nanpei—the threadbare sparrow who never changed clothes—and arranged for him to gain many disciples.

One day, a man handling the Kage Tomi box at a tailor’s shop in Kanda arrived.
As it happened, today was called the Day of Wealth, so they gathered a large crowd and proceeded to hold a communal kaji ritual.

Tonamura Nanpei summoned a miko, had her hold the *heisoku* ritual wand, and performed the *goma* fire offering while praying to invoke the deity—whereupon the miko began to utter,

“Today marks the sixth great category; wealth lies in numbers such-and-such.”

The whole group was greatly delighted upon hearing this.
Musui, who had been watching intently, stepped forward and said, “Wait a moment,”

“I was truly awed upon seeing a communal kaji ritual for the first time.”
“However, this must be quite an accomplishment.”

Before Nanpei could answer, the tailor interjected,

“The communal kaji ritual has its own special methods, so even if you act all high and mighty, Lord Katsu, it won’t work.”

“Think carefully now.”
“Since even that Nanpei—some nobody of unknown origin—can do it, there’s no reason the gods wouldn’t descend upon me if I, a hatamoto, devote myself to performing the same rites with single-minded focus.”
“Without even listening to Nanpei’s words, don’t you dare overstep your place.”

“That is impossible for Your Lordship.”
“The divine law isn’t something that hinges on whether one’s a hatamoto or not.”

“Fine. Argument is useless. You come out here.”

With that, Musui stepped out to the center of the room,

“You there—get out here in front of me and press your forehead to the tatami mat in a proper bow.”
“If your forehead can lift from the tatami before I say I permit it, I’ll become your servant.”

Because his demeanor was so intense, people stepped in to mediate.
The tailor matter was settled with that, but
“If you truly believe you’re capable of that, then perform the communal kaji ritual right now,” said the crowd.
“Fine. I’ll show you. Watch closely.”
Musui first stripped naked and bathed in water.
Then, he summoned a miko and prayed in the same manner as Nanpei had done, whereupon the miko began to babble various things.
“How’s that? Take a good look!”

With that, Musui left after delivering a thorough display of arrogance.

The crowd was astonished by this, and from then on—since requesting Nanpei would cost money—they began asking Musui to perform the kaji rituals for them.

When Tokuyama’s friend requested Nanpei to perform a kaji ritual for his sister’s illness, a living spirit had attached itself.
It was said that removing a living spirit cost five ryo.
Since they were charging such exorbitant rates, when someone consulted Musui about it,

“Fine. I’ll remove it for free.”

It took three nights, but he finally managed to remove the living spirit.
Such incidents piled up until Nanpei came to resent Musui, and the two grew estranged. But Musui, employing the communal kaji method of Kage Tomi, went on to earn money time and again—five ryo, ten ryo, twenty ryo at a stretch.
The instruction fees he had poured into Nanpei not only recouped their principal but also turned a profit.

★

The land Musui rented belonged to Okano, a fifteen-hundred-koku hatamoto.

Fifteen hundred koku would mark them as a high-ranking samurai family, but theirs was a household infamous for generations of profligacy and poverty.
The young lord remained unmarried due to their byword-for-poverty status leaving no bridal candidates—until Musui intervened. He pressured the domain office into releasing withheld funds and orchestrated a wedding befitting a family of higher standing.

Yet after the marriage, he gradually took to drinking, while townspeople who joined him began frequenting the inner quarters, and relatives deceived the young lord into lending them money for their amusement.
Every night became a succession of banquets until both the funds Musui had painstakingly secured through domain office petitions and all wedding purchases had vanished.

Thereupon, one of the relatives who had been preying on the young lord—a man named Sennosuke—brought in a small-time moneylender called Ōkawa Jōsuke and recommended him as steward.
Sennosuke had received a five-ryo bribe from Ōkawa Jōsuke to push through the recommendation.

The domain officials opposed hiring this steward and pleaded with Musui to stop it, so when Musui tried to intervene on their behalf, someone—blinded by a mere five-ryo bribe—declared that anyone who spoke out of turn to the landlord must vacate the premises.
“To hell with it,” Musui reluctantly turned a blind eye.

Given that he had gone so far as to grease palms to volunteer as steward for an impoverished hatamoto, Jōsuke clearly had a scheme in mind. Once hired as steward, he would obediently advance the money whenever the master asked him to lend some. Having made him advance a considerable sum, they were about to dismiss Jōsuke when—as expected—he proved several moves ahead in this game of wits.

“The advances made until now have accrued interest to this amount.”

He presented the ledger.
That amounted to a total of 339 ryō.

He first handed over this outrageous yet meticulously detailed ledger to the master, then bided his time until a night when the master was drunk to steal it back and burn it to ashes.

Having done this, Jōsuke filed a fraudulent lawsuit with Senior Councillor Ōta Bingo-no-kami, making the situation extremely complicated.
Jōsuke was staking his life on this job through the scheme he had devised from the moment he volunteered to become steward.
If they paid quietly, all would be well; if not, the fifteen-hundred-koku Okano family of hatamoto would be ruined—and Jōsuke’s life forfeit.

The senior councillor had made efforts toward an amicable resolution, but after wringing the domain office dry and exhausting all avenues of borrowing, they could not produce a single ryō.

Then, Jōsuke’s wife took over and filed a fraudulent lawsuit; next, Jōsuke himself filed another one, and then his wife filed yet another.

They had reached the brink, but Okano found no means of raising funds, leaving both the Okano family and Jōsuke’s household teetering on the edge of ruin—their lineages facing extinction alongside their lives.

It happened just when Shimada Toranosuke—a titled swordsman and fellow jujutsu practitioner under Kaishū—had come to visit Musui.

When guards tried to stop Jōsuke from going out, he drew his sword in protest; then, as his wife rushed to aid him and they bound her with ropes—the indignity of tying up a samurai’s spouse drove Jōsuke into a frenzy, sparking bedlam.

Thereupon, many of Okano’s relatives gathered at Musui’s residence and begged him to intervene on their behalf.
Then Musui replied,
“I’ve known about your mess for ages. Hiring Jōsuke as steward was pure folly."
“When I warned you trouble would brew, you said anyone who stuck their nose in should get booted out—so I washed my hands of it. Can’t just step in now.”

“We deeply apologize for that matter, so please lend us your assistance.”

“That Jōsuke’s staking his life on this job, so he’s way out of my league—no way I can handle this negotiation.”

Shimada Toranosuke entered the room,

“Master, you’ve helped many people until now, so I must ask you to exert your utmost effort in this matter as well.”

After he made this plea,

“Fine. Then I’ll take it on. I’ll negotiate with Jōsuke and settle the matter for you, but in return, you must provide a written pledge that leaves everything to my sole discretion.”

Having obtained a written pledge,

“Now, there are two ways to settle this with Jōsuke: shall we pay off every last coin and be done with it, or shall we settle it without paying a single coin? I shall defer to your wishes.”

When confronted with such boldness, the entire group of relatives grew uneasy and, after much deliberation,

“There’s nothing better than settling the account without incident and resolving matters peacefully.”

“I see no need to pay unnecessary money, but very well—we shall proceed as such.”

“Is there a way to settle this without paying a single coin?”

“That method is not one I can disclose. Because if you were to hear that and have your eyes roll back in shock, it would be problematic.”

Okano’s domain offices were located in Musashi and Osaka.
First, he summoned the village headman of Musashi’s domain office and, under Musui’s name as a loan, secured forty ryō for travel expenses to Osaka. Since Okano’s household had run out of rice to eat, he carefully explained that they must provide provisions until the end of the year and finally made them agree.

Then, summoning Jōsuke, he handed over only fifteen ryō as a deposit and exchanged a written pledge that they would wait until December, as he would have him procure funds from the Osaka domain office.

Thereupon, Musui arrived at Okano’s Osaka domain office, accompanied by four of Okano’s retainers. He stayed at the magistrate’s residence, summoned the villagers, and informed them of the need to raise funds, but despite this being a five-hundred-koku domain office, they had already advanced seven hundred ryō and replied that they could not provide even a single coin more. Musui had come knowing full well the impossibility, so he didn’t panic. Musui deliberately took his time staying at the magistrate’s office, strolled around the village, and at night entertained the magistrate’s children by regaling them with war tales.

However, because Inoyama Yūhachi—whom they had brought from Edo—rushed into conducting a strong-armed negotiation for loans with the village in secret, the entire village held a council meeting and then surrounded the lodgings with bamboo spears in hand, hurling abuse at them.
After that, from time to time, they would gather at the sound of the temple bell and come surging in.
The retainers began trembling uncontrollably and declared they would return to Edo.

Musui scolded them away, and each time the group surged in, he would don his ceremonial robe and walk through the villagers' ranks. He ordered the samurai named Yokota, whom he had brought along, to lecture on the Four Books every morning. In the afternoon, he went to bathe at Koyama-yu in Itami.

Since he knew the attendant of the Osaka town magistrate, he visited him and returned, whereupon a messenger from the Osaka magistrate’s office came chasing after him and delivered sake and food.
He distributed those provisions to the villagers, and since they were from the magistrate’s office, they gratefully received them and ate.

Having determined that all was secure, he announced his intention to make a pilgrimage to Myoken Shrine in Nose and ordered several villagers to accompany him. From those who had rushed in ringing bells and brandishing bamboo spears, he selected only those who seemed to be leaders and commanded them to join his retinue.

When the day arrived and everyone had gathered, Musui appeared in his ceremonial robe and ordered the magistrate,

“Prepare rain gear for everyone.”

“There’s no need—the weather has been quite fair of late. It won’t rain for five or six days.”

“Since it’s established that whenever I pray to Myoken-sama, rain will surely fall, you must prepare it without fail.”

They reluctantly brought the rain gear.
When they rested in Ikeda,

“Hey there! There’s no rain cover for the sedan chair—go fetch one.”

He made another troublesome demand and forced them to reluctantly bring it.

At Nobori Tea House on Mount Nose, they alighted from the sedan chair and climbed to the summit via a twenty-five-chō mountain path from there.
Then they stripped naked, performed water austerities, and quietly paid their respects to Myoken-sama.
Because they wore ceremonial robes, the other worshippers fled, and they rested leisurely at the teahouse outside the gate.

The rain clouds showed no sign of appearing.
Yet eventually they appeared.
Had they not appeared—what would he have done then?
There likely would have been some plan when the time came—but regardless, such moments were what you called a gamble.
If the gamble failed, one would naturally rely on heaven-sent solutions; all these outcomes—no matter how chance's dice might fall—were ultimately governed by the resolve rooted deep within him.

Because rain clouds had appeared from Mount Rokko, Musui turned to the rain gear bearer and,

“You’re a fortunate one. It’ll rain soon, so your load will lighten up.”

“No, even if clouds appear, they won’t bring rain.”

The villagers declared in unison.
Musui, without any nonsense,

“I don’t want this rain to fall until we reach lower Hatago.”
“Alright, everyone—hurry up!”

and forced the reluctant ones to hurry against their will.
Hurrying down the twenty-five-chō descent path, just as they were three chō away, a true heavy rain began, turning into a downpour.

Musui’s party returned to the magistrate’s office.

“Go see whether they’re likely to pay up thanks to the rain’s divine favor.”

When they discreetly sent people to investigate the village’s state, they found that on the very day the astonished villagers returned home, they had seemed likely to pay up, but by the next day, the situation had already become fifty-fifty, and it became clear that if days passed, it would soon drop to zero.

The next day, Musui took his retinue to sightsee in Osaka, leisurely stayed at a brothel, and returned.
Then, he called the villagers and heard their response regarding the funds, but—

“We’ve tried everything we could, but it’s simply beyond us.”

They replied.

The next morning, he summoned the magistrate,

“Today I’ve got reason to celebrate and will treat the whole village to sake. Get the food and drink ready.”

and handed over the expenses.
Then he went to Itami and bought three sets of summer hemp robes—both upper and lower garments—along with white underclothes at a clothier called Shirako-ya.

When the villagers gathered, alcohol flowed freely without regard for rank or status. As Musui led them in singing a bawdy tune he'd picked up in Yoshiwara, their revelry grew until they were thoroughly soused.
After making them finish their meal with plain rice gruel to sober up slightly, he had the group wait in an adjoining chamber while seppuku preparations were made in accordance with ritual protocol in the main hall. Descending to the garden courtyard, he doused himself thrice with water from a wooden bucket before changing into white undergarments and donning his everyday clothes over them.
Having thus seated everyone,

“Despite your prolonged stay here, you have failed to heed my commands—this is inexcusable.”
“I refuse any further money talks. Let that be clear!”

“Yes.”
“We humbly and gratefully accept.”

“However, even if you sound alarm bells and come charging with bamboo spears—such brazen conduct holds no terror for me. I shall order the Osaka magistrate to conduct a full inquiry. Mark this well!”

When he said this, the villagers tearfully apologized, so he granted them clemency.

“Then, as a final matter, I have something to inform you.”
“While it may not be unreasonable that you villagers have been inconvenienced by the numerous loans demanded by the land steward thus far, to abandon them when his family’s honor is at stake is an unforeseen act of betrayal.”
“It’s not like I can secure a thousand or two thousand ryō through my own standing alone—but at Okano’s request for emergency funds from the domain’s coffers to save them—I took charge and ordered the funds arranged.”
“Since the purpose for which I came here under our agreement remains unfulfilled, I shall commit seppuku here.”
“Yūhachi and your men shall return home, tell your wives and children of this matter, and make it your testament.”

He removed the everyday clothes he had been wearing over them and handed them over. From beneath emerged his figure clad in white undergarments. Then his attendant quietly appeared carrying the head bucket prepared since their departure from Edo. Musui took his short sword,

“With this, perform your duty as my second.”

and passed it over. When Kishirō received it and drew the blade from its scabbard, the villagers—

“Forgive us! Forgive us!”

—cried out as they clustered around the futon,

“Regarding your esteemed command from before—we shall sell off our household possessions and procure the funds.”

“We humbly and gratefully accept,” they cried out.

Thereupon Kishirō, his second—tears streaming down his face—sheathed his sword and secured on the spot a jointly signed pledge to comply with Musui’s command.

Thus he made them hand over 550 ryō in funds, returned to Edo and paid Jōsuke’s 339 ryō, allocated the remainder to Okano’s expenses, had them pay only his travel costs, and took not a single coin for himself.

Of course, since his unauthorized trip to Osaka had been discovered by the shogunate and he was placed under house arrest, during this confinement he had Okano pay him a monthly stipend of one ryō, two bu, and rations for four retainers—the portion of his salary which he could no longer draw.

People in general said he should take about a hundred ryō as thanks, but for some reason, he didn’t take a single coin.
Okano brought a bolt of cotton as thanks.

His ideas for money-making and other matters were all as uniquely inventive as this. However, his accounts never balanced. Yet he himself self-indulgently enjoyed his life to the fullest. Into a life like a piece of trash in the wind, he poured the full force of his vital flame. The only difference was that his son Kaishū poured his vital flame into more admirable pursuits.