Pathway to Japanese Literature

(Part One) Revealed Facts

Yet another success story of Akechi Kogoro.

This incident occurred about a year after I became acquainted with Akechi, and not only was the case quite fascinating with its somewhat dramatic flair, but also because it revolved around the household of one of my relatives, making it all the more unforgettable to me. Through this case, I discovered that Akechi possessed a remarkable talent for code decryption. For the interest of my readers, shall I first present the cipher text he decrypted at the very beginning?

I have been meaning to call on you, but ended up... I have been unable to find a suitable opportunity and have done nothing but impose upon your kindness. The days have been relatively warm and continue, haven’t they? By all means... I shall trouble you with a visit soon. Now then... I sent you some trifling item the other day, and yet you—

Your gracious thanks overwhelm me. That handbag— As for the bag, it was actually something I made during an idle whim... ...something I clumsily embroidered myself—and instead... I was so worried you might scold me for it, you know. How have your songs been lately? Given the season, please take good care of yourself— Earnestly beseech your graciousness. Farewell.

This was the text of a certain postcard. I had recorded it faithfully and exactly as in the original. From obliterated characters down to each line’s character spacing—everything remained precisely as found in its source form.

Now, to return to the story—at that time, I was staying at a hot spring inn in Atami, partly to escape the cold and partly to work on a small project. Every day, I would soak in the hot springs countless times, take walks, lounge about, and in between those leisurely moments, take up my brush to write—spending my days in utmost leisure. Then one day, having taken another bath and pleasantly warmed, I flung myself onto a sunny veranda’s rattan chair and was casually perusing that day’s newspaper when suddenly a shocking article caught my eye.

At that time, a band of brigands calling themselves the “Black Hand Gang” was running rampant in the capital. Despite all police efforts proving futile, a certain wealthy man had been targeted just the day before. Today, a noble fell victim; rumors multiplied rumors until the citizens lived in constant fear, their hearts trembling without respite. Consequently, newspapers’ society pages buzzed daily with updates about these events, and today’s edition followed suit with three-deck headlines blaring “Phantom Bandits Strike Again!” By then I had grown so accustomed to such sensationalism that it hardly caught my eye—until I noticed a modest twelve-line item at the article’s bottom bearing the headline “Mr. XXXX Attacked.” My breath caught. For this Mr. XXXX happened to be my uncle. The report offered scant details but suggested his daughter Fumiko had been kidnapped by bandits who extorted ten thousand yen as ransom money.

My family was extremely poor, and I myself had to come to a hot spring resort just to earn a living by writing, yet my uncle was quite wealthy. He held executive positions at several major companies and was fully qualified to be a target of the “Black Hand Gang.” Since it concerned my uncle, who had always been looking after me in various ways, I had to drop everything and return to visit him. It was utterly foolish of me to have remained unaware until the ransom had been taken. My uncle must have tried calling my boarding house, but since I had come on this trip without informing anyone of my whereabouts, it was only through the newspaper article that I first learned of this disgraceful affair.

Therefore, I promptly packed my wicker trunk and returned to Tokyo. And no sooner had I changed out of my traveling clothes than I set out for my uncle’s residence. When I arrived, what should I find? There were my uncle and aunt, fervently beating uchiwa-daiko fan drums and striking hyoshigi clappers before the Buddhist altar while chanting the Odaimoku invocation! Their entire household consisted of fanatical Nichiren sect adherents—their first and last devotion being to the Founder. The extremity of their faith showed in how they wouldn’t permit even petty merchants through their gates without first verifying their religious affiliation. Yet even considering this, I found it odd they were performing devotions at such an unusual hour. When I inquired about the situation, I was shocked to learn the incident remained unresolved. Though they’d paid the ransom exactly as demanded by the thieves, their precious daughter still hadn’t returned. This chanting of sacred invocations amounted to nothing more than desperate prayers in troubled times—clutching at the Founder’s sleeves in hopes of retrieving their child.

At this point, it seems necessary to briefly explain the methods of the "Black Hand Gang" at that time. As only a few years have passed since then, some of you dear readers may still recall the circumstances of that time: they would invariably begin by kidnapping the children of their victims, then demand a hefty ransom in exchange for the hostages. The ransom note specified in detail—the exact date and time, precise location, and specified amount of money to be delivered—and at that location, the leader of the "Black Hand Gang" would dutifully lie in wait. In other words, the ransom money was handed directly from the victim to the thieves. What an audacious method! And yet, despite that, they showed not the slightest carelessness. Whether it be kidnapping, threats, or the exchange of money, they carried it out without leaving the slightest clue. Moreover, if the victim had reported to the police in advance and had detectives lying in wait at the ransom handover location, they would somehow detect this and never show up there. And later, the victim’s hostage would be subjected to a terrible ordeal. Undoubtedly, this Black Hand Gang incident was not the caprice of common delinquent youths but rather the work of exceptionally sharp-witted and supremely audacious individuals.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, in my uncle’s household—targeted by these villainous bandits—the entire family, starting with Uncle and his wife, had turned pale and were in a panic. The ten thousand yen ransom had been taken, and his daughter had not been returned—even my uncle, a schemer so shrewd he was called an old fox in business circles, found himself at a complete loss. To such an extent had things come that he now relied on someone like me—a greenhorn—for all manner of consultations. My cousin Fumiko was nineteen at the time and an extraordinary beauty; given that even after paying the ransom they had not returned her, it seemed all too possible she was being shamelessly toyed with by those criminals’ vicious hands. If that weren’t the case, then the villains must have deemed him an easy mark and were attempting to extort ransom money two or three times over, unsatisfied with just once. In any case, there could be nothing more worrying for Uncle than this.

Uncle had a son besides Fumiko, but he had just entered middle school and was of no help. Thus effectively serving as Uncle’s advisor, I consulted on various matters, but upon closer examination found the criminals’ methods as cunning as rumored—even bearing an uncanny, almost spectral quality. I myself had more than average interest in crime and detectives; as you may know from “The D-Slope Murder Case,” I even harbored enough childishness to occasionally play amateur detective. Thus I tried racking my brains to outdo professionals—but this proved utterly impossible. There were simply no leads whatsoever. Though Uncle had of course reported it to the police, could they really solve this? Judging by their track record up to that day, it seemed rather hopeless.

Therefore, I naturally thought of my friend Akechi Kogoro. If it were him, he might somehow make sense of this case. When this occurred to me, I immediately consulted Uncle about it. Though Uncle wanted even one more person to confer with at this critical time—and though I had often spoken of Akechi’s detective prowess—he didn’t seem particularly confident in the man’s abilities himself. Nevertheless, he agreed to summon him.

I had the car speed off to the well-known tobacco shop. And there, in that familiar second-floor four-and-a-half-mat room stacked mountain-high with various books, I met Akechi. Conveniently, he had been gathering all manner of materials on the "Black Hand Gang" for several days and was in the midst of constructing his signature deductions. Moreover, from his tone, he seemed to have grasped some sort of lead. When I explained about my uncle’s situation, he readily agreed—encountering such a real-world case being exactly what he desired—and we were able to leave immediately together for my uncle’s house.

Before long, Akechi and I were seated facing my uncle in the tastefully designed parlor of his residence. Aunt and Makita, the live-in student, also came out and joined the conversation. This Makita was the man who had accompanied Uncle to the scene as his bodyguard on the day of the ransom exchange and had been summoned by Uncle for reference purposes.

Amidst the commotion, tea, sweets, and all sorts of things were brought in. Akechi plucked an imported courtesy cigarette and delicately exhaled smoke. My uncle truly lived up to his reputation as an old fox of the business world—a large man by nature who had grown corpulent from gourmet eating and lack of exercise, yet even in such circumstances retained his intimidating demeanor. Seated on either side of Uncle were Aunt and Makita, both slender figures—with Makita being an exceptionally small man—accentuating Uncle’s imposing stature. Once the initial greetings concluded—though I had already given him a brief account—Uncle began his explanation at Akechi’s request to hear the details anew.

“Well, this all began six days ago—on the thirteenth.” “Around noon that day, my daughter Fumiko said she was going to visit a friend, changed her clothes, and left home—but hadn’t returned by evening.” “We’d all been on edge about the Black Hand Gang rumors, so my wife grew worried first and called her friend’s house—only to be told Fumiko hadn’t visited at all that day.” “Well, you can imagine our shock.” “We had them call every friend we knew about, but she hadn’t gone anywhere.” “Then we rounded up all our live-in students and regular rickshaw pullers to search everywhere.” “That night, none of us slept a wink!”

“While we’re on the subject—was there anyone who actually witnessed Miss Fumiko emerging at that time?”

When Akechi asked, the aunt answered instead.

“Ah yes, it appears the maids and live-in student did indeed witness it,” “Particularly a maid called Ume—she clearly remembers seeing her figure from behind as she passed through the gate, she says…” “So from that point onward, everything becomes unknown?” “And no neighbors or passersby caught sight of Miss Fumiko either?”

“Yes,” answered Uncle. “Since my daughter left without taking a carriage—anyone acquainted with her should have seen her face clearly if they encountered her—but as you know, this is a quiet residential area here; even the neighbors don’t go out much.” “Though we searched extensively through every known contact and location…” “While we were still wavering over whether to report it to the police…” “The ransom note from that Black Hand Gang we’d been dreading arrived.” “Though I’d suspected it might happen…” “My wife and others were reduced to helpless weeping.” “The ransom note has been taken to the police—it’s not here now—but its message demanded ten thousand yen in cash…” “…to be brought to T Field’s lone pine tree by eleven o’clock on the fifteenth night.” “The bearer must come alone.” “If you involve the police…” “…consider the hostage’s life forfeit.” “Your daughter will be returned…” “…the day after we receive payment.” “That’s roughly how it went.”

T Field referred to the T Field of that military drill ground in the capital’s suburbs. In the eastern corner of the field stood a small thicket, with the lone pine tree at its very center. As for the drill ground—that area remained utterly desolate even in daylight, scarcely traversed by anyone. Now in winter’s grip, its loneliness deepened further, rendering it an ideal location for clandestine meetings. “When the police examined that ransom note,” asked Akechi, “did they uncover any leads?”

“Well, you see—they said there were absolutely no leads whatsoever.” “The paper was ordinary hanshi stationery; the envelope just a cheap single-layer brown thing without any distinguishing marks.” “The detectives stated even the handwriting lacked any identifiable features.”

“The Metropolitan Police Department has well-equipped facilities for such examinations, so there’s likely no mistake. And which post office was the postmark from?”

“Well, there’s no postmark.” “That is to say, it wasn’t sent through the mail—it seems someone deposited it directly into the mailbox out front.” “And who retrieved it from the mailbox?” “It was me.” Makita, the live-in student, answered in a shrill tone. “I gather all mail and present it to Madam. When I collected the first delivery on the afternoon of the 13th, that ransom note was mixed in among them.” “As for who deposited it—” Uncle added: “We questioned officers at nearby police boxes and conducted various investigations but found nothing at all.”

Akechi fell into deep thought there for a while. He seemed to be struggling to discover something from these meaningless exchanges.

“And then what happened?” Eventually lifting his face, Akechi urged him to continue. “I seriously considered involving the police, but even if it was just a scrap of threatening words about taking my daughter’s life, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” “Then my wife desperately pleaded with me to stop too, so I resigned myself—since my precious daughter couldn’t be replaced—and decided, though regrettably, to pay the ten thousand yen.” “As the ransom note specified—just as I mentioned earlier—11 PM on the 15th at T Field’s lone pine tree. I prepared slightly early, wrapped ten thousand yen in hundred-yen bills with blank paper and tucked it into my pocket. Though the note strictly demanded coming alone, my wife foolishly worried and insisted. Besides, I figured bringing one live-in student along wouldn’t interfere with the criminals’ plans anyway. So I took this Makita here as an emergency guard and headed out to that desolate spot.” “Please laugh.” “At my age, I bought a pistol for the first time.” “And I had Makita carry it.”

Uncle gave a wry smile as he said this. I could barely suppress the urge to burst out laughing as I imagined the overly dramatic scene from that night. The image of the burly Uncle—accompanied by the utterly shabby, diminutive, and somewhat dull-witted Makita—cautiously advancing through the dark night toward the scene formed such an absurd spectacle that it seemed to materialize before my eyes. "When we got out of the car about four or five chō away from T Field, I managed to reach the base of the lone pine tree while lighting the way with my flashlight." "Makita followed behind me at an interval of about ten meters—though there was no worry of being spotted in the darkness—keeping to the shade of trees as much as possible." "As you know, shrubs surrounded that lone pine tree everywhere you looked—with no way to tell where those gang members might be hiding—making it downright eerie." "But I stood there enduring it patiently." "Well now—must've waited a good thirty minutes there." "Makita! What exactly were you doing all that time?"

“Yes, sir. I believe I was about eighteen meters away from you. I lay prone in the thicket with my finger on the pistol’s trigger, keeping my eyes fixed on the light from your flashlight.” “It was quite lengthy.” “I felt as though I waited two or three hours.” “And from which direction did the criminal come?”

Akechi asked eagerly. He appeared to be no small bit excited. The reason for this was clear—he had started that habit of his: tousling his disheveled hair with his fingers.

“The criminal seems to have come from the direction of the open field.” “In other words, he appeared from the side opposite to the path we had taken.” “What did he look like?” “I couldn’t make out clearly, but it seemed he was wearing a pitch-black garment.” “From head to toe, he was pitch-black, only a portion of his face faintly visible as a pale blur in the darkness.” “The reason being, I had turned off my flashlight out of consideration for the criminal at that time.” “But there’s no doubt that he was an extremely tall man.” “I’m five shaku five sun myself, but that man seemed a good two or three sun taller than me.”

“Did he say anything?” “Not a word,” “When he came right up to me, he thrust one hand out while aiming a pistol with the other.” “I silently handed over the package of money.” “Then, when I tried to speak about my daughter and began to open my mouth, the bastard suddenly pressed his index finger to his lips and growled ‘Shh’ in a guttural voice.” “I took it as a signal to keep quiet and said nothing.”

“And then what happened?” “That was all. The criminal kept the pistol pointed at me while backing away step by step until he disappeared into the woods. I stood frozen for a while, unable to move, but since there was no point staying like that, I turned around and called out to Makita in a low voice. Then Makita came rustling out of the thicket and asked timidly, ‘Has he already left?’”

“From where Mr. Makita was hiding, could he see the thief’s figure?”

“Ah… Due to the darkness and dense trees, I couldn’t see any figure—but I believe I heard something resembling the thief’s footsteps.” “And then what happened?”

“When I said we should head back, Makita suggested checking the thief’s footprints.” “In other words, he thought informing the police later would give them a solid lead.” “That’s how it was, right, Makita?”

“Yes, sir.” “Did you find any footprints?” “Well, you see…” Uncle made a strange face and said. “I simply can’t make sense of it.” “There are no footprints left by the thief.” “This was absolutely not a case of us misobserving things. I hear detectives went yesterday to examine the site too. Since it’s a lonely spot where no one seems to have passed through afterward, while the footprints of us two remain clearly intact, they say there wasn’t a single other footprint to be found.”

“Oh, that’s quite intriguing.” “Would you mind elaborating a little further?” “The exposed ground was only directly beneath that lone pine tree, with fallen leaves piled up and grass growing around it—meaning footprints wouldn’t show—but on that bare patch of earth, only the traces of my wooden clogs and Makita’s shoes remained.” “But for the thief to come to where I was standing to receive the money package, he would inevitably have had to step into an area where footprints would remain—yet there were none.” “From where I was standing to the grassy area—even at the shortest point—there was a good three and a half meters of distance, you see.”

“Was there anything like animal footprints there?”

Akechi asked with a knowing air. Uncle made a puzzled face and,

“Huh? An animal?” he retorted. “For example, something like horse footprints or dog footprints.”

As I listened to this exchange, I recalled a crime story I had read long ago in the Strand Magazine or some such publication. It was about a man who avoided suspicion by attaching horseshoes to his feet when traveling to and from the crime scene. There could be no doubt Akechi was considering the same possibility. "Well now, I hadn't noticed that detail myself," said Uncle, turning to Makita. "Do you recall anything of the sort?" "Ah... I don't remember clearly," Makita replied hesitantly, "but I believe there were no such traces."

Akechi once again began silent contemplation there.

When I first heard the story from Uncle, I had thought this as well—the core of this case lay in the absence of the thief’s footprints. That was truly an eerie fact. A long silence continued.

“But putting all that aside—”

Before long, Uncle began to speak again. “With this settled, I returned home greatly relieved, thinking the case had been resolved.” “And I was certain my daughter would come back the next day.” “I’d always heard that the more skilled a thief becomes, the more strictly they keep their promises—that there’s something like a thieves’ code of honor—so I felt sure they wouldn’t possibly lie.” “But would you believe it? Today makes four days, and still my daughter hasn’t returned.” “It’s absolutely unconscionable.” “When I couldn’t bear it any longer, I reported everything to the police yesterday.” “But with all the cases these days, they aren’t being much help.” “Fortunately, it happened that my nephew here is acquainted with you—so I’ve placed my hopes in that connection and asked you to trouble yourself with coming here…”

With this, Uncle’s story came to an end.

Akechi skillfully asked further questions about various minute details and proceeded to verify each fact one by one. However, there was nothing particularly worth mentioning about those details.

“By the way,” Akechi asked finally. “Have any suspicious letters or anything of that sort arrived at your daughter’s place recently?”

To this, Aunt answered. “In our household, I make it a point to look through all letters that come to my daughter, so if there had been anything suspicious, I should have noticed immediately. But no, there hasn’t been anything of that sort lately…” “Well, even the most trivial-seeming matters are perfectly fine. Please, do not hesitate to tell me about any points you’ve noticed.” Akechi must have sensed something in Aunt’s tone, for he pressed on with his questioning.

“But I believe this likely has no connection to the present case—” “Please tell me regardless.” “Such trivialities often yield unexpected clues.” “If you would.” “Very well. For about a month now, postcards have been coming to my daughter from someone bearing a name unfamiliar to us.” “Once I asked her, ‘Is this a school friend?’ Though she said yes, she clearly hid something.” “This struck me as odd—I meant to question her properly when this dreadful business occurred.” “I’d entirely forgotten such trifles until your inquiry reminded me.” “That peculiar postcard arrived precisely one day before my daughter’s abduction.”

“Then, may I please take a look at it once?” “Certainly. It’s probably in my daughter’s stationery box.”

And then, the Aunt retrieved the postcard in question. Upon looking, the date was indeed the 12th as Aunt had stated, and the sender was likely anonymous, listed simply as "Yayoi." And it bore the postmark of a certain post office in the city. The text was that "Once I pay a visit and such..." one that had been presented at the beginning of this story.

I also took that postcard in hand and examined it thoroughly, but it was nothing more than a string of utterly ordinary phrases—not even remotely resembling something a young girl would write. However, Akechi—who knows what he was thinking—asked to borrow that postcard for a while in a tone suggesting grave importance. Of course, there was no reason to refuse, and Uncle immediately agreed, but I couldn’t make sense of Akechi’s reasoning at all.

Thus, Akechi’s questioning finally came to an end, but Uncle, as if he couldn’t wait any longer, proceeded to ask his opinion. Then, after careful deliberation, Akechi replied as follows.

“From what I’ve heard so far, I can’t form any particular opinion… But let’s proceed regardless.” “Perhaps I might be able to bring your daughter back within two or three days.”

After leaving Uncle’s residence, we walked side by side on our return journey. On that occasion, though I carefully framed my words in various ways to draw out Akechi’s thoughts, he merely replied that he had only gotten hold of a fragment of an investigative approach and did not open up about this so-called approach at all.

The next day, when I had finished breakfast, I immediately went to Akechi’s lodging. I couldn’t stand not knowing the path by which he would solve this case. While imagining him buried in his usual mountain of books, lost in his signature meditations, and given our comfortable rapport, I called out a greeting to the mistress of the tobacco shop and was about to abruptly ascend the stairs to Akechi’s room when—

“Oh, he isn’t here today,” she said. “He’s gone out unusually early this morning, you know.” With that, she called out to stop me. When I asked in surprise where he had gone, it turned out he hadn’t left any message. So he’s already begun his investigation, I thought. Even so, for him—a notorious late riser—to go out this early was quite unusual. I returned to my lodgings for the time being, but unable to shake my concern, I waited a little while and ended up visiting Akechi two or even three times. However, no matter how many times I went to check, he had not returned. And so, I waited until around noon the following day, but he still hadn’t shown his face. I was starting to get a little worried. The mistress of the tobacco shop was also extremely worried and checked Akechi’s room to see if he had left any notes behind, but there were none.

Since I thought it best to inform my uncle, I promptly visited his residence. Uncle and Aunt were still chanting Nichiren prayers to the Founder, but when I explained the situation, all hell broke loose. Could it be that even Akechi had been captured by the criminals? Since we were the ones who had hired the detective, we bore full responsibility. With everyone saying there’d be no way to face Akechi’s parents if this were true, Uncle and the rest descended into panic. I kept believing someone like Akechi would never make such a blunder, but surrounded by this commotion, I couldn’t help worrying. What to do? What to do? We could only watch helplessly as time marched on.

However, that afternoon, as we had gathered in the tea room of Uncle’s house for endless discussions, a telegram was delivered.

**FUMIKO AND PARTY ARRIVING NOW**

To our surprise, it was Akechi who had sent it from Chiba in Sōshū. We involuntarily let out a cheer. Akechi was also safe. The daughter would also return. The family, which had been tense, suddenly became lively and bustling, as if they were welcoming a bride.

And then, before us who had been waiting impatiently, Akechi’s smiling face appeared at dusk. When we looked, there was Fumiko—looking somewhat haggard—following behind him. Out of consideration from Aunt, who said Fumiko must be exhausted after all, only Fumiko had withdrawn to the sitting room and seemed to have gone to bed, but before us, in celebration, the prepared feast was brought out. Uncle and Aunt practically seized Akechi’s hands, seated him in the place of honor, and piled gratitude upon gratitude. It was tremendous. No wonder. It was none other than the “Black Hand Gang”—a group that even the full might of the state’s police force had been unable to subdue for so long. Even though Akechi Kogoro was a master detective, no one could have imagined that the daughter would be retrieved so easily. And yet? Was it not Akechi who accomplished this by his own strength alone? The way Uncle and Aunt pulled out all the stops in their hospitality, as if welcoming a triumphant general, was truly only natural. What an astonishing man he was! Even I was utterly overwhelmed this time. So everyone crowded around, eager to hear this great detective’s adventure tale.

Who in the world was the Black Hand Gang?

“I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t tell you anything.” Akechi replied with a slightly troubled look. “No matter how reckless I may be, I cannot single-handedly arrest those fiends.” “After considering various approaches, I adopted an extremely gentle method to retrieve the young lady.” “In other words, it’s a method of having them return her with proper decorum, so to speak.” “And so, an agreement was reached between me and the Black Hand Gang.” “To clarify: They would return both Miss Fumiko and the ¥10,000 ransom, and would absolutely refrain from targeting your household henceforth. In exchange, I would not disclose anything about them, and I would never assist in their arrest in the future—this was the agreement.” “For my part, as long as your household’s losses were restored, my duty would be fulfilled. So rather than bungling things and ending up empty-handed, I thought it best to accept their proposal and return—that’s how it came about.” “That being the case, I must ask that you refrain from questioning Miss Fumiko about them at all… And here is the ¥10,000 in question.” “I will certainly hand it over.”

With that, he handed Uncle something wrapped in white paper. After all that anticipation, I couldn't hear the detective story I'd been looking forward to. However, I wasn't disappointed. He might not be able to tell Uncle and Aunt, but no matter how binding the promise, he'd surely confide in me—his closest friend. When I thought of that, I couldn't wait for the banquet to end.

For Uncle and Aunt, as long as their own family was safe, whether the thieves were arrested or not was of no concern, so out of gratitude toward Akechi, a lively exchange of cups commenced. Akechi, who couldn’t handle alcohol well, quickly turned bright red, his usual smiling face breaking into an even broader grin. Innocent small talk flourished, and cheerful laughter spread throughout the tatami room.

What was discussed at that gathering need not be recorded here, but I believe just the following conversation may pique the interest of you, dear readers.

“Oh, you truly are the savior of my daughter’s life. I swear here and now—from this day forward, if it’s your request, I’ll agree to anything, no matter how unreasonable. What do you say? For the time being, is there anything you might desire?” Uncle poured sake for Akechi with a face like Ebisu and spoke. “That’s most generous of you.” Akechi responded. “For instance—how would this be? A certain friend of mine has become utterly smitten with the young lady. Would it be acceptable to request her hand in marriage for this man?”

“Ha ha… You’re not one to be underestimated!” “Well, if you’ll vouch for that person you mentioned earlier, I might not refuse to give you my daughter.”

The uncle replied, not entirely dismissing it as mere banter. "This friend is a Christian—how do you feel about that?" Akechi’s words seemed a bit too earnest for a jest. My uncle, who was rigidly devoted to the Nichiren sect, made a slightly displeased face—

“Very well. I absolutely detest Christianity, but since it’s your request, I’ll give it some thought.” “Ah, thank you. I will certainly come to ask that favor of you someday. I kindly ask that you do not forget the words you’ve just spoken.”

This snippet of conversation had a somewhat strange feeling to it. If viewed as a jest, it could certainly be considered as such, but if taken as a serious matter, it equally appeared that way. Suddenly recalling how in Barrymore’s play that Sherlock Holmes falls in love with a girl he met through a case and ultimately marries her, I secretly smiled.

Uncle kept trying to detain us, but as it was growing too late, we eventually decided to take our leave. The uncle saw Akechi out to the entrance and, while calling it a token of gratitude, ignored his protests and forced an envelope containing two thousand yen into Akechi’s pocket.

(Part II) The Hidden Truth

“You could’ve at least told me about the Black Hand Gang situation, even with your promise to them.”

I couldn’t wait to exit my uncle’s gate and thus addressed Akechi in this manner. “Ah, sure.” He consented with surprising readiness.

“Well then, why don’t we talk over some coffee at our leisure?”

So, we entered a café, chose a secluded table, and took our seats.

“The starting point of this case, you know, was that fact about the absence of footprints.”

Akechi ordered coffee and began his detective tale. “Regarding that matter, there are at least six possible scenarios.” “First: an interpretation that Uncle and the detectives overlooked the thieves’ footprints—since they could have used animal or bird tracks to deceive our eyes.” “Second—though this may seem far-fetched—is that the thieves arrived by hanging from something or tightrope walking; essentially using footprint-free methods. Third: either Uncle or Makita trampled over the footprints. Fourth: coincidental matching footwear between thieves and Uncle/Makita. These four could be verified through scene examination.” “Fifth: an interpretation that no thieves came—meaning Uncle staged a solo act out of necessity. Sixth: Makita and the thieves being identical. These make six.”

I felt compelled to examine the scene regardless, so early the next morning I promptly went to T Field. If I couldn't find traces corresponding to possibilities one through four there, only scenarios five and six would remain—thereby allowing me to significantly narrow the investigative scope. However, I made one discovery at the scene. The police had overlooked something crucial—there were numerous marks on the ground that looked as though they'd been poked by something sharp. These were all hidden beneath Uncle's footprints (though mostly Makita's geta imprints), making them hard to notice at first glance. As I examined them and turned over various possibilities in my mind, I suddenly hit upon an idea—a stroke of divine inspiration, truly brilliant. You see, Makita the live-in student wore an absurdly thick merino heko sash around his small frame, tied in an oversized knot. Viewed from behind, it created a rather comical impression. I happened to recall this detail. 'With that,' I concluded, 'I felt everything had fallen into place.'

Akechi said this and took a sip of his coffee. Then, with a gaze that seemed to tease me somehow, he stared at me. However, unfortunately, I still lacked the ability to follow the trail of his deductions. "So, what's the conclusion?" I shouted out of sheer frustration.

“So, you see. Of the six interpretations I mentioned earlier, the third and sixth are correct. In other words, the live-in student Makita and the thief were one and the same.”

“But Makita?!” I couldn’t help but cry out. “That’s unreasonable. Such a foolish man—and one who’s been posing as honest…”

“Well then,” Akechi said calmly. “List the points you find illogical one by one. I will answer them.” “There are countless of them,” I said after thinking for a moment. “First, Uncle claims that the thief was two or three inches taller than him—a large man. That would make him about five feet eight or nine inches tall. But Makita is such a tiny man—the complete opposite!” “When an opposition becomes this extreme, one must view it with suspicion. One is an unusually large man for a Japanese person; the other is a small man bordering on deformity. This makes for a vivid contrast—unfortunately, a bit too vivid. Had Makita used slightly shorter stilts, I might have been misled instead.” He laughed heartily. “You see? He had hidden something like shortened stilts at the scene beforehand and strapped them to both legs rather than holding them in his hands. It was pitch-dark, and Uncle was eighteen meters away—he couldn’t have seen a thing. After playing the thief’s role, Makita then inspected the footprints to erase any traces of the stilts.”

“How could Uncle have failed to see through such a child’s play of a trick?” “First, while the thief was described as wearing black garments, Makita always dresses in whitish rustic-striped cloth, does he not?”

“That’s the merino heko sash.” “A truly ingenious idea, don’t you think?” “If you wrap that wide black merino cloth around and around from head to toe, even someone as small as Makita could easily hide his entire body.”

Because the fact was so simple, I felt completely made a fool of.

“So, are you saying Makita was working as an accomplice for the ‘Black Hand Gang’? That seems odd. Black Hand…” “Oh, you’re still hung up on that? How unlike you—your mind must be rather sluggish today. Whether it’s Uncle, the police, or even you yourself, everyone’s been completely obsessed with this ‘Black Hand Gang’ phobia. Not entirely unreasonable given the circumstances, I suppose—but had you kept your usual composure, you could’ve solved this case on your own without waiting for me. The Black Hand Gang has nothing whatsoever to do with this.”

Indeed, I might have been out of my mind. The more I listened to Akechi’s explanation, the less clear the truth became. Countless questions tangled into a jumble in my head, twisted into knots, leaving me completely at a loss about where to even begin asking.

“So why did you tell that lie earlier about making a deal with the ‘Black Hand Gang’?” “First off—if this was Makita’s work, doesn’t it seem odd to just leave him be like this?” “And given what kind of man Makita is, I can’t imagine him having the capability to kidnap Fumiko and hide her for days on end.” “In fact, on the day Fumiko disappeared, he never once left Uncle’s house—isn’t that right?” “Could someone like Makita really pull off such an elaborate scheme?” “And another thing…”

“It seems like a hundred doubts are springing up,” Akechi remarked. “But you see, had you decrypted this postcard’s ciphertext—or at least recognized it as such—you wouldn’t have found this so perplexing.” With these words, he produced the postcard signed “Yayoi” that he had borrowed from Uncle’s residence days prior. (Dear readers, I must trouble you to revisit that opening message once more.) “Without this ciphertext, I would never have suspected Makita,” Akechi continued. “You could say this postcard was the starting point of our discovery. However, its nature as encoded text wasn’t immediately apparent—I merely harbored suspicions.” “My reasons were threefold: its arrival precisely before Miss Fumiko’s disappearance; handwriting that, though skillfully forged, betrayed masculine characteristics; and her peculiar reaction when questioned about it. But most telling—” He tapped the card emphatically, “—observe how it’s composed with exactly eighteen characters per line, as neatly arranged as manuscript paper.” “Now,” he instructed, producing a pencil, “draw a horizontal line here.”

He said this while taking out a pencil and drawing something like the horizontal lines of manuscript paper.

“This way, you can see it clearly.” “Follow this line straight across—notice how each column has about half kana mixed in?” “But there’s one exception.” “Look at the first character of each line along this row—they’re all kanji.” 一好割此外叮袋自叱歌切 “See? Exactly.” He explained while tracing the line horizontally with his pencil. “This pattern stretches coincidence too far.” “Men’s writing might allow this occasionally, but in a woman’s text where kana dominate? A single flawless column of kanji defies probability.” “Regardless, I deemed it worth investigating.” “That night after returning home, I devoted hours to analyzing it.” “Fortunately, my prior codebreaking experience helped—I managed to crack it eventually.” “Let me demonstrate.” “First, isolate this kanji sequence for examination.” “Alone like this, it reads as pure nonsense.” “I initially checked for connections to Chinese poetry or sutras—nothing matched.” “Then I noticed two erased characters.” “Strange—such sloppy corrections marring otherwise pristine calligraphy.” “Both occurred as second characters in their lines.” “Through experience I’ve learned—handling voiced and semi-voiced consonants proves most vexing when crafting Japanese ciphers.”

“So I thought those erased characters might be a mechanism to indicate voiced consonants for the kanji above them.” “If that were true, each of these kanji would have to represent a single kana character.” “Up to that point, things proceed relatively smoothly.” “The rest is difficult.” “But let’s skip the tale of struggles and get straight to the conclusion.” “In short, the key lies in the stroke counts of the kanji characters.” “And you count them by separating the left and right radicals.” “For example, ‘kō’ (好) has three strokes in the left radical and three in the right, making a 3-3 combination.” “When you arrange this into a table, it looks like this.”

He took out a notebook and wrote something like the following.

“Looking at these numbers, the left radicals go up to eleven while the right radicals only reach four.” “Could this correspond to some numbering system?” “For instance, might it indicate their order when arranged in something like the Japanese syllabary’s aiueo sequence?” “However, when you line them up as A-Ka-Sa-Ta-Na-Ha-Ma-Ya-Ra-Wa-N, their count comes to exactly eleven.” “This might be coincidence, but let’s test it.” “We’ll assume the left radical’s stroke count indicates consonant order (A-Ka-Sa-Ta-Na), and the right radical’s strokes show vowel order (A-I-U-E-O).” “Thus, ‘Ichi’ (一)—one stroke with no right radical—becomes ‘A’ (ア), the first character in the A-row. ‘Kō’ (好) has three left strokes placing it in the Sa-row, and three right strokes making it the third character: ‘Su’ (ス).” “By applying this method,”

“アスヰチジシンバシヱキ” results in “アスヰチジシンバシヱキ”. “The ‘ヰ’ and ‘ヱ’ were likely phonetic substitutions.” “Since there were no single-stroke left radicals usable in the A-row without complications, they employed the Wa-row instead.” “It proved to be a cipher after all.” “You see—‘Tomorrow 1 PM at Shinbashi Station.’ This fellow was remarkably skilled at cryptography.” “Now consider—someone had sent a coded message specifying time and location to a marriageable young woman.” “Moreover, the handwriting appeared distinctly masculine.” “What alternative interpretation could exist under these circumstances?” “There’s no explanation except an arranged elopement.” “Doesn’t this revelation make the incident seem increasingly unlike the Black Hand Gang’s handiwork?” “At minimum, we ought to investigate this postcard’s sender before pursuing the gang.” “Yet aside from Miss Fumiko herself, no one claims knowledge of who sent it.” “A formidable obstacle indeed.” “But connect this with Makita’s actions, and all contradictions dissolve—for if Miss Fumiko had truly eloped voluntarily, wouldn’t she have sent at least one apologetic letter or farewell note to her parents?” “Combine this with Makita’s responsibility for handling correspondence, and an intriguing plot emerges.” “To put it plainly—” “Suppose Makita had somehow discovered Miss Fumiko’s romance.” “A man of his crippled appearance would naturally develop heightened suspicions.” “Thus he intercepted Miss Fumiko’s letters and substituted fabricated Black Hand Gang ransom demands to her father—that’s how it unfolded.”

“This also aligns with the fact that the ransom note wasn’t sent through the mail.”

Akechi paused mid-sentence there for a moment.

"I was shocked. But…" As I tried to ask about various remaining doubts, "Now, wait a moment." He cut me off and continued. "I examined the scene and immediately went to wait outside Uncle’s gate for Makita to emerge." "When he came out pretending to run an errand, I skillfully tricked him into coming to this café." "It was this very table where we’re sitting now." "Like you, I’d recognized from the beginning that he was fundamentally honest—which made me certain there had to be deeper circumstances behind this incident." "So I assured him I’d keep silent and even help advise him if needed... until he finally confessed."

“You probably know a man named Hattori Tokio—that poor soul who was not only rejected in his marriage proposal to Miss Fumiko for being a Christian but even banned from visiting Uncle’s household.” “Parents can be such fools—even sharp-witted Uncle failed to notice Miss Fumiko and Hattori had been lovers all along.” “And Miss Fumiko herself—she didn’t need to resort to running away! She’s their cherished daughter.” “However strong religious prejudice might be, surely even Uncle wouldn’t try separating them now that they’ve come this far—it speaks to the daughter’s own shortsightedness.” “Or perhaps she foolishly thought threatening him with elopement might soften that stubborn old man’s heart—regardless, they ended up holding hands and making their stylish escape to the countryside home of Hattori’s friend.” “Naturally, they kept sending letters from there.” “That scoundrel Makita intercepted every last one without fail.” “I made a trip to Chiba—completely unaware of the Black Hand Gang uproar back home—and spent an entire night reasoning with those two lovebirds drunk on romance.” “Not exactly my proudest role, mind you.” “But with a promise to arrange their union properly, I finally pried them apart and brought them back.” “Still, it seems I’ll manage to keep that promise after all.” “Judging by Uncle’s tone today.”

Now, regarding Makita’s matter—this too turned out to involve a woman. The poor man had been shedding tears profusely. “Even a man like that can fall in love, you see. I don’t know who she was exactly—probably some merchant who sweet-talked him into it. In any case, he needed that money he’d scraped together to get hold of her. And from what I heard, he’d planned to elope before Miss Fumiko returned. I tell you—it really made me feel love’s formidable power. That foolish man devising such an ingenious trick? All because of love.”

Having finished listening, I let out a sigh of relief. It was the kind of case that made one ponder—Akechi, perhaps worn out from talking, was slumped in exhaustion. The two of them remained silent for a long time, exchanging looks.

“The coffee’s gone completely cold.” “Well then, shall we be off?”

Eventually, Akechi stood up. And so, we each set off for home, but before parting, Akechi—as if he had just thought of something—held out the envelope containing 2,000 yen he had received earlier from the uncle and said: “Please give this to Makita when the time comes. “Tell him it’s for his wedding expenses. “You know, he’s a pitiable man.”

I gladly agreed.

“Life is amusing, isn’t it? Today, I ended up playing matchmaker for two couples, you know.” Akechi said that and laughed with genuine cheer.