Pathway to Japanese Literature

Part One: The Revealed Facts

Once again, this is a success story of Akechi Kogorō. It was an incident that occurred about a year after I became acquainted with Akechi. Not only was the case quite interesting due to its somewhat dramatic nature, but it remains all the more unforgettable to me because it revolved around the household of one of my own relatives.

Through this incident, I discovered that Akechi possessed a remarkable talent for cryptanalysis. For the interest of my dear readers, shall I present the ciphertext he deciphered right at the very beginning?

I have been wanting to visit you for some time, but... I have not found a good opportunity and have only been causing offense. The days have been relatively warm, haven't they? By all means... I must trouble you at this time. Now, regarding the day—

I sent you such a trifling item from outside—

For you to offer such gracious thanks—I am deeply moved—that handbag I sent...

The bag was actually something I made in my idle moments— It was something I myself clumsily embroidered—in fact, I worried you might scold me for it... I was so worried you might scold me for it, you know. How about your poetry lately? In light of the season, your esteemed self... I earnestly entreat your esteemed self to grant me this indulgence. Farewell.

This is the text of a certain postcard. I faithfully transcribed it exactly as written in the original. From the erased characters to the character spacing of each line, everything remained exactly as in the original text.

Now, to continue the story—at that time I was staying at an inn in Atami Hot Springs, partly to escape the cold and partly for some work I had. Every day I would soak in the hot spring countless times, take walks, lounge about, and in between those leisurely moments take up my brush—spending my days in utter carefreeness—when one day... After yet another bath, my body pleasantly warmed, I had flung myself onto a rattan chair on the sunlit veranda and was casually perusing that day’s newspaper when a shocking article suddenly caught my eye.

At that time in the capital, a gang of bandits calling themselves the "Black Hand Group" were brazenly running rampant, with all police efforts proving futile—just yesterday a certain wealthy man had fallen victim. Today brought news of a nobleman's attack, rumors multiplying until perpetual unease gripped the capital's residents. Consequently, newspaper society pages brimmed daily with these stories, today no exception as they blared three-line banner headlines like "Phantom Thieves Defy Capture"—the same sensational fare as ever. Yet I had grown so inured to such reports they no longer held my interest—until my eye caught a small headline at the bottom listing victims: "Mr. XXXX Attacked," twelve cramped lines that shocked me profoundly. This Mr. XXXX was none other than my uncle—the very one whose voice now shapes this account. Though brief and vague, the article suggested bandits had kidnapped his daughter Fumiko and extorted ¥10,000 as ransom.

My family was extremely poor, and I myself had to come to a hot spring resort to earn money through writing, yet my uncle was rather wealthy. He served as a director for several prominent companies and was fully qualified to be a target of the Black Hand Group. Since it concerned my uncle, who had always looked after me in various ways, I had to drop everything and return to visit him. It was utterly absurd that I remained unaware until the ransom had been completely taken. Uncle had likely tried calling my boarding house, but since I had come on this trip without informing anyone, it was only through the newspaper article that I first learned of this disgraceful affair.

So I promptly packed my wicker trunk and returned to Tokyo. No sooner had I shed my traveling clothes than I hurried to my uncle's estate. When I arrived and looked about—what should I find? There were Uncle and Aunt before the family altar, beating uchiwa drums and wooden clappers with frenzied devotion as they chanted the Nichiren invocation! To begin with, their entire household were fanatical adherents of Nichiren Buddhism—everything began and ended with reverence for the sect's founder. So extreme were they that even petty merchants had to declare their religious affiliation before being allowed past the gate. Yet even considering this zeal, I found it odd they'd perform devotions at such an unusual hour. When I inquired about the situation, I learned to my shock that the incident remained unresolved. Though they'd paid the ransom exactly as demanded, their precious daughter still hadn't returned. This desperate chanting was their version of grasping at divine straws—clutching at the founder's priestly robes through ritual incantations, hoping against hope he might restore their child.

At this point, it seems necessary to briefly explain the methods of the "Black Hand Group" at that time. As only a few years have passed since then, some of you dear readers may still remember the circumstances of that time. They would invariably begin by kidnapping the children of their victims, then demand an enormous ransom in exchange for the hostages. The ransom notes would specify in exact detail—the precise date, time, location, and amount of yen to be delivered—and at that very spot, the leader of the Black Hand Group would be duly lying in wait. In other words, the ransom money would pass directly from the victim into the hands of the bandits. What an audacious method this was! And yet, despite that, they left not the slightest opening for carelessness. Whether it was kidnapping, extortion, or the exchange of money, they carried it out without leaving a single 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 never show up there—how they detected such setups remains unknown. And later, the victim’s hostage would be subjected to a terrible ordeal. Undoubtedly, this Black Hand Group incident was not the work of some common delinquent youths acting on a whim, but rather that of an exceptionally sharp-witted and extraordinarily daring group.

Now then, in Uncle’s household—which had received this “visit” from the vicious criminals, as I mentioned earlier—Uncle and his wife, along with the rest of the family, turned pale and panicked. Even Uncle—that old badger of the business world, renowned as a master strategist—must have been at his wit’s end: ¥10,000 in ransom taken, yet his daughter remained unreturned. In an uncharacteristic turn, he came to rely on someone like me—a greenhorn—for advice on every little thing. Since my cousin Fumiko was nineteen at the time and an extraordinary beauty, given that even after providing the ransom money she was not returned, it was possible she had been shamelessly subjected to the criminals’ cruel hands. If that were not the case, then the criminals—judging Uncle to be an easy mark—were likely attempting to extort ransom money two or three times over, once not being enough for them. In any case, for Uncle, there was nothing more anxiety-inducing than this.

Uncle had one son besides Fumiko, but he had just entered middle school and was of no help. In effect, I ended up serving as Uncle’s advisor and consulted on various matters, but upon listening closely, the thieves’ methods proved every bit as cunning as rumored, even possessing an almost supernatural eeriness to them. I, too, had more than an ordinary interest in matters of crime and detection, and as you may know from *The D-Slope Murder Case*, I even harbored a certain childishness that led me to occasionally fancy myself an amateur detective. Thus, I racked my brain in every conceivable way, hoping to outdo a professional investigator if possible—but this proved utterly futile. There were absolutely no leads to go on. Of course, my uncle had reported it to the police, but could this incident possibly be resolved through their efforts? At least judging by their performance up to today, it seems rather unlikely.

So naturally I thought of my friend Akechi Kogorō. If it were him, he might somehow get a handle on this case. When this occurred to me, I immediately broached the idea with Uncle. Though Uncle himself didn't seem to have much faith in his talent—being in dire need of additional counsel and having heard me frequently praise Akechi's detective prowess—it was nevertheless decided to summon him.

I had the car rushed to the well-known tobacco shop. And there, in that familiar second-floor four-and-a-half-tatami room piled high with various books, I met Akechi. Conveniently, he had spent the past several days gathering every scrap of material on the Black Hand Group and was just in the midst of constructing his signature deductions. Moreover, from his tone, it seemed he had somehow grasped a lead. When I explained about my uncle, he readily agreed—saying that encountering such a real-life case was exactly what he had been hoping for—and we immediately set out together to return to my uncle’s house.

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

Amidst the flurry of preparations, tea and sweets and such were brought in. Akechi plucked an imported hospitality cigarette from its case and exhaled demurely, I recall. My uncle embodied the very image of a wily old badger from the business world—a large-framed man rendered portly through rich dining and sedentary habits, yet still retaining his intimidating bearing even under these circumstances. Flanking Uncle sat Aunt and Makita—both lean figures, with Makita being particularly diminutive—making Uncle’s imposing bulk appear even more pronounced. After initial courtesies concluded—though I’d already provided a summary—Uncle commenced his detailed account at Akechi’s insistence on hearing everything afresh.

“It all began six days ago today—that is, on the 13th. “At exactly noon that day, my daughter Fumiko said she was going to visit a friend for a moment, changed her clothes, left home—and hadn’t returned by evening. “Since we were all already frightened by rumors of the Black Hand Group, my wife here grew worried first and called her friend’s house—only to be told our daughter hadn’t visited once that day. “Well, we were shocked, you see. “We had them call every friend we knew she might visit, but she hadn’t stopped by any of them. “After that, we rounded up the live-in students and regular rickshaw pullers to search everywhere. “That night, none of us—starting with ourselves—slept a wink at all.”

“Excuse me for interrupting,” Akechi interjected, “but was there anyone who actually witnessed Miss Fumiko’s departure at that time?” When Akechi posed this question, Aunt answered instead. “Ah yes, I understand the maids and servant-students did indeed see her.” “Particularly a maid named Ume claims she distinctly remembers watching her back as she passed through the gate...” “So everything after that remains completely unknown?” “And no neighbors or passersby reported seeing Miss Fumiko either?”

“That’s correct,” replied Uncle. “Since my daughter left without taking a carriage, if she had encountered someone she knew, they should have clearly seen her face. But as you know, this is a quiet residential district—even the neighbors don’t venture out much—and though we made thorough inquiries, not a single person reported seeing her.” “Given all that, we were still wavering over whether to report it to the police when the following afternoon arrived.” “The threat letter from the Black Hand Group we had been dreading arrived.” “Though I’d braced myself for it, I was utterly shocked.” “My wife was so beside herself that she burst into tears right then and there.” “The ransom note isn’t here now since we took it to the police, but the message was: ‘Bring ¥10,000 in cash to the lone pine tree in T Field by 11 PM on the 15th.’” “The bearer must come strictly alone. If you involve the police, assume the hostage’s life will be forfeited… My daughter will be returned the day after the ransom is received.” “That’s about the gist of it.”

T Field referred to that very T Field of the military training ground in the suburbs of the capital. In the eastern corner of the field, there was a small thicket, and the lone pine tree stood right at its center. Though called a drill ground, the area remained utterly deserted even by day—a desolation amplified by winter’s grip—making it an ideal spot for secret meetings. "Did they find any leads when examining that ransom note?" asked Akechi.

“Well, you see—they say there are absolutely no leads.” “The paper was ordinary Japanese writing paper, and the envelope was a plain brown one of flimsy quality—no distinguishing marks or anything.” “The detectives said the handwriting had no distinguishing features at all.” “The Metropolitan Police Department has well-equipped facilities for such examinations, so there can hardly be any mistake.” “And which post office was the postmark from?” “No, there’s no postmark.” “That is to say, it wasn’t sent through the mail—it seems someone dropped it into the mailbox out front.”

“And who was the one who retrieved it from the mailbox?” “It was me.” Makita, the servant-student, answered in a shrill tone. “I handle all the mail, bundling it up to present to Madam. When I retrieved the first afternoon delivery on the 13th, that ransom note was mixed in with the rest.” “As for who deposited it,” Uncle added. “We even questioned police officers at nearby police boxes and conducted various investigations, but we found absolutely no clues.”

Akechi lapsed into deep thought here for a while. He appeared to be struggling, trying to extract something from this seemingly meaningless exchange.

“And then what happened?” Eventually, Akechi raised his face and urged the continuation of the story. “I seriously considered involving the police, but when they said they’d take my daughter’s life—even if it was just a single threatening phrase—I couldn’t very well do that. “At that point, since my wife also vehemently tried to stop me, I resigned myself to the fact that my beloved daughter couldn’t be replaced and reluctantly decided to pay the ¥10,000.” “The ransom note’s instructions were exactly as I said earlier—11 PM on the 15th at T Field’s lone pine tree. I prepared slightly ahead of time, wrapping ¥10,000 in hundred-yen notes with plain paper and pocketing it. Though the note strictly demanded coming alone, my wife was foolishly worried and urged me otherwise. Besides, I thought bringing one of the students along wouldn’t hinder the criminals anyway, so I took this Makita here as a guard for emergencies and headed out to that desolate spot. “You must be laughing.” “At my age, I bought a pistol for the first time.” “And I had Makita carry it.”

Uncle gave a wry smile after saying that. I could barely restrain myself from bursting out laughing as I imagined the exaggerated spectacle of that night. I could almost see the comically absurd sight of my hulking uncle timidly advancing through the pitch-black night toward the scene, trailed by that utterly shabby little man—the somewhat dull-witted Makita.

“When I got out of the car about four or five *chō* before T Field, I finally managed to reach the base of the lone pine tree while lighting the way with my flashlight.” “Makita didn’t need to worry about being spotted in the dark, but he still crept along the tree shadows as much as he could, following me at an interval of five or six *ken*.” “As you know, the area around the lone pine tree was all thickets—I couldn’t tell where the culprit might be hiding, so it felt quite eerie.” “But I endured it patiently and stood there.” “Well, I must have waited there for a good thirty minutes, I suppose.” “Makita, what were you doing during all that time, I wonder?”

“Ah, I believe I was about ten *ken* away from you, Master. I lay prone in the thicket with my finger on the pistol’s trigger, staring fixedly at the beam of your flashlight.” “It was quite long, sir.” “I felt as though I waited two or three hours.” “And from which direction did the culprit come?” Akechi asked eagerly. He appeared considerably excited. The reason I say this is because, you see, he had started that habit of his—tousling his hair wildly with his fingers—which made it clear.

“The culprit seemed to come from the direction of the 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 it out clearly, but it seemed he was wearing a jet-black garment.” “From head to toe, he was jet-black, with only a part of his face faintly visible as a pale smudge in the darkness.” “You see, I’d turned off my flashlight out of consideration for the culprit at that point.” “But there’s no doubt he was an extremely tall man.” “I’m five foot six myself, but that man seemed a good two or three inches taller than me.”

“Did he say anything?” “He didn’t say a word at all. When he came right up to me, he thrust out one hand forcefully while pointing a pistol with the other. And I silently handed over the bundle of money. When I tried to speak about my daughter and started to open my mouth, the culprit suddenly thrust his index finger in front of his lips and hissed in a low, forceful voice. I thought it was a signal to keep quiet and didn’t say anything.”

“And then what did you do?” “That was all! The culprit kept his pistol trained on me while backing away step by step until he vanished into the woods. I stood frozen, unable to move for a while, but since there was no point in remaining that way, 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 gone?’”

“From where you were hiding, Makita-san, could you see the culprit’s figure?” “Ah… Since it was dark and the trees were thick… I couldn’t see his figure… but I believe I heard something like footsteps.”

“And then what did you do?”

“When I said we should head back already, Makita suggested checking for any footprints left by the culprit.” “In other words, it was his opinion that informing the police afterward would provide an extremely valuable lead.” “That was your idea, wasn’t it, Makita?”

“Yes, sir.” “Did you find any footprints?” “Well, you see…”

Uncle said with a strange expression. “I can’t make heads or tails of it, I tell you. “There are no footprints left by the culprit whatsoever. “This isn’t a case of us misjudging things—I heard detectives went to check again yesterday. Since it’s a desolate spot where no one’s passed through since, Makita’s and my footprints are still clearly there—but not a single other footprint to be found.” “Hmm—that’s quite intriguing.” “Could you elaborate further?”

“The only exposed ground was directly beneath that lone pine tree. Around it were piled fallen leaves and patches of grass where footprints wouldn’t leave marks, but on the bare earth itself, only the prints from my clogs and Makita’s shoes remained.” “Yet for the culprit to have come where I stood and taken the money bundle, he absolutely must have stepped onto that footprint-leaving area—but there’s nothing there.” “From where I was standing to the grassy part, even at the closest point, it measured a full two *ken*—twelve solid feet.”

“Was there anything like animal footprints there?” Akechi asked pointedly. Uncle wore a perplexed expression.

“You mean animals?” he retorted.

“For example, things like horse tracks or dog tracks.” 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 had cleverly evaded suspicion by fastening horseshoes to his feet when traveling to and from the crime scene. Akechi must have been thinking along those same lines. “Well, I hadn’t noticed that detail myself—Makita, you don’t recall anything like that, do you?”

“Ah… I’m afraid I don’t recall clearly, but there likely weren’t any such things.”

Akechi once again fell into silent contemplation here.

I had thought this when I first heard Uncle’s account, but the core of this incident lay precisely in this absence of the culprit’s footprints. That was truly an eerie kind of fact.

A long silence continued.

“But putting all that aside,”

Before long, Uncle began to speak again. “With this, I returned home greatly relieved, believing the incident had been resolved.” “And I believed my daughter would return the next day.” “The greater a thief becomes, the more they keep their promises—I had heard there was a sort of bandit’s code of honor, so I felt certain they wouldn’t dare lie.” “But what do you know? Today marks the fourth day, and still my daughter hasn’t returned.” “It’s utterly outrageous.” “I could no longer bear it and reported all the details to the police yesterday.” “However, with so many cases on their hands, the police haven’t been much help.” “Fortunately, since my nephew happens to be acquainted with you, I’ve actually placed great reliance on you and requested your assistance in this manner…”

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

Akechi proceeded to skillfully pose various detailed questions, verifying each fact one by one. However, there was nothing particularly worth recounting about those details.

“By the way,” Akechi finally inquired. “Have there been any suspicious letters or similar items arriving for your daughter recently?”

To this, the aunt replied.

“In our household, we have made it a rule that I always look through any letters arriving for my daughter first, so if there had been anything suspicious, I should have noticed immediately. That’s correct… Lately, there hasn’t been anything particularly…” “No, even something that seems utterly trivial would be helpful.” “Please do not hesitate to share any details you may have noticed.”

Akechi must have sensed something in the aunt's tone, for he pressed insistently with his questioning.

“But I believe this is likely unrelated to the incident—” “Nevertheless, please do tell me what you have in mind. Such places often yield unexpected clues. Please.”

“Well then, I will explain. For about a month now, postcards have been arriving frequently for my daughter from someone with a name we don’t recognize at all.” “Once, I asked my daughter, ‘Is this a friend from your school days?’ and though she answered ‘Yes,’ she seemed to be hiding something.” “I also found it strange and was thinking of questioning her properly—when this incident occurred.” “I had completely forgotten such trivial matters, but your words suddenly brought something to mind.” “The reason I mention this is that exactly the day before my daughter was kidnapped, that strange postcard arrived, you see.”

“In that case, may I ask to see it once?”

“Certainly. It should likely be in my daughter’s stationery box.”

And then, the aunt retrieved the postcard in question. When I looked, the date was indeed the 12th as the aunt had said, and the sender was likely anonymous—it simply read "Yayoi." And it bore the cancellation mark of a certain post office in the city. The text was the one beginning with "I would like to visit you once..." that I had presented at the opening of this story.

I also took that postcard in hand and examined it thoroughly, but it was merely a collection of phrases with nothing out of the ordinary—not particularly girlish in nature. However, Akechi—for reasons unknown—spoke as if it were a matter of grave importance and politely requested to borrow the postcard for a while. Of course, there was no reason to refuse, and Uncle promptly agreed—but I couldn’t comprehend Akechi’s reasoning at all.

Thus, Akechi’s questioning finally came to an end, but the uncle, as if unable to wait any longer, proceeded to ask for his opinion. Then, after careful consideration, Akechi answered as follows.

“Well, based solely on what I’ve heard from you, I cannot yet formulate any definitive conclusions… Nevertheless, let us proceed.” “There is a possibility—though I make no guarantees—that I may be able to retrieve your daughter within two or three days.”

Now, having left my uncle’s residence, we set out on our return journey walking shoulder to shoulder. On that occasion, though I framed my words in various ways in an attempt to draw out Akechi’s thoughts, he merely replied that he had grasped but a fragment of his investigative approach and did not say a single word about this so-called approach. The next day, after finishing breakfast, I immediately went to Akechi’s lodging. I couldn’t bear not knowing the path he would take to solve this case.

Imagining him buried in his usual mountain of books, absorbed in his favorite meditations, and given our comfortable relationship, I called out a brief 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. “He’s left unusually early this morning for somewhere.” With these words, I was called to a halt. When I asked in surprise where he had gone, she said he hadn’t left any message. So he’s already begun his investigation, I thought—but even so, it was quite unusual for him, a notorious late riser, to go out this early in the morning. I returned to my lodgings for the time being, but unable to shake my concern, I visited Akechi’s place two or three more times after waiting a while. However, no matter how many times I went to check, he still hadn’t returned. And so, I waited until around noon the following day, but he still hadn’t shown up. I had grown a little worried. The mistress of the lodging house also grew extremely worried and even checked Akechi’s room to see if he had left any notes behind, but there was nothing of the sort.

I thought it best to inform my uncle first, so I promptly visited his residence. The uncle and aunt were still chanting sutras and invoking the sect founder, but when I explained the situation, pandemonium ensued. Could it be that even Akechi had been taken captive by the bandits? Since we were the ones who had hired the detective, we bore full responsibility. If such a thing had occurred, they would have no excuse to offer even to Akechi’s parents—and so Uncle began raising an uproar. I had believed Akechi of all people would never commit such a blunder, but surrounded by this commotion, I couldn’t help worrying. What to do—what to do—all while time kept slipping away.

However, that afternoon, as we were gathered in my uncle’s tea room engaged in an endless debate, a telegram was delivered.

フミコサンドウコウイマタツ To our surprise, it was Akechi who had sent it from Chiba in Sōshū. We couldn’t help but let out a cheer. Akechi was also safe. The daughter would return as well. The family, which had been tense, suddenly became cheerfully boisterous, creating a commotion as if they were welcoming a bride. And then, when dusk had already fallen, Akechi’s smiling face appeared before us, who had been waiting impatiently. When we looked, Fumiko—looking somewhat haggard—was following behind him. Due to my aunt’s consideration—thinking she must be exhausted after all—Fumiko alone had retired to the parlor and appeared to have gone to bed, but before us, in celebration, the prepared food and drink were brought out. The uncle and aunt, nearly grabbing Akechi’s hands, seated him in the place of honor and piled on endless words of gratitude. It was tremendous. No wonder. This was the "Black Hand Group," which even the full force of the national police had been unable to do anything about for a long time. Even though Akechi was a master detective, no one could have ever imagined that the daughter would be retrieved so easily. And yet, Didn’t Akechi accomplish this entirely by his own power? It was truly only natural that the uncle and aunt showed utmost hospitality as if welcoming a triumphant general. Well, what an astonishing man he was. Even someone like me was completely overwhelmed this time. So it was that everyone crowded around, eager to hear the great detective’s tale of adventure.

Who, then, was the Black Hand Group?

“I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t tell you anything.” Akechi said with a slightly troubled look.

“Even if I were reckless enough, I couldn’t possibly arrest those villains single-handedly. After considering various approaches, I adopted an extremely restrained method to retrieve the young lady. In other words, it’s a method where I had the thieves formally return her along with the ransom through ceremonial means. And so, this agreement was made between me and the Black Hand Group: They would return both Miss Fumiko and the ¥10,000 ransom while absolutely refraining from any future interference with your household. In exchange, I would disclose nothing about the Black Hand Group and never assist in their arrest. For my part, since restoring your household’s losses fulfilled my duty, I concluded it was better to accept the thieves’ proposal than risk bungling things and ending up empty-handed. Therefore, I must ask that you refrain from questioning Miss Fumiko about the Black Hand Group... And here—this is the ¥10,000 in question. I will certainly hand it over.”

With those words, he handed Uncle something wrapped in white paper. After all that anticipation, I couldn’t hear the detective’s tale. However, I was not disappointed. He might not be able to tell Uncle and Aunt about it, but no matter how binding the promise was, he would surely confide in me alone—his close friend. When I thought this way, I could hardly wait for the banquet to end. For Uncle and Aunt—as long as their own family was safe—whether the culprit got arrested or not didn’t matter at all; thus began a lively exchange of toasts out of gratitude toward Akechi. Akechi—who couldn’t hold his liquor well—quickly turned crimson red, his usual grin breaking into an even broader smile. Harmless small talk blossomed as cheerful laughter filled every corner of the parlor. What exactly was discussed there need not be recorded here—but I believe just this following exchange might pique your interest, dear readers.

“Oh, you’re truly my daughter’s savior.” “I swear this here and now.” “From this day forward, no matter how unreasonable your request may be, I’ll agree to it without fail.” “Well?” “Might there be something you’d ask of me at present?” Uncle said with a face like Ebisu-sama—the beaming god of prosperity—as he offered Akechi a sake cup.

“That’s most generous of you.”

Akechi answered.

“For example, how about this? A certain friend of mine is utterly smitten with your daughter. Would a request to have her marry that man be acceptable?” “Haha… You’re not one to be underestimated. Well, if you’d vouch for this ‘friend’ of yours, I might not refuse to hand my daughter over.”

Uncle said, not seeming to take it entirely as idle talk.

“This friend happens to be a Christian—how would that sit with you?”

Akechi’s words seemed a bit too serious for a jest. My uncle, rigidly devoted to Nichiren Buddhism, made a slightly displeased face, but

“Very well. I absolutely detest Christianity, but since it’s your request, I suppose I’ll consider it.” “Oh, there’s no need for thanks. I will surely come to make a request someday. I earnestly ask that you do not forget what you’ve just said.”

This snippet of conversation had a somewhat strange feel to it. If viewed as a jest, one could certainly see it that way, but if taken as a serious matter, it also appears quite plausible. Suddenly, I recalled that in Barrymore’s play, the plot has Sherlock Holmes fall in love with a girl he met during a case and ultimately marry her, and I secretly smiled.

Uncle tried to detain us indefinitely, but as it was getting too late, we eventually decided to take our leave. Uncle saw Akechi out to the entrance and, claiming it was a token of gratitude, shoved a cash envelope of ¥2,000 into his pocket without heeding his protests.

(Part 2) The Hidden Truth

“You know, even with your promise to the Black Hand Group, you could at least tell me what really happened.”

I couldn’t wait to leave Uncle’s house and asked Akechi this.

“Ah, sure thing.” Surprisingly, he agreed with unexpected ease. “Well then, why don’t we have some coffee and talk it over at our leisure?”

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

“The starting point of this case,” “lies in the fact that there were no footprints.” Akechi ordered coffee and began his detective narrative. “There are at least six possible scenarios.” “First: Uncle and the detectives overlooked the culprit’s footprints—since the culprit could have used animal or bird tracks to deceive our eyes.” “Second—this may seem far-fetched—is that the culprit arrived at the scene by hanging from something or tightrope walking, using some method that left no footprints. Third: Either Uncle or Makita erased the culprit’s footprints. Fourth: The culprit’s footwear coincidentally matched that of Uncle or Makita. These four scenarios could be confirmed through thorough examination of the scene.” “Then fifth: The culprit never came to the scene—meaning Uncle staged a solo performance out of necessity. Sixth: Makita and the culprit were one and the same. Those are the six.”

Feeling it necessary to inspect the scene regardless, I went to T Field first thing the following morning. If I couldn’t find any traces of the first through fourth scenarios there, then only the fifth and sixth possibilities would remain—meaning I could significantly narrow down my investigation’s scope. But you see, I made one discovery at the scene. The police had made a major oversight. What I mean is, there were numerous marks on the ground that looked like they’d been made by poking with some sort of pointed object. However, all of them were concealed beneath the footprints of Uncle and the others (though most were traces of Makita’s geta), making them undetectable at first glance. As I looked at them and let my imagination wander, I suddenly hit upon an idea. It was like hearing celestial music—a truly brilliant notion! That is—Makita, the student servant—despite his small frame—had been wearing an unusually thick merino sash tied in an oversized knot. When viewed from behind, it created a rather comical impression. I happened to recall that detail. “Now I felt as though everything had fallen into place.”

Akechi took a sip of his coffee after saying this. Then he gazed at me with a look that seemed to taunt. But regrettably, I still lacked the ability to trace the path of his reasoning.

“So, what’s the bottom line?” I shouted out of sheer vexation.

“So, you see.” “Of those six interpretations I mentioned earlier—the third and sixth proved accurate.” “To rephrase it—Makita-san here was both our household scholar and our phantom kidnapper.”

“Makita?!” I involuntarily cried out. “That’s unreasonable. Such a foolish man, and yet passing himself off as honest—” “Well then.” Akechi stated calmly. “Please state each point you find illogical one by one.” “I’ll answer them.”

“There are countless!” I thought for a moment before replying. “First, Uncle insisted the culprit stood two or three inches taller than himself.” “That would make him about five shaku seven or eight sun—roughly five foot eight or nine.” “Yet Makita’s practically a dwarf by comparison!” “When opposites grow this stark, suspicion becomes necessary.” “One’s an exceptionally tall Japanese man, the other nearly stunted.” “A striking contrast.” “Too striking, regrettably.” “Had Makita used slightly shorter stilts, even I might’ve been fooled.” “Ha ha ha! You grasp it now?” “He’d hidden makeshift stilts at the scene beforehand—” “—strapping them to his legs rather than holding them.” “Darkness and eighteen meters’ distance kept Uncle none the wiser.” “After playing criminal, he ‘investigated’ footprints to erase stilt marks.”

“How could Uncle not see through such a childish trick? First off, even though the culprit was said to be wearing black clothes, doesn’t Makita always dress in whitish country-striped fabric?” “That’s precisely the merino silk sash we discussed earlier.” “Truly ingenious, don’t you think?” “If you wrap that broad black merino silk around and around from head to toe, even someone as small-framed as Makita could vanish completely.”

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

“So, are you saying Makita was working as an operative for the Black Hand Group?” “There’s something strange about this.” “Black Hand…”

“Oh, still hung up on that? That’s beneath you—your mind’s not working right today.” “Whether it’s Uncle, the police, or even you—everyone’s been completely obsessed with this ‘Black Hand Group’ phobia.” “Well, given the circumstances, that’s understandable enough—but if you’d stayed as level-headed as usual, you could’ve solved this case yourself without waiting for me.” “This has nothing whatsoever to do with the ‘Black Hand Group.’”

Indeed, perhaps my mind wasn't working properly. The more I listened to Akechi’s explanation, the less I grasped the truth. Countless questions jumbled and tangled in my head until I couldn’t even tell where to begin asking.

“Then why on earth did you spout such nonsense earlier about having made a promise with the ‘Black Hand Group’? The first thing I don’t understand is—if this is Makita’s doing, isn’t it strange to leave him unchallenged like this? Moreover, a man like Makita doesn’t seem capable of kidnapping Fumiko and keeping her hidden for several days either. After all, on the very day Fumiko left home, wasn’t he at Uncle’s residence all day without stepping outside even once? Could a man like Makita really pull off such a major task? And then…”

“An endless flood of questions, I see.” “But you see, if you had deciphered the ciphertext on this postcard—or at least realized it was ciphertext—you wouldn’t be so perplexed now.” Akechi said this and took out the postcard signed “Yayoi” that he had borrowed from Uncle’s residence some days prior.

(Dear readers, my apologies for the inconvenience, but kindly reread that opening passage once more.) “Had this ciphertext not existed, I would never have suspected Makita.” “Thus we might say this postcard became the starting point of our discovery.” “Yet I hadn’t clearly recognized it as ciphertext from the outset.” “I merely began suspecting its nature.” “My suspicions arose because—firstly, this postcard had arrived precisely one day before Miss Fumiko’s disappearance; secondly, though the handwriting was skillfully imitated, it bore masculine traits; thirdly, Miss Fumiko displayed peculiar mannerisms when questioned about it. But above all—observe here—it’s written with such neatness, each line containing exactly eighteen characters as though composed on manuscript paper.” “Now try drawing a continuous horizontal line here—”

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

“This way, it becomes clear.” “Please look along this line horizontally—you’ll see every column has about half kana mixed in.” “However, there’s just one exception.” “That would be the first character of each line along this initial row—they’re all kanji, aren’t they?”

一好割此外叮袋自叱歌切 “See? That’s how it is.” He explains while tracing it horizontally with a pencil.

“This seems far too peculiar to be mere coincidence. “If it were a man’s writing, that would be one thing, but in a woman’s text—where kana far outnumber kanji overall—there’s no way a single column could align this perfectly with kanji alone.” “In any case, I thought it was worth investigating.” “That night after returning home, I racked my brains.” “Fortunately, since I’d previously done some research on ciphers, it was relatively easy to solve—though ‘easy’ might be stretching it.” “Shall I demonstrate?” “First, I extract this row of kanji and analyze them.” “However, as it stands, it’s just a jumble of cipher-like phrases with no coherent meaning.” “I thought it might relate to something like Chinese poetry or sutras and checked, but that wasn’t the case.” “As I was working through various approaches, I abruptly noticed two characters that had been erased.” “It’s rather odd to have such messy erasures in an otherwise beautifully written text.” “And what’s more, both of them are in the second character position.” “I know from experience that the most troublesome part when creating ciphertexts in Japanese is handling voiced and semi-voiced consonants.” “So I theorized those erased characters might indicate voiced consonants for the kanji above them.” “If that holds true, then each of these kanji must represent a single kana character.” “Up to that point, it proceeded relatively smoothly.” “The rest was grueling.” “But let’s skip the tedious details and get straight to the conclusion.” “In other words, the key lies in the number of strokes in the kanji characters.” “And you count the left and right components separately.”

"For example, take the character 'kō'—its left radical has three strokes and its right radical three strokes, making a 3-3 combination." "And when you lay this out in a table, it looks like this."

He took out his notebook and wrote something like what’s shown on the left. “When you look at these numbers, the left components go up to eleven, while the right components only reach four.” “Could these correspond to some numbering system?” “For instance, might they indicate positions in an aiueo syllabary arranged in a particular order?” “However, when lined up as A-Ka-Sa-Ta-Na-Ha-Ma-Ya-Ra-Wa-N, their count happens to be exactly eleven.” “This might be coincidental, but let’s test it anyway.” “I assumed the left component’s stroke count indicates consonant order—A-Ka-Sa-Ta-Na—while the right component’s strokes denote vowel order—A-I-U-E-O.” “Thus, the character ‘一’ has one stroke in its left component and no right component, making it the first character in the A-row: ‘ア’. The character ‘好’ has three strokes in its left component placing it in the Sa-row, and three strokes in its right component corresponding to the third character: ‘ス’.” “Applying this pattern throughout,”

“ASUWICHIJISHINBASHIWEKI.” “The ‘ヰ’ and ‘ヱ’ are likely phonetic substitutes.” “Since there’s no left radical with a single stroke in the A-row characters, they used the Wa-row instead.” “It was indeed a cipher.” “You see—‘Tomorrow 1 PM at Shinbashi Station’—this man is quite the cipher expert.” “Now consider—a ciphertext specifying time and place sent to a young woman’s residence.” “And what’s more, it appears to be a man’s handwriting.” “What other interpretation could there be?” “None but arrangements for an elopement.” “If that’s true, doesn’t this incident become distinctly un-Black-Hand-Group-like?” “At minimum, we should investigate this postcard’s sender before pursuing the Black Hand Group.” “Yet no one besides Miss Fumiko knows who sent it.” “A conundrum indeed.” “But connect this with Makita’s actions, and everything becomes clear—if Miss Fumiko had truly run away herself, wouldn’t she have at least sent her parents an apology letter? Or even a farewell note?” “Combine this with Makita’s role handling the mail, and an intriguing plot emerges.” “To put it plainly—” “Suppose Makita had somehow discovered Miss Fumiko’s romance.” “A man of his... physical peculiarities likely nurses twice the suspicion of ordinary folk.” “And so he intercepted Miss Fumiko’s letters and substituted homemade ‘Black Hand Group’ ransom notes addressed to Uncle—that was his scheme.”

“This also aligns with the fact that the ransom note didn’t arrive by mail.”

Akechi momentarily paused his words here.

“I was startled. But…” As I tried to voice my lingering doubts, “Patience,” he interjected, resuming his account. “After inspecting the scene, I went straight to Uncle’s gate and lay in wait for Makita.” “When he emerged looking like he was off on an errand, I deftly maneuvered him into this café.” “This very table where we’re seated now.” “Like you, I’d always considered him honest—which convinced me deeper motives lurked behind this affair.” “By swearing secrecy and offering counsel if needed, I finally wrung a confession from him.”

“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 barred from visiting Uncle’s household.” “Parents can be such fools—even shrewd Uncle failed to notice Miss Fumiko and Hattori had been lovers all along.” “And Miss Fumiko herself—there was no need for such a lovely girl to resort to running away.” “However strong his religious prejudice might be, Uncle wouldn’t forcibly separate them now that things have come to this—it seems her daughterly resolve proved too shallow.” “Or perhaps they thought threatening him with elopement might break that stubborn will—regardless, they clasped hands and made their stylish escape to a friend’s country home.” “They apparently sent frequent letters from there.” “That wretch Makita intercepted every last one.” “I traveled to Chiba—oblivious to the ‘Black Hand Group’ uproar at home—and spent a whole night coaxing that love-drunk couple.” “Not my proudest endeavor, mind you.” “But with a promise to secure their union, I finally pried them apart and brought her back.” “And it seems I’ll honor that promise after all—” “judging by Uncle’s demeanor today.”

Now, as for Makita’s situation—this too turned out to involve a woman. The poor fellow had been shedding tears in streams, I recall. Even a man like that has love. He didn’t know who she was—probably some merchant or someone who had skillfully persuaded him. In any case, he needed the money he’d gathered to secure that woman. And upon hearing this, it seems he had planned to elope before Miss Fumiko returned. I profoundly felt love’s mighty power. “That foolish man was driven to devise such an ingenious trick—it was all because of love.”

Having finished listening, I let out a sigh of relief. Wasn’t this a rather thought-provoking case? Akechi, perhaps exhausted from talking, slumped listlessly. The two of them remained silent for a long time, exchanging glances.

“The coffee has gone completely cold.” “Well then, shall we head back?”

Before long, Akechi stood up. And so, we set off on our respective ways home, but before parting, Akechi—as if he had just thought of something—handed me the envelope of 2,000 yen he had received from Uncle earlier and said: “Please give this to Makita-kun at an appropriate time.” “Tell him it’s for his marriage funds.” “You know, he’s such a pitiable man.”

I readily agreed. “Life is amusing, isn’t it? After all, today I ended up serving as moonlit matchmaker for two pairs of lovers.”

Akechi said this and laughed heartily.