Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

Assuming an iai stance, he swiftly slid open the shoji screen. After pausing to listen intently to the room for a moment, he quietly slipped out into the hallway.
The moment he did,

♫ Katydid

♫ Sleeves and hems upon the dew-drenched veranda

From the neighboring room came the sound of someone beginning to sing in a rough yet pleasant voice.

“—Again?!”

Nobi no Sanji clicked his tongue and froze in place.

This was Shuzenji in Izu—the second floor of a hot spring inn called Sawaraya.
Nobi no Sanji, a fledgling petty thief still wet behind the ears, had come to this hot spring resort wearing straw sandals with the intent to travel for two or three years and hone his skills—for his past deeds in Edo had caught up with him, and it seemed his very safety was now in jeopardy.
Ten days after arriving at this inn—already two targets in sight.
The first was the hefty purse of a guest who had lodged in a detached room on Sawaraya’s second floor three days prior—for his inaugural job upon embarking on this journey, Sanji had resolved to target this mark.

But here, a strange thing happened.
The reason was this: waiting for the inn to settle into slumber, the moment Sanji slipped out of his own room, someone in the neighboring room would begin humming a folk song—and each time, inexplicably, the melody would strike Sanji’s very core, freezing him in his tracks.
Tonight, this made the second time,

“Damn it!”

Sanji muttered bitterly, “What in blazes is this? Some second-rate folk song shouldn’t be gettin’ under my skin like this… I ain’t got a damn clue why…”

To his cocked ear, the song continued mockingly. Upon closer listening, it was a rare Enbushi melody seldom heard beyond Hakone—an indescribably deep melodic phrasing.

♫ ...My lord awaits—bamboo by the night window

♫ How wretched even the dew appears!

A hemp leaf pattern-dyed short underrobe—

The moment he slipped out of his room, his opponent began singing as if signaling with a code. Realizing *he’s no amateur*, Sanji crossed his arms.

“Wait.”
“Enbushi lyrics always harp on katydids—nothin’ but katydids.”
“Heard this line somewhere before—”

He’d been stewin’ on it a spell when suddenly—

“Ah—it’s Oto Matsu of the Shadows!”

He slapped his knee. “It’s him! Why hadn’t I realized until now? Even after hearing all those rumors in Edo— So that’s it—he’s been holed up in a place like this?”

Speaking of Oto Matsu of the Shadows—he was none other than the great thief said to be the second coming of Nezumi Kozo Jirokichi, who had been executed in August of the third year of Tenpo (1832). After Nezumi Kozo’s execution, he targeted the mansions of daimyo lords and wealthy merchants—those who had sighed in relief—committing blindingly fast robberies that made him infamous. Though pursued by dozens of constables, he always escaped—leaving behind Enbushi melodies about katydids sung in his rich voice—a spectacle wildly cheered by eccentric Edoites who adored such audacity. Just when it was thought he’d vanished without a trace three years prior, here his voice had unexpectedly reached Sanji’s ears in such a place.

“So that’s how it is.”

Sanji nodded. “Oto Matsu’s after the detached room too—that’s why the bastard keeps messing with me every time I try to slip out. This’ll be fun—now that I know, I’ll show some spine! This fledgling Sanji’s gonna outsmart Oto Matsu and prove himself!”

Nobi no Sanji sneered with a mocking grin toward the still-audible song from the neighboring room. Jerking his chin as if issuing a challenge, he slipped toward the detached room with feline stealth.

The singing from the neighboring room abruptly stopped.

“You damn fool!”

A low, muffled voice was heard: “So he finally did it… He seemed so young, though…”

There was a sense of someone rising, and the light of the ariake andon lamp dimly flickered.
And then, a low, pattering sound began… Before long, a sudden tremendous noise erupted from the direction of the detached room—

“Thief—!”

A scream was heard.

“Thief! Thief—!”

Into the deathly quiet inn—snap!
Amid echoing shouts and a corridor now bustling with guests rising here and there, Nobi no Sanji—pale-faced—came fleeing.

Damn it, damn it!

and desperately tried to enter his own room.
The moment he did, the shoji in the adjacent room slid open—a hand darted out and seized Sanji’s arm with practiced speed.

“Youngster—in here.”

As he spoke, he yanked him inside, snapped the shoji shut behind him with a backhanded motion, and jerked his chin.

“Sit there.”

He indicated the zabuton cushion before the ariake andon lamp.

Two

He appeared to be forty-one or forty-two—his sun-darkened face framed by thick eyebrows, eyes that held a certain intensity yet lips pressed together in a refined manner. Layered over the inn’s yukata was a Yūki indigo-checked tanzen robe, and as he sat imposingly atop the bedding with the futon thrown back, he looked every bit the distinguished master of a great house.

At the bedside were preparations for a nightcap, and beyond that lay a shogi board.
Apparently, he had been amusing himself by playing alone until now.

“Well then, have a cup.”

The man calmly poured sake into the cup.

“Oh…”

“You need to calm down—they’ll be comin’ round to inspect soon. Here.”

“I’ll take it.”

Sanji brought the cup to his forehead.
The man poured sake for him while intently watching Sanji’s demeanor, and once he finished drinking and returned the cup to the tray, pulled the shogi board between them.

“Can you play?”

“Oh, it’s just imitation on my part.”

“The inspection’s a distraction—just follow my lead. Right as I’m setting up the checkmate… Here, I’ll cut through this bishop— Oh—they’re here.”

Without even a moment to read the moves, Sanji blocked the bishop’s path.

Voices clamored down the hallway toward them—apparently inspecting each room one by one—as the man poured himself a drink...

"Hmm, you blocked it?"

He crossed his arms thoughtfully.
Then came heavy thudding footsteps approaching.

"Pardon our intrusion."

They slid open the shoji while announcing themselves.
Led by the innkeeper, seven or eight men—headbands tied at the back, kimono hems tucked up, and six-foot staffs in hand—lined up in a formidable row.

"Well now, quite the turnout."

The man turned back and asked, “Did something happen—?”

“We deeply apologize for the disturbance. As a thief has broken into the detached room over there, we are currently inspecting each room in order.”

“That’s quite alarming—was something stolen?”

“No, fortunately, as the guest noticed quickly, no items were stolen. However, since it seems the intruder wasn’t from outside, we’re inspecting as a precaution.”

“I see. Over here, I’ve been so absorbed in shogi since earlier I didn’t notice a thing.”

The man pointed to the room and said, “Don’t mind me—go ahead and inspect this one too.”

“Not at all—there’s no need to inspect Mr. Umeya’s room. We simply wished to inform you… We humbly take our leave.”

“I see. That must’ve been tough work.”

The innkeeper bowed courteously and departed.

Sanji, who had been sweating a cold sweat under his arms wondering what would happen, suddenly slid off the zabuton cushion and pressed both hands to the floor once the voices of the inspection party faded into the distance and eventually disappeared downstairs.

“I’m deeply grateful—thanks to you, I was saved from a tight spot, Boss Oto Matsu of the Shadows—”

“What did you say?”

The man’s eyes glinted sharply.

“If you go gettin’ angry, I’ll be in a real bind.”

Sanji lowered his voice. “Every time I tried t’slip outta the room t’do a job, you’d sing that Enbushi Melody—lyrics ’bout katydids… Boss Oto Matsu of the Shadows, who pulled outta Edo three years back—that’s yer pride-an’-joy song. Even now, ain’t a soul in all eight hundred an’ eight neighborhoods o’ Edo who don’t know it.”

“I see.”
“So the Enbushi’s katydid song was that famous? That’s a riot.”

“I’m still just a novice—a man called Nobi no Sanji—but… I humbly ask you again, Boss.”

“Go on, spit it out.”

“Though I’m just a stingy greenhorn unworthy of your favor, please take me as your disciple—I humbly beg you.”

“Heh heh—you call that skill—?”

“Look, I’ve really screwed up this time—but in exchange, let me show you a flawless job next time. Please take that as my pledge.”

“So that’s this area?”
“Oh, ’tis just ’cross th’ highway.”

The man glared sharply at Sanji, but—
“I ain’t one for bloodshed, y’hear?”
“I’m an Edo native myself—ain’t no way I’d do such sloppy work.”
“Alright then. Anyway, I’ll have you show me your skills—we’ll talk after that. Ah—three strokes. Let me make this clear—here, I go by Umeya, y’hear?”
“Understood, Mr. Umeya.”
“Heh heh heh. Just don’t forget, you hear?”

Umeya—not Oto Matsu of the Shadows—broke into a cheerful laugh, his handsome face crinkling with amusement; Sanji took a hearty gulp of chilled sake.

Three

The deeply darkened sky held the evening moon.

In the windless twilight of early summer, the mountains of Western Izu had deepened into inky darkness, and lights near and far had begun to twinkle.
A little over ten *cho* south of Shuzenji’s hot spring resort, in the embrace of a hill, there was a young man and woman who had been huddled together, quietly engrossed in conversation for some time now.
The girl appeared to be sixteen or seventeen; though clad in tattered work clothes, she had a fair-complexioned, round-cheeked, endearing face, and eyes glistening like stars that were fixed on the man’s profile.

“I didn’t know either until I heard,” murmured the girl. “I’d sensed our family’s hardships for a long time, but I never imagined it’d come to this…”

“You didn’t mishear, did you?” The young man’s voice trembled.

“How could I mishear somethin’, Mokichi? Today Father brought home 200 ryō—they say that’s the money from sellin’ off my sister.”

“Where’d Sister go?”

“I heard some procurer called Fujibei from Numazu took her and sold her to Shin-Yoshiwara in Edo or someplace like that—and ever since I heard that… I’ve been so sorry for her—so sorry I can’t even swallow a bite of food.”

“What a terrible turn of events.”

“Sister sold herself for the family’s sake, yet here I am, her younger sister, living in comfort like this…”

“What’re you sayin’?”

The young man interjected gently, “You’re barely seventeen yourself—if either of us had to sell themselves, harsh as it sounds, it’s only right Sister went. If only I had more backbone in times like these, I’d have found some way to get through this…”

“Mokichi-san, don’t go sayin’ that—I’m the one who’s sorry to you.”

“What’s there to be sorry about?”

“If you take someone like me—with a sister who turned courtesan—as your bride, folks’ll surely talk… When I think ’bout that, I…”

“Oine.”

Mokichi instinctively gripped her hand. “You—worryin’ now won’t change a thing. Even if folks gab, ain’t Sister sellin’ herself for the family somethin’ to boast ’bout? I’ll wed you proud as can be—just watch.”

“So you ain’t against it?”

“Oine-san, you’re the one who ain’t gonna forget me.”

The girl, trembling all over, lunged forward and wrapped her arms around the man’s neck. Choking on the intoxicating scent of her skin, the man’s heart raced as he tightly embraced Oine with his powerful arms. The sweet, enticing fragrance of young grass stretching upward entwined with the aroma of earth warmed by the day’s heat—leaving the young couple behind in a trance.

At the base of this hill’s northern slope, down a gentle incline, stood a large, prosperous farmer’s estate with two storehouses and a separate stable—Nobi no Sanji and Umeya, who had arrived via back roads from Shuzenji.
Sanji came to a halt in the cedar grove at the base of the hill,
“That’s the house.”

He pointed.

“So… this ‘job’ of yours is a farmer’s house?”

“He may be a farmer, but he’s Kahee of Kamihata—a well-known man of means in these parts.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“I marked the target and scouted it thoroughly—plus today’s when a decent sum of cash oughta be sittin’ there. Boss, if you took a look yourself, you’d see it’s barely child’s play—but consider it a little welcome gift for our meetin’. Please take a look at it.”

“Go ahead ’n try.”
“If y’ll ’scuse me for a moment.”

Sanji slipped out of the cedar grove.

From there to the farmer's main house measured a mere twelve or thirteen paces, but within this shadowed thicket of densely grown cedars, they need not fear being spotted.
Sanji slipped past the edge of the lily field, threaded through the side garden, and soundlessly entered the earthen-floored space.

It was a quiet evening; somewhere nearby there seemed to be an irrigation ditch, and the frogs’ croaks rang out clear.
Umeya took out a breath mint called "Night Plum" from his pocket and snapped it open with his front teeth while—

“What a fine evening… isn’t it?”

He muttered to himself.

Before long, Sanji—who had slipped out of the house like a shadow—returned swiftly and silently to the cedar grove. He tapped the old Satsuma belly-wallet pouch with a thud.

“Boss, it went off without a hitch.”

“A burglary, huh—”

“The old man went off to the spa to fetch his wife—I timed it just right for the job. Please take it, sir.”

and handed it to Umeya.

“It’s quite heavy.”

Oto Matsu grinned wryly. “It’s not like it’s a damn rock.”

“There should be four bundles inside.”

“I’ll take it.”

“That was the plan from the start—Oh! They’ve come back, looks like.”

Figures could be seen approaching from beyond the hill.

“Let’s get outta here, Boss.”

“Now hold on.”

Umeya calmly restrained him.

Four

“Wh-what’re you doin’?”

“Ain’t no need to rush—just settle down.”

Umeya stowed the belly-wallet pouch and said, “The pleasure o’ thievin’, Sanji—it’s all in savorin’ the aftertaste o’ a job well done.”

“Somehow, it just ain’t addin’ up for me.”

“Sneakin’ into an empty house and scramblin’ off straightaway—that’s the sorta work even some backwater petty thief’d do.”
“If ya don’t get the feelin’ of calmly watchin’ how the folks in that house scramble around after the theft, then ya can’t call yourself a true pro.”

Sanji was cowed into silence.

“Look—the one who’s come back is the daughter…”

Umeya jerked his chin.

A lone girl hurried down the hillside, seeming concerned about the house, and soon after she entered through the earthen-floored entrance, the soft glow of a lantern cast light upon the room’s shoji screen.

“Have you ever broken into a daimyo’s mansion?” Umeya asked in a low voice.

“No way—I ain’t done nothin’ like that yet…”

“Hmmph.” He snorted. “Listen—nothin’ beats the aftertaste of a daimyo’s mansion. Those samurai who usually strut around all high ’n’ mighty turn pale as storm-tossed sardines, wavin’ their swords ’n’ scramblin’ about—what a damn farce!”

“You must’ve had quite the time with that.”

“Not all that much. If you’re gonna be a thief, go after daimyos or big-shot moneybags. The real pleasure’s in sittin’ there watchin’ those highfalutin types turn white ’n’ start dancin’… Oh.”

Umeya looked into the distance. “Looks like the parents’ve come back, I’d say.”

From the direction of the highway entrance, a farmer couple in their fifties returned.
At that very moment, the daughter was sliding open the shoji screens of the zashiki room where she had brought in a lamp.

“Welcome back, Dad! Mom!” she called out.
“Ah, we’re back now.”
Kahee, the master of the house, went around to the engawa and said, “Your ma hurt her leg on the way—we meant to come back sooner but ended up real late.”
“How’s your ma feeling now?”

“Thank you. It was a bit rough for a while, but now it’s nothing at all. There we go.”

The daughter helped her mother, who had sat down on the engawa, into the zashiki room and also brought out a zabuton cushion for her father.
Kahee plopped down heavily while,

“Did anyone come while we were away?”

“Mokichi-san from Nihonmatsu came by. He heard Ma was comin’ back from the hot springs today and brought some eggs to cheer her up.”

“I see. Well, that was my fault.”

Kahee’s wife Ohide, her face pale, had been searching around the interior of the house, but soon turned her face away from the lamplight and quietly pressed her sleeve to her eyes.

“What’s wrong, Ohide?”

Kahee noticed and said, “You’re cryin’…”
“Dad, I ain’t got no excuse.”

“What are you saying, Ohide?”

“After all our misfortunes and my long illness, we ended up draggin’ Okinu into the muck. When I think on that… I can’t help but hate that my body’s healed.”

“Don’t go sayin’ such foolish things.”

Kahee spoke consolingly, “Okinu didn’t sell herself for your sake—when ya get down to it, it’s all my recklessness comin’ back to haunt us.”

In this area, when one spoke of “Kamihata,” it meant a wealthy farming family holding fifty or sixty chōbu of fields, mountains, and forests.

Until Kahee’s predecessors, the family had served for generations as village heads—a lineage of such standing that they had even participated in the Nirayama magistrate’s tax assessments. But when the current Kahee let himself be swayed by others’ sweet talk and threw himself into grape wine brewing—a novel venture at the time—misfortune first took root. His ambitious grape cultivation led to repeated failures, and over a decade, he lost fields, mountains, and forests until even the estate grounds were sold off. Now, even the house itself had been seized as collateral for taxes and debts. To make matters worse, repayment of a massive debt loomed today, leaving them cornered with no way out.

“Rather than you cryin’ now—when Okinu herself said, ‘Sell me,’ I… felt like my guts were bein’ ripped out.”

Kahee wiped away his tears. “But listen here, Ohide—thanks to Okinu swallowin’ that bitter draught for us, we got our hands on 200 ryō.”
“With this—we’ll pay back Nomuya’s debt comin’ tonight, and with what’s left, we’ll reclaim the fields we’re meant to work. From now on, the three of us—parent and daughters—are gonna sweat our bones dry. We’ll get Okinu outta that muck quick as we can, fix up Oine and Mokichi-san’s weddin’… Everything’s gonna turn right-side up from here. You hear me, Ohide?”

Kahee, even in his sorrow, forced a smile to offer his wife new hope.

Five

In the cedar grove where this wretched scene lay vividly before eyes and the couple’s choked sobs pierced ears with painful clarity—Sanji could bear it no longer,

“Boss, I can’t take it anymore,” he blurted out. “I can’t take it anymore, Boss! Please… just let me get away!”

“Don’t whine.”

Umeya grabbed Sanji’s arm. “The show’s just gettin’ good. Look—distant frog calls under the evening moon, the painted backdrop’s set for the main act. Just settle in and watch it proper.”

“B-but I… I can’t take it anymore…”

“Shut up! What’s a wannabe merchant doin’ gaggin’ at a sob scene like this? You think that kinda grit makes you fit to be Oto Matsu of the Shadows’ lackey?”

“Huh.”

With Umeya’s arm wrenching him forward, Sanji had no choice but to turn his face.

While the two were conversing, a middle-aged man holding a lantern had arrived at the engawa of this house.—This must be Nomuya’s debt collector Kahee had mentioned earlier.

“Good evening. I have come from Nomuya as per our agreement.”

“Ah, thank you for your trouble.”

Kahee hurriedly stood up. “I’ve been waiting for you since earlier. I’ll fetch it now, so please take a seat there.”

“Please have a seat.”

Nomuya’s Agent sat down on the zabuton cushion Kahee’s wife had pushed toward him, bowing politely.—Kahee left with weary steps toward the Buddhist altar—and moments later… a heavy thud resounded,

“D-d-disaster!”

A terrible scream erupted from Kahee: “Oine! Oine! C’mere quick!”

“Huh? What’s goin’ on?”

The daughter came stumbling out of the kitchen.

“You… y-you didn’t lay a finger on this, did ya?”

“Didn’t go near it one bit.”

Ohide, his wife, leaned forward trembling with anxiety.

“What’s wrong, Dad?”

“The money… the money ain’t here! The money I put here… it’s gone! I remember clear as day puttin’ it in the Buddhist altar’s drawer and layin’ the death register on top—Oh! Now that I think on it… the death register’s here on the floor!”

“Gah!”
“Then that means…”

Both the wife and daughter were stunned and gasped.

Kahee ran around the room like a madman. Had he forgotten to put it somewhere else? What about inside the chest of drawers? The hand chest? But the money didn’t turn up anywhere. When he reached the raised threshold, he suddenly noticed distinct straw sandal footprints etched into the wooden floor.

“Thieves! Thieves broke in!”

Kahee whirled toward his daughter with a hoarse voice. “Oine—you left the house open, didn’t ya?”

“But… I only left it open for a little while.”

“Did you open it? Did you leave it open? Did you leave this house wide open, Oine!”

“P-Please forgive me, Dad! I-I only went to see Mokichi-san off just a little ways—just for a moment—”

“What do ya mean ‘a little while,’ Oine? Ya—ya’ve killed your sister, me, an’ your mother!”

“Dad.”

Oine burst into tears and collapsed right there.

Nomuya’s Agent had been watching this scene for some time but eventually relit his once-extinguished lantern and stood up.

“I see you’re occupied, but may I have what was promised returned?”

“Ah, Mr. Nomuya…”

Kahee thudded down onto the floorboards. “As y’heard—the 200 ryō I scraped together sellin’ my daughter’s been stole right under us! Can’t pay you back now—me an’ my girls… we ain’t even got breathin’ rights come mornin’.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Nomuya’s Agent said coldly, “What a terrible misfortune this is. I will relay this to my master upon returning, but—a promise is a promise. If you cannot repay, you must vacate the house by tomorrow. Please prepare your belongings tonight with that in mind.”

“S-so… you’re tellin’ us to vacate this house in the midst of such a disaster?”

“This may not be as ruthless as Akogi’s ways, but we too have a business to run. If we cannot collect the loaned money, there is no alternative but to take the collateral. Kindly prepare yourselves accordingly.”

Having said that dismissively, as if shaking off Kahee’s voice—which still clung in protest—Nomuya’s Agent briskly walked off toward the highway entrance.

Six

Ohide had forgotten even to cry and remained motionless as stone. Kahee stared vacantly into space, his shoulders heaving with labored breaths—only his daughter Oine lay facedown on the tatami mat, sobbing like a discarded wet rag.

“It’s over… This is the end of everything.”

At last, Kahee said in a voice that seemed torn apart, “Hey… Ohide, Oine—both of you come here.”

Ohide turned around as if dazed; the daughter crawled toward her father while crying.

“There’s nothin’ left we can do. Both of you—steel yourselves. Ohide… die.”
“I… I might as well do that too.”

The wife moaned her reply.

“We gotta die, Dad… all three of us gotta die together. This was our fate… But poor Okinu… when she hears we’re dead…”

“Ohide—”

Kahee instinctively pulled his wife’s body close.
Like a broken dam, the couple embraced each other and broke down in tears.

From the cedar grove, Nobi no Sanji had been intently watching the entire scene. Gradually, his complexion turned pale, and before long his entire body began to tremble violently—until finally, as though unable to endure any longer, he whirled around sharply.

“—Boss.”

“What?”

“This is the request of a lifetime—give me back that money right now! Right this instant!”

“What? Return the money?”

Sanji began speaking in a tone of final resolve.

“I’ve just woken from a dream.”
“All this time I’ve been thievin’—half from greed, half from spite. And vanity too… Better to become some legendary bandit like Nezumi Kozo, make such a stir the whole world’d buzz about me when I died… than end up some stingy rice-grubbin’ bug livin’ straight.”
“But tonight—this very night—I finally saw how vile my trade truly is.”
“The coin we pinch just gets pissed away on drink and dice—but over yonder? That’s what decides if a parent and two young’uns live or die.”
“I never knew… never dreamed such wickedness existed.”

Tears streamed from Sanji’s eyes.
However, Umeya Sōbei didn’t even twitch an eyebrow.

“Please give back that money, won’t ya?”

Sanji pressed on, “Boss—they even called ya the second comin’ of Nezumi Kozo in Edo, a righteous thief! Ya wouldn’t take such money—c’mon, give it back!”

“You idiot! Don’t spout such nonsense!”

Umeya sneered, “Me, a righteous thief? Heh heh heh—enough of your nonsense! There’s thieves in this world, sure, but none with ‘righteous’ tacked on their name! Stealin’ from folks and tossin’ ’em a crumb don’t make you no righteous thief! Thieves steal ’cause they wanna—they’re poison bugs, human garbage, scum of the earth! That’s how it’s settled! This Oto Matsu ain’t the same breed as some penny-pinchin’ bastard who tosses out stingy alms to clean up his own mess!”

“So—you ain’t gonna give that money back?”

“Damn straight! Once a thief’s got cash in his pocket, even if you spin yourself dizzy beggin’, he ain’t returnin’ a scrap. Go scrub your face clean and try life again!”

Nobi no Sanji bit down hard on his lip.

“Is there truly… no way?”

“Enough!”

“You bastard!”

No sooner had he shouted than he abruptly shook off the seized arm; caught off guard, Oto Matsu’s body tilted—in that opening, Sanji drew a dagger with his right hand, its blade glinting.

“So you’ve drawn it after all!”

“By force if I have to!”

Slash!
As he lunged forward, the opponent twisted his body in an instant, yanked Sanji’s dominant arm backward, and entangled his leg.

“Damn! Urgh…”

In a reckless, desperate charge, Sanji lowered his stance, used his opponent’s posture, and lunged forward with ferocity.
Umeya’s foot caught on a cedar root; with the slope’s poor footing, down he went—!
—and fell.
The two men lay tangled together—Sanji, using his left hand to choke his opponent’s throat while gripping the dagger in a reverse hold and aiming for the chest—thrust!

“W-wait!”

Umeya, desperately supporting the elbow thrusting downward, cried out, “Wait, Sanji—I’ll return the money!”

“What did you say?”

“I’ll give back the money—there.”

Umeya pulled out the money pouch from his pocket and tossed it over with a plop.
Sanji warily pulled his arm back steadily, but once he confirmed the opponent held no hostility, he nimbly leaped away.

“Right—if you’d just handed it over, we could’ve avoided this whole resistance. Well then, I’ll be taking this.”

Panting as he picked up the money pouch, “This way I dodged a murder charge—no hard feelings.”

With those final words, Sanji dashed out into the cedar grove, raced through the lily field, and abruptly appeared at the veranda of the main house.—He tossed the money pouch with a plop before the couple embracing each other in tears,

“You two,”

he called out.

Seven

Suddenly called out to, he turned around in surprise to find an unfamiliar young man standing there—and then came a money pouch thrown before his eyes.Kahey—

“Ah!”
“Ah!” he gasped in shock.
“Please forgive me.”
Sanji pressed his palms to the veranda floor. “I’m Nobi no Sanji—a thief. I stole your money not knowing your plight, but after hearing everything in that cedar grove, my eyes’ve been opened for the first time in my life. From this moment on, I’m done with wickedness—swear I’ll go straight! So please forgive me! Not a single copper’s missing from that pouch—take it back, I beg you.”

Kahee, his mind too distracted to process what he was hearing, trembled as he untied the money pouch, but the moment he saw the coins spilling out, he leaped up like a madman.

“Oh, it’s back—it’s back—the money!”

He let out a cry of joy: “Two hundred ryō—untouched! Ohide! Oine! It’s back—the money’s back! Now we can…”

Amidst the mother and daughter’s blazing joy, Sanji—watching with eyes brimming with tears—quickly pulled out a purse from his pocket.

“And here’s about thirty ryō—money I won gambling. It won’t cause you any trouble at all, so please… use it however you need.”

“Oh, you… such a thing.”

As Kahee hurriedly came out, Sanji swiftly leaped back two or three ken.

“I’ll pray for your prosperity from the shadows.”

With that, he turned on his heel and fled into the lily field—and as he came rushing in, there stood Umeya’s Oto Matsu at the edge of the cedar grove, arms folded.

“Boss—no, Mr. Umeya.”

Sanji’s eyes gleamed with life. “For the first time ever, I’ve made up my mind—clean from the bottom of my gut. I asked you to take me as your subordinate, but I’m formally retracting that request now.”

“Heh… Is that so?”

“Think of it as a past we’ll never meet again—with this, I bid you farewell.”

“Where are you off to?”

Sanji started walking without answering.

Umeya watched his retreating figure—but upon hearing the joyous voices of Kahee and his daughter, he nodded with a smile, exited the cedar grove, and began briskly pursuing Sanji.
The road atop the hill curved left, continuing onto a back street leading to Shuzenji—the moon, risen to midheaven, shone with piercing clarity, and the rainflower peonies blooming along the roadside appeared white, floating dreamlike.

“Where are you off to, youngster?”

“Where do you think I’m going?”

Sanji stopped in his tracks. “Where do you think I’m going? I’m off to turn myself in at the Mishima Magistrate’s Office.”

“You won’t be coming back in just a year or two.”

“Five years or ten—it don’t matter. I’ll pay my taxes proper and come back with a clean record. I’m startin’ fresh from here on out—see ya.”

“Ain’t got no regrets?”

“Ain’t no joke—I’m so happy my feet ain’t touchin’ ground. I ain’t tellin’ you to come—but take care of yourself.”

Sanji tried to leave as if cutting off their ties, and Umeya was watching that scene—

“Hey—wait! Wait a second!”

he called out to stop him.

“Still got some complaint?”

“I’d nearly forgotten the parting gift.”

Umeya took out a paper pouch and handed it directly to Sanji.

“Youngster—”

With a changed demeanor, he said, “Your reformation’s genuine. Once your resolve’s hardened this much, there’s no need to face punishment now. Take that money—though it’s only a small amount—and go to Kyoto. Below Tako Yakushi there’s a barrel maker’s shop called Musashiya Masakichi. Visit that place and they’ll help you become a proper upstanding man. Work at the barrel trade with the same grit as serving five years in prison—got it?”

Sanji looked back suspiciously at the man, whose demeanor—even his way of speaking—had completely changed.

“What kind of person is this barrel maker, sir?”

“Musashiya Masakichi—if you look into his background, he’s a man called ‘Oto Matsu of the Shadows.’”

“Huh…?”

Sanji retorted, “S-so then… you ain’t Boss Oto Matsu?”

“Didn’t you hear what the innkeeper said last night? I’m Umeya Sōbei—a young retiree from the sake wholesaler in Numazu.”

The man said this and formed a gentle smile on his fearsome face.

“But what about that Enbushi Melody?”

“Ah, that one, you mean?”

Umeya laughed. “That one? Well—three years ago this autumn, I happened to meet Oto Matsu of the Shadows under strange circumstances, and he taught it to me then. It was around that time he went off to Kyoto—nowadays, I hear he’s living quite splendidly, employing five or six craftsmen.”
“When I think my poor sense of humor still managed to make him an honest man, it doesn’t seem like such a bad pastime after all.”

“When you say that…”

“If you take me for a merchant, my pastime is getting close to show the grief that follows a theft. Ha ha ha ha!”

Umeya Sōbei’s words seeped warmly and deeply into Sanji’s heart.

“Let’s go. Once you’ve acquired a trade in Kyoto, send word—I’ll arrange the funds you need to open a shop.”

“…………”

Sanji remained silent, his eyes brimming with a tumult of emotions as he fixed his gaze on Umeya Sōbei’s profile.—The distant calls of frogs.