Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Setsuko and Einosuke Toda exchanged sake cups in a private wedding ceremony on a rainy day in mid-April.

The engagement had been settled in October of the previous year, and they were supposed to marry in March of this year; however, when Setsuko caught a cold at New Year’s—and as it lingered without clear improvement—she began developing symptoms such as a fever that spiked in the afternoon, a light cough, a nagging pain in her chest, severely stiff shoulders, and an exhaustion that left her body feeling hollow. Her condition only worsened with time.

Thereupon, when she had Dr. Wada Genko—the castle physician—examine her, he determined it was undoubtedly consumption. Abruptly, both her medication and treatment were changed, and she was prohibited from even standing at the washstand for about twenty days.

Since marriage seemed impossible for the time being, her family once broached canceling the engagement with Toda; but Einosuke declared he would wait until her recovery and refused to entertain the proposal.
Not long after that, he was appointed supervisor of the Obana Zawa outpost, and with his departure now finalized, he earnestly proposed they at least exchange sake cups in a private wedding ceremony.

Setsuko had recovered enough to sit up for about half a day, and with Toda coming to her home, a small, private ceremony was held that day.

Since he had to depart immediately for his assignment, after the sake cups were exchanged, Einosuke obtained permission and went to Setsuko’s sickroom, where they talked for a while.

“I’ve never seen this room before—so this is where you’ve been sleeping.”

He looked around the room several times with a wistful gaze. It was a space Grandfather Binsai had used in his final years—converted into a sickroom on the doctor’s recommendation for its good airflow and sunlight.

Beyond the shoji lay a rain-dampened veranda, where a deutzia hedge encircled the area, separating it from the broad garden. The hedge’s deutzia flowers were at their peak; their pure white blooms and the still-tender green leaves, rain-soaked, shone with uncommon vividness.

“I heard Sora once proposed to you.”

In the midst of their conversation, he suddenly asked this:

“Your parents were willing to consent—yet *you* refused because *you* disliked it.”
“I’ve heard such things… Is this true?”

“Well, there may have been something of that sort…”

Setsuko lowered her eyes as if flustered.

“I’m afraid I don’t remember clearly anymore.”

The circumstances involving Sora were something he should have known about. In fact, he had once said something to that effect. Why was he bringing this up so suddenly now?—Setsuko nearly retorted with the question herself, but Einosuke simply changed the subject.

"Looking at you like this, your complexion is good—you don't seem sick at all," he said. "However, if you're tired, please lie down."

“No, I’m quite all right.”

“You’ll certainly be fine. This is what they call a nagging ailment—quite common for someone your age. If you don’t rush, keep your mind at ease, and indulge yourself as much as possible, it will heal. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“What do you mean by ‘nagging ailment’?”

“Ah, you’ll understand that in due time.”

He said this and laughed brightly like a boy, his innocent face revealing a double tooth.

II

Einosuke, who had gone to Obana Zawa, sent letters about once every ten days.
The letters—meticulously attentive and overflowing with affection—at first even struck Setsuko as somewhat insincere.
However, as the letters reached three, then five, she found herself drawn in by their skillful prose—exhausting every ounce of thought and feeling—and the single-minded declarations of love, until she now waited impatiently for each new arrival.

It seemed there were regular communications from Obana Zawa to the castle. Einosuke’s letters were delivered by messengers at those times, and he sometimes included rare mountain flowers with them.

“From the start, Toda’s had that quality about him—a bit distasteful, don’t you think?”

Her brother Taiba once saw those flowers and said this.
Mother—who was beside Setsuko—with a doubtful look yet maintaining her usual placid tone,

“There’s nothing distasteful about it—Setsuko is still ill, in and out of bed. It’s only natural for Mr. Toda to send flowers as a get-well gesture.”

“There’s a proper way for such things—but... never mind.”

“What you mean to say, Elder Brother—Setsuko understands quite well.”

Setsuko said while looking to the side,
"Elder Brother simply dislikes the sender of these flowers. If it were anyone other than Mr. Toda, you wouldn't speak so harshly."

Taiba looked this way.
His gaze was strangely piercing, but he stood up as if offended and left.
Mother seemed not to feel anything in particular, but Setsuko’s nerves were frayed, and she realized her own face was stiffening.

Her brother had disliked Einosuke.
Setsuko had not thought so, but after her engagement to Toda was decided, that matter began to become clear.

Her brother had liked Keiichiro Sora.
Setsuko refused Sora’s marriage proposal, and he was dissatisfied with her marrying Toda.
He never voiced it aloud, but his recent behavior often betrayed as much.

“What is happening in Obana Zawa, Mother?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?”

“But until now, there were only about three or five foot soldiers stationed there, weren’t there? Yet they’ve expanded the outpost, and Mr. Toda arrived with an archer unit of twenty men—it’s as if some sort of disturbance occurred, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t heard anything about that, but how do *you* know such things?”

“It was written in the letter. I thought you knew, having heard it from Father—but that was not the case, was it?”

“No, I don’t know a thing about that.”

“Oh dear, what should I do?”

Setsuko shrugged her shoulders in bewilderment.

“The letter said it’s an absolute secret that must never be told to anyone. I wouldn’t have asked if I’d known you weren’t aware of it, Mother. Please keep this confidential.”

“I won’t breathe a word of it. More importantly, what shall we do with these flowers? They still have their roots—shall we plant them in the garden?”

Mother showed no sign of concern and stood there with a serene expression before leaving.

After being left alone, Setsuko took out Einosuke’s letters and reread them. Starting from the fourth of seven letters, details about life in Obana Zawa were gradually written. The writing was highly fragmented and vaguely evasive in style, yet it detailed his command over an archer unit of twenty men; how the expanded outpost was little more than a makeshift hut that would surely grow bitterly cold come winter; and how, though their duties were hardly formal, they had to remain ever vigilant against danger—all these matters accompanied by emphatic warnings never to speak of them to anyone.

Father Saburozaemon was the chief elder, and her elder brother served as an examiner at the magistrates’ council office—they must have been aware of the domain’s important matters.

Even if they knew, they would never discuss such matters at home—but with so many visitors coming and going, catching fragments of conversation and sensing shifts in demeanor, they couldn’t help but know.——

As for Obana Zawa, they had known nothing until Einosuke assumed control, and even now, after he had been stationed there for nearly eighty days, they could learn not a single thing about it.

Obana Zawa lay along the perilous ridges of Daibutsu Mountain, bordering the neighboring domain, and had long hosted an outpost.
According to stories Setsuko had heard as a child, there were unfathomably deep gorges, primeval forests inhabited by wild beasts, and in parts of those gorges lived mysterious indigenous people who had never sworn allegiance to any lord and remained secluded from the world.
It had a strongly mythical aura.

What on earth was happening in such a place? And what did it mean to be constantly bracing for danger?

With the situation utterly unclear, the ominous implications of his letters’ tone left Setsuko with an increasingly restless unease.

III

In late July, though the season had already turned to autumn, on that first truly hot afternoon of the year, Einosuke visited without prior notice.

He was sunburned and had grown quite stout. His cheeks and shoulders had filled out firmly with flesh, and his entire body seemed brimming with vitality. He had apparently been granted three days’ leave; that day he returned immediately, then came again the next day and the day after.

Setsuko wanted to ask about the letters, but he casually sidestepped and spoke only of the mountain scenery and life there.

“The forest—it’s astonishing. Hinoki cypresses and cedars that must have stood for a thousand years crowd together, trunks and branches layered thickly. Among them, trees withered naturally or split by lightning stand bleached white, utterly still—like giant skeletons. It feels like a scene from the Age of the Gods.”

“Those indigenous people—the ones who’ve been here since ancient times—aren’t they living in such places?”

When Setsuko asked this, Einosuke tensed his face warily.
With a look that said he couldn’t afford to speak carelessly, he evaded her question.

“That’s unclear. They’re said to be somewhere from that forest extending into the gorge depths, but we simply can’t locate their settlement. At Obana Zawa’s entrance lies a woodcutters’ village—a small cluster of seven or eight huts. Some families there have dwelled for generations, yet even they say they’ve never seen where those indigenous people live.”

“Do they… do something wrong?”

“Well, if by ‘bad things’ you mean… Hmm—simply residing within the domain’s territory without obeying its laws would still constitute a crime, I suppose.”

Einosuke skillfully diverted the conversation once more.
In the end, no clear understanding was reached, but in any case, it seemed certain that it was related to those indigenous people.
On the evening of the third day, as he prepared to leave, he took out a paper-wrapped bundle of gold from his sleeve and handed it to Setsuko.

“During this assignment, I specifically managed to obtain this much myself. Since we mustn’t let others know, please keep it hidden from everyone.”

“But shouldn’t you truly entrust that to your family?”

“No—I want you to keep it. It seems more will be obtained from time to time going forward. To tell the truth, my mother has a tendency to be wasteful.”

Einosuke gave a coaxing laugh with his eyes.

“I want you to keep it in your hands until the day you come to the Toda household. If I obtain more, I will bring it, but I ask that you don’t tell anyone.”

Setsuko stored the twenty-five ryō bundle of gold in her personal chest of drawers.

After Einosuke departed for Obana Zawa, Setsuko abruptly felt fixated on the gold she had been entrusted with.
He had a mother and a seventeen-year-old younger brother named Shojirou.
Toda held a commander’s rank, and his stipend was not particularly large.
He was deeply concerned about this aspect regarding his marriage to Setsuko.
It was not that Setsuko had been raised luxuriously, but that he did not want to subject her to poverty out of love for her.

His decision to entrust this gold must have stemmed from such feelings; yet through her past experiences, Setsuko had come to clearly understand that it also contained his characteristic insecurity—a desire to demonstrate his sincerity and keep her heart constantly bound to him.

If Mrs. Toda were to find out about this, she would surely be displeased. When he comes next, I’ll discuss it thoroughly and have him let me entrust it to his family.

When they exchanged sake cups at their private wedding ceremony, Setsuko met his mother. She was a small-statured woman with a dusky complexion and eyes that seemed stubbornly defiant, but appearing concerned about the difference in social standing, she adopted an unnecessarily self-deprecating manner and busily mediated the gathering. …At that moment, Setsuko sensed that Einosuke, too, shared this trait, and she felt an oppressive tightness in her chest—

Now, as she thought of him and considered keeping secrets from him, her heart simply would not find peace.

IV

Her illness had been stable since April, but shortly after August began, a slight cold caught during an afternoon nap took its toll: her fever rose again, and the chest pain, loss of appetite, and a leaden lethargy that seemed to drain from her entire body relapsed.

“It’s true that seasonal changes may contribute, but this stems more from carelessness regarding the illness. With this particular disease, what matters most isn’t doctors or medicine—it’s vigilance from both the patient and those around them.”

Dr. Wada Genko stated this and ordered her to maintain strict bed rest for the foreseeable period.

Her brother Taiba came to her bedside with a frightening face and lectured her at length. When it came to his sister especially, this was true: unable to express affection or care through gentle words, it was his brother’s usual habit to deliberately feign anger or sulk.

“Even if it was just a ceremonial cup exchange, you never should have gone through with that wedding ritual. Didn’t the doctor clearly say two or three years were out of the question?”

“But even *you* didn’t strongly object!”

“Even if I had objected, it would’ve been taken the wrong way.”
“Every time I say anything, both Mother and you immediately drag Sora into it.”
“But that’s truly how it is—even now, Elder Brother wants to send me to Mr. Sora, don’t you?”

“I’m not talking about that—I’m telling you to take your illness more seriously! This isn’t some trifling matter like a stomachache or headache!”

“You’re exaggerating.”

Setsuko reached out to pluck a loose thread from her brother’s hakama, as if soothing his stubbornness, and said:

“There’s no need to worry so much—they say it’s what people call a ‘hastened illness,’ and if one stays still willfully, it’ll heal right away.”

“Who said such a vulgar thing?”

Taiba narrowed his eyes.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘vulgar’?”

“That ‘so-called illness’ you just mentioned—if you go around saying such low-class things, you’ll get laughed at, you know. You’re more of a fool than I thought.”

Setsuko bristled.
To her—who didn’t understand why it was considered low-class and vulgar—her brother’s manner of speaking was more unpleasant,

“Enough, Elder Brother—I understand your feelings perfectly. Ever since I was set to marry into the Toda household, I’ve been nothing but a fool.”

“Absolutely—you’re completely hollow through and through.”

Taiba said resentfully and stood to leave.

Why does he despise Toda so intensely? Could it be that he favors Mr. Sora to such a degree? Even though it isn’t *he* who is to be married—surely it’s time he let this go.

Setsuko also became agitated and found her heart unable to settle for some time.

Taiba had come to dislike Einosuke around the time Setsuko’s marriage proposal was finalized; there had been nothing of the sort before.
Her elder brother along with Toda and Sora had been friends since their days at the domain’s academy—from their boyhood they associated so closely that there was scarcely a day when those two did not come visiting.
Setsuko had also joined their group—playing at home and being taken to fields and rivers—but even back then she preferred Toda over Sora.

The Sora family had been a prominent councilor household for generations, and Keiichiro had possessed a long, angular face since boyhood—one that earned him the nickname “The Rectangle.”

—Mr. Sora is always half-angry.

In her childhood, Setsuko had said this and been laughed at by her parents and brother as an apt remark. Yet even when something amusing occurred, Keiichiro had never been seen laughing with his teeth showing—instead maintaining lips pressed into a line as though enduring displeasure, his face bearing a certain resolute quality.

Two years ago, on the fifteenth night of September, Taiba held a moon-viewing banquet at home. Colleagues from his office and friends gathered, and it turned into quite a boisterous banquet.

Setsuko, gauging the mood, retreated to her room at an opportune moment—but as if pursuing her, the heavily intoxicated Einosuke staggered in.

“Please help me—I’m going to die.”

He said this and collapsed there, gasping painfully as he swayed his head unsteadily.
Setsuko poured water to make him drink and started to get up to fetch medicine.
Then he looked toward her imploringly, stretching out one hand.

“No—stay here.
I don’t need any medicine—if I just stay like this for a while, I’ll be fine.
I feel so unbearably anxious—I’m sorry, but please stay by my side a little longer.”

Setsuko held his hand.
His eyes grew moist, and as though profoundly relieved, he let out a long, deep sigh.

“You needn’t have drunk yourself into such misery. If only you’d shown a little restraint.”

“That’s how it is.”
“I’m well aware of that, but I end up overdoing it and regretting it—why am I so undisciplined? Always making mistakes, always feeling ashamed… Even I’m fed up with myself.”

Setsuko gently caressed the hand she held.
A child made to cry and sent home now nestled safely in its mother’s lap, seeking comfort.
That sensation gripped Setsuko, filling her with heartrending sorrow.
He remained like that for half an hour, continuing to speak of his lonely disposition, the solitude of failing to get along with his mother, and how excruciatingly dull life felt.

“Sometimes I’m seized by the urge to die—I get up in the dead of night and draw my sword, staring at it alone. Then the gleaming blade grows transparent, and within it I see a space infinitely deep… Ah, do you understand? Just as human life holds no meaning, even death means nothing. So what should I do? Tell me—what should I do at times like this?”

The only thing that could save me was love—a love where our souls fit together perfectly, untainted and pure. That alone could not be destroyed by anything—not even death could annihilate it—and it was only such love that supported me and gave me life.

He had said such things—clinging with his entire body, pressing close as if to merge with her—in a tone that seemed both pitiable and endearing.

The marriage proposal from Sora had come last spring, and both her parents and brother had been exceedingly enthusiastic.
Setsuko refused.
And then, when Toda approached her at summer’s end, she formally requested four or five days’ grace—though in truth, her mind was already made up to go.

Toda’s lonely and clingy disposition—no one but myself could possibly understand it.

Setsuko had been thinking this way since the moon-viewing banquet.
To support him, to encourage him, to envelop him in love, and to give him the strength to live—there was no one but myself to do these things.
That was what she had believed.
Her elder brother Taiba was opposed from the start, even going so far as to say something as rude as, "You’re a blind person who can’t tell black from white."

V

Her elder brother did not state his reasons for why Toda was unsuitable.
He had no basis to state it.
“As a friend, he’s acceptable—but he’s not someone I’d marry my sister off to.”
That was the extent of his thinking.

After that, Einosuke still visited often; he seemed overjoyed at Setsuko’s acceptance—as if it were beyond his hopes—and with a gaze that pleaded that joy, he would always stare intently at her face.

“It’s as if I feel guilty toward Sora…”

Einosuke had sometimes whispered in such a way.

Her brother did not treat him with particular neglect when he came; he often conversed with him and offered meals and sake, which was not uncommon.
Yet when it came to the marriage issue with him, he still seemed displeased.

The morning after arguing with her brother, when Setsuko had finished her breakfast gruel, Einosuke arrived.

“I heard you were still resting, so I had someone substitute for me on my errand to the castle and stopped by just to see your face. I’ll leave right away.”

He laughed brightly, a glimpse of his overlapping canine visible as he showed his white teeth, but he couldn’t conceal the worry and anxiety driving him.

“You must have been neglecting your health. Women may seem meticulous in their sensibilities, but when it comes to their own affairs, they become utterly careless—even when I’m in the mountains, that’s all I ever worry about.”

“You didn’t say that before—”

Setsuko couldn’t help but smile wryly in spite of herself.

“No, that’s a misunderstanding on your part. What I said was that you needn’t torment yourself over it—I never meant you should neglect your health. Please, I beg you—take care. Otherwise, you won’t be able to stay in the mountains.”

He stared at her with feverish eyes, drew closer, and reached out his hand.
Setsuko smiled and gripped that hand.

“Miss Setsuko.”

No sooner had he whispered in a hushed tone than his eyes suddenly glinted sharply, and the fingers of his clutching hand convulsed.
Through an instinctive intuition, Setsuko nearly cried out.
But before she could, Einosuke leaned over her and firmly grasped one shoulder.

“Please forgive me.”

He quickly pulled away, sat back up, and bowed his head.
It felt as though sparks were flying in her eyes.
Setsuko pulled the quilt up to her forehead and quietly wiped her own lips.

“Please forgive me—I lost all sense of time. Day and night, even in sleep, I thought only of you.”
“The thought that your illness might worsen—that something terrible could happen—it torments me. When I think of it, I can’t sit still for a moment. Every day is like this.”

He whispered in a low voice, as though his chest were constricted.

“I’m only growing more anxious by the day, Miss Setsuko—will we truly be able to marry?”

Setsuko said from under the quilt.

“Please don’t worry about such things… I will surely regain my health. But you mustn’t do something like this.”

“It was improper—I’ll never do it again, not until you come to Toda.”

Einosuke said this while making paper rustle, then abruptly shoved something beneath the quilt.

“Please safeguard this for me again.”
“I must take my leave now—the matter is urgent.”

"It's gold again," she thought.
She thought she had to speak and refuse, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to show her face.—Einosuke bowed once more and began to rise, then suddenly seemed to recall something,

“Let me just mention this—Sora oversees all operations in Obana Zawa. I’m his subordinate, you see. When I spoke of him before, that was the reason.”

Setsuko started for no particular reason.

“However, I’ve managed well with Sora so far, and it seems things will continue smoothly. Please take care of yourself—I’ll visit again when I find the time.”

She greeted him while remaining under the quilt and stayed that way until his footsteps could no longer be heard.

That day, she remained conscious of her lips all day long.
No matter how much she wiped them, they still felt damp—not that they felt particularly dirty, just eerily unpleasant beyond bearing.
But what concerned her more was that Sora was chief supervisor of Obana Zawa.
Such a thing might never happen, but in a sense, the two men were rivals in love; emotional entanglements and estrangement would be unavoidable—especially given the nature of that place—and who knew what misunderstandings might arise.

Sora was not that kind of person—he would never be someone so spineless as to hold a grudge and scheme to bring others down.

While Setsuko comforted herself in this way, she was still assailed by anxiety for several days, and her physical condition remained poor.

VI

It was in October that her brother became an inspector, and seizing this opportunity, he married the person he had long been engaged to, suddenly enlivening the household.
She was the second daughter of Chaya Tadaemon, the second senior councilor, named Uchi and two years younger than Setsuko at seventeen.
She had a large, plump build and, if one didn’t know her age, could pass for nineteen or twenty.
Her disposition was cheerful, and her laughter could be heard somewhere throughout the day.

Perhaps affected by all this commotion, Setsuko vomited blood at the end of that month, and her illness worsened to the point where she could not speak for over ten days.

“Please don’t tell anyone, Mother. If he hears of it again, he’ll push himself to come visit. I beg you, Mother.”

Setsuko repeated in her high fever.

“Would I tell anyone? I know better—of course I wouldn’t.”

Mother made this promise.
Of course she had no intention of telling anyone else, but during that time, Einosuke had come to visit twice.
Since her parents had not allowed her to meet him nor had they informed her of it, Setsuko was completely unaware.

In early December, when her fever had completely subsided and she was feeling better, she met with Einosuke, who had come to visit, and through his account, she came to understand the matter.

Due to the doctor’s instructions, the visit was limited to thirty minutes, so the time they spent talking together amounted to no more than a brief moment.

“Is there any trouble between you and Mr. Sora?”

Setsuko asked the foremost thing on her mind.

“Well… I’m managing more or less.”

“Has something unpleasant occurred?”

“Please focus solely on recovering from your illness—I will handle my own problems. Never trouble yourself with such worries.”

He said this with tearful eyes.
Setsuko noticed that he looked different—he seemed somewhat thinner, and his complexion was dull.
Convinced that something must have happened in the mountains, Setsuko asked in a rather harsh tone what exactly was occurring at Obana Zawa and what sort of danger they were facing.

“Please let me hear the truth—it’s easier to bear knowing than to worry in ignorance. Otherwise, I’ll be consumed by this endless anxiety…”

“Very well, I will tell you. This is a strictly confidential matter of the domain—but perhaps it would be better for you to know.”

He said this and began to speak.

Due to the lack of time, it was extremely brief, but it held considerable significance.
It had long been said that placer gold deposits existed somewhere in Daibutsu Mountain.
They seemed to have searched extensively each time the domain changed lords. Even after relocating three generations prior, they had at times summoned specialists all the way from Edo and exhausted every means to investigate—yet found nothing.—
It was during last winter’s onset that a clue to its discovery emerged from a mere coincidence.
In the castle town stood a drapery and general goods store called Marusho.
Though long-established local magnates who handled the domain’s financial affairs, it was discovered they secretly traded gold dust. After investigating the owner, authorities captured a man who came to sell it at the store and thereby learned its source.

The site was located in a completely isolated position: descending from Obana Zawa into a ravine called Darkness Valley, where a three-hundred-foot cliff was spanned by a vine-built ledge barely passable even for monkeys, with a further descent into the valley below. The placer gold veins—what is called an outcrop—were visible along the cliff surfaces; having naturally eroded and been washed away by mountain streams or seemingly mined out, they could no longer be considered abundant. Still, a considerable quantity could be estimated.

The domain secretly made arrangements, expanded the Obana Zawa outpost, and began work with the minimum number of personnel starting from this year’s snowmelt.
The reason messengers came to the castle once every ten days was, in other words, to transport the collected gold dust.

The mining operations were proceeding somewhat smoothly, but an ominous shadow constantly loomed over the site.
That legendary group of indigenous people—the man captured at Marusho was one of them—believed those placer gold deposits were their rightful property.
They had guarded that place since seven hundred years past and sustained their lives with the gold mined from there.
For generations, they had never yielded to any lord; their traces remained undiscovered as they moved deep within primeval forests and desolate gorges untouched by human feet, living out unfettered years bound by nothing.

They were now having their treasure stolen.
For hundreds of years it had belonged to them—protected by them—granting them a life of freedom and liberation; this one thing was now being stolen.

"You must understand how deeply they resent this—it’s their rightful possession. Even if I were in their place, I could never stand idly by."

Einosuke said this, paused, and then continued as follows.

“Thirteen of our men have been killed since we began operations.”
“Six people died.”
“They shoot arrows from the cover of thickets and cliff shadows.”
“They’re extremely agile—nimble as monkeys. No one has ever seen their figures. Last month, around mid-month, twelve bows and about twenty bundles of arrows were stolen from the outpost’s armory. I came to the castle town to resupply them, and that’s how I found out about your illness.”

“Even now—those people are still constantly targeting all of you in that way.”
“Until we stop mining gold, it’s not a trivial matter for them either—because for them as well, it’s a matter of life and death.”

“Enough, Toda. Don’t spout nonsense.”

As he suddenly said this, the sliding door opened, and her brother Taiba glared this way with sharp eyes.

“Granted it’s classified,” he snapped, “but Setsuko’s ill. She’d barely stabilized—what were you thinking burdening her with this? If her condition worsens again—”

“Elder Brother, you misunderstand,” she interjected, voice trembling slightly. “I pressed him to tell me—the uncertainty was unbearable otherwise.”

“Silence!” Taiba barked, cutting her off mid-sentence. “There are protocols! Since when does being pestered justify blabbing state secrets to an invalid?” His glare shifted to the pale-faced man by the door. “Your time expired minutes ago. Out, Toda—now.”

Taiba waited with an unrelenting attitude for Einosuke to stand up.
Then, as if driving him out, he left with him leading the way.

Seven

Einosuke’s story proved too intense for Setsuko.
However, it had no significant impact on her illness; if anything, she even felt her spirits lift.
I must stay strong; he is stationed in such a perilous place—truly, now more than ever, I ought to be by his side.

Will we truly be able to marry?

The meaning of what Einosuke had said finally became clear to Setsuko. When she closed her eyes, she could see them—figures crouching like wild beasts in the shadows of rocks, within thicket undergrowth, atop cliffs. ...they nocked arrows to their bows, held their breath, and took aim at those passing along the ledge path. There in the arrow’s path stood Einosuke—he remained unaware, gaze fixed on his feet, directing his subordinates as he walked slowly into the line of fire.—The bowstring creaked taut, their aim unerring—he stepped into position. And the bowstring twanged.

“Ah—!”

Setsuko let out an involuntary cry and shuddered.
The imaginary arrow she had conjured—she could almost hear the sound of it piercing Toda’s chest.

Those words he spoke that time might have been an omen—perhaps marriage truly would be impossible.
Even now—as I lie here—isn’t he being struck by an indigenous arrow and dying?

Such delusions clung tenaciously to her heart, and she found it unbearable to lie still.
She had to recover quickly and go to Obana Zawa... It was around that time that she began to think this way.

After that, the letters stopped coming altogether.

It was unclear whether he had stopped writing out of anger from being shouted at by her brother, or because the snowy season had begun and communication with the castle had ceased.

Perhaps he had truly met with misfortune from an indigenous arrow, and she alone remained unaware.—Humans in such situations tend to believe the worst possible outcome—Setsuko, unable to find peace in her sickbed, grew irritated whenever she heard her brother’s wife’s carefree laughter.

“Mother, please tell Elder Sister to keep quiet. That voice is so piercing—it’s ringing in my head, and I can’t stand it.”

“How can you say such things? Her voice isn’t nearly that loud—this is exactly why people start calling you a meddlesome sister-in-law or a harsh nag.”

“But they ought to know Setsuko is resting! If they’re part of this household, they should at least consider its members! Ever since Elder Sister arrived here, even *you’ve* changed, Mother—no one cares about Setsuko anymore!”

“Even if you say such things… Miss Setsuko is being oversensitive. How could I not think of you?”

“I’ll go to Obana Zawa—once spring comes and the snow melts—no matter what it takes.”

Setsuko turned away from Mother and said through tears:

“No matter how much Father and Elder Brother oppose me—once the path clears and I can move freely—I will go to Obana Zawa alone.”

When Setsuko said Mother’s disposition had changed, it was of course an impulsive remark made in that moment—her carefree, unbothered mother had never shown particular distress over Setsuko’s illness.
The same applied to her daughter-in-law—it was true she favored her, but she showed no particular partiality.

Even though she understood that, being called a meddlesome sister-in-law or a harsh nag cut deeply into Setsuko’s heart.
A mix of sorrow and frustration—she felt utterly isolated, and she was often driven by an impulse to fly straight to Obana Zawa that very instant.

Eight

To the doctor’s astonishment, the illness continued to improve, and by February she was able to get up, walk around the house, and tidy her surroundings.

In the latter part of that month, Taiba went to Obana Zawa on an inspection.
It was an official trip in his capacity as inspector.
Setsuko begged to be taken along—she pleaded tearfully—but with snow still in the mountains, the roads still treacherous, and the doctor refusing consent, her wish ultimately went unfulfilled.

“From now on, I’ll have to make monthly inspection trips for my duties. Once the roads dry and your health stabilizes, I’ll take you with me anytime. So wait for me this time.”

Taiba said this to placate her and stood up to leave.

It must have been just after her brother left—the very next day, Einosuke unexpectedly arrived.
Completely taken by surprise, Setsuko involuntarily let out a cry.
He said he had to return to the mountains immediately and came around from the garden to the veranda, still covered in mud.
Setsuko felt her chest grow hot and a violent palpitation—as if her blood roared through her veins—the moment she saw him.

“Perhaps it’s my imagination, but you’ve gained a bit of weight—your complexion looks good. I’m relieved.”

As if he couldn’t wait for Mother to leave, he said this and stared fixedly at her.
He seemed to be desperately restraining a sudden urge to embrace her tightly.
His eyes filled with tears, and to hide them, he spoke rapidly.

Setsuko took deep breaths repeatedly.
Inside her body, a sudden burning sensation flared up, only to turn cold as ice in an instant.
His voice seemed to seep into every nerve, immersing Setsuko in a numbing, intoxicating sense of pleasant relief.

“How have things been with Mr. Sora lately?”

She found a pause in his talking and asked this.

Einosuke did not reply immediately—his face distinctively darkened by snow exposure, brows abruptly furrowing—and after a brief interval, he gazed fixedly at her.

“Will you trust me?”

“But why would you—...Setsuko has always believed in you—why would you say such a thing?”

“Please believe me—only you.”

He whispered this in a tone tinged with anguish.

“I am a weak-willed person—neither clever nor courageous. If you were to stop believing in me, I could not go on living. You are my sole pillar now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. No matter what happens, I will believe in you.”

“Some unsavory rumors may reach your ears—disturbing reports that would shock you may spread.”
“That probably won’t happen—I think everything will resolve itself… but if it does—please, only you—keep believing in me. This is what I wanted to ask of you.”

He forced a tight smile. It was a timid, lonely sort of smile. With his once-white teeth now slightly stained, it struck her as pitiful, even tinged with sorrow.

“Again, I’ve received this much in rewards. It may be a bother, but please keep it for me.”

At the moment of parting, he handed her another package of gold.

“I hope you’ll be in better health when I next visit. Though my schedule remains uncertain, I will surely come on that day in April. Please take care of yourself.”

He showed a smile once more, then left with energetic steps.

This time, Setsuko was able to accept the gold unreservedly.
She did not even consider entrusting it to his mother.
Einosuke and I can no longer be parted. I will believe in him and do as he wishes.
Setsuko was thinking this with a calm and steady heart.

He will surely come on that day in April.

His words lingered in her ears endlessly.
Even the lingering resonance of his voice vividly reached her ears, and her blood would suddenly stir—a sensation that occurred frequently.
Setsuko hid from her mother and stitched undergarments for him little by little.
In March, she would go to Obana Zawa with her brother—how overjoyed he would be—if only her illness would remain stable until then. Imagining him in childlike ecstasy, and now more than ever conscious of her condition, Setsuko took up her needle whenever she found a moment.

Her brother had apparently intended to keep it secret, but it slipped out through his wife’s careless remark. When she learned that Taiba would be making his second inspection trip on March 11, Setsuko pretended not to notice and secretly made preparations for the journey.

Setsuko’s method succeeded.
On the evening of the tenth, when she announced in front of her parents and brother that she too would be going with them the next day and that her preparations were fully complete, the three of them wore expressions of utter speechlessness and remained silent for some time.

Then, although there were some objections, seeming to have been caught off guard initially and sensing the firmness of her resolve, they rather smoothly granted her wish.

Even though they were traveling together, her brother was on official business and would have to separate from her along the way.
Setsuko rode in a palanquin, accompanied by a maid and two male servants, departed while it was still faintly dark, went ahead to the outskirts of the castle town, and waited.

Fortunately, it was fine weather—a warm, pleasant day. When they came upon the country path, wheat fields stretched out before them, and wherever they looked, cherry blossoms, plum blossoms, and apricot flowers in full bloom adorned the landscape with vibrant splashes of color.
...They crossed a wide river with a rocky riverbed—said to be upstream from the castle town’s waterway—ate their lunch on a hill blooming with vetch, and lodged that day at an old-fashioned farmhouse in a place called Kashida Village before dusk fell.

“How are you holding up? Tired?”

The moment she alighted from the palanquin, her brother came to check on her—had it been only the men, they could have pressed on that day; staying overnight here was solely for Setsuko’s sake—yet Taiba betrayed no hint of such thoughts.

“Get proper rest tonight. Though tomorrow’s journey is brief, we’ll enter the mountains and switch palanquins. Don’t forget your medicine.”

He scrutinized her face with evident concern.
He returned once more at bedtime, but finding Setsuko feigning sleep, he withdrew soundlessly on tiptoe, apparently satisfied.

The next day, they immediately began their ascent and switched to a mountain palanquin at a place called Saruno Chaya.
From there, to the right, an awe-inspiring forest of valley ravines could be seen spreading deep and far into the distance.

This must be the primeval forest I had heard about.
Veiled in thin morning mist, it grew thick and dark, its distant reaches fading into the depths of the valley gorge.
Amidst them, here and there, the white withered giant trees visible must be those that Einosuke had said resembled the bones of giants.

“My, how beautiful! This truly could be nothing but scenery from the age of the gods, Elder Brother.”

“You have a way with words.”

“Because it seems unearthly—so divine, so solemnly tranquil.”

Struck by a solemn emotion that made her head ring, Setsuko continued gazing around until her brother urged her on.

They embarked on a steep mountain path and passed through what seemed like the edges of cliffs many times. In such places, the castle town could be seen far below, growing smaller and more distant with each passing moment. The slope grew ever steeper, and the path—a treacherous stretch of jagged rocks and boulders—wound its way beneath bare cliffs and dense thickets, with water rushing noisily everywhere.

“Are you all right? Are you in pain?”

Her brother would come back repeatedly to peer at her with concern.

“There’s no need to hold back. If it’s too much, you can rest. Don’t push yourself.”

Setsuko showed an energetic smile.
Riding in a palanquin was not such an easy thing.
She was quite tired, but her heart felt as if it were already soaring, and she begrudged even a moment’s rest.

When they reached the summit of the mountain pass, the road turned right into a withered thicket.
It was said that going straight would lead to the neighboring domain, and a portion of the bright, open plain came faintly into view.
After meandering down a narrow path about thirty ken from the main road, they arrived before a guardhouse building encircled by a wooden fence.

When Setsuko stepped out of the palanquin, she was so agitated that the sandals the maid had laid out for her simply would not go on.
The guardhouse surrounded by cedar groves was old, but a short distance below stood a new structure—likely the hut that had been hastily built this time.

He was living there.

That person was right there.

When she thought this, her heart pounded so fiercely it felt suffocating, and her head began to spin.

Taiba went straight into the guardhouse.
Setsuko looked around for a while, caught her breath, and waited for the palpitations to subside before entering.

There was a dark earthen floor, with rooms partitioned by shoji screens on both sides further back, and cedar doors at the far end.
In that earthen-floored room stood her brother’s retreating figure and Keiichiro Sora facing toward her.

The two men were leaning their faces close together, speaking in low voices about something.
Sora, whom she hadn’t seen in some time, wore disheveled clothing with an unkempt beard and tousled hair—his face looked terribly haggard.
As soon as Setsuko entered, Sora silently bowed toward her and whispered something to Taiba—her brother turned and came over.
And placing his hand on Setsuko’s shoulder,

“Let’s go.”

he said.

“You’ve come at a bad time—you can’t see Toda.”

“Why? Elder Brother.”

“I’ll explain later. For now, let us leave.”

“Something has happened.”

Setsuko looked up intently at her brother’s face.

“He was injured—was he not?”

Setsuko brushed her brother’s hand aside and stepped swiftly before Sora.
Taiba called out sharply,

“Setsuko.”

he shouted, but she fixed Sora with piercing eyes and declared,

“Where is Mr. Toda? Mr. Sora—please let me see him. I am Mr. Toda’s wife.”

Sora furrowed his eyebrows, his lips twisting.
Yet he kept watching Setsuko with calm eyes, then nodded and guided her deeper inside.
He went to the farthest end on the left side of the earthen-floored area, slid open the shoji screen, then spread his arms in a beckoning gesture.

Setsuko removed her footwear and stepped up.
On one side lay a wooden-floored area with a sunken hearth, tatami mats spread across three sides.
On the hearth’s right side lay bedding where a figure rested—but seeing the white cloth draped over their face, Setsuko gasped sharply.—The cloth’s ghastly pallor—the body’s motionless silence frozen in terrifying stillness… Setsuko wheezed, bracing herself with both hands against the floor.
Her blood turned icy cold, her vision whirled, and she nearly collapsed where she stood.

“He was struck by an arrow from the indigenous people. It happened this morning before dawn. A tragic loss.”

Sora circled around the edge of the bedding and quietly sat down at the head of the futon.

"I had always warned him it was dangerous to go out alone," he said. "When he wasn't in his room this morning either, I went looking out of concern and found him collapsed in a place called Nebu Ga Zawa below here."
"The arrow had struck directly through his heart—he must have died instantly. When I found him, he was already cold."

Setsuko bit her lip.

As she listened to Sora’s account, an entirely different fantasy played out in her mind.

A dark slope at dawn appeared.
In the thicket on this side, Sora lay hidden; he nocked an arrow to his bow, held his breath, and stared fixedly down the dark path.
The predawn fog swayed; someone was climbing the slope; the figure gradually drew nearer, until it became unmistakably clear that it was Einosuke.

The person in the thicket’s shadow braced themselves and tautly drew the bowstring.
Einosuke knew nothing; his attention fixed on his footing, climbing slowly upward—the distance between them perfect.
The aim was true; then the bowstring sang.

“—Ahh!”
Setsuko raised her voice.
The vision matched one she had seen before in every detail except for the figure hiding in the shadows—this time, what Setsuko saw wasn’t an indigenous person but Keiichiro Sora.

“When you found Mr. Toda’s body… was anyone else with you at that moment?”

She posed the question with near-accusatory sharpness.

“No—I was alone.”

“You said it was still dark then.”

“That’s correct—it was dimly lit by then.”

“And that arrow—the one that struck Mr. Toda—was it truly from the indigenous people?”

Sora looked this way as if startled.
Setsuko kept her eyes fixed on his, suppressing the surge of emotion as she pressed on.

“I heard that once, a bow and arrows were stolen from the outpost’s armory—could the arrow that struck Mr. Toda perhaps have been from that theft?”

“—It was.”

Sora lowered his eyes and nodded quietly.

“The arrow that struck him was from the outpost.”
“Ah… as I thought.”

Setsuko shouted, clenching her teeth as she glared fiercely at him. Her entire body felt as if being torn apart. There he sat—the one who killed Toda. How had he known Toda wasn’t in his room at such an early hour? Why had he alone grown concerned and gone searching by himself? He had so many subordinates—if he wanted to search, why not order them?

“I know.”

Setsuko said while trembling.

“I know—I know who killed Toda. It wasn’t the indigenous people—no, absolutely not—it was someone closer, someone more despicable, and—”

“—Setsuko, stop it!”

From behind came Taiba’s shouting voice.

“And that person with the honest-looking face—he’s right there.”

“Shut up, shut up, Setsuko!”

Her brother lunged from behind and covered Setsuko’s mouth with one hand.
But it had been unnecessary.
Setsuko had already exhausted all her strength.
Even had her brother not covered her mouth, she could not have uttered another word.
The moment she was caught in Taiba’s arms, her vision darkened and everything became indistinct.

Nine

After lying in bed for about ten days at the mountain outpost, she returned to the house in the castle town, taking breaks along the way over three days.

For a year after that, she could hardly get up.
At the beginning of autumn, around the same time as the previous year, she coughed up blood, and her critical condition lasted all through winter.
Early in spring, it was said that the doctor told her, “This won’t do.”

However, even during that period, her mind alone remained sharp; her consciousness was so frighteningly clear that she could make precise judgments, and her imagination was highly active.

Setsuko was always thinking of Einosuke.
She thought of his pitiable character and unfortunate death, and always cried alone.

The one who killed that person was Keiichiro Sora.

She believed it was now an unshakable fact.

“Toda was killed by an ally’s arrow—the one who shot it was Keiichiro Sora—and there’s no way to prove that fact.”

The illness passed through its crisis in the autumn of the following year.
Because she had coughed up blood at the same time of year for two consecutive years, she took rigorous precautions around those periods.
However, her condition actually began to improve around that time, and when winter arrived, she started to gain noticeable weight.

“It may have actually been a good thing that you coughed up blood. However, gaining weight alone is not a reliable sign of recovery, so you must remain vigilant going forward.”

Dr. Wada Genko had said this, but he couldn’t conceal the look of relief that things had finally turned in their favor.

Snow fell in early November.
While gazing at the snow from the sickbed, her mother came and
“Mr. Sora has come to visit, but...”

the mother said.

Setsuko nearly let out a scream and turned pale as she looked toward the wall.

“He’s been relieved of his duties in Obana Zawa and returned here yesterday, they say. He wishes to pay his respects, but...”

“I do not wish to see him. Please decline.”

“We’ve received his get-well gifts, so it would be enough to just meet him briefly—if you simply exchange greetings.”

“Please don’t say anymore, Mother.”

Setsuko rudely interrupted her mother’s words.

“I absolutely refuse to meet Mr. Sora. Please return his get-well gifts and tell him never to come here again.”

“You—how could you say such things, Miss Setsuko?”

“No! I can’t bear it—don’t say another word—I’ll die if you do!”

To hear another word about Sora would have made her feel truly close to death.
Mother must have been bewildered, but Setsuko buried her face in the bedding and wept bitterly for half an hour, torn between humiliation and hatred.

As dusk fell and she thought it was time to light the lamps, her brother entered in his attire, having just returned from the castle.

“I hear you refused Sora’s visit.”

He sat down and said this at once. Perhaps from having returned through the snow, his face bore a terrifying, goosebump-inducing expression, eyes burning with anger.

"Haven't you shaken off that ridiculous misunderstanding yet? Can't you see those insolent fantasies you spewed in the mountains were wrong?"

“It is neither a mistake nor a misunderstanding.”

Setsuko looked at her brother with eyes as sharp as blades.

“It was he who killed Toda. You may deceive others, but you cannot deceive me.”

“Go ahead and say it. You must have reasons for believing that so strongly.”

“There are reasons—they are clear—though I hate to say it myself: Setsuko rejected Mr. Sora and consented to marry Toda.”

“Are you saying Sora acted out of that resentment?”

“Toda always said—in Obana Zawa, he was subordinate to that man—he always said he wanted to find a way to make it work, but in the end nothing went right.”
“I have heard everything from Toda.”

“That’s just Toda’s twisted words. That alone isn’t enough reason to claim Sora killed him.”

“Then... then what about you, Elder Brother?”

Setsuko’s voice choked, and her body trembled.

“Is there any proof… that Mr. Sora did not do it?”

“First I’ll ask about the gold in your drawer—three paper-wrapped bundles totaling seventy coins. When you were critically ill, Mother found them hidden there. What is that money?”

Setsuko swallowed her saliva.
A hard lump rose in her throat, and she couldn’t speak right away.
That was money entrusted in secret.
It had been a promise not to tell anyone.

But now she had to speak—Setsuko thought this and clearly recounted the circumstances entrusted to her by Einosuke.

“That’s a lie—none of that ever happened—you know nothing!”

Taiba softened his angry demeanor and, this time, spoke in a much calmer tone.

“What puzzles you most must be why Toda went out alone at such an hour and why Sora noticed and went searching for him.”

“The fact that going out alone was dangerous—I believe Toda knew that better than anyone.”

“Knowing that, he had to go out.”
“In the dead of night or the predawn darkness, Toda had no choice but to go out alone.”

Taiba lowered his voice and spoke as if whispering.

“Toda secretly stole gold dust and exchanged it for money in the castle town. Sora discovered this and admonished him to stop, but he would seize every opportunity to resume. ‘Your life is in danger—it’s not worth the money!’ Sora warned, yet he never ceased. ‘The gold dust is trivial—it doesn’t matter!’ Sora worried for his sake—for Toda himself, and even more so because he was to become your husband.”

“———”

“That morning finally came—Toda slipped out again. Sora noticed and went to check, discovered his corpse, hid the bundle of gold dust that had been in his sleeve, and reported the emergency to the outpost.”

“———”

“Ask anyone you like—those who went to Obana Zawa—there’s not a single case of someone receiving special rewards from their lord’s coffers. The money you were entrusted with came from him selling gold dust.”
“That’s precisely why he stressed that it must be kept secret from others.”

Setsuko closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, and remained silent, trembling violently.

Sora had remained silent.
"He didn’t say a word even to me at first.
After pressing him relentlessly, he finally confessed—but no one else knows about this. Sora has kept it strictly secret; he will never speak of it again… out of old friendship… and to spare you—who trusts him so deeply—from sorrow."

It was after her brother had left that Setsuko began to cry. She even had her mother, who had come worriedly to check on her, leave. Covering herself with bedding, she trembled and wept in stifled silence.

“Poor Mr. Toda…”

She whispered this while crying.

"You didn't want to let Setsuko live in poverty—to make Setsuko happy and keep her heart constantly tethered—or you couldn't find peace. It was I who made you that way—please forgive me."

10

There was no room to doubt Taiba’s account.
Everything was all too clear, yet Setsuko’s mind grew calm—as if she had set down a heavy burden—and a resigned ease came over her.
Not only did her expression brighten, but it was no longer unusual for her to laugh aloud together with her brother’s wife, with whom she had become fully comfortable.

“We never did get married, did we?”

When alone, she would often whisper those words with a smile, her gaze as though seeing someone there.

“They say Setsuko’s body can no longer marry… I will have them build a private Buddhist altar instead. Will the dowry funds not suffice? …But it’s fine—I intend to beg for the rest of my life to settle the balance.”

The phantom nodded and smiled with a calm, guileless face—white, beautiful double teeth visible. Setsuko flushed crimson and gazed tenderly at the spectral figure.

"Having done such a thing that time—you naughty one—I couldn't face Mother all day."

With one hand gently stroking her lips and eyes closed, Setsuko whispered rapturously.

"Just once...the only time in my life...I'll never forget until I die, you. When the private altar is built, I'll spend my whole life there guarding your mortuary tablet...A marriage between nun and Buddha—wouldn't that be delightful too?"

It seemed no one pitied Setsuko’s body unfit for marriage more than her father, Saburozaemon.
Her request was accepted as it stood, and construction began immediately after the snow melted.
They summoned a carpenter named Iyoshiro from Kaga—an exceedingly meticulous craftsman—but with the required days nearly doubling, it was completed in mid-October.

Though merely a formality, they decided to invite a monk from the family temple for the dedication ceremony, and Setsuko invited Keiichiro Sora.

The private Buddhist altar room was built close to the southern corner of the spacious garden. The spot resembled a small, grassy hillock, its rear encircled by a forest of pine and oak trees. Standing at the front, one could see beyond the dense pine grove a section of the broad garden with its spring-fed pond and the roof of the main house.—Early that day, Setsuko went to the private Buddhist altar room. Attached to it was a small residence consisting of two six-tatami rooms and a four-and-a-half-tatami room. She stepped out onto its engawa, rosary in hand, and gazed at the garden.

Having been informed of the time via letter, half an hour before the memorial service began, Keiichiro Sora crossed the garden and arrived. He appeared today with a clean-shaven face showing bluish shadows, his rectangular features sharp and composed, quietly climbing the hill toward her while retrieving a rosary from his sleeve.

Setsuko looked up into his eyes with a refreshing feeling, as though a wind were blowing through her chest.

“Welcome, Mr. Sora. Please come up this way.”

“Still… no one else has…”
“Only you have come early, Mr. Sora.”

Setsuko said in a hushed tone.

“—I must offer my apologies. And… in place of that mortuary tablet, I must also offer my thanks.”

Sora lowered his eyes.
However, Setsuko said this in a bright voice, with all her heart.

“Mr. Sora, I’ve heard everything from my brother. Both Toda and I were foolish.”
“Please forgive me… and thank you for everything.”