Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Shuzaburo Kishima remembered that day vividly.
It was the second year of Hōreki, March 2nd of the year he turned twenty-one.
The reason he remembered it so well was that two significant events had occurred that day: one being his receipt of a Nen-ryū certification from the dojo instructor, and the other his invitation to the Niimura family’s Evening Doll Festival—and it was at this very festival gathering that he found himself slipped a love letter (by an unknown party).

The Kishima family were hereditary senior officials, with successive generations inheriting the position of "co-signer" through hereditary succession.
While "co-signer" generally referred to senior officials' joint signatures, in this domain it carried implications of audit—meaning they would examine official documents and certify them through this process.
This position had become largely ceremonial in recent years, though one couldn’t call it a complete sinecure since its holder would still be held accountable should any incident occur—while third sons were generally expected to be troublemakers, Shuzaburo had been a calm, quiet child since infancy.
The eldest brother Wahei was short-tempered, and the second brother Rinjiro was hot-headed; the two of them were constantly fighting.
What made it amusing was that his father Motoemon was also stubborn and unyielding, so the fights would often escalate to involve three people.
The father and two sons would turn bright red in the face, screaming and shouting while spraying spit.
It was quite a spectacle, but Shuzaburo, the third son, never joined their ranks.
He remained silent off to the side and could only watch with a look of astonishment.

“Can’t tell if the bastard’s alive or dead.”

Father Motoemon would often say that with a click of his tongue.
Then Mother Kana would say sorrowfully,
"That he's so quiet—I can't help but think he was born to remain a lifelong dependent. It pains me so."

A mother’s premonition was not something to be taken lightly.
The second brother, Rinjiro Kishima, had been adopted into the Harada Matazaemon family at age fifteen, but Shuzaburo found no favorable prospects and thus reached the age of twenty-one.

The previous year, in February of Hōreki 1 (the era name having changed in October), the eldest brother had married, and in that same October, their father had died from illness.

Seizing this opportunity, Shuzaburo moved out from the main house to a separate residence within the estate compound—a rebuilt structure that had originally been foot soldiers' row housing. It contained an eight-tatami room and six-tatami room with a four-tatami wooden-floored corridor, complete with its own kitchen quarters.
Behind it stood a well, and from the well’s edge stretched the neighboring Niimura residence’s hedge, beyond which the family’s prized plum grove came into clear view.
He naturally did no cooking.
For his three daily meals and tea, someone would come notify him from the main house.
After finishing breakfast, he would take his lunchbox and commute to the domain school Risshikan and the Nen-ryū dojo called Kyushindo, as well as assist with his brother’s errands—such was his daily routine.
Of course, his brother’s errands only occurred during periods of official busyness, amounting to no more than two or three times a year—

Now then, on March 2nd, he received the Nen-ryū certification from the Kyushindo instructor.
It was better than never receiving it at all, but at twenty-one years old, it was hardly early.
The instructor then remarked something along these lines.

“Your foundation shows diligence, and your technique appears to be of the late-blooming variety. Should you continue striving diligently, I believe your skills will further improve. I earnestly hope you will persist in your training without negligence.”

Shuzaburo muttered “Don’t mention it” to himself. He had never liked swordsmanship in the first place. He had enrolled at Kyushindo due to his eldest brother’s command, stemming from the opinion that taking up swordsmanship might make him a bit more spirited. Now that this brother had married and assumed family headship, he no longer seemed concerned with Shuzaburo’s affairs. Combined with having received this entirely unexpected “certification,” Shuzaburo himself resolved to quit the dojo.

“I apologize for going against your expectations,” Shuzaburo said.

“Due to household circumstances requiring my attention, I regretfully must resign from the dojo effective today.”

The instructor did not look pleased.
But he showed no sign of trying to stop him.
And then, even after returning home, he kept that matter secret from everyone (even his mother).
There was a reason for this, but—

“This should do it,” Shuzaburo muttered to himself while rubbing his hands. “I’ll withdraw from the domain school as well. From now on, I’ll take my writing kit, a notebook, and a lunchbox to stroll around leisurely every day. Perfect!”

And that night, he was invited to the Niimura family’s Evening Doll Festival.

The invitation to the Evening Doll Festival was an annual occurrence.
The Niimura family resided in the neighboring estate, their family status being slightly below that of the Kishimas. The head of the household, Kanemon, served as a mid-ranking elder with a stipend of 720 koku, and the couple had two sons and a daughter. Their youngest daughter Nanae and Shuzaburo had been childhood friends.
The families did interact with each other, but it was as if Shuzaburo and Nanae alone represented the entirety of their households’ social exchanges.
Nanae, much like him (despite also being the youngest child), had a calm and quiet disposition. Being much younger than her brothers and having no other friends yet, she would often play alone forlornly in corners of the garden.
Her hair held a faint reddish tint; her round face bore a small, pursed mouth; eyes perpetually glistened as if on the verge of tears. Plump cheeks carried a downy fuzz akin to a honey peach’s skin, and when she smiled, dimples creased both corners of her lips.

“My name’s Nana-ewe.”

She had first introduced herself this way as a child. What must have been a childish lisp or dialect—though she later outgrew it—left Shuzaburo initially unable to decipher the sounds, leaving him perplexed about how to properly address her.

The boundary between the two households' gardens consisted of a roofed wooden fence, but there was one section where a straight-grained wood hedge grew. They slipped through the gap in that hedge and played in one of the gardens. The two of them scarcely exchanged a word—one might even exaggerate and say they were like the deaf or mute—yet managed perfectly well through small hand gestures, body language, and simple meaningful glances. As they grew older, this changed somewhat, but it was safe to say there had been no fundamental change. Madam Seki Niimura would often look at the two of them with a dubious gaze and say—

“You two are utterly strange—understanding each other’s feelings so perfectly without saying a word, it’s as if you’re talking through some sort of secret code.”

That he had been invited to the Evening Doll Festival was known only to his mother, Kana.
He had kept it secret from his father and brothers all along; had they known, not only would they have forbidden it, but they would likely have scorned him from the start.
Since Doll Festival gatherings were attended mostly by women, for a male member of a warrior family to blithely attend such an event was utterly beyond conventional wisdom.

II

That night, unusually, there was another male guest besides him. His name was Tadaya Kasai; his father Juubei held a senior post with a 950-koku stipend. He was a fellow student of Shuzaburo at Kyushindo, twenty-five years old—though not particularly skilled in swordsmanship or academics—one might say socially adept, with a flashy and smooth-talking personality. He was said to be quite the playboy in Shin'yaguchō’s pleasure district, where coquettish rumors about him never ceased; even Shuzaburo knew some of these rumors held truth.

Kasai came from a wealthy family, was an only son, and had dashing good looks—there was no competing with him.

The young men would say such things, but since Tadaya often treated them to meals, there were few who actually spoke ill of him.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tadaya said, smiling amiably at Shuzaburo. “I heard you got your certification today.”

Shuzaburo responded evasively.

Six girls were invited.
There was one unfamiliar face; all the rest were acquaintances of Shuzaburo.
As was customary every year, the Niimura family served their proud specialty of aged sushi and sweet white sake, while the girls each performed their arts.
The koto was played by Nanae of this house and Kashiko Iguchi; the hand drum by Matsue Nagata; the traditional dance by Kanae Fujii; and the new girl, Ine Oba, performed splendidly on the shamisen.
Nagata Ikuyo, who was Matsue Nagata’s cousin, and Minami Fumi, whose peerless beauty set her apart from the crowd, did nothing.
The two of them always remained mere spectators.
Tadaya Kasai, being unaware of this, persistently urged, “Do something.”

“We’re truly incapable of performing anything proper,”
Nagata Ikuyo flushed red and said, “We both truly have no real talents, you see. Isn’t that right, Miss Minami?”

Minami Fumi nodded with a smirk.
This girl was peerlessly beautiful, but she was no less remarkable for her lack of intelligence.
When Tadaya persisted in pleading, she said with a smirk:

“Well, I wouldn’t lose to anyone when it comes to temari.”

The girls began to laugh, and when Tadaya made a puzzled face, they collapsed into even greater laughter.

After that they moved on to karuta, but Shuzaburo only participated twice before leaving early.
Since Tadaya was such an adept host, the girls became completely caught up in the excitement, and there was no telling when the banquet would end.
Nanae accompanied him to the side entrance and said with apparent concern.

“I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“No, not at all,” he said, looking at Nanae. “It’s just getting late—if my brother finds out...”

“Then I’m truly relieved.”

Nanae nodded with a smile.
Seeing dimples form on her cheeks, Shuzaburo smiled back as he took his leave.

Having returned home, he stopped briefly at his mother’s room before retreating to his own quarters.
Lighting the lantern and changing clothes, Shuzaburo surveyed his room and sighed.
It was a damp, gloomy, desolate sight—utterly divorced from the Niimura household’s vibrant gathering.

"This will be my final abode," he muttered with a sigh. "I'll grow old in this room, and someday die here—attended by someone from my brother's family."

Perhaps made somewhat sentimental by the white sake's intoxication, he recalled Tadaya Kasai's cheerful and carefree disposition—his skillful way of amusing the girls—and thought how that man could marry any of those girls or quietly inherit a senior post with a 950-koku stipend. Rather than feeling envious, he found himself overcome by something closer to aching sadness, a mood that made him want to weep.

As he folded the clothes he had taken off, a sealed letter came out from the sleeve.

“What’s this?” Shuzaburo picked it up and examined it. “It’s a letter... How strange.”

On the front was written "Master Shuzaburo" in feminine script. He drew near the lantern and broke the seal. When he read it, it was a love letter.

——I have loved you for a very long time. At first it was a simple feeling—merely becoming happy and pleased when thinking of you. I had thought it would be enough to spend our lives together like siblings. But recently, meeting you has become painful, and not meeting you even more so—now nothing but tormenting, agonizing hours stretch endlessly on.
You would naturally be unaware of this, and I too could never speak of it were we to meet—yet keeping this feeling locked in my heart until death seemed too cruel a fate. Though presumptuous of me, I resolved to commit these words to paper.
I know not whether this will ever reach your hands; but should you chance to take hold of it, I pray you think upon this girl’s existence and show her some measure of pity.

And finally, it was written: "I’ve deliberately omitted my name out of shame."

When he finished reading, Shuzaburo’s face turned red.
His heart pounded, and his mouth went terribly dry.
“Who could it be?” he muttered, and read it through once more.
Who could it be? Since it had been placed in his kimono sleeve, it must have been one of the girls who had been at the Niimura household.

“Could it be Nanae? No, that can’t be,” he shook his head. “The letter mentions uncertainty about having an opportunity to deliver it—if it were Nanae, she’d have countless chances. That Iguchi Kashiko girl has often met me at the Niimura household before... But the closest would be Nagata Matsue. Though that girl’s marriage arrangement should already be settled.”

As he was thinking in this manner, Shuzaburo suddenly jolted and glanced around with restless eyes.

――It's a prank.

It felt as though he heard a voice—
Of course it was an inner voice—yet it carried the uncanny sensation of someone being there, softly whispering from behind.
He suddenly felt his enthusiasm wane and, with a bitter expression, tossed the letter aside.

"Well, that must be the case," he told himself. "There couldn't possibly be a girl who'd sincerely fall for an idle dependent like me—a man as dull as this. Better not delude myself about such things."

However, in reality, matters could not be so easily dismissed. He couldn't help feeling there truly was such a girl suffering because of him. At the same time, it also seemed possible this was someone's cruel joke—that the prankster was somewhere giggling with a conspirator (if such existed).

"That's right—I should talk to Nanae." Eventually, in his sleepless bed, he muttered, "If I talk to Nanae, I might get some idea—at least I could determine whether it's a prank or not."

The next morning.—

As he washed his face at the well, he spotted Nanae through the hedge.
She wore a purple-ground kimono with finely dyed floral patterns, fastened a golden-brown obi, and had a hairpin glinting in her hair.
Standing in the plum grove gazing into the distance—as if prepared to go out at any moment—she looked beautiful.
Thinking this, Shuzaburo brought both hands to his mouth and mimicked a dove’s call.
This being their mutual signal, Nanae immediately noticed it—turned toward him with a smile—and quietly approached through the grove.

III

After expressing his gratitude for the previous evening, Shuzaburo squinted at her.

“Are you going out somewhere?”

“This—” Nanae spread the sleeves of her long-sleeved kimono to either side and shook her head with a smile— “No, I merely tried it on for a while. I woke up too early and had nothing to occupy myself.”

“You look very beautiful—though I don’t quite understand.”

“I’m so happy,” Nanae said, looking at him. “This is the first time you’ve called me beautiful.”

Shuzaburo averted his eyes.
Nanae’s gaze seemed to sparkle more intensely than ever, and he found himself completely unable to meet it.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he said, “There’s something I want you to see. Wait here a moment,” and went into the house to retrieve the love letter.

“Please don’t laugh—look at this.”
Shuzaburo held out the letter as he spoke. “When I returned last night，I found it inside my sleeve—please read it without hesitation.”

Nanae flushed crimson.
While blushing, she put both hands behind her back and, without looking at the letter, said.

"That's a letter, isn't it?"

"Yes—to put it plainly, it's a love letter."
"Though that's only if you believe what's written here."

"But," Nanae stammered, "if you believe it... why would you say that?"

"You must realize," he said, "there's no way someone would seriously write a love letter to an idle dependent like me who's just languishing away. I think it's just a prank by someone from last night's gathering. Surely you think so too?"

Nanae seemed about to say something but, appearing unable to voice it, simply shook her head gently.

“Please read it,” he said. “Then you’ll be able to tell who it is by their handwriting quirks. Even if you figure it out, it won’t make any difference—I just need to confirm it’s a prank.”

“No—”
Nanae stepped backward. “I cannot do such a thing—I... I find it detestable.”

Nanae’s face—which had flushed crimson moments before—now paled from the forehead downward. Biting her lip, she shot him a glare burning with anger, then spun around and fled before Shuzaburo could stop her.

——This is bad. I’ve made her angry.

Shuzaburo clicked his tongue.
The vivid white of Nanae’s tabi socks, visible as she hurried beyond the plum grove, seemed to voice her fury.
He clicked his tongue again, stuffed the love letter into his sleeve, and entered the house dejectedly.

“I thought it would be fine given our closeness,” he muttered, “I believed you’d laugh it off since we’re childhood friends... but perhaps it was wrong to ask a girl your age to read a love letter.”

“What a fool I’ve been,” he berated himself.
It might very well mean the end of my long friendship with Nanae.
Nanae would probably never meet with me again.
He also thought along those lines.

However, in reality, such a thing did not happen.

Four or five days later, when he spotted her in the garden, he called out to her.
Though he thought it would be futile, when he imitated a dove's call to summon her, Nanae immediately heard it, turned around, and approached with a smile.
Shuzaburo, relieved, bowed and apologized.

“It’s quite all right,” Nanae said gently. “I’m not truly angry. But please don’t do such things again—making someone read another’s letter doesn’t suit you at all.”

“If it weren’t for you, I would never have done such a thing,” he said, bowing his head once more. “Of course, I’ll never do it again.”

Nanae nodded with a smile.

Shuzaburo submitted a withdrawal notice to Risshikan as well.
He kept it secret from his family.
And so each day, carrying the lunch his sister-in-law prepared, he would wrap a notebook and writing set in a furoshiki cloth before leaving home to wander alone until evening——Shuzaburo had been fascinated by local legends and geographical records since boyhood.
He had long wanted to travel around the domain to collect such materials should the opportunity arise, and now at last that wish had been fulfilled.

As a room-dwelling dependent, time was something he had in abundance.
Apart from helping the older brother with errands two or three times a year, he wasn’t particularly bound by any obligations.
Although his pocket money was meager, as long as he wandered about in that manner, there was no fear of anyone scolding him.

When May arrived, he heard that a marriage arrangement had been settled for Nanae.
At seventeen, this alone wouldn’t have been unusual—but learning her prospective husband was Tadaya Kasai left him stunned.

“This can’t happen.”
Shuzaburo shook his head and muttered to himself.

“This won’t do—with other girls it might be one thing, but that man is utterly unsuitable for Nanae.”

He knew Tadaya had a secret love child.

Though it had previously been recorded that Tadaya frequented Shinryūgai-chō’s pleasure quarters, Shuzaburo knew specifically that a daughter from Inamura restaurant there had borne Tadaya’s child—already three years old—and that the Kasai family provided monthly support.

If she were to marry without knowing and later discover—how Nanae would suffer.

The thought proved unbearable to Shuzaburo.

"I must tell her," he said to himself, "If Nanae still chooses to marry him after that, so be it—but letting her proceed unaware would be cruel. There’s no justification for me knowing this truth and staying silent."

He resolved to do so.
Whether it was right or wrong to reveal another's secret—he didn't even consider such things.
And immediately, he went out to the garden to meet Nanae.

As they had not called out to each other for quite some time—perhaps having grown unaccustomed to imitating doves’ calls—Nanae appeared on the third day.
It was a hazy early summer afternoon in the rainy season, and in the plum grove of the Niimura estate, beneath the rain-drenched fine leaves, clusters of ripening plums dotted the view.
Nanae wore an iris-patterned kimono, her bare feet in high clogs, and approached from beneath her umbrella’s shade with a smile.
Shuzaburo shuddered.
Bathed in the indigo hue of her held umbrella, Nanae’s face was mysteriously beautiful.
When he saw that beautiful expression with its gentle smile, he realized he loved Nanae.

That’s right—I had loved Nanae.

Shuzaburo cried out within his heart.

I had loved Nanae since long ago—perhaps my intention to reveal Kasai’s secret stemmed not from concern for her but from jealousy. If that were true, speaking of it would be despicable.

Shuzaburo felt sweat forming along his spine.

“It’s been quite some time since we last met, hasn’t it?”
“I called out to you many times,” Nanae said as she approached.

IV

Shuzaburo said with a pained laugh.

“Congratulations—I hear you’ll soon have your wedding procession.”

“I refused, saying it was too soon,” Nanae said.

“Since they said they couldn’t wait any longer on their end and my brother kept insisting I go through with it… I finally agreed.”

“So the wedding ceremony will be before long.”

“It’s on the 28th, they say.”
Nanae stared fixedly into his eyes.

“That was why you called me here.”

“Well... yes.”

Shuzaburo once again felt sweat forming along his spine.
Words surged up his throat—Just say it! No—I can’t! I should tell her! But that would be despicable! Such self-interrogation seemed to swirl like a vortex through his mind.

“Since we won’t meet like this anymore,” he said while averting his gaze,“there was one last thing... a parting word I wished to give.”

Nanae nodded without taking her eyes off him.

“The world contains many hardships,” he said, “sorrows, agonies, and repulsive things. When you marry, you will inevitably experience these. If you succumb to despair or resignation when that happens, all will be lost. Every person has their weaknesses—ugly, distasteful aspects exist in everyone. Only by enduring suffering and sorrow, by being tempered through encounters with ugliness and revulsion, does one truly mature into adulthood. Do you understand?”

Tears welled up in Nanae's eyes.
With her tear-filled eyes, she continued to gaze at Shuzaburo as she nodded.

“I’ll say it again—the world is by no means filled only with beautiful things. Please do not forget that.”
Shuzaburo smiled at Nanae as he said this: “I probably have no right to say such things, being young as I am, but given how long we’ve known each other—and having nothing proper to offer as a farewell gift...”

“Thank you—I will not forget what you have told me.”
Nanae said while covering her eyes with her fingers, “—I am happy.”

Shuzaburo stared fixedly at her figure.
Abundant, weighty hair; plump cheeks; from small shoulders to a full bosom; flowing from waist to legs—a glossy and supple line.

If only I could forget quickly.

While feeling a sharp pain in his chest, he thought this and averted his eyes.

At Nanae's wedding ceremony, her brother and his wife attended.
Of course, as a dependent family member and unmarried man, there was no way he could attend; he raised a solitary toast to celebrate on the night of the 28th.
Because his brother didn't drink alcohol, there was usually none in the house.
He asked his mother to purchase a small amount, had the meal tray brought to his room, and drank to celebrate Nanae's happiness.

Days passed and months passed.

During the autumn equinox, Nanae came to visit.
It seemed she had stopped by while visiting her family home, but Shuzaburo had gone out to gather materials and they were unable to meet.

“Miss Nanae was quite disappointed that Mr. Shu wasn’t here.”

Mother said that.
He feigned indifference.
He wanted to forget her as soon as possible; he did not want to see her as another man’s wife—and he felt relieved that he had managed to avoid meeting her.

At the beginning of summer the following year, Shuzaburo gained an unexpected acquaintance.

For Shuzaburo, he was a senior from Risshikan Academy; for his brother, an old friend—a man named Sadataka Hanbei.
The Sadataka family belonged to an old official lineage, but Hanbei himself was not a biological heir—he had been adopted from the third son of Hayashi Hisadayu (a caretaker official with a 300-koku stipend).
At Risshikan he had been called a prodigy, and at Kyūshindō he was said to surpass even the masters.
Three years prior, he had been promoted to become a close aide to the domain lord, remaining constantly in attendance whether in Edo or at the provincial headquarters, but now—having returned ostensibly to visit family graves (though his true reasons lay elsewhere)—he came to call on Shuzaburo’s brother Wahei and took the opportunity to inspect Shuzaburo’s residence.

Shuzaburo was thoroughly flustered.

For someone of Sadataka Hanbei’s stature to go out of his way to visit the likes of his residence was utterly unexpected.
Yet the visitor casually stepped inside, brushing past my formal greetings as he surveyed the room and spoke.

“I heard from others you’ve been gathering materials for a local history—is that right?”

“Oh, that’s—”
Shuzaburo was flustered. “It’s—it’s nothing so grand, really. Just something I do to pass the time.”

“You must have some writings. Won’t you show them to me?”

Shuzaburo turned red and refused.
However, Hanbei seemed to have come precisely for that purpose—he briskly stood up and moved to a corner of the room, where he attempted to take and examine the writing materials left near the desk himself.

“Please wait.”
Shuzaburo reluctantly stood up. “If you insist so strongly, I’ll show you. But it’s only just begun—truly nothing more than my own amateurish trifle.”

“I’ll be the judge of whether it’s worthless or not.”

Hanbei declared brusquely and started scrutinizing the documents Shuzaburo had handed over.

—How did he know about this?

Shuzaburo couldn’t grasp how this situation had arisen.
It would later emerge that Hanbei had been scheming sweeping domain reforms while covertly extending investigative tendrils across the territory.
Shuzaburo’s movements had been caught in this web—a fact only uncovered afterward. At that moment, ignorant of these machinations, he felt utterly hoodwinked.

“My apologies, but could you fetch me some water?” Hanbei said as he sat down there. “I drank too much over there—my throat’s parched beyond endurance.”

“There’s really only water here, but shall I brew tea instead?”

“I’ll take that—tea would be better.”

He seemed intent on calmly examining the writings. Shuzaburo went to the main house to fetch tea.

After Hanbei had finished examining them completely, he requested paper and brush and wrote down the following items:
“Forest conditions,” “soil,” “vacant land,” and “water resources” were what he listed.
He handed it to Shuzaburo and said:

“Sorry to ask, but while you’re making rounds through the villages, could you investigate these matters? I’ll cover the expenses.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that.”

“Don’t act like a sore loser when you’re just a dependent.”
Hanbei took something from his paper case, wrapped it in kaishi paper, and placed it on the desk. “I’m not exactly flexible either, so let’s set this amount every six months—can you manage with that?”

“I’m not sure if this will be of any use, but...”

“Make it serve its purpose.”
Hanbei smirked. “—For the sake of people like this too, you know.”

And he pointed at the desk.
There lay a single letter.
Shuzaburo started—it was that very love letter.

“It was tucked inside those writings.”

“Did you read it?”

“Curiosity got the better of me.”
Hanbei laughed mockingly, “You don’t even know who she is, do you? What sort of woman writes this?”

“That’s no joke—it’s a misunderstanding!”

Shuzaburo, flustered, gave a brief account of the love letter’s circumstances. Hanbei seemed unable to believe it. Only one love letter had been attached, and since there had been absolutely no further incidents afterward (perhaps due to lack of opportunity), it was almost certainly someone’s prank. He had explained it that way, but Hanbei did not seem to think so.

“I don’t think so—not that I care either way,” said Hanbei. “This wasn’t written as a joke. You can’t fake sincerity in writing like this. But to be loved this much and still not have a clue who it’s from—now that’s being a clueless fool.”

“I think so myself.”

“You’ve never been with a woman, have you?”
Hanbei stood up and said this: “I’ll treat you to Shin’yagawacho. Go on, Bro—go change and come along.”

It seemed he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Shuzaburo found it rather troublesome, but with no other choice, he went to the main house to change.

V

The place they were taken to was a teahouse called “Kadomatsu” in Shin’yagawacho.
Kadomatsu was first-class, catering mainly to domain officials and major merchants.
Facing the bank of the Matsuya River, there were about three separate detached buildings.
Hanbei summoned five geishas and introduced Shuzaburo by declaring, “This man here has never known a woman’s touch.”

“If any of you think you’re up to it, try seducing him! Succeed, and I’ll give you a reward.”

The geishas let out shrill cries and swarmed around Shuzaburo in unison.
He felt almost frantic, without the energy to put on a brave front, and shrank into himself, drinking nothing but sake.

Hanbei stayed for about seven days and returned to Edo.

To his surprise, the money Hanbei had wrapped amounted to two ryo.
If he were to provide that amount every six months, it would total four ryo per year.
Shuzaburo became quite excited.
The allowance he received from his brother (though of course it was only an allowance) was set at two ryo and two bu per year.
If four ryo were to be added to that, it would amount to a considerable sum, so it was no wonder he became excited.

"Who knows what brings happiness," Shuzaburo muttered to himself. "Six ryo and two bu per year combined—that’s equivalent to holding a proper official post. And this work can even be done alongside my hobbies... But... How did he find out about my data collection?"

That point still didn’t sit right with him.
And although he didn’t understand the purpose of the four-item survey either, since there seemed to be no particular need to know, he resolved not to dwell on such matters and began making his rounds through the domain in a remarkably rich state of mind.

In March of Hōreki 4 (1754), with the new year having begun, Hanbei Sadataka also returned alongside Nagato-no-kami Munesada, who had come back to the domain upon completing his alternate attendance duty.

Shuzaburo Kishima visited the Sadataka residence every three days.
He wanted to hear Hanbei’s opinion because he lacked confidence in whether the items he had investigated up to that point met Hanbei’s requirements, particularly in the “soil” section.
Hanbei said it was adequate.

"I thought about using rice fields for wheat crops—leaving paddies idle for half a year after harvesting rice seems wasteful."
Hanbei said while reviewing his report, "Putting fertilizer aside, I wanted to know about the soil quality. This will do. Keep following this method."

Then, suddenly locking eyes with him, he asked:

"Figured out who sent the love letter?"

Shuzaburo put away the documents without replying.

In February of the following year, until his departure for the capital with the domain lord, Hanbei persistently took Shuzaburo to Kadomatsu. Hanbei’s carousing remained unchanged—generous-spirited in the best light—but his excessively blunt and vice-flaunting manner left Shuzaburo constantly exasperated. Though Shuzaburo tried to avoid him whenever possible, Hanbei would skillfully catch and drag him out again, almost as if finding amusement in the evasion.

He had heard almost nothing of Nanae’s whereabouts. He had once encountered Tadaya Kasai in the corridor of Kadomatsu. Drunk and supported by geishas, he had appeared to be heading to the restroom, but upon spotting Shuzaburo, smiled amiably and unsteadily approached to tap his shoulder.

“Well, this is a surprise—I never imagined meeting you in a place like this.”
Tadaya spoke with overfamiliarity: “How about joining me in my parlor? Let’s make this a proper celebration together.”

Shuzaburo declined, citing prior engagements.
Tadaya’s face had grown repulsive—not through changed features, but through some taint permeating his whole being, as though he exuded a rotting stench.

“They say you’re terribly rigid,” Tadaya smiled with feigned cordiality. “Nanae told me all about you—how earnest and uptight you are. Though I doubt she’d believe you frequent such establishments.”

Shuzaburo remained silent.

“That woman’s just as rigid.”
Tadaya continued, “She’s always so rigid and serious, constantly falling ill on top of it—and all while having such a sturdy-looking frame.”

“I hear she’s just faking her illness.”

“I’m thinking of sending her to Hayashida Hot Springs come autumn,” he said. “A man shouldn’t have to put up with a frail wife—truly, it’s a problem when she can’t even bear children.”

Tadaya left unsteadily down the corridor, his arm still around a geisha’s shoulder.

Since then, wondering if there were any rumors, he paid attention to his mother’s and sister-in-law’s conversations but still heard nothing of Nanae’s whereabouts.
Tadaya said, “If she can’t bear children, that becomes a problem.”
Since Kasai had elderly parents, that would indeed become a problem.
Moreover, Tadaya had a secret love child—a boy he fathered with Inamura’s daughter who should have turned five by now.

Shuzaburo heaved a heavy sigh to himself. *The lack of rumors must mean things were going smoothly,* he thought. *But why was she constantly ill? Could it be she had discovered the secret love child, and that was what wore her down?*

One autumn day, Shuzaburo heard what sounded like Nanae’s voice in the garden of the Niimura residence. Certain it was hers, he hurried toward the wellside with his heart racing. Yet when he reached the hedge, no one was visible there. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he softly mimicked a pigeon’s call—low at first, then gradually rising in pitch... Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo. Suddenly, a young girl stood up directly on the other side of the hedge. It was a round-faced girl of about six years old who had apparently been crouching in the hedge’s shadow, occupied with something there.

“Mister, you’re good at that!” The girl looked up at him with startled eyes. “What’s that supposed to be? An owl, right?”

“Ah...”
He nodded. “Who are you? Are you Mr. Niimura’s daughter?”

“Yes, I’m Ta-chan.”

And narrowing her eyes, she smiled sweetly.

VI

Shuzaburo realized he’d mistaken this child’s voice.

In the Niimura household, the eldest son Tatenosuke had two children.
He knew about the eldest boy, but this must be the second child.
Since she was closely related to Nanae by blood—and being a girl besides—it wasn’t strange their voices might sound alike.

“You know Aunt Nanae, don’t you?” he asked. “Has she been around lately?”

“No, Aunt Tama isn’t here.”

“Don’t you visit Aunt Tama’s house, Ta-chan?”

“I’ve only been once,” Ta-chan said. “Grandmother Tama Kasai is scary—she glares at Ta-chan—so Ta-chan doesn’t go.”

Shuzaburo’s mood darkened.

Young children are sensitive in observing people.
Shuzaburo did not know the Kasai household members, but the expression "scary because she glares" from that moment seemed to vividly capture the Kasai matriarch, and he could almost see Nanae being glared at in that manner constantly.

But not to the extent he had feared, the days passed just as they were.

In Hōreki 8, the year Shuzaburo turned twenty-seven, Hanbei Sadataka resigned as chief of close attendants.
While Nagato-no-kami Munesada was in the domain, it was thought Hanbei would be transferred to a senior councilor post, but that was not the case—he was stripped of all official positions.
Shuzaburo heard this directly from Hanbei himself while being treated to a meal at Kadoman, as was their custom.

“But when you say ‘relieved of duties,’ what exactly does that mean?”

“I’ll tell only you, Mr. Shu,” Hanbei said. “They’ve caught on that I’m aiming for the castle steward elder position.”

“Castle steward elder?”

“The Sadataka family served as castle stewards three generations back—we’ve got the pedigree,” Hanbei said. “The current high-ranking organization’s a complete shambles—like trying to haul water with a bamboo sieve, letting every vital thing slip through. These flaws are starting to show everywhere. If we don’t set things right now, it’ll be beyond saving.”

“So—”
Shuzaburo said, “What is the reason you were relieved of duties?”

“They—meaning some of the current senior officials—they noticed what I’d been aiming for. Ridiculous, really—I’d been maneuvering for nearly ten years by then. The surveys I had you conduct, Mr. Shu, were part of that scheme. Staying unmarried until this age of thirty-two was all for that purpose too. But they only caught on now—panicked, I suppose—and plotted to install me as some elder mediator. Absurd! At this stage, letting them trap me with such a ploy? Unthinkable! So I struck first—submitted a resignation plea citing illness.”

"They actually approved it?"

"You fool—" Hanbei's eyes widened in surprise. "You think they actually approved it? Do you really imagine something like this gets permitted without them knowing the full circumstances?"

"Then His Lordship also knows about—"

"I told you I've been maneuvering for ten years—weren't you listening?" Hanbei raised his cup. "Well then, let's drink—to the health of that love letter's author."

In June of that year, the Takeuchi Shikibu Incident occurred, and society was thrown into considerable uproar.
Shikibu was from Echigo Province and excelled in Suika-ryū theology and military science, but as his teachings fervently revered the imperial court and denounced the shogunate, he was ultimately arrested; furthermore, in that same July, seventeen court nobles were also punished under suspicion of conspiring with him.

There had been a plot to overthrow the shogunate.

As such rumors spread, society became shrouded in considerable anxiety and tension for a time.

One day not long after September began, Hanbei invited Shuzaburo to Kisyusuiro.
It was located about twenty chō south of the castle town—a riverside restaurant overlooking the Matsuya River that was renowned for its carp cuisine. Its detached guest rooms offered lodging facilities that attracted no small number of visitors seeking respite.
The area around it spread out with tree-covered hills and grasslands where the Matsuya River’s flow finally widened, known equally for its fine views and tranquil atmosphere.

“I’ve got a serious matter to discuss today.”

After they had drunk a few cups, Hanbei said this and looked at him.
He had grown considerably plump (since becoming unemployed), his cheeks rounded out, and his eyelids had become puffy.
Yet beneath those swollen eyelids, his eyes shone with a keen, piercing light.

It was that season when days grew short early. The surroundings had already deepened into twilight hues, and only the river’s surface visible just beyond the pine forest shone with an autumnal chill, gleaming leaden gray.

Shuzaburo waited for the next words.

"It seems the season has come," Hanbei said. "Though the exact timing remains unclear, it will be settled no later than before His Lordship departs for Edo."

"In other words—your appointment as castle steward elder."

"And Shuzaburo Kishima becomes district magistrate."

“What did you say?”

“Shuzaburo is the district magistrate, I tell you.”

"This is no joke," Shuzaburo snapped, his voice tight. "Stop making sport of me."

"It's no jest. Here—drink."

Hanbei Sadataka raised his cup.
At that moment, two maids came across the covered walkway carrying food and drink, and one of them lit the lantern.

“Close the shoji screens on your way out,” Hanbei said. “And don’t come back until summoned.”

The maids acknowledged his order and left.

“As I said before, the current high-ranking organization isn’t functioning,” Hanbei continued. “But what needs restructuring isn’t just the senior posts—the major magistrates and various offices must also be reorganized. Particularly when I begin governance this time, agricultural policy will be most crucial. Though it will bring tremendous difficulties, we must make it succeed at all costs.”

“In that case, all the more reason someone like me isn’t suited for such a role.”

“No—you are suited, Mr. Shu. You’re precisely the most qualified candidate.”
Hanbei flipped his palm forward as he spoke, “Mr. Shu, you’ve spent seven years traversing the domain to gather materials for the local chronicle—journeying through village after village, observing each region’s legends and customs firsthand with your own eyes and ears. With the four additional categories I requested, these records form an accurate compendium of our domain’s affairs, and your personal experience will prove even more directly valuable as district magistrate. Don’t you agree, Mr. Shu?”

Shuzaburo could not respond for a moment.
He stared at the cup in his hand and remained silent for a while in indecision.

Should I accept? No—too dangerous. No confidence. Or live out my days as a perpetual dependent? Become a gloomy old man in that dim house of the rebuilt foot soldiers' tenement, dying under some nephew's care? No—I refuse that utterly. If possible, I'd avoid that fate at all costs. Then...

While these thoughts churned within him, he finally raised his eyes with an air of resolve.

Then Hanbei waved his hand.

“Shh—they’re here,” he whispered. “If they’ve come, our moment arrives.”

Shuzaburo held his breath.
Though unclear why, something extraordinary seemed imminent—this much became instantly apparent through Hanbei’s bearing.
Silently gesturing, he swiftly removed his sword’s cord, fastened a tasuki sash across his chest, and tied a headband.
The motions clearly meant “Follow my lead.”
With a start, Shuzaburo—compelled by Hanbei’s urgent movements—mirrored the actions: securing his own sash and headband before cinching tight the ties of his hakama trousers.

“They’re after my head,” Hanbei whispered. “If they storm in, you jump into the garden and cut off their retreat. I’ll handle the sword fighting—just stay calm.”

Seven

The detached room faced the river with a wide veranda, a covered walkway to the left, and a sharp right turn leading to a washing area.
The rear contained a formal alcove with staggered shelves, eliminating concern about attacks from that direction.

Hanbei pointed to the left fusuma door.
The four-and-a-half mat room suggested he should exit to the garden via the walkway's edge—Shuzaburo nodded in understanding.

Footsteps echoed through the garden.
Whether wearing straw sandals or barefoot in tabi socks, the damp earth yielded pattering sounds that drew near before halting.
Not merely one or two—when they paused beneath the eaves, their presence betrayed them splitting left and right.

Hanbei was gauging his focus.
Neither his complexion nor his demeanor showed the slightest trace of agitation.

He was said to surpass even the instructors at Kyushindo.

Shuzaburo thought this as if to calm his own excitement.
I too had received my martial arts certification—though that was seven years ago now—but at least I’d made it to the point of obtaining that credential.

“Hanbei Sadataka, are you there?”

A voice came from beyond the veranda.
Hanbei strode forward and threw open the shoji screens to both sides.
"I am Hanbei. I've been waiting."

Beyond the veranda stood five masked men clad in black. Outside had grown nearly dark, and the lamplight from within now illuminated the five figures standing spread out to either side. Shuzaburo indeed counted five men and, while watching them all draw their swords in unison, leapt into the adjacent four-and-a-half-mat room.

When he descended from the covered walkway into the garden, the sound of disordered heavy footsteps trampling the veranda and an ear-splitting battle cry reached his ears. Shuzaburo felt blood rush to his head and a hard, lump-like object clog his throat. His legs trembled uncontrollably. His eyes blurred as if a mist had settled over them, and his vision dimmed—if only for the briefest instant.

Damn it, get it together.

He stumbled as he circled around to the front of the garden.

One lay collapsed on the veranda, while beneath it another could be seen—half-propped against the shoe-removal stone as if dozing off.
It seemed two men had been cut down in that instant; the moment Shuzaburo saw this, he suddenly felt strength surge through his body.

“Mr. Shu—I’m counting on you!” Hanbei shouted. “Don’t let a single one of these bastards escape!”

Hanbei stood at the center of the tatami room.

Two enemies waited on the left and one on the right, all holding their swords in Seigan stance while seeking an opening to strike.
One meal tray lay overturned amidst scattered bowls and dishes, while Shuzaburo’s tray remained neatly positioned in its original place.

Shuzaburo swallowed.
The saliva went down smoothly—the lump-like sensation in his throat had disappeared, and his breathing grew steady.
He drew his sword as he shouted.

“Shall I assist?”

At that instant, as if physically struck by Shuzaburo’s voice, one man on the left shrieked and lunged forward with a slash. Raising his sword overhead in a leaping prayer strike stance, he charged—but Hanbei merely twisted his torso slightly. When his blade flashed silver through the air, the slashing assailant went hurtling backward and crashed through the fusuma door into the four-and-a-half-mat room beyond.

Hanbei took one step to the right and swung his sword in that direction, then whirled around and leapt swiftly to the left instead.
The man there had just begun his downward strike when, at the very moment he shifted into a thrusting stance, Hanbei’s blade descended upon his head.
The man let out a sharp cry and twisted his body while shielding his head with his elbow.
Hanbei’s sword sliced through the man’s mask, and the now-exposed half of his face was illuminated by the lamplight.
For just an instant, Shuzaburo thought he saw Tadaya Kasai’s face and let out an involuntary “Ah!”

“You mustn’t! Please don’t kill that man!”

But it was too late.
Before Shuzaburo could finish shouting, Hanbei’s second strike had already severed that man’s thigh with a sharp cut, and by the time the man—his thigh severed—collapsed sideways, Hanbei was already driving the remaining one back toward the veranda.

Magnificent. What incredible swordsmanship!

Shuzaburo forgot that he had just shouted and stared at Hanbei in awe.

“You’ve got no retreat!” Hanbei said. “Drop your sword if you don’t want to die!”

The opponent was driven to the edge of the veranda.
He couldn’t evade left or right.
The tip of Hanbei’s sword pressed squarely against the center of his nose bridge and applied relentless pressure with each breath.
Shuzaburo heard rough, sporadic breaths—like those of a dying man—escape from his mouth.

“Drop your sword, or else—”

Hanbei shouted again.
At that instant, the opponent missed his footing and tumbled into the garden with a startled cry.

“Don’t let him escape, Mr. Shu!”

Naturally, Shuzaburo gave chase.
The man seemed to have sprained something; twisting his body, he threw down his sword and groaned.

“Kill me!” the man screamed. “Cut me down!”

Shuzaburo kept his sword thrust forward as he looked to Hanbei.
Peering down from the veranda, Hanbei said, “We’ll bind him.”

“We need him alive as a witness in case the other four don’t survive. Use his sash to bind him.”
Hanbei took out a sheet of folded paper and meticulously wiped his blade, then picked up the scabbard and sheathed it as he said, “I’ll go tell the authorities and doctor to send people.”
“Just keep the binding simple.”

And he departed beyond the covered corridor.

——Has no one noticed all this commotion?

Shuzaburo found this suspicious, but it was only then that he first heard the lively accompaniment of shamisen and drums coming from the second floor of the main house.
He hadn’t noticed when the musical accompaniment had begun; being some distance away and with the entire incident having unfolded in such a brief span, it was only natural that the lively performance had gone unnoticed.

Shuzaburo removed the man’s sash cord and bound his hands behind his back. As he became aware of the musical accompaniment, the groans of the injured and their labored breathing also began to reach his ears.

“Ah—” Shuzaburo shuddered.

"Tadaya Kasai."

He jumped up into the tatami room, still wearing dirty tabi.

The man whose mask had been sliced open threw out both legs, grasping his right thigh with both hands as he groaned. The surrounding area was awash with blood. “Kasai... isn’t it?” Shuzaburo said this and peered in; the man looked up this way. It was a paper-white, emaciated, twisted face. He was a young retainer from the horse guards—not Tadaya Kasai. However, the man said: “Kasai’s over there.” His words were slurred, making them hard to catch.

“He was struck first,” the man said. “He must’ve fallen into the garden—I saw him drop there.”

Shuzaburo immediately turned back.

VIII

Leaning against the shoe-removal stone, the man who appeared to be dozing was Tadaya Kasai.
He seemed to have been struck in the torso; pressing his left hand against his side while leaning against the stone, he gasped hoarsely.
The smell of blood was pungent.

“Kasai, pull yourself together!”
Shuzaburo shouted near his ear, “The doctor’s coming now!”

But there was no reply—he didn’t seem to have heard.

Hanbei returned with maids and menservants.
The maids and menservants had brought emergency treatment items—egg whites, shochu, ointments, bleached cotton cloth. “Prioritize those likely to survive first.”
Having said this, Hanbei had them brighten the candle stand’s flame, personally inspected each injured person in turn, and while directing their treatments, suddenly—as if noticing something—

“Shuzaburo, you should leave now,” he said.

He says I should leave.

“The Inspector General and Town Magistrate are coming. Since there are matters to handle afterward, it would be problematic to get entangled here.”

The "matters afterward" likely referred to "becoming District Magistrate." When he became District Magistrate, it would be problematic to be entangled in this matter—there was no doubt about that. But he thought those who survived among the assassins and the maids knew; wouldn't they realize immediately when he returned home now?

"I'll take care of that."
Hanbei said with a laugh, "The sake's only half-finished, but I've had this planned from the start—no helping it. We'll drink again another time. Just head back now."

“So you planned this from the start?”
“This isn’t fair to you, Shuzaburo.”
Hanbei pushed Shuzaburo’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the entrance.”

Shuzaburo looked toward Tadaya Kasai.

Is it truly acceptable for me to leave like this?

Suddenly, Nanae’s face floated into his mind, and he felt a pang of conscience.
But it was already hopeless—with that smell of blood—even if someone like me stayed, there was nothing to be done.
He shook his head and went out to the wide veranda with Hanbei.

“They—meaning some of those senior officials I once told you about—they caught wind of the tacit understanding between me and his lordship,” Hanbei said as they walked. “So these hardline arguments suddenly flared up, and the push to assassinate me grew stronger. Fine—if that’s their game, I’ll give them their chance. That’s what I thought, which is why I made a point of coming all the way to Kikushuirou today.”

“Did you make sure they’d know you were coming?”

“There’s a leak in their intelligence.”

“That’s terrifying confidence.”
Shuzaburo said, “But you couldn’t have known even how many assassins there’d be?”

“There were two more than planned.”
Shuzaburo whirled around in disbelief.

“There’s an information leak,” Hanbei laughed. “But don’t look so shocked—I want you to recall this has been ten years’ work. Ten years makes an age unto itself.”

Shuzaburo had no words to reply.

“Let’s meet again soon.”
At the entrance, Hanbei said.
“I like you, Shuzaburo. I like people like you who don’t sell themselves out. Tonight was rough on you—sorry about that. Keep this quiet from your brother too.”

Then Hanbei turned back.

For approximately half a month, the entire castle town held its breath beneath an oppressive gloom.
Shuzaburo too ceased his outings, impatiently awaiting nightfall to hear his brother’s reports upon returning from the castle.
The incident dubbed the Kikushuirou attack spread in exaggerated form—as rumors ever do—and Hanbei came to be hailed as something of a hero.
Needless to say, it dealt a decisive blow to the current cadre of high-ranking officials.
Of the five assassins, two perished instantly; one succumbed to grave injuries three days later (Tadaya Kasai); and two survived—yet from these living witnesses’ own lips,

The details of the "Hanbei Assassination" plot were fully confessed.

"What fools they were to attempt this," Wahei would say each time he recounted it. "What did they think killing Sadataka would achieve? What did they take Hanbei for? They're fools with absurd notions—they must all have taken leave of their senses!"

Shuzaburo found his brother's ignorance of the truth darkly comical.

The castle steward elder Murayama Kyōsho resigned, and Kawai Ukyō—previously lowest in rank—immediately assumed his position. This occurred in early October. Next came the replacement of two-thirds of Edo's senior officials, while in the domain itself, all high-ranking posts apart from Kawai Ukyō's were gradually reshuffled.

When February of the new year arrived, five former senior officials faced punishment:
Murayama Kyōsho received permanent house confinement with his stipend halved;
Noguchi Yukinosuke was dismissed from service;
Izumi Tosho was placed in relatives' custody with his stipend reduced by one-third;
Kasai Jūbei received permanent house confinement and half-stipend;
And so it went—such were the decisions made.

After this concluded, Lord Munesada Nagato-no-kami departed for Edo for his alternate attendance, leaving Hanbei still without an official post.

Shuzaburo Kishima visited Hanbei at his house, carrying the final investigative report.
It was a warm afternoon in early March, and they had not met since the incident at Kikushuirou.

“Hey, thanks for that time—I was so busy I didn’t have time to come thank you properly.”
Hanbei said this while slapping his own cheek. “As you can see, I’ve gotten thin—after all, I couldn’t even drink sake leisurely.”

“Wasn’t becoming castle steward elder possible?”

“This summer. It wouldn’t be appropriate while his lordship remains in the domain.”

“And why would that be?”

“Why do you ask? Because they’d inevitably say I became castle steward by hiding in his lordship’s shadow,” Hanbei smirked defiantly. “I wanted to carry out the Five Elders’ punishments after his lordship departed for Edo too.”

Shuzaburo seemed overwhelmed by the sheer force of Hanbei’s confidence.
When Shuzaburo handed over the report and prepared to leave, Hanbei came to see him off to the entrance and said:

“There’ll be some position changes again this summer. Once I become castle steward—though that’s for later—I’ll be counting on you then.”

Shuzaburo didn’t quite grasp the meaning of that.

“Don’t forget—it’s the district magistrate position.” Hanbei said this, then lowered his voice slightly, “If the one who wrote that love letter is waiting, you should tell them—you’ll no longer be a room-dwelling dependent. That you’ll be able to marry soon.”

And Hanbei chuckled softly.

He was the kind of person who would remember trivial matters forever.

Shuzaburo returned home with these thoughts.

But that had not been a "pointless thing."

When he returned home and was about to head toward his quarters, his mother stopped him and handed him a letter.
Nanae had been there until just moments ago, his mother explained, and had entrusted the letter to her as she left.

“How is she doing now?”
Shuzaburo asked while absently gazing at the letter.

“The illness has completely recovered, and the doctor said she’s fine now, so today was the first time she ventured outside, I hear.”

“Sick?” Shuzaburo looked suspiciously at his mother. “Was she ill?”

Nine

“Oh my, didn’t you know?”

“I certainly didn’t know.”

“After being divorced from the Kasai family and returning home, she had been bedridden the entire time.”

“Divorce?”
Shuzaburo unintentionally raised his voice. “She was divorced from Kasai?”

“You didn’t know that either? Oh my, how dreadful!”

“When was that?”

“Last June, perhaps?” Kana said as if tracing her memory. “Yes, it was June, I’m certain. I had thought you of course knew about it.”

If that was the case, then she had already left Kasai by the time of the Kikushuirou incident—Shuzaburo thought. Unaware of this truth, he resolved to save Kasai for her sake. To spare her from seeing his grief, he thought he didn’t want to let Tadaya die—but.

“Ah, and one more thing—” Kana said, “as I’m sure is written in that letter, she said she’d like you to come to tonight’s Evening Doll Festival.”

Shuzaburo’s chest grew intensely hot.

――Evening Doll Festival.

The Niimura family’s Evening Doll Festival—long discontinued—had been revived. Counting the years revealed an eight-year gap; his chest swelled with searing warmth as his entire body seemed to dissolve into soft tenderness. Upon returning to his residence, he promptly opened the letter. It proved an invitation to the Evening Doll Festival exactly as his mother had described—

“Tonight—after all this time—I wish to speak at leisure. There are matters I must share with you alone—no other guests shall attend—so please do come.”

Such things were written.

As he read the letter, he suddenly felt he recognized the handwriting.
And at the same time, he recalled Hanbei’s words about "the love letter’s author."

“No way...” he muttered. “No way such a thing could...”

Shuzaburo stood up, opened the desk drawer, and searched for that love letter from before.
He had no memory of discarding it—he thought he had shoved it into the drawer.
But it was not in the drawer.
He took out the records of local history and the notebooks, then began meticulously flipping through them one by one.
Then, it emerged from within one of the earliest notebooks.
When Hanbei had discovered it, he must have slipped it into that notebook.
He immediately opened that love letter and compared it with Nanae’s letter.

The handwriting seemed both similar and dissimilar.
With eight years having passed, it was only natural that even the same person’s handwriting would change.
Rather, Nanae’s appeared somewhat less skilled than that of the love letter.
Shuzaburo suddenly had an idea—he turned the two letters over and held them up to the light to compare them from the back.
Handwriting quirks often become clearer when viewed from the back; he had frequently used this same method to authenticate old documents during his research.

“Some characters are similar—the way ‘oto’ is written is identical,” he muttered. “It’s a distinctive way of writing the characters, and ‘sama’ matches perfectly… But I can’t definitively say it’s the same handwriting.”

For about half an hour, he earnestly compared them before concluding there was nothing he could determine at present and putting the letters away.

At the specified time of seven o'clock in the evening, Shuzaburo visited the Niimura residence.
As it had been a long time since he had seen the Niimura family members, he spent some time talking in the parlor before being urged by Nanae to go to her room.

The doll stand was less than half its former size，and the number of dolls was small.
Nanae said while lighting the snow lanterns on the tiered stand，＂I gave most of the dolls and accessories to my niece Tami．＂

“It’s Taa-chan, right?” Shuzaburo said. “We talked about her once before.”

“That’s right—Taa-chan mentioned how skillfully you imitated the owl’s call.”

Nanae looked healthy.
She showed no signs of someone recovering from prolonged illness—her chest and waist were plump and rounded, her skin glossy with healthy color, her facial features remained exactly as they had been in the past. She neither looked like a married woman nor her actual age of twenty-four, appearing three or four years younger instead.

“I hadn’t known until today, but I heard you divorced Kasai.”

“Yes, it was last June.”

“What was the cause?”

“The official reason was my failure to bear children,” Nanae smiled wistfully, “but the truth was a secret love child—a son Kasai fathered with another woman long before I married him. We discovered the boy had already turned ten.”

“So Kasai was the one who said that?”
“No—I heard it from Mother.”

When he heard this, Shuzaburo suddenly recalled Taa-chan’s words.
“Grandmother is scary when she glares.”

“It seems Mr. and Mrs. Kasai never took a liking to me from the very beginning.”
Nanae said, “Mother Kasai seemed to disapprove of everything I did…… So she must have disclosed matters like the secret love child. I could no longer endure it, so I requested to return to my family home.”

“So it was you who initiated it, then.”

“At my family home, both my brother and mother opposed it, but I said I would die otherwise.”
Nanae smiled as she said this.
Then dimples formed at both ends of her lips.

“Now that Kasai has ended up like that, even my brother and mother say it was good I returned,” Nanae continued, “but I feel rather guilty instead. If I had stayed with Kasai, I could have cared for unfortunate parents and taken in that child living elsewhere to look after them.”

“No—I won’t allow that,” Shuzaburo said. “I won’t let such a thing happen.”

Nanae opened her eyes wide and looked at him.
It was because Shuzaburo's tone was too forceful.
He sat up straight and stared fixedly at Nanae's face.

“Please answer truthfully, Miss Nanae—eight years ago at the Evening Doll Festival, it was you who slipped that letter into my sleeve, wasn’t it?”

Nanae turned pale abruptly and stammered while shaking her head violently.

“No—no such thing—”

“Please speak truthfully.” He cut her off and pressed on, “I compared today’s letter with the one from back then—laid them both side by side to examine the handwriting. Can you still claim they’re different?”

Nanae shuddered, started to say something, but covered her face with both hands and turned away from him.

“I knew it… I just knew it.”

Shuzaburo groaned and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I remember it well—I can recall it clearly now.”
He said with his eyes still closed, “The next morning, you were out in the garden very early. You had been waiting—at the plum grove—waiting for me to imitate the pigeon’s call.”

Nanae could no longer contain herself and burst into sobs.
Sobbing in choked bursts, she said while keeping her face covered with both hands.

"I was wearing my formal kimono."

“Yes—that formal kimono with delicate floral patterns, your hair beautifully styled and makeup applied.”

“Yes, I’ll confess,” Nanae said through tears from behind her covered hands, “I thought I might receive your reply, so I rose early, put on my formal kimono, styled my hair and applied makeup, and waited.”

“Because I didn’t realize that, I ended up making you angry.”

“You declared it a prank—do you have any idea how Nanae felt in that moment?” Nanae sobbed through her tears, “I thought you cared for Nanae too—that’s why I believed you’d understand everything once you saw the letter. Yet you called it someone’s prank—I wanted to die.”

“I loved you—not merely liked you, but loved you deeply,” Shuzaburo whispered. “We had been too close for too long—so familiar that I failed to recognize my own feelings. Only when your marriage to Kasai was decided did I finally understand.”

“Now that it’s come to this…”
Nanae moaned as if in physical pain, “To hear you speak these words now… it rends my heart.”

“No—it’s precisely now that I can say this.”
Calling “Miss Nanae,” Shuzaburo quietly drew his knees closer to hers.

“Even knowing that love letter came from you, as a house-dependent I could do nothing—but now I can confess it. That I love you—now I can confess it.”

“Only after Nanae had returned home divorced and become such an old woman.”

“You haven’t changed at all—you’re the same Miss Nanae from eight years ago tonight,” he whispered. “Kasai couldn’t change a thing about you. You remain exactly as you always were. If you doubt it, look closely at yourself—then gaze into the mirror. Unless two people truly love each other, living together won’t change who they are.”

“Please continue to think that way, Master Shuzaburo.”
“You should know yourself best.”
“You truly believe that, don’t you?”

“Miss Nanae.”
He reached out his hand and gently embraced her shoulder.
“I will soon be able to take up my official post, and then...”
Nanae leaned against him.
Leaning softly against him—this time tenderly—she began to cry quietly.
Shuzaburo brought his mouth close to her ear and whispered.

“When I take up my post… do you understand? When that time comes for me to assume my position—”

The rest was drowned out by Nanae’s weeping.
Nanae now leaned against Shuzaburo’s chest and continued to cry with a voice drunk on joy.

The paper lanterns on the doll display tiers flickered faintly.