Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

When Imaizumi Daini was first to go to Edo as part of the feudal lord’s procession for sankin-kotai attendance, he requested of his parents that they let him marry Wada Gunbei’s eldest daughter Shino.
First he told his mother, but she stared intently at his face as if it were something entirely unexpected and seemed unable to give an immediate reply.

“Is it not permissible? I thought you were already aware, Mother.”

“Not at all! I had no idea—in fact, I thought quite the opposite! After all, you’ve practically lived at the Wada house since childhood and always treated their children like siblings.”

“That’s why I thought you had already perceived it.”

“Usually, it’s the opposite of that.”

Generally, men do not visit households with marriageable daughters so frequently.
Even if they had been on intimate terms until then, it was customary for them to naturally become reluctant to visit once such feelings arose.
Mother expressed such abstract opinions......At that moment, the name Fujishima Einosuke suddenly floated into Daini’s mind—come to think of it, he hadn’t been showing his face around the Wada house much lately; what had become of him?—and similar thoughts arose.
It was likely a reflexive association born from his mother’s words—he had thought of it only in the vaguest terms—but upon later reflection, both her opinion and his recollection of Fujishima, though unconscious acts, carried meanings that were by no means coincidental.

He had Mother tell Father.
Father apparently made a sour face.
There had apparently been other marriage proposals.
Moreover, as Wada Gunbei was his mother’s brother—making Shino and Daini cousins—there had been remarks about their blood being too closely intertwined; however, in the end, he relented, saying that if they were so earnest about it, then so be it.

Mother also went to the Wadas.
Because the day of departure for Edo was approaching, they decided to postpone formal ceremonies and settle matters privately among themselves.
Of course, the Wada family raised no objections, and two days before departure they exchanged sake cups in private celebration.
Daini wanted to invite Fujishima Einosuke and Yagi Chikuma.
However, specifically inviting only those two seemed improper.
Both father and mother opposed this, so only parents from both families attended and performed a token sake cup exchange......Shino in that moment was beautiful.
In elegance and figure, the younger sister Miyo surpassed her; elder sister Shino stood somewhat shorter with slender chest and hips, her facial features retaining an unrefined quality.
Yet that day—whether from hairstyle and makeup (though not formal attire) or perhaps the tension of exchanging engagement cups—her usual childishness vanished; her expressions and gestures overflowed with radiant beauty verging on coquetry.

“You look completely different today, Miss Shino.”

It must have appeared that way to Mother as well, for no sooner had she changed seats than she began observing Shino from front and back and made that remark.

“You truly are beautiful—and to think you’ve always had such fine-textured skin.”

“After all, she doesn’t bother with personal grooming.”

Her mother Kase answered from beside her, “My younger one has fiddled with her hair several times a day since she was little and even sneaked rouge and powder, but no matter how much I scold this daughter about grooming, she won’t touch cosmetics—so her skin’s become terribly rough.”

“Come to think of it, Miss Miyo does seem fond of dressing up.”

While saying that, Mother reached out from the side and gently pressed down Shino’s hair.
Shino seemed not to hear the mothers’ words at all, remaining bowed with her hands folded on her knees, but twice she raised her eyes to look at Daini, each time offering only a faint smile with her lips… It was a smile tinged with sadness—a smile that seemed to plead something, brimming with emotion.
Daini responded with his eyes while calling out in his heart:

We’ve finally come to this, Shino. You must be pleased.

The following night—that is, the eve of his departure—close friends and colleagues came for a “farewell celebration,” so Mother prepared sake and hosted them.
Yagi Chikuma was oddly excited and,

“You must be so worried, sending your precious, treasured son on his first journey,” he joked to Mother. “—Edo’s full of temptations—he might come back a terrible libertine!”

“That might not be such a bad thing—he needs to soften up a bit, or he’ll be nothing but trouble for everyone around him.”

When one of the colleagues said this, Chikuma added, “Shall he go ask Mother—” and everyone laughed. When friends came to invite him to discuss going somewhere, Daini would always answer that he needed to ask Mother first. Even now that he was twenty-four, it remained the same, and among them, it had become something of an anecdote.

“If you have time, you’ll have her send you to Shoheiko Academy, I suppose.”

Fujishima Einosuke said in a measured tone.
Then, as Chikuma was about to leave, he suddenly brought his mouth close enough to almost touch Daini’s ear and quickly whispered this.

“I heard about you and Shino-san. That’s great. Congratulations.”

II

He arrived in Edo in March. Then in September—a mere half year later—his father sent a letter informing him his engagement to Shino had been broken.
No reason was written—only that the Wada side had proposed dissolving the engagement—……You must be disheartened, but ultimately there’s nothing to do but accept we were ill-fated. Please abandon this matter like a man.
It was such a simple matter.

They had been the ones to propose dissolving the engagement.

Daini read that part over and over and tried to imagine any possible reason, but no matter how he turned it over in his mind, he could find nothing that seemed to fit.

“Isn’t this some kind of mistake?”

He muttered somewhat dazedly.

“Or perhaps it’s someone’s malicious prank?”

For two or three days after the letter arrived, he couldn’t grasp the reality of it. He felt vaguely as though he were being deceived. Then he gradually grew unsettled and began to be tormented by irritating suspicions.

Should I ask Mother?

――Might as well send a letter to Shino.

Time and again he impulsively started writing letters to Mother and Shino, but each time threw down his brush midway.
He felt writing would be futile.
If they would send an explanation on their own when receiving a letter, they should have done so already without being prompted.
Especially since Shino was directly involved and they had interacted like siblings since early childhood.
Unlike typical engaged couples, they should have been able to discuss most matters frankly.
That no word had come could only mean circumstances prevented it.

――Then should I ask Fujishima?

Daini had thought that too.
As his closest friend who frequently visited the Wada household,
even if Fujishima didn't know yet, he could at least investigate the circumstances.
......He had considered this, yet when it came down to it, he couldn't bring himself to write the letter.
The engagement had been kept strictly within their inner circle—other relatives and friends hadn't been formally notified.
To abruptly make such an inquiry would be improper, he reasoned, and needlessly lay bare his shame.

When he was struggling in this way, about ten days after his father’s letter had arrived, a letter from Yagi Chikuma came. Chikuma was skilled in calligraphy. He wrote twisted yet lively characters using a distinctive brushwork style honed through studying rubbings of ancient inscriptions. When Daini saw the letter’s signature—instantly recognizable as his—he involuntarily let out a cry.

“Chikuma…”

In Daini’s ear, Chikuma’s voice echoed once more.
On the night of the farewell celebration, his whispered voice—That’s great. Congratulations.
He knew something that no one should have known.
Of course it wasn’t strange—Chikuma and Shino were cousins; Shino’s mother was the sister of Chikuma’s deceased father…
And although he didn’t visit as frequently as Daini or Fujishima, he too often made appearances at the Wada household.

Daini couldn’t bring himself to break the seal right away.
But when he finally mustered the resolve to open it, the letter’s contents not only defied his expectations—they were so utterly unforeseen as to knock him flat, nearly impossible to believe.

I wrestled with whether to send this letter.

Chikuma began with these words, expressing sympathy over the dissolved engagement while stating the circumstances were difficult to convey clearly in writing—adding that Shino would soon marry Fujishima Einosuke, leaving Daini to infer everything from this.
The general meaning amounted to that much, but the suggestive manner of writing impressed upon him something more intense than the facts themselves.

Fujishima... Einosuke and Shino...

Daini suddenly felt as though he had lost his body's center of gravity. He grew dizzy and braced himself by thrusting a hand against the desk.

Fujishima and Shino.
For Daini, the fact that the two had become joined was a blow more unbearable than any other possible circumstance.
If Shino had ended up with someone else—Chikuma, for instance—though he couldn’t definitively claim this—the wound wouldn’t have cut so deep, and he could have forgiven her with far less anguish.
But Einosuke was different—Fujishima alone should never have done this.
For Fujishima to end up with Shino was tantamount to betrayal.
Moreover, Fujishima Einosuke should have known that this constituted betrayal.

In November, the next letter arrived from Yagi Chikuma.
It was news that Shino had married into Einosuke's household.

Out of consideration for the Imaizumi family, the wedding was modest, but on the day, the castle magistrate and three senior officials attended, and on another day they held a banquet inviting close friends.
The honorable parents of Imaizumi were of course absent.
I was invited as well but declined.
Furthermore, according to rumors, Fujishima is to be appointed commander of the vanguard unit in the near future; one never knows the fortunes and misfortunes of human life.

The letter contained such implications.

Part Three

How agonizing it was to harbor distrust toward others.
The extent to which hating others poisoned oneself—Daini had experienced this in full measure over those three or four months.

The Fujishima family also had close ties to the Imaizumi—Einosuke’s grandfather had married into the Imaizumi family.
In such a small domain, blood ties like these were not uncommon.
And the two had grown close—it had not been from such blood ties.
When they sat side by side at desks in the domain school at the age of six, from that very first day, they felt mutual friendship and deep trust.
Though they were the same age, Daini—an only son with a timid disposition—while Einosuke, as the eldest of three brothers, had been calm and strong-willed from an early age, naturally led Daini to look up to him as an older brother.

Their nearly twenty years of friendship need not be recounted here, but recalling them brought tears to the eyes—there were no shortage of deeply moving episodes.
In Daini’s memory, Einosuke was always a protector and a presence that provided comfort and encouragement whenever needed.
...He was thoughtful and calm, reserved in speech, his movements quiet and mature.
It was Daini who brought him to the Wada household, but even the Wada family members treated him differently.
The Wada family had four siblings—Matanosuke, Kosaburo, Shino, and Miyo—and their friends were always bustling in and out.
Daini was also one of them, and Yagi Chikuma was also a companion.
Whether it stemmed from their liberal family customs or not, even considerable mischief went unrebuked in the Wada household.
Even if they wrestled, tore through shoji screens, or knocked over fusuma sliding doors, such incidents were usually laughed off.
...Gunbei was Daini’s uncle, but he loved to talk, always had a red face when at home, and reeked of alcohol when approached.

“Hey you brats! Don’t wreck the house too much—we’re poor here! Show some restraint when you roughhouse!”

Even when scolding them, it never went beyond that extent.
They never discriminated between this person or that among visitors; family members and outsiders received completely equal treatment.
But Einosuke alone was different.
It wasn’t that they showed favoritism by giving him special treats or treated him with particular care—rather, they held him in a kind of respectful regard.
From Gunbei and his wife to the siblings—with Miyo as the exception—the very manner of their speech toward him differed first and foremost.

The youngest child, Miyo, was a strong-willed girl.
From when her tongue could barely form words properly, she had excelled at cornering people in arguments, nitpicking their flaws, and hurling insults.

“Daitan *Botamochi*! *Botamochi*!”

Having likely heard that Daini was being spoiled as an only child, Miyo suddenly began uttering such remarks—it was thanks to her that the nickname “*Botamochi*” came to be attached. And Miyo was the sole enemy of Einosuke within the Wada household.

“Fui-chimatan *Ishidō* yo!”

This was her opening salvo. Because he remained silent and composed, her young eyes must have perceived him as a stone lantern. Then came “*Ojiitan*” and “*Dachidokoro*”. Even back then, this *Dachidokoro* was incomprehensible, and even now, its meaning remains elusive. Everyone often questioned it, but...

“*Dachidokoro* is *Dachidokoro*.”

She sniffed haughtily and offered no explanation. After that, she continued hurling various insults—calling people musty old farts or average-looking (this referring to appearances)—and remained unfazed even when scolded by her parents, brothers, and sister. Einosuke adopted an attitude like wind past a horse’s ears, deflecting Miyo’s insults with a smile. He had never once made an unpleasant face... Daini deeply admired such aspects of him—he was both scholarly and peerless in martial arts. Daini had not merely looked up to him as an older brother—he had trusted him wholeheartedly and continued to do so.

I wonder if I should take Shino as my wife.

The person with whom he had consulted about this was none other than Einosuke besides his parents.

That Fujishima would do such a thing—betraying nearly twenty years of friendship, trampling on this depth of trust... Had he been wearing a cat’s skin all this time? While maintaining that calm, thoughtful face, had he been sharpening such a blade in his heart? Could any human being be capable of such a thing?

Daini hated Fujishima while simultaneously feeling distrust and hatred toward all humanity.

——I will never return home.

He remained in Edo when the feudal lord departed for their domain, having petitioned to study at Shoheiko Academy. His father had likely discerned his heartbreak—no word had come from him since that time—but once his stay in Edo became settled, letters began arriving incessantly from Mother.

She never touched upon Wada—was this her way of coaxing him back? With all a mother’s tenderness, she filled them with depictions of their homeland’s mountains and rivers, embellished accounts of seasonal vistas, and news of when the river fish he loved or wild vegetables and fruits would come into season.

……Then when the new year arrived—marking his third year in Edo—her script gradually grew erratic,

“How much longer will you continue school? When do you intend to return home?”

In that manner they changed—as if her patience had finally snapped—until every arriving letter became filled with words of entreaty.
Mother repeatedly claimed she had grown sickly and pleaded through descriptions of day-and-night loneliness and solitude.

“Please come back, Dai-san. Please come home soon…”

He returned to his homeland after another year had passed, just after the feudal lord had come to Edo.
Having primarily studied historiography at Shoheiko Academy, he had been appointed the previous winter to oversee the organization of the feudal clan’s archives and conduct investigations into supplementing their collection.
The reason for his return was to organize the domain’s archives; his father retained his official rank, while he himself was granted a special stipend of three hundred koku and the status of *yoriai-banto* (council officer) by special decree.

Daini had spent over three full years in Edo, but during this period his character had changed considerably.
He made not a single friend among those around him, and whenever free time came he would visit residences of those with the lowest statuses, eventually even frequenting ashigaru tenements……
Though they were fellow feudal retainers living within the same estate grounds, there it was impoverished, filthy and dim.
Illness, misfortune and calamity constantly accompanied them.
Many received stipends so meager they couldn't match those of town artisans.
Moreover, escaping those circumstances had become nearly impossible.

“There are trees that grow in sunny places and grasses that grow in shady places.”
“We were born into such a fate… A fate one is born into cannot be altered by human effort.”

They had mostly resigned themselves like this.
What were they to do if they encountered illness or unexpected disaster?
Those who could manage would force themselves to do so, while those who couldn’t had no choice but to leave matters to fate.

“If it’s an illness that will heal, it would get better even without medicines—and if it’s one that won’t…”

They would say this with a bitter smile or shake their heads.
“This world wasn’t made for our sake; society’s full of those far more unfortunate—people who become beggars or starve.”
“That we can somehow feed our families together at all is all due to our lord’s benevolence.”
“We must be grateful even for that much.”
……They spoke almost in unison.
Upon hearing this, Daini had raged countless times and cursed countless times.
At the injustice of society’s structures, at humanity’s cunning and heartless cruelty…

——But then, what should I do?

Eventually, Daini began to ask himself such questions.
Can such conditions ever be improved? If society were just—if all people were good—
If that were done, would such miserable lives disappear?
……He lacked the courage to assert “Yes.”
He was still young and had little life experience, but the distrust he had once conceived toward people no longer allowed him to view things simply.
……Regardless of politics, order, morality, or such things, humans are inherently burdened with misfortune and grief.
It follows them until they die.
Those who appear happy; those who believe themselves to be happy.
That is merely that they do not realize it.
Everyone—without a single exception—will surely come a time when they claw at themselves in despair and wail in sorrow.
He thought so.

——No happiness is eternal; what is certain is that humans are burdened with misfortune and sorrow. As many historical records attest, not a single person can escape this fate.

Daini often walked alone through the streets of Edo.
He would leave his residence intending to go to the academy, then pass time blankly by the Sumida Riverbank, wander aimlessly around areas like Honjo and Fukagawa, or sit still lost in thought in a corner of Saruicho’s theaters.
……Without realizing it himself, he became in this way a man fond of solitude—somewhat proud, aloof, and stubborn.

When the mother saw the son who had returned, she could only say "Ah" and remained speechless for some time.

“What’s wrong, Mother? Have you forgotten my face?”

Daini stood in the entranceway and, while saying that, made an effort to smile at Mother.
Mother had aged considerably; her stiffened face contorted instantly, her lips began to tremble, and then tears overflowed from her eyes.

“Welcome, Dai-san… Welcome…”

The words “Congratulations on your safe return” caught in her throat and would not come out. Having managed only to say that, Mother remained kneeling on the step and sobbed.

So much had Daini changed. That bright, clear, and radiant face now appeared emaciated and gaunt. His eyes were somber and dark, and deep wrinkles were etched into his brow. Neither the attitude with which he entered the entranceway nor his manner of speaking was that of the Daini who had left this house. Everything had changed—changed beyond recognition.……Father had been attending to his duties at the castle, but upon returning home and seeing Daini, he too appeared deeply shaken, averting his eyes as if dazzled.

“I’ve started growing medicinal herbs in the garden—did you take a look?”
He said such an abrupt thing.

He made courtesy calls to senior officials and his domain upon returning home but did not invite any acquaintances to his house and declined all celebratory invitations with the reason that he had “injured his body during the journey.”
Yagi Chikuma and former colleagues came to visit frequently but he only promised to meet them later and did not meet them.

The season was approaching the rainy period.

IV

Three assistants were waiting for him.
There were government offices and administrative officials, but since the work was specialized, it had almost no connection with those.
Daini took custody of the archive keys, and an official room was specially granted to him. …For him at that time, these were conditions that seemed tailor-made.
When necessary, he would attend the castle consecutively, but when the assistants sufficed, he would take two or three days off.

Daini’s solitary habits had become ingrained in his character.

When he had free time, he would go out for walks beyond the castle town.
The terrain had mountains encircling it to the northeast and west, with a plain opening to the south, but he preferred walking along the northern mountain foothills.
Cultivated fields, woods, and hills continued up the mountains in stepped tiers, and two highways wound their way through them, crossing over the mountains to the neighboring country.
The point where those roads converged was called Uno; there the road became a broad highway and, making a detour of over one ri, entered the castle town’s northern entrance.
He often walked this road.
On both sides were forests of deciduous trees such as oak, chestnut, and sawtooth oak, and there were also intermittent stretches of old pine forests and cedar rows.
The road wound around and over numerous hills, but when traveling along the hilltops, the view was splendid.
On the left flowed the Ibi River, while on the right spread a gently sloping terraced plain.
There, fields and paddies, small villages surrounded by windbreak forests, and woods and forests could be seen near and far.

The Ibi River was what Mother had written about in her letters—things like when it became the season for downstream-migrating ayu or when yamame trout were in their prime.
Toride Mountain could also be seen nearby—where matsutake and shimeji mushrooms had begun appearing and people went to gather bracken.
When he was amidst that view, his heart settled into calm.
The view seemed to console Daini.
When moved to do so, he would go down to the riverbed and spend half a day watching the water.
He would sit for hours in the woods listening to birdsong.
He would also talk with the old man at the wayside tea house in Uno hamlet—where three roads diverged—gaze at rows of aged low houses and pebble-strewn white paths baked dry, or idly watch people and horses crossing over distant mountains.

On a certain day in mid-October, he was walking along that road toward the castle town.
A somewhat strong northwest wind blew, sending fallen leaves swirling incessantly when from behind them came the fierce sound of approaching hooves through the dancing foliage.
As Daini stepped aside to the edge of the road, five samurai—likely from the same domain and returning from a long ride—galloped past him one after another.
Some carried baskets laden with mushrooms on their saddles, others held branches of vividly red maple leaves... They all raced past Daini until the fourth samurai in line wheeled his horse around and returned.

“Isn’t this Dai-san?”

The man came before him and called out. He couldn’t tell at first because the man wore a sedge hat, but it was Fujishima Einosuke. Daini silently looked up at him. Einosuke had grown slightly heavier, his eyes appearing larger and sharper than before.

“There are matters we must discuss. It’s difficult for me to call at the Imaizumi residence—won’t you come visit me? Shino worries and wishes to see you.”

“Why not dismount?”

Daini's voice had a stinging tone.

"It's not as if our statuses differ enough for you to speak from horseback—but don't bother dismounting. I won't listen to anything you say."

Einosuke dismounted his horse.
But Daini had already started walking.
Einosuke silently followed from behind, leading his horse.
Fallen leaves kept scattering over them and swirling into eddies on the road.

"It seems you no longer believe me, Dai-san."

After some time, Einosuke spoke from behind.

"I still consider you my dearest friend, Dai-san. Even if I told you how Shino suffered when your marriage was broken off, or what my position compelled me to bear—you wouldn't believe me, nor do I wish to speak of it. But...should twenty years of friendship crumble so easily over one woman?"

"At times, even blood brothers kill each other."

Daini said with a sneer and roughly brushed off the fallen leaves that had settled on his shoulder.
Einosuke remained silent again for a while.
Then he spoke in an altered tone.

"I have some advice for you. Unpleasant rumors are circulating. Do your duties properly; refrain from taking days off beyond your scheduled ones… And one more thing—you’d do well to avoid associating too much with Chikuma."

Daini stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“Is that advice in your capacity as Commander of the Vanguard Unit?”

Fujishima Einosuke stared at him with sharp eyes and said while pulling his horse closer with the reins.
“—As a friend.”

And then he mounted his horse and galloped away.
After watching the figure until it crossed over the hill, Daini went down the path to the Ibi River's dried-up riverbed and flung himself onto the withered grass.... The anger that had been subdued flared up anew.
An old wound began to throb with fresh intensity.
The face of Einosuke—who had grown stout and acquired a certain gravitas—looking down from horseback, seemed seared into his eyes.

"You should have at least refrained from bringing up that matter."

Daini groaned out.

"If he had even a shred of emotion, shouldn't he have been unable to mention that matter of all things? He even tried to defend them—talking about how much Shino suffered... Then what about me?"

Nearby, the cold rush of rapids sounded, and fallen leaves kept scattering down onto him as he lay on his back.

Daini met Yagi Chikuma just a few days later.
He refused to meet anyone who came to visit and declined all invitations, so he had no contact with friends and former colleagues, but Chikuma alone persistently kept visiting.

Because Mother would interfere and cause trouble.

There had been times when Mother pleaded in distress.
However, Daini stubbornly refused to meet them.
Letters would sometimes be left for him, but after reading only halfway through the first one, he would put the rest into the small box as they were.
The reason was of course only one—he did not want to touch upon the matter of Fujishima and Shino.
The conversation would surely lead there, and the letters must have written about that matter—the first letter had been like that—for Daini, it was unbearable; even old memories of those two were repugnant.
Until more time had passed, until the wound had completely healed and his feelings had settled into perfect calm, he absolutely wanted to avoid anything that would remind him of the two of them.

Not wanting to encounter any acquaintances, he used the Azuchi Gate to come and go to the castle as well.
The archives were located in the second bailey called Matsunomaru; although he had to detour a bit from there, there was almost no worry of encountering acquaintances unlike with the Ōte or Inui Gates.
Chikuma must have noticed this; that day, as he was leaving the castle and exiting the gate, Chikuma came chasing up from behind.

“Didn’t you hear me calling out to you all that time?”

Breathing heavily, Chikuma started walking shoulder to shoulder with him.

“No, I get it. You don’t have to say anything.”
He cut Daini off and said, “I understand your wish to avoid everyone—though I was shocked by how stubbornly you clung to it—but... I truly grasped it well.”

“I must apologize.”

Daini said in a low voice, as if muttering,
“I’m truly sorry for all the worry I’ve caused, but could you please just let that matter lie undisturbed for a while longer?”

“But surely that’s impossible? I understand Dai-san’s feelings well—I’m just as aggrieved myself—and if I could bury this whole matter in darkness forever, I would… But we must stamp out these flying embers before they land on us—or we risk being burned alive.”

His suggestive manner was effective.
Daini turned to face Chikuma for the first time.

“Are you talking about Fujishima?”

“He’s maliciously trying to frame you, Dai-san!”

“But why?”
Daini faltered slightly, “...For what purpose?”
“Can’t you imagine?”

They walked in silence for a while.
Daini passed by the road leading home and headed toward the lord’s Sen-tei garden.
…Eventually, Chikuma said, “I heard you met him.”
Daini was recalling that very scene but found replying distasteful, so he merely nodded.

“Didn’t he say something about me then? No—no need to ask. I know he slandered me. He doesn’t want me near you, Dai-san. He knows what might slip from my lips—he’s got reasons to fear that. The others can do as they please, but he’d want me kept far away from you.”

Perhaps agitated, Chikuma’s face turned pale as he gestured impatiently and spoke.
...Daini’s ears still held Fujishima’s words with perfect clarity—his words spoken with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce him, saying, “As a friend’s advice”—...

“I rather sympathize with Fujishima.”
Chikuma continued, “—If you’ve returned and are right under his nose, his position must be agonizing—truly excruciating, I imagine. I understand that well. But he must reap what he sowed—he’s done enough to warrant that… Humans are weak creatures. Those who commit sins pile sin upon sin to conceal them… Those lacking the courage to atone for their first transgression will inevitably heap ever heavier, greater sins one after another. Therein lies the tragedy of frail humanity.”

Daini muttered to himself in a low voice as he walked.
Though he couldn’t make out a word, Chikuma continued regardless.
That Einosuke’s methods had been too unscrupulous.
Unbelievable scandals in Edo.
An affair.
A promotion secured through executive favoritism.
Negligence since returning home—constant unauthorized absences, neglected duties, carefree mountain excursions instead of work.

"He keeps saying if he can draw such a generous stipend without shame... No—I couldn’t possibly repeat what follows."

Chikuma made an exasperated gesture.

“When words pass from mouth to mouth, they sprout fins and tails. The issue isn’t what was said—it’s that we can’t leave things as they are. We must resolve this urgently.”

“He destroyed my engagement.”

This time, Chikuma heard Daini’s muttering.

“He took her from me.”

“That’s exactly why he’s trying to eliminate you, Dai-san.”

“He betrayed twenty years of friendship.”
“And yet he still tells people you’re his closest friend.”

Suddenly, Daini came to a halt. And he looked directly at Chikuma’s face—as if seeing Einosuke right there. Then, in a low voice trembling, he said.

“I’m sorry—just leave me alone… In two or three days—probably—I’ll come see you.”

And without waiting for Chikuma’s reply, he strode off along Sen-tei’s long earthen wall toward the Ibigawa.

Five

Was it the following evening? After supper, Daini was summoned to his father’s room.
Mother brought tea but left immediately in a reserved manner.

“There’s actually a marriage proposal.”
Still gazing out the window, Father began, “—This matter has been discussed since last year. They’re quite insistent on their side, and I don’t find it unfavorable myself.”

“—I would ask that you wait a little longer regarding such matters.”

“You’re twenty-seven already and still want to wait?”

“—Once matters here are settled, I must return to Edo. Depending on circumstances, I may remain there permanently.”

“Is being from here so inconvenient for you?”

“That’s part of it too, but anyway…”

Father seemed to look this way.
Daini remained silent, keeping his eyes downcast.
After a considerable time had passed, Father spoke in a hushed voice.

“You’re still hung up on that incident… Daini—are you really such a pathetic man? Are you not a man? Not a samurai?”

Father’s voice was very low but extremely vehement.
It had a tone like being struck by a whip.
Daini bowed his head and remained silent in a rigid posture.
Father seemed to be suppressing his anger; then turned his eyes aside and spoke.

“I will hear your reply within seven days. Depending on that reply, I may have to reconsider.”
Then, as Daini started to rise, he added coldly, “—I hear you’ve been absent from duty without reason. If this happens again, Father won’t tolerate it.”

He lay awake all night.
Anger and hatred gnawed at his chest as if to tear it open.
Vile fantasies swirled in a vortex, and he groaned in despair.

“It’s no use…”

When the bell of Hōkōji Temple struck two in the morning, Daini rose, took his sword, and descended barefoot into the garden to avoid making noise.
Then he drew his sword and, stepping on the cold earth, swung it with all his strength—without uttering a sound, he brought it down from an overhead stance, struck down, then struck down again.
He continued until his nightclothes were soaked with sweat and his sword grew too heavy to lift—but he never noticed his mother watching silently from the veranda.

About three days later, one afternoon, Fujishima came to the archives’ entrance and called Daini out.
“I’m on official business, but I came to say one thing.”

Einosuke's face appeared twisted and convulsing.

“Slandering people behind their backs is disgraceful—if you’ve got complaints, say them to my face! Let me make this plain: I’m no spineless coward who’d run from a duel challenge. That much I’ll declare outright.”

“Wait, Fujishima.”
Daini flared up. “Who are you accusing of slander?”

“The word ‘traitor’ is the ultimate insult!”

“You should remember that.”
Daini shouted as if slamming down his words, “Slander means twisting nonexistent things to defame! If those facts existed, it wouldn’t be slander—it would never be slander!”

Einosuke’s eyes widened, his lips drew taut, and his fist clenched.
However, he immediately curled into a cold sneer and spoke in a tone that pitied the man before him.

“How self-righteous.”

And he hurried away.

Not long after that, and before even half a moment had passed, Yagi Chikuma arrived.
He entered up to the veranda of the archives as though unable to wait for Daini to come out, then went out into the garden together with him.
...Yet he seemed hesitant to say something, repeatedly starting to speak only to stop, sighing or making inexplicable gestures.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I don’t want to say this, but…”

Chikuma muttered indecisively.
At that moment, Daini—what associative process was at work, he couldn’t tell—suddenly recalled the opening lines of his first letter, the one he had received in Edo.

—He had been deeply conflicted over whether to send that letter or not.

And following that, he had informed them of what happened between Einosuke and Shino.
His earlier words of “I don’t want to say this” likely meant there was some bad news to follow.
Daini grew irritated.

“If it’s something you can keep to yourself, I don’t need to hear it.”

“I want to—I want to, but…”

Chikuma, appearing troubled, raised his eyes and looked his way.

“I disapprove of duels.”

“Is he challenging me?”

“No—he can’t be the one to propose it.”
Chikuma’s forehead turned pale. “Since he’s in the position to accept, that’s how it is, isn’t it?”

“Then are you saying *he* should challenge *me*?”

As he said this, Daini suddenly recalled Einosuke’s words from moments earlier—I’m no coward who’d flee a duel once challenged.

“Fine.”
Daini nodded and said, “—Sorry to trouble you, but I’ll write the duel letter. Could you come back later? I need you to deliver it to him—and if you’re willing, I’d like you to act as my second.”
“Sure thing! If there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll do it. I’ll come back later.”

Six

That day, he left the castle two full hours past the appointed time.
He had needed to explain work procedures to his assistants, considering potential contingencies.
His mind was calm; strength surged through his entire body, his head pleasantly tense—he spent time feeling truly alive for what seemed like the first time in ages.
...For over three years, something that had surrounded, pressed down upon, and confined him—a dull black oppressive wall-like thing—collapsed the instant he wrote the duel letter.
It crumbled away so completely he could almost hear it—then suddenly bright light streamed in, and new fragrant air seemed to flow and fill the space.

“This was it—this was how it should have been.”

He muttered to himself again and again.

“I should have done this sooner.”

He even smiled without realizing it himself.

By the time he left the castle, it had already grown completely dark.
A rather strong north wind sent sand and dust swirling up from the road, churned the water of the inner moat into waves, and brought the constant sound of it striking the stone walls.
...Daini suddenly stopped at the edge of the moat and listened intently to the splashing sound of the water.
The moat was deep and dark.
The water glowed a dull steel-gray, crashing against the base of the stone walls only to recede, crash and recede, ceaselessly churning. ... He remembered that bone-chillingly cold hue of water and its sound—as though lamenting something, pleading for something.
In Edo, on the banks of the Sumida River, he had spent similar hours alone, gazing at the river waves and listening to the sound of water lapping against the shore.
Under the embankment at Mukojima… at Hyakuhongi in Honjo….

When he began walking, Daini found himself gripped by a sorrowful, somber mood.
The ashigaru tenements within his Edo residence—their dark, filthy, and damp dwellings; the listless, hopeless lives of those who lived there; figures who spent their entire lives bowing their heads in resignation, barely surviving on meager stipends while trembling at constant illness and unforeseen calamities... These sorrowful recollections came flooding back one after another, until he felt as though he could hear the anguished voices of his father and mother should he himself fall in the duel.

But no happiness lasts forever—humans cannot escape misfortune and grief.

As if it were an escape route, Daini entered the house gate while saying this to himself.

"Shino-san from the Fujishima household is here."

While helping him change clothes, mother said.
Daini thought he had misheard.
But that Shino had come about an hour earlier—that she absolutely had to meet him as it was a matter of lifelong importance—that she had insisted she wouldn't leave until they met—mother relayed all this in a hushed voice.

“I felt terrible troubling you, Daini-san, but when it’s called a matter of lifelong importance, I couldn’t simply refuse.”

“Let’s meet her. Where is she?”

While putting on his usual hakama, Daini said.

“It’s Mother’s guest room, but…”
As she said this, Mother looked up anxiously. “Was there… some sort of mistake?”

“It’s nothing serious. I’ll explain later.”

Though Mother suggested they eat first, Daini drank a cup of tea and went to the inner guest room.

Shino was seated some distance away from the charcoal brazier.
Daini looked at her with an icy gaze, boldly.
Shino had filled out richly.
That somewhat childish, not-fully-matured feeling from back then was nowhere to be found.
Her hair was glossy and abundant, the contours of her body rounded and taut without the slightest slack, radiating warmth and a heavy softness.
That was not the Shino he knew.
She was a woman who had borne a child and matured alluringly, a wife with a husband and a household—that was the impression she gave.

“Let’s hear your business. What is it?”

Daini said as quietly as possible.
Shino immediately took out a sealed letter from her breast pocket and, pushing it toward him, raised her eyes.

“I must return this to you.”

It was the duel letter Daini had sent to Einosuke.
Daini desperately suppressed his anger, barely holding back the scream rising in his throat, and spoke while staring into Shino’s eyes.

“Is that Fujishima’s wish?”

“No—I am returning this.”

“Why? Tell me why.”

Daini began to speak, but Shino cut him off in a tone that seemed to challenge him.

“You are mistaken. You cannot send a duel letter to Fujishima—such a thing should be absolutely impossible for you.”

“Then must I endure even more—”
He was momentarily speechless. “—Must I endure even more unjust insults…?”

“Did Fujishima not suffer insults? I only learned of it just a few days ago—heard it from Wada’s brother. From the day you returned until now, Fujishima has endured unspeakable things—vile whispers and groundless slurs I could never bring myself to utter—without saying a word. The one who bore those insults was Fujishima.”

“Wait—what are you claiming I told him?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? What are you asking me?”

Shino stared fiercely into Daini’s eyes. Then she suddenly let out a low “Ah,” drew a deep breath, and muttered as if to herself. “So it was… so it was true after all.”

It carried the resonance of an expected truth becoming reality. The eyes of Shino, who was staring at Daini, suddenly grew moist, and her challenging tone began to tremble softly.

“I understand now. With those eyes of yours, I truly understand—you could never engage in backbiting or slandering others, Daini-sama… And Fujishima could never do such a thing either, never… That is something you must know, Daini-sama.”

He remained silent.
Shino continued.

“The one at fault lies with someone other than you two. That person made you both this way.”

“You’re not suggesting it’s Yagi Chikuma, are you?”

“It’s that person. Everything was done by that person.”
“I don’t believe it.”

“Then how did you come to know you were insulted? Since returning, you’ve interacted with no one—how did you realize it?”

Daini did not respond.
Shino likely understood the reason—her tear-filled eyes now gently watching him—

"You must understand now—that person came between you two—tried to drive you apart and make you duel—it was all his scheme."

"But...why would he need such a thing?"

"I must tell you—everything." Shino lowered her eyes—her voice dropping deeper still—"Since I must speak for you to understand...Forgive me—but could you dim that lamp further?"

With the unexpected words—“I have been dishonored”—Shino’s confession began.

“It was the summer you left for Edo. My sister and I had gone to the garden for evening air when we suddenly wanted to see the water, so we quietly slipped out through the back gate.”

The sisters avoided the samurai district and entered the precincts of Suwa Myojin. The shrine was small but stood among ancient cedars overlooking the Ibikawa River. It was a moonlit evening when they encountered Yagi Chikuma at the entrance to the grounds. Claiming he “came for a swim,” he accompanied them to the riverbank and made idle conversation. Miyo, disliking Chikuma, tactfully withdrew toward the shrine hall. Then Chikuma—as if awaiting this moment—suddenly seized Shino, dragged her into riverside thickets of shrubs and reeds, pinned her down, and desperately kissed her lips, cheeks, everywhere.

It was all too unexpected.
Shino couldn't even scream, her vision blurring, thinking only that she would be killed—killed.

When he heard my younger sister’s voice calling, Chikuma immediately sprang up.
Shino couldn’t move a muscle.
He helped Shino up while breathing roughly and made incoherent excuses.
“—That he’d liked me for years, been in love with me, and now that things had come to this, he’d take responsibility—that I surely couldn’t marry into the Imaizumi family anymore either—so he intended to formally propose marriage himself.”
He said such things.

“I went to consult Fujishima. I thought of killing myself, but when I considered you in Edo, I simply couldn’t bring myself to die. Fujishima had been closer to you than brothers for nearly twenty years, and I too had relied on him… He was more troubled than angry—for your sake and mine. Can you imagine how much he agonized?”

Shino believed she had been defiled.
There was no undoing it now—she thought she could never become Daini’s wife no matter what she did. On the other hand, Chikuma was proposing marriage—and she could well imagine what he would say in that situation.

“I will meet with Yagi—but there is a condition. Depending on how things proceed, you may have to marry me. Is that still acceptable to you?”

Einosuke said this in a resolute tone.
He met with Chikuma before Chikuma could propose marriage and admitted having wronged Shino.
If Chikuma heard that confession, Einosuke reasoned, he would likely withdraw his advances—yet even then, Chikuma would lack the courage to confess his own assault.
The situation demanded urgency.
And Einosuke immediately implemented that plan.
…As anticipated, Chikuma withdrew his advances—but in retaliation, he went to the Wada household and reported that Einosuke and Shino were committing adultery.

“I will not recount the specific details that followed—Father declared he would commit seppuku to apologize to the Imaizumi family but was persuaded by my uncle and stopped. Though I was to be disowned, through my uncle and aunt’s mediation, I was safely married from the Wada family into the Fujishima household.”

Shino wiped her tears and looked up at Daini.

“Do you understand now? Fujishima took me as his wife knowing full well that I had been defiled.”

7

“After marrying him, I came to understand.”

While lowering her eyes again, Shino continued.

“I realized I hadn’t truly been dishonored—that my body remained untouched—but… even so, after enduring such shameful treatment, I could never become your wife. I thought there was no path left but to take vows or die… Fujishima encouraged me, saying it was merely a wound—that he would heal that wound himself. ‘Consider me a physician and come as my bride,’ he said. ‘Imaizumi will rage and suffer, but once he learns the truth, he’ll surely accept it—he knows what manner of man I am.’”

Daini took out a sheet of kaishi paper and covered his face.
Shino also sobbed.
While choking back sobs, she spoke as if voicing resentment.

“Fujishima was constantly worried about you—he always said he wished you wouldn’t suffer so much…… He always said it—that he hoped you wouldn’t torment yourself too much……”

Daini stood up and went out into the corridor.
Then he entered the dim bathhouse, leaned against the wall, and wept.

"You fool, Daini," he berated himself through tears, "were you truly such an idiot, such a... How could you be this wretched, Daini? There's nothing left to say."

Fujishima’s words. What Chikuma had said. Now, as he reconsidered and compared them, he realized how starkly the truth contrasted with the lies. If only I had met Fujishima directly and acted more like a man. If I’d faced him and spoken openly, such misunderstandings would never have taken root.

Is it right for twenty years of friendship to shatter so easily over one woman?

Einosuke’s words, spoken amidst fallen leaves, pierced his chest with almost physical pain.
Daini clenched his fist, pressed his forehead against the wall, and groaned.
And then he wept quietly for a time.

When Daini returned after washing his face and tidying himself up, the lamp had been brightened, and Einosuke had come to sit by Shino’s side.
Although caught off guard, Daini wasn’t all that surprised.
...Einosuke’s eyes looking this way were quiet, bearing a calm and composed hue.
A smile rose quite naturally to Daini’s lips.

“You were taking so long that I came to get you.”

Einosuke said in a voice as if nothing had happened. Then, after waiting for Daini to sit down, he asked, “Did that clear your head?”

Daini was at a loss for how to respond. So he took the duel letter there, lit the andon’s flame, and held out the burning paper over the hibachi. As he gazed at the small flame, he said, “That this should become our salvation is far too ironic.”

“You write these things in earnest, you know.”

Daini lowered his head and nodded.
Einosuke seemed to understand his feelings well. “Let’s forget all the unpleasant things—everything,”
he began before perhaps choking on the smoke from the nearly consumed duel letter—turning his face aside while coughing—“Of course—Chikuma’s matter too. We can leave his affairs to him.”

This time too, Daini only nodded.
This is acceptable—nothing is lacking. I want to express my gratitude, but there’s likely no need—thank you, Ei-san.
While crumbling the fully reduced ashes with fire tongs, Daini muttered those words inwardly.
Just then, his mother arrived.
She must have come out of worry to check on them; she entered carrying tea utensils. When Daini saw this, he involuntarily cried out in a loud voice, “Ah, Mother!”

“Since it’s been so long, I’d like to drink with Fujishima. I’m sorry, but could you please prepare sake instead?”

“—We were able to reconcile.”
Einosuke also said with a smile, “—I apologize for the trouble, but I’d like to add my own request. However… I’m amazed! This man here still uses such a childish term as ‘Mother’?”

“It’s simply Daini-sama’s habit.”

Shino said in a nasal, congested voice.

Daini raised his face and, cutting off the mother who was about to say something, spoke in an exaggeratedly solemn tone.

“This is only temporary. Now that there’s a marriage proposal—if a bride were to come, I couldn’t possibly keep acting so spoiled, no matter what.”

“Please do so.”

Mother said that and, remaining standing, burst into laughter she hadn’t raised in ages.
Shino laughed joyfully, said, “I will help,” and left together with Mother.
When the two were left alone and the room suddenly fell silent, the sound of wind outside began to reach them.