Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Orewa Hannosuke arrived from Edo.

On that day, Tachihara Heisuke saw the peach blossoms beginning to bloom.
It was the peach tree of Secondary Elder Maeda Jinnai.
Heisuke expressed the following thoughts regarding this.

“Whether it’s proper to call it ‘a single bloom on the southern branch’ for peaches or not—well, anyway, three or four had blossomed plumply on the south-facing branches, like this.”

He demonstrated such a gesture with both hands.

“I couldn’t help but startle.”

At that point, Aoi Taichi asked.
“Why would peach blossoms blooming make you startle?”

“Whether it’s an omen or not—something’s going to happen. This isn’t just about peaches blooming. We can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but something’s coming. We can’t just sit here like this—that’s the feeling.”

Aoi Taichi responded skeptically.
The others weren’t paying attention.

When the executives saw the newly arrived Orewa Hannosuke, they were shocked by his youth.

This reassignment involved an exceptionally difficult and vital mission.
The position demanded someone seasoned yet adaptable—a veteran diplomat with brilliant ingenuity and fearless resolve.
Hannosuke seemed far too young for such a role; though reportedly twenty-six, he looked barely twenty-two or three.
He stood five shaku six or seven sun tall, with a round face, small pursed lips, and owlish eyes.
His demeanor was undeniably refined.
Yet no matter how they sized him up, he came across only as a naive yet well-mannered young lordling.

“What do you make of this one? What manner of man is he?”

“Indeed… what manner of man might he be?”

Maeda Jinnai and the other executives tilted their heads in puzzlement.
To verify the “mission” particulars as precaution,

“Yes, I’m aware.”

He nodded plainly.
He was being so straightforward that they found no opening to ask anything further.
Of course, they weren’t reassured by that, but since it was the feudal lord’s appointment, they provided him lodging and granted a fortnight’s leave for fact-finding.

On the fifth day after his arrival, the executives of the Genbu Society invited Orewa Hannosuke to a dinner.

The Genbu Society was a self-governing association of young men, notable for its imposing seventeen-article alliance pact, garments tailored with sleeve lengths three sun shorter than standard, and the cultivation of cheek beards.
The society had thirty-seven members, and its leader was Bokutō Yakyūrō—a man skilled in swordsmanship whose cheek beards were more splendid than anyone else’s—who was called "President."

At the dinner gathering, five others attended besides President Bokutō.
Kubo Dairoku, Aoi Taichi, Noguchi, and Nakaki.
And Tachihara Heisuke, who had sensed some kind of omen in the peach blossoms.
In other words, they were executives of the Genbu Society.

When Orewa Hannosuke saw the alcohol-free, exceedingly simple meal, he made a displeased face.
It closely resembled the expression of a poorly disciplined child in the throes of a growth spurt when presented with food they detested.
President Bokutō, seeming to have anticipated this, plunged his chopsticks into the darkish rice and,

“We maintain such meals daily to invigorate our robust spirit. What are they like in Edo, for instance?”
Having said this, he indeed had eyes that seemed invigorated with a robust spirit.
The meal was said to consist of six parts barley, two parts millet, one part corn, and one part rice.
Hannosuke did not answer the president’s question and, claiming he was full, did not even pick up his chopsticks.

As soon as the meal ended, they immediately moved on to the secret discussion that was the purpose of this gathering.

“Regarding the mission you have been entrusted with, there can be no room for debate.”

President Bokutō said calmly.

“As fellow members of the Genbu Society, we too cannot remain indifferent. Therefore, we wish to hear your policy and state our own opinions.”

“Please go ahead—I’ll listen.”

Hannosuke nodded lightly.

Yakyūrō coughed, swiftly glanced around at the executives’ faces, then continued speaking with great fervor.

He was eloquent but lacked the skill to grasp essentials.
He recklessly criticized Haniya Toshinosuke’s failings, ranted indignantly, and urged them to be wary of the young lady Shōko.
He mentioned the young lady five times already, then proceeded to enumerate Castle Deputy Elder Haniya’s failings, ranted indignantly, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned away.

Hannosuke had been listening with apparent boredom, but seemingly finding the matter of the young lady particularly irksome, he bluntly retorted:

"If she's that much trouble, does that mean the girl's a leftover with bad prospects or what—some kind of divorcee?"

"Outrageous! This is no joke!" Tachihara Heisuke shouted with bulging eyes. "How could you even suggest such a thing—no—this is absolutely no joking matter!"

Aoi Taichi explained from the side.

Miss Shōko was the only daughter of Castle Deputy Elder Haniya and, with her exceptional beauty and wit, served as the object of admiration for all the young men in the household. However, she was extremely strong-willed—if someone were to displease her even slightly, they would face an ordeal that might make their eyes pop out. Thus, even her father Toshinosuke could not stand up to her alone.

“There is not the slightest exaggeration in that.”
President Bokutō pressed further, “Since you will soon be working daily at the Haniya residence, take utmost care not to forget this point—listen well: under no circumstances must you displease Miss Shōko. Otherwise... I trust you understand.”

That day’s dinner gathering ended there.

“What nonsense.”

Having stepped outside, Hannosuke muttered to himself and shook his head in clear displeasure.

His purpose in coming from Edo had been to make the Castle Deputy Elder resign.

To remove Haniya Toshinosuke from his position and prevent him from meddling in politics.
This had been a pending issue for over a decade, and every possible means had been employed toward that end.
It could be said that the Genbu Society—a self-governing association—had itself been organized for this very purpose.

However, all their efforts had been in vain; the Castle Deputy Elder remained seated in his position with unshakable composure, not budging an inch to this very day.

Of course, there was a reason for that.

First, Haniya Toshinosuke was the younger brother of the previous feudal lord.
He became the adopted son of Haniya Gorōzaemon at sixteen and had occupied the seat of Castle Deputy Elder since he was twenty-three. He was an uncle to the current feudal lord, Shima no Kami Masatsura, and stood in a lord-vassal relationship with all retainers.

Next, he was a man of the first order—his keen intellect, courage, discernment, and imposing presence all stood head and shoulders above the rest (a line-drawn portrait among the author’s materials shows him as the spitting image of Mr. Winston Churchill, former Prime Minister of Britain). Had he become a shogunate elder, he would undoubtedly have achieved feats worthy of being called a renowned chancellor throughout the ages.

In short, even if the entire Gaihan domain were to muster all its strength, he would still be an opponent they could scarcely hope to defeat.
He was merely the Castle Deputy Elder of a 43,000-koku domain.

The world was at peace.
Such trivial domain administration could be managed by any Tom, Dick, or Harry.

There’s no need for a man of such caliber to take the stage.

One might think this.
However, even at the lowest estimate, the Castle Deputy Elder was still the Castle Deputy Elder; remaining in that seat was not without some consolation.
In other words, Castle Deputy Haniya’s administrative policies had generally been executed from that quarter.

Let us now extract for reference some examples from among these that became major issues for the domain and drew grievances from the populace.

1. Ryūjin River Dam Construction.

2. Castle Town Streets Land Readjustment.

3. Outer Moat Reclamation and its Cultivation System.

The materials contain over a dozen other cases, but since the three examples above aptly represent his character and preferences, I shall introduce only these here.

“You see? Hah—what a bunch of fools.”

Hannosuke muttered to himself again as he walked.
This was undoubtedly his impression of the Genbu Society executives who feared Miss Shōko.
Next, he snorted derisively through his nose and muttered something like, “Can’t afford to miss this sight.”

It was a windless, warm, pleasant afternoon.

Hannosuke went out to the castle’s main gate and strolled leisurely along the reclaimed outer moat toward San-no-Maru.
Then, at the corner of Ichijō-chō (though he would only learn the name later), he spotted a vast mansion that occupied nearly the entire town.
Surrounded by high plastered walls on three sides, amidst a dense grove of trees, the roof of a three-story palace-style structure could be seen.

Hannosuke came to a halt and gazed for some time at its imposing structure.

"This must be the lord’s detached palace or something."

He muttered those words.
And then he strolled leisurely along the wall once more.

The plastered walls encircled only three sides, while the southern side featured a lattice fence entwined with wild briars.
From there southward, forests, fields, and farmland spread out, and one could see as far as the border mountains in the distance.
In other words, it seemed they had made only that section a lattice fence for the sake of the view.

“Then you can see inside the mansion—the countryside sure is carefree.”

Hannosuke grabbed the fence and tried to peer into the estate.
However, the section he gripped clattered outward as it fell.
He started momentarily, but the fence hadn’t collapsed—it turned out to be a gate whose latch had come loose.

After looking around, he quietly slipped inside.

He had initially meant to take just a single glance, but within the refreshingly well-kept garden—with its sprawling lawns, hills, forest-like grove, large spring-fed pond, and teahouse—he found himself unwittingly drawn deeper and deeper inward.
Having advanced rather aimlessly, he suddenly noticed an old man by the spring-fed pond muttering complaints under his breath while feeding carp.

The old man had a large, corpulent frame; his shoulders were thick, his chest was thick, and his belly was fully swollen. His head was large, seeming to sink into his thick neck; his face had a square shape and was amply fleshed out. A high nose, lips curved downward in a へ shape, and small yet clear, brightly gleaming eyes. Everything about him was imposing and intimidating, yet it also carried a sense of abundant humanity.

Hannosuke moved closer.

II

The old man sat on a stone by the pond’s edge and, with his roundish smooth hand, plucked some sort of feed and extended it toward the water’s surface.
Then the carp swarming below jostled to rise up from the water—and indeed they did—some extending two-thirds of their bodies above the surface, gaping their mouths.

“Not you, Black! I said not— Hey, I said not you!”

The old man clicked his tongue.

Amidst the red ones, white ones, and red-and-white mottled ones, there was a single black one.
Watching closely, it alone couldn’t break through to the surface; though it tried leaping up to snatch the old man’s bait, the other carp jostled it aside or shoved it down until it was instantly buried beneath them.

“That one’s timid, isn’t it—the black one.”
Hannosuke grew impatient and said.
“It’s not that Black is timid.”

The old man replied.

“Clumsy and spineless, I see. Can’t manage that final stretch. Here now, Black.”
“Indeed—quite inept, isn’t it?”

Hannosuke said this and suddenly laughed.

"But you find such people among humans too—utterly clumsy down to their very core, failing at everything they try, then grumbling complaints in the shadows."

"Yeah, plenty of those."
The old man also nodded involuntarily.

"Maeda Jinnai must be part of that group too—he always has the look of someone who’s misplaced something."

"You mean Mr. Maeda the elder?"

"They’re alike, aren’t they?"
The old man said this and turned toward Hannosuke.

“On top of that, he’s got gallstones—claims it’s merely indigestion, but… You’ve got a face I don’t recognize.”

“That’s right—I’ve only just arrived, after all.”

“Take a good look—I guarantee Jinnai’s got gallstones. That complexion of his… Oh?”

The old man suddenly made his eyes gleam, looked down suspiciously at Hannosuke from head to toe, then pursed his downward-curving lips and stood up from the stone.

“Hey, just who the hell are you?”

Hannosuke started, finally realizing his position, then waved his hand while forcing a smile.

“Oh—it’s nothing special, really. Please pay it no mind. I’m just some nobody.”

“What do you mean by ‘some nobody’? Where the hell did you come from?”

“Over there, that way—”
Hannosuke edged backward while replying, “—Well, that gate happened to be open, the garden looked splendid, there were carp too—though I must apologize for saying so—but you do appear quite the authority regarding carp matters.”

The distance seemed roughly acceptable; Hannosuke forced another diplomatic smile, turned around, and unhurriedly walked off toward the gate.

"What an arrogant old man."

When he stepped outside, he muttered this.

"With a face like a guard dog and eyes like that, barking 'Who do you think you are?'... Probably the head groundskeeper or something—what a farcical old man."

A day later, the Genbu Society members came to extend their invitation.
It appeared their aim was to provide an on-site demonstration of Castle Deputy Elder Haniya’s reckless governance achievements; first, they escorted him to the Ryūjin River dam.

There, about one ri northeast of the castle town, lay a landscape so absurdly comical it seemed to mock nature itself.

“When one speaks of the Ryūjin River, anyone would imagine a torrential, swirling great river.”
Bokutō Yakyūrō stood atop the dam and said.

“But look closely—this is the reality. This is the Ryūjin River itself. Do you see it?”

Where he pointed with his hand—that is, the interior of the large dam—was a field of withered reeds and thick weeds, with young pines and shrubs thriving so vigorously that it appeared not as a river at all, but rather a complete wilderness.
Yet upon closer inspection, it was not a wilderness—a stream of water about three shaku in width meandered through the undergrowth, trickling intermittently into view.

“I can see it.”
Hannosuke nodded.

“—I certainly saw it.”

“This was simply called a weir in the past.”

Kubo Dairoku said in a hoarse voice.
It was such a terrible hoarse voice that it made one’s own throat itch in sympathy, but… A weir was fundamentally an irrigation ditch meant to channel water to rice paddies—it was absolutely not a “river.”
It was Castle Deputy Elder Haniya who one day came fishing here—(they say he still visits often)—and declared this place at risk of catastrophic flooding, promptly designing the dam himself and rushing into construction. …A truly monumental structure spanning seven ri and twenty chō (~30 km), built entirely of stone with a base width of five ken (~9 meters) and height of three ken (~5 meters).
Putting aside the funds and labor invested in this, five farm households were ruined due to the construction; there were those who hanged themselves, those who sold their daughters, family separations—various tragedies occurred.

“Let me make this clear.” Kubo Dairoku rasped with strained intensity: “—For this trickling irrigation ditch, they sacrificed so much to build this preposterous dam—this monumentally absurd dam! Do you understand?”

Hannosuke put on the most solemn expression he could muster, desperately stifling his urge to laugh as he gazed out at the scenery that seemed to mock that very man.

“So in other words, this dam was built first, and then they gave it the name Ryūjin River?”

“Indeed—that too was Lord Castellan’s selection.”

Hannosuke sighed, though it felt less like condemnation of the Castellan’s methods than secret envy.

They returned to the castle town.

Next was the town’s land readjustment.
First, standing in Ōte Plaza and looking out, a main road sixteen ken wide stretched straight through the castle town’s center toward the northeast.

Generally in any domain, castle town roads were narrow things that inevitably twisted and turned at every dead end.
This was said to be done so that, when battle came, they could control invading enemy numbers, hinder their speed, and position ambush troops at key points.

However, Haniya Toshinosuke constructed a main road running straight from the castle’s Ōte Gate to beyond the town’s outskirts, then restructured all other streets into a grid pattern centered around it.

“What do you think of this spectacle?”

Aoi Taichi pointed at the main road and said.

“For instance, in the event of battle—if enemy forces were to advance here—they’d have a clear line of sight from one and a half ri beyond the town all the way to the Ōte Gate! With this sixteen-ken-wide road, they could launch a full-scale cavalry charge straight through!”

“Is this what you call castle defense? Or is it some kind of secrecy?”
Tachihara Heisuke said, “—Under these circumstances, we simply cannot take responsibility for mounting a defense.”

“But that’s not all—”
Yakyūrō stroked his cheek beard. “—Because of this road renovation, five long-established shops that had thrived for generations collapsed. People threw themselves into wells to die; others grew reckless and drowned themselves in debauchery out of despair. Marriages broke apart; parents and children were torn from each other—truly tragic incidents beyond counting.”

Hannosuke listened to their explanations with solemnity.
At times he frowned or tilted his head, but ultimately said nothing himself.
However, after concluding that part, when they proceeded to the reclaimed moat farmland, he could no longer maintain such solemn composure.

The outer moat occupied an area west of Ōte Gate, stretching from below the Second Bailey to Inui Gate, measuring twenty-five ken in width and five chō thirty-one ken in length. The depth was said to be three jō and two shaku from road surface to waterbed, and even after reclamation, it remained over six shaku lower than the road——seven years prior, Castle Deputy Elder Haniya had reclaimed this area, compelling youths of samurai status or higher to cultivate it through annual rotation—as rice paddies in summer and dry fields in winter. From turning the soil and sowing seeds to managing the nursery, fertilizing, harvesting, threshing, and bagging the crops—they were reportedly responsible for every step.

All members of the Genbu Society were of samurai status or higher; naturally, they could not avoid being conscripted for this labor service, hence their feelings of indignation were also intense.

"If this state continues for four or five more years—" shouted Nakaki Kosuke—who had remained silent until then—his eyes widening,

"I guarantee it—we’ll all end up as full-time farmers."

"There’s no need to wait four or five years."
Kubo Dairoku also said indignantly.

“Didn’t the peasants gape in awe at last year’s rice yield?”

Hannosuke found himself unwittingly provoked,

“Then even if you lot end up rōnin, you’ll never starve.”

With these words, he finally burst into laughter.
They fell abruptly silent, their eyes terrifying as they glared in unison at Hannosuke.

Hannosuke’s official title was “Castle Deputy Elder Secretary”—an unprecedented position—and his duties were those of a secretary official directly subordinate to Haniya Toshinosuke.
This was a role specially established by order of the feudal lord because Castle Deputy Elder Haniya had grown increasingly self-centered in recent years, hardly ever attending the castle and conducting elder affairs at his private residence.

Through preliminary meetings or something of the sort, Hannosuke frequently met with Elder Maeda.
This secondary elder had a gaunt, withered frame and a face like a shriveled monkey, habitually speaking in a listless, pessimistic tone.

Indeed—Hannosuke would often think to himself.

That foreman-like old man had said it himself—he truly did have a face like he’d lost something, might even be riddled with gallstones. Quite the witty old man.

Maeda Jinnai gave him various warnings.
He had mentioned Miss Shōko as well, but particularly emphasized that since Lord Toshinosuke disliked having his face looked at, he should avoid looking at it as much as possible.

“But that’s rather inconvenient, isn’t it—being by his side all the time yet never looking at his face.”
“If you met him, you’d find it perfectly reasonable.”

Jinnai said in a low voice.

“The young ones call him a walrus and such—no, or rather, you’ll understand once you meet him.”

III

On the first day, he was accompanied by Maeda Jinnai and went to the Haniya residence. To his astonishment, it was that grand mansion in Ichijō Town—the one he had mistaken for the feudal lord’s detached palace. The two men adjusted their attire in the anteroom, were guided by the first attendant to the first reception room, waited there for about half an hour, and were then led by the second attendant to the second reception room. There, they waited about the same amount of time, and the third attendant led them to the third reception room. When they were finally shown to the fifth reception room, Elder Maeda’s face finally relaxed as if his furrowed brows had smoothed out.

“Thank goodness—if we’ve made it to this reception room, we can finally meet him. Today’s truly a fortunate day.”

Having said this and wiped his sweat, Hannosuke was not a little surprised.
Upon inquiring, he learned that many cases occurred where visitors would reach the fourth reception room only to be informed that “the meeting time had expired.”
Even Jinnai, the Secondary Elder, had frequently been made to wait three hours like that, only to be told time had expired and return without meeting him.

“That’s quite the production.”

Hannosuke muttered under his breath.
Jinnai, startled, urgently restrained him by pulling his sleeve.

At last, they were guided to the guest room.
In a twelve-tatami shoin-zukuri reception room, the Castle Deputy Elder sat with his back to the tokonoma.
A large maki-e writing desk stood to the right, a bronze room brazier to the left, while the man himself sat upon a thick floor cushion.
Of course, there were no cushions here on their side.

He's acting just like a lord!

Having thought this, Hannosuke involuntarily cried out the moment he suddenly looked at Toshinosuke.
At that sound, Toshinosuke turned his gaze this way and emitted a strange groan himself.

This was that old man—the one who spoke in that pompous manner, resembling a head groundskeeper, that carp expert of an old man.
Even Hannosuke seemed momentarily stunned; he hastily bowed and put on an ingratiating smile,

“Ah—well—about that other time—” he said in a mollifying tone, “—I had no idea, you see—to think *you* were the Lord Castellan! What a coincidence! And the carp… Ah, speaking of carp—is that black one still there? Still, uh… still…”

Hannosuke fell silent.

Toshinosuke was staring this way with a glare that could kill, not even blinking.
He wore a look that said, “To hell with the carp!”
And when Hannosuke fell silent, he let out a cough so thunderous it seemed to rattle the ceiling planks—
“So this is the fellow called Orewa?”
he shouted at Maeda Jinnai.
Hannosuke involuntarily ducked his head and bowed.

Hannosuke began his duties.
That said, there was nothing particularly special about them. Five staff members handling public affairs had been assigned their own separate room and took care of all necessary communications and administrative tasks with the castle.
Hannosuke simply needed to remain by Lord Toshinosuke’s side—his working hours were from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon.
The holidays had been fixed at two days per month.

It was the day after Hannosuke had attended his inauguration greeting; after his noon meal, he visited Madam Kikue’s room.
Of course, he had obtained Toshinosuke’s permission, but Madam Kikue had dressed neatly and was waiting with tea prepared.

“Oh dear, this is a problem. I don’t know the first thing about tea.”

He blurted out as soon as he sat down.
Without any formal greeting, beaming all the while, he vigorously stroked the back of his neck with one hand and looked at Madam with an affectionate gaze.

“Since I’m just a third son left out in the cold, I wasn’t taught such extravagant arts. I’m sorry, but could you make it sencha instead?”

“What an extraordinary way to call it an ‘art.’”

Madam laughed.
This was the first time she had encountered such a blunt person, but it didn’t seem to put her in a bad mood; glaring at him with gentle eyes,

“There’s nothing difficult about it at all. If you drink it comfortably, that’s the proper way. I’m just imitating others myself.”

“I see. In that case, shall I have this tea without formalities?”

“A tea ceremony without formalities?”
Madam laughed again.
“You do come out with the most peculiar remarks.”

Madam Kikue was quite beautiful.
She was likely around forty, but she looked at least ten years younger.
She had a plump oval face with skin as smooth as lustrous silk—moist and pale white. Her eyebrows, soft as if brushed with diluted ink, harmonized perfectly with her narrow kind eyes, creating an impression of warm dignity and enveloping tenderness.

Hannosuke sipped a bowl of tea with terrible clumsiness, nibbling on sweets while stealing furtive yet conspicuously bold glances at the Madam’s figure.

“What are you staring at so intently? Is there something on my face?”

“No—well, I...”
Hannosuke faltered for a moment but,

“—Actually, I was just thinking about the Lord Castellan.”

“What does my face have to do with my husband?”

“No, it’s like this—to be perfectly honest with you,”
He lowered his voice.

“About the Lord Castellan—well, I’ve heard quite a few absurd things said behind his back. Of course, regarding his appearance—how disrespectful of them to compare him to an otter or such nonsense.”

“He does resemble one.”
Madam chuckled softly while suppressing her voice,

“It looks just like the ones you see in pictures, doesn’t it?”

“Are you being facetious, or—” Hannosuke drew himself up and said.

“Or are you seriously saying such a thing?”

Hannosuke’s abrupt shift in demeanor left the Madam momentarily startled; she looked at him with a bewildered expression.

“I object.”
He said decisively.

“Far from opposing—I’ve never seen a man as handsome as the Lord Castellan.”

“A handsome man, you say?”

“And of the highest caliber in all the land.”

Madam Kikue flinched, then spoke as though slightly offended.

“You’re the one who’s mocking me.”

“You don’t understand!”
Hannosuke said angrily—

“That dignity! That depth! That unparalleled beauty endowed with wisdom, compassion, and resolve—that is masculine perfection incarnate! I’ve lived twenty-six years in Edo among countless souls! Seen famed kabuki stars too! Yet all pale before our Lord Castellan! Ah—open your eyes! Let fools prattle what they will—but *you* mustn’t speak such heresy!”

“But Mr. Orewa,” the Madam said with a perplexed smile,

“No matter how you look at it—calling your husband handsome… That’s going too far.”

Hannosuke looked at Madam as if to pierce through her eyes.
And with a not insignificant mocking tone,

“So you’re the same as those fools in the world, Madam? Calling some flat-faced, botched excuse for a woman—some spineless creature—a handsome man… Disgusting! Stop it—I’ll speak plainly: if you truly believe that, you’re a blind person.”

And he indignantly left the room, leaving the astonished Madam behind.
To call someone a blind person was abusive language.
His manner of leaving was also rude.

Did Madam Kikue take offense?
No—it seemed she had not.

The bond between husband and wife was a delicate thing—in this case, the fact that she herself had been disparaged didn’t seem to be an issue for her.

“The Madam says she wants to see you.”

The next morning, as soon as Hannosuke arrived for work, Toshinosuke said with a grim expression.
Hannosuke sullenly puffed out his cheeks and turned away; “Is that so?” he answered without moving.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going?”

After a moment, Toshinosuke prompted him.

“No, I won’t go. I refuse.”

He answered curtly, then muttered under his breath as if talking to himself, “What’s with women…”

The Lord Castellan wore an expression tinged with irritation and kept casting sidelong glances at him.
He seemed to want to say something but appeared unable to voice it.
Before long, he began to grow irritated and suddenly stood up,

“I’m going fishing. Order Rokubei to prepare.”

he snapped.

Rokubei referred to House Steward Wada Rokubei. Looking at the preparations, besides what appeared to be a long bundle containing a fishing rod, there were also two cloth-wrapped bundles each about the size of a small wicker trunk.
Hannosuke seemed exasperated at the prospect of having to carry this, but it was two servants who shouldered the load.

The fishing spot was the usual Ryūjin River.

It seemed they frequented this spot, for on the bank of a stream where river willows grew thickly stood a bench and platform made of plain wood.
It was naturally inside the embankment and near the center of the riverbed.
Hannosuke turned aside with an amused look and smirked.

Despite having constructed such a massive embankment, erecting such a structure right in the middle of the riverbed—and it not even being washed away—struck him as bitterly ironic. But he said no such thing; instead, he silently sat down on the withered grass.

Lord Toshinosuke appeared angered and did not speak a word until lunchtime. Whether he had any real intention of catching fish, he had a servant attach bait to the hook, hurled it into the water without adjusting the float’s position, pulled it up as if suddenly remembering something, then had the bait changed and flung it in again. After that, he looked around, had another servant light his tobacco and smoked it, then had them boil water by the riverside to sip tea and eat sweets.

After lunch, Toshinosuke looked at Hannosuke with sullen eyes while,

“A man shouldn’t go around talking about looks!”

he said.

Hannosuke retorted with an unperturbed face, quite matter-of-factly.

“Whether it’s about appearances or anything else—if someone says something wrong, I’ll call it out as wrong.”

And after pausing briefly, he muttered under his breath again, as was his habit,

“—There truly are so many blind fools around here.”

Toshinosuke frowned and pursed his lips into a tight line, but this time said nothing.

IV

But four or five days later, Hannosuke visited the Madam's room of his own accord. Since there had been no prior notice, Madam Kikue—who had been writing something—flusteredly called a maid to have him escorted to her private guest room, but he disregarded this and settled himself down,

“I’ve come to apologize,” he said with a solemn bow,
“I deeply apologize for my rude behavior the other day. Please forgive me.”
“There’s no need for apologies if you’ve come to visit.”
Madam Kikue smiled cheerfully.
“—I was also at fault back then. I thought you were merely joking, but upon later reflection, I came to fully understand what you meant. That’s why I wished to apologize myself.”

“Wait a moment.”

Hannosuke fidgeted restlessly, interrupted the Madam’s words, and stuttered as he spoke.

"When you say such things, it puts me in a difficult position.
It’s truly troubling—you see—because I still must apologize."

"My, why is that?"

"Well, you see... This relates to when I remarked the other day that the Lord Castellan was a handsome man."
There, he looked at the Madam with timid dove-like eyes.

"The other day—when I stared at you improperly—I received your rebuke."

“Yes, that’s right. And then?...”

“Actually, I wasn’t thinking about the Lord Castellan then. Of course, it remains true that he’s a first-rate handsome man in all the land—but what I was pondering at that time was something else entirely.”

The Madam nodded suspiciously.

“To be honest,”
Hannosuke, with an endearingly affectionate expression, kept his gaze fixed on the Madam as he continued his words in a somber voice.

“When I first came here to pay my respects and saw you, I felt such an urge to suddenly grasp your hand or cling to your knees that my head started spinning.”

Madam Kikue’s face turned red, then instantly paled.
This was the first time she had heard such a blunt confession.
The reddening was shame; the paling must have been anger.
But Hannosuke, his eyes growing moist,

“It’s because you look exactly like the one person I cherished most—the irreplaceable soul who loved me beyond all others.”
His voice seemed to thicken with emotion.

“—I was called the third son’s unruly brat—utterly uncontrollable. My father, brothers, even my mother never showed me kindness. I was always scolded, punished, subjected to beatings… Yet among them all, only *she* shielded me, stood by me, comforted me, loved me. When I faced punishment or beatings, only *she* would apologize or weep with me… The one person in this world I could never forget—my dearest, irreplaceable one. Forgive me… You’re the spitting image of her.”

Hannosuke took out a kaishi paper and quietly covered his face.
Madam Kikue also appeared deeply moved and, while nodding repeatedly, gazed at him as if enveloping him.

“And what kind of person was she to you?”

“She was my sister.”
He answered in a low voice,

“Though it’s strange for me to say this myself, she was an exceedingly beautiful person—so very beautiful that even as a child, I took pride in my sister’s beauty.”

“Has she already married?”

“No—she passed away at nineteen, just before her wedding.”

“Oh, to pass away just before her wedding…”

Madam Kikue let out a deep sigh and pressed her beautiful fingertips to the corners of her eyes.
Just then, footsteps sounded in the corridor, and a voice called out, “Mother.”
The Madam, looking somewhat awkward, adjusted her posture and answered, “Do come in.”

Sliding open the shoji, the strikingly beautiful young lady entered with the dignified grace of a peacock spreading its tail feathers.

The young lady’s height and figure were beyond reproach.
Her facial features, resembling her mother’s, were far more beautiful—so breathtakingly beautiful it could be called striking.
Her beauty was utterly flawless, but if one were to name a single flaw, it would be that she herself recognized her own beauty—as anyone could immediately tell.

“This is perfect timing—let me introduce you both.”
After waiting for Miss Shōko to sit down, Madam Kikue made the introduction.
“—This is Master Orewa Hannosuke, who has come from Edo, and this is my daughter Shōko.”

Hannosuke looked at the other party and said, “Well!”, while Miss Shōko stiffened and acknowledged him with only a slight glance.
Not moving his body—let alone his head—Hannosuke, with a look of genuine puzzlement, asked the Madam.

“So is this lady your younger sister, or is she your older sister?”

“My, why do you ask?”
The Madam exclaimed in surprise, “—We only have one daughter.”

“Oh, is that so? Just one... Is that true?”

“My, how dreadful! Why would you say such a thing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

Hannosuke gazed coldly at Miss Shōko.

“Well, I often heard in Edo that your household has a young lady so beautiful they call her a peerless beauty—one so dazzling she could make eyes water… But how utterly unreliable these rumors prove to be.”

Hannosuke started to say, then clamped his mouth shut.

The young lady had become enraged.
Furious, her eyes narrowing sharply, she nearly kicked over her seat as she stormed out of the room.
Hannosuke looked at the Madam with a clueless expression, as if he didn’t understand a thing.

“What’s the matter? Did I say something to offend?”

“Of course.”
Madam Kikue glared at this ill-mannered man in exasperation.

“Doesn’t that make it seem as though Shōko isn’t beautiful at all? To you, doesn’t that person appear beautiful?”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry—after all, a peerless beauty is bound to be dim-witted.”
He said gently, as if to console the Madam.

“After all, they’re usually dim-witted—so there’s no need to fret even if the young lady isn’t a beauty.”

He finally made an enemy.

The most fearsome presence within this mansion—one that even Lord Toshinosuke approached with caution—was the terrifying adversary about whom both the Genbu Society and even the secondary elders had issued warnings.
…Yet Hannosuke himself remained utterly unfazed.

With an expression perpetually on the verge of whistling a tune, he continued encountering Miss Shōko afterward—whether she turned away icily or fixed him with venomous glares—utterly indifferent as he maintained his practiced smile of courtesy,

“Ah, what splendid weather we’re having.”

he would call out things like that.

Cherry blossoms scattered, deutzia flowers scattered, and the early summer rains passed without incident.
In the meantime, there had been frequent demands from the Genbu Society.
What exactly was the situation? Was their scheme progressing smoothly? Whether things were likely to proceed successfully.
They seemed to be simmering with unbearable anxiety.

“It’s going well—no problem.”
Hannosuke always answered nonchalantly.

“Good news should reach your ears soon—it’ll only be a little longer.”

“I hear you angered Miss Shōko.”

Tachihara Heisuke had once said such a thing.

“Even though we warned you so thoroughly, you’ve done something truly ill-advised, haven’t you?”

“Just wait and see—that’s also part of the plan.”
Hannosuke answered with a laugh.

“—The time will come when you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

And he laughed again.
The sight of burly men with uniform cheek beards—who seemed to seriously fear a single young woman—was something he couldn’t help but laugh at.

Mid-June, a certain day.

At the usual spot on the Ryūjin River, Haniya Toshinosuke was casting a fishing line.
Behind the stool stood an impressively large Chinese umbrella, and the Castle Deputy Elder sat in its shade—much like a modern beach parasol.
Hannosuke was in the shade of a riverside willow next to him, sitting on the grass and chatting away with evident satisfaction.

“Truly, it’s something—he always looks like he’s lost something.”
He snickered.

“—And frankly, I don’t know much about it, but that gallstone case gives off such an impression—he might be decent enough, but it’s just too absurd…… How does that dyspeptic gallstone case even serve as secondary elder? Though to be fair, everyone here’s a fool—not a single competent soul among them.”

Toshinosuke remained silent with a bitter expression.
Hannosuke continued cheerfully.

"The lot here—every last one of them dim-witted, shortsighted, timid as women… To put it plainly, take this Ryūjin River. They can’t grasp that it was originally called a weir—utterly absurd."

He skillfully mimicked Tachihara Heisuke’s manner of speech.

“In the northeast of our domain’s castle town flows the Ryūjin River—if you were to say *that*, wouldn’t it have the grandeur befitting a million-koku domain? But if instead you called it ‘a weir in the northeast,’ wouldn’t that sound like you’re making excuses? …They can’t even grasp logic this simple—so of course they’ve no understanding of this dam’s significance.”

“Do you have something to say about the dam?”

Toshinosuke turned around for the first time.

V

“There’s nothing worth mentioning.”

Hannosuke glanced to the left.

Over there, two servants were lighting a fire and busily preparing lunch.
As if their conversation couldn’t be heard over there... Hannosuke curled his lips into a smirk and continued speaking in an even livelier voice.

“They just drone on and on with their whining—how many hundreds of thousands of ryō it cost, how heavy taxes and forced relocations ruined several farming households, how someone hanged themselves or sold their daughters, how there were tragic family separations—and what’s more, they know nothing about this dam’s significance and have no interest in learning. Do please take a look.”

He said this and gestured with one hand toward the great dam.

“That majestic dam—an eternal monolith without equal past or present! Even if heaven and earth were overturned by catastrophic floods, it wouldn’t budge an inch. Unshaken for a century, a millennium, ten thousand generations! *This* is governance! A dam of this scale for a river of this size—*this* is a century’s worth of governance! What does it matter if it cost tens of millions? Just collect taxes vigorously! Let peasants hang themselves, sell their daughters, scatter their families—pah! What are peasants? What *are* peasants? Peasants are weeds or insects crawling at your feet!”

“Enough of your nonsense—shut your mouth!”

Toshinosuke interrupted in a low, restrained voice.

“Agriculture is the foundation of the nation—peasants are its treasure. This dam construction has its unreasonable aspects, and it’s not as though I haven’t given them thought.”
“As for impoverished farming households, I intend to implement a system of compensation.”

“Well, this is a surprise! Is the Lord Castellan actually concerned about such things?”

“Don’t speak of me—you’re insufferable.”

Toshinosuke shouted, tried to say something more, then sullenly pressed his lips together, raised his fishing rod, and yelled, "Change the bait!"

On the other hand, he visited Lady Kikue’s room almost daily. While receiving the hospitality of tea and sweets, he chattered away in his usual manner and kept making the lady laugh. Lady Kikue utterly spoiled him; moved by his personal stories—especially those about his deceased sister—she even began acting as though she would take the sister’s place.

But interruptions would occur about once every three times. He would ramble on with absurd stories, and Lady Kikue would laugh in her youthful voice. Then Miss Shōko would call out “Mother” from behind the shoji screen—always over some trivial matter—but she never actually entered the room.

“Mother, where is such-and-such?”

She would ask these things from behind the shoji screen.

Then she would walk through the hallway—deliberately stomping her feet or coughing as she passed.
It was clearly an act of provocation, but Hannosuke maintained an attitude of utter indifference.

On a rainy afternoon, Hannosuke was playing Go with Toshinosuke.

The wide lawn garden, the grove-like stands of trees, and the artificial hill were all uniformly drenched in green, as if seen through gauze.
From time to time came the sound of koi leaping in the spring pond and within the grove echoed the cry of a heron.
These seemed to deepen the tranquil hush of the quiet rain.
Unusually silent—Hannosuke appeared to be struggling in the match.
At that moment Miss Shōko entered; gliding in quietly, she settled firmly on the veranda edge,

“Father, I shall observe.”

She said in a judge-like voice.

She paid no attention to Hannosuke, sitting stiffly in an intimidatingly challenging posture as she coolly fixed her gaze on the Go board.……It was said she excelled at Go—even her father often lost to her.
It was clear that she had appeared to observe the game now because she had heard from her father about Hannosuke’s skill and intended to mock him.

“Father, is this Go?”

Sure enough, she launched her attack.

“Or is this some other sport?”

“Why do you ask such a thing? It’s obviously Go!”

“Well, is *this* it?”
The young lady laughed as though unable to contain her contempt.

“So this is Go… How novel. This is the first time I’ve ever witnessed such an… unconventional opening strategy.”

“That’s not my fault.”

Toshinosuke thus rebuffed.
The young lady smiled as if to say *Naturally*, and attempted to launch her next attack.
At that moment, Hannosuke broke his silence and began speaking with remarkable cheerfulness.

“When I look at this Go board, it reminds me—you boldly carried out those castle town road renovations. Truly splendid.”
He wore a face utterly unperturbed by the young lady’s sarcasm.

“Yet there exist utter fools who claim these roads are strategically unsound—that their winding paths will let us mount defenses at every corner during battle! Pah! What delusions of warfare do they harbor? In a life-or-death clash, would enemy forces dutifully march along those crooked lanes? Would any army prioritize traffic etiquette mid-siege?……The outcome’s obvious—they’d set fires from the windward side and burn it all! Grid patterns, twists, gourd-shaped lanes—none of it would remain. They’d raze everything and attack unimpeded.”

“I beg your pardon, but isn’t it *your* turn?”

“They also say things like this.”
Completely ignoring Miss Shōko’s interjections, he continued speaking with an unperturbed expression.

“—Because the roads were altered, long-thriving establishments collapsed one after another, people threw themselves into wells, grew reckless, divorced, ruined themselves until families scattered to the winds—and they rant about how ‘tragic’ or ‘slippery’ or ‘stumbling’ it all is, spewing rotten, womanish complaints! What do these fools even think governance *is*?……In the face of this groundbreaking urban reform—this historic overhaul—what does it matter if fifty or a hundred old shops vanish? If a hundred or a thousand townspeople go bankrupt or leap into wells? If families split and scatter? It’s so obvious it’s laughable! Birds, fish, or insects get crushed underfoot or sliced apart in far greater numbers every single day!”

“What lawless nonsense.”
Toshinosuke stared in astonishment.
“How dare anyone treat precious subjects as no better than fish or insects!”
“I understand perfectly well, Father.”
Miss Shōko sharply interjected.

“You don’t want to play Go here because I’m in the way—that’s why you’re just making idle talk.”

“Oh my, Miss Shōko—still lingering there?”

Hannosuke looked at the young lady for the first time, grinned broadly, then spoke in an excessively gentle voice—the tone one uses to coax a small child—to placate her.

“You see, I’m having an important discussion with Father right now—about politics, which couldn’t possibly interest you. I’m certain Father wouldn’t want you hearing this either. Why don’t you go over there? You’re so understanding, aren’t you?”

“Shōko, go over there.”

Toshinosuke added this because Miss Shōko had suddenly turned pale and clenched both hands into tight fists.
……But of course she couldn’t scream disgracefully—tears of anger and humiliation spilled out as she stood pressing them against her sleeve before dashing from the room.

“Though those are your words, Lord Castellan, shouldn’t matters vital to our subjects and retainers remain separate from politics?”

Hannosuke immediately continued as follows.

“Take the Outer Moat Reclamation and rotational farming system—those initiatives have profound significance in utilizing idle land and dormant labor. One could push this further: make *all* samurai till fields and drive peasants out of the domain entirely! Yet *they* fail to grasp this. Even the current rotational system enrages them—absolutely livid! If you saw it, you’d double over laughing.”

“Why on earth would *I* laugh?”

“Because their ignorance is utterly bottomless—even a three-year-old child fares no better—wouldn’t you agree, Lord Castellan?”

Hannosuke gave a meaningful glance.

“Politics is absolutely not charity. It exists neither for peasants and townspeople nor for the happiness of the domain’s people. Politics is politics—they are they. The common people need only labor and pay taxes. Politics takes—it never gives. That’s what *they* fail to grasp. In short—ignorant and uneducated, utterly ignorant of history.”

The Lord Castellan tried to say something.
But Hannosuke completely ignored him, grinning as if thoroughly amused, and spoke.

“Open any page of history and you’ll see—those with brute strength or sharp wits win. The winners seize power, just like how whoever defeats a spinning top gets to trample it. And once they’ve trampled it, that top becomes theirs—whether they toss it into a mud ditch, leave it be, or smash it to pieces, it’s their choice. Politics works the same way—it’s all freedom for whoever holds the reins.”

“The only difference is that spinning tops are objects, while humans are alive. A spinning top won’t protest if you toss it into a mud ditch or smash it to pieces—but people? They’ll hang themselves, drown themselves, split families apart, wail and scream… and still labor on! Still grumble while paying even the heaviest taxes! That’s their fate—so what’s so strange about it? Politics is the rulers’ plaything—their hobby, their diversion, their whim. It exists *never* for the sake of common fools.”
“Preposterous! They aren’t meant to serve—if they dislike that, they should defeat the spinning top.”

“Put away that spinning top and shut up.”

Lord Castellan Haniya struck his knee with one hand, formed his mouth into a へ shape, and glared at Hannosuke with terrifying eyes.

“Go to Maeda immediately and inform him I will attend the castle tomorrow.”

Six

Castle Deputy Elder Haniya Toshinosuke began attending the castle for the first time in years.
Moreover, he energetically began handling administrative duties, so the entire domain fell into disappointment and terror.

Despite having exhausted every possible means up to now—even dispatching a special envoy from Edo for this very purpose—the result had instead reversed.

What on earth had Orewa done?

The veteran officials were extremely dissatisfied, and the stalwarts of the Genbu Society were furious.
They had established an intelligence network at the Haniya residence and knew his every word and deed in detail; thus, this was unequivocally recognized as betrayal,
All must be charged.
Thus it was concluded.
He knew nothing of such dangerous matters.
One day, Hannosuke was told by Lord Castellan Haniya to return home early and descended from the castle alone.
At the peak of the sweltering afternoon heat at two o'clock, shielding himself from the sun with a fan, he walked leisurely.
He knew why Toshinosuke had told him to "Go home early."

For over half a month now, the Lord Castellan had been formulating methods of compensation and consolation for those who had fallen victim to the Ryūjin River dam construction and town district renovations.
It was sincere.
And today, he was supposed to bring closure to all of this—the final closure.

Hannosuke walked with such ease for that reason, but it lasted only until the riding ground in Nijōchō.
When he reached the side of the riding ground, fifteen young men suddenly leaped out from the shade of the cherry trees encircling it and surrounded him on all sides.
……This was unexpected. He was considerably surprised and looked around in confusion—and before his eyes, Bokutō Yakyūrō and the Genbu Society executives stepped forth.

“You traitor!”

“You traitor!” shouted Aoi Taichi.
Following this, insults like “Villain!”, “Shameless!”, and “Swindler!” spewed forth along with spittle.
Hannosuke grinned amiably and quietly looked around at them,

“What’s the matter? What on earth is this?”

“Shut up, you nobody.”
President Bokutō took another step forward.

“Don’t play dumb—we all know you came to make Lord Castellan retire! Yet despite that, you’ve been buttering him up, flattering him, and instead entrenched him further—haven’t you?”

“Did *I* flatter the Lord Castellan?”

“You praised the Ryūjin River dam as a monumental achievement, didn’t you?”

Nakaki Kosuke shouted in a hoarse voice.

"You called the town renovations a historic undertaking—said peasants and townsfolk were no better than insects!"

"Moreover, didn't you call us ignorant fools—blind men, nearsighted simpletons, rotten women and idiots?"

"Enough talk—draw!"

Bokutō Yakyūrō placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and bellowed.

“You have insulted us and betrayed the domain’s trust. As the Genbu Society, we absolutely cannot forgive this—we will impose punishment. Draw!”

Hannosuke nodded.
He nodded and replied.

“Understood. Since you gentlemen seem fired up with martial vigor, any explanation would be futile.”
“But this is no place for a duel.”

“Even if you try to flee, we won’t fall for that trick.”

“Don’t make me laugh.”
Hannosuke looked at the area around Yakyūrō’s chest before him and grinned as he said.

“Whether it’s fifteen or twenty of you—despite appearances, back in Edo, I—”

He started to say—then suddenly shouted, “Hah!”
As he shouted, his hand flashed, and the sword guard clanged sharply.
Everyone gasped, and Yakyūrō leaped backward.
……Smiling, Hannosuke pointed at Yakyūrō’s chest and said.

“Look at your kimono collar.”

Yakyūrō reached toward the spot.
The seam of his front collar had split open and was flapping loose.
Yakyūrō stared in shock before frantically drawing his sword.

“In Edo, my Battō-ryū carries some weight.”
Hannosuke swept his gaze across them all,

“Rather than worrying about me running away, you lot should settle your resolve first. Inform me of the place and time—the sooner the better.”

And then he calmly left.

Toshinosuke returned in the evening.
After changing clothes and entering the living room, he immediately called for Hannosuke, wearing a strangely sarcastic thin smile.

“I submitted my resignation notice today.”

“Wh-what did you say? Your resignation?…”

“This must be exactly what you wanted.”

“What an outrageous thing to say.”
Hannosuke widened his eyes.

“—possessing the Lord Castellan’s unparalleled talent and first-rate…”

“Handsome? Fine, spare me the flattery. I’ve completed the procedures—the elders approved them. Tomorrow, a messenger will be sent to the Edo authorities.”

“This is terrible! This is a catastrophe!”

“Don’t lie.”
Toshinosuke continued sarcastically,

“You’re the one who kept lavishly praising and recklessly flattering me until you made me decide to resign—what’s this ‘catastrophe’ nonsense?”

“What do you mean? It’s a fight with those Genbu Society guys.”

Hannosuke hurriedly talked about Babawaki.
"I only agreed to duel them because I had Lord Castellan Haniya’s backing. If the Lord Castellan resigns, there’s no way I can go through with it—I simply don’t have that kind of confidence," he confessed.
Then Toshinosuke, who seemed to have already heard about the incident, looked at him with eyes that said he wouldn’t be fooled,

“But you’re a master of Battō-ryū—you actually sliced Yakyūrō’s kimono collar without anyone noticing.”

“Don’t be absurd!”
Hannosuke waved his hand.

“That was a trick. The collar had been frayed from the start—when I noticed that, I just clanged the guard a bit. Because really, Lord Castellan—cutting through a collar seam head-on? No one could perform such a sleight-of-hand feat.”

“Well, I’ll be damned—you truly are a piece of work.”

*Damn.*
Hannosuke covered his mouth.

“There’s a spy for the Genbu Society in this house—they must’ve overheard what was just said. It’s over. I’m returning to Edo.”

“Fine by me. At least the domain will finally have some peace.”
Toshinosuke grinned.

“If you wish, I’ll have you serve as the messenger for my resignation notice.”

“I earnestly request this. However, as I must depart tonight, please make the arrangements immediately.”

Hannosuke pressed on like this, then sat up straight and looked earnestly into the other party’s eyes.

“In connection with that, there is one request I have to make—that is to say… you see, regarding my return to Edo… um… well… I’d like to take your daughter with me.”

“What?! Shōko—to Edo?…”

“I wish to take her as my wife and return.”

“She’s Haniya’s only daughter!”

“As the third son, I’m eligible to marry into a family.”

Toshinosuke’s downturned mouth fell slack.
He looked as if he had suffered a concussion, but then suddenly burst into laughter.

Bellowing with laughter, he struck his knee with a fist, bent forward, and spoke in broken spurts,

“Go propose then. Talk to her yourself.”
Snickering,

“You’re cunning and quick-witted—but you’re missing *the* crucial point! Let’s see… The Genbu Society lot are nothing! The one who hates you more than anyone—who wants revenge—is Shōko! And you want *her* as your bride?! Ah—unbearable! My stomach hurts… It’s agonizing!”

Toshinosuke pressed his stomach with one hand, still streaming with greasy sweat from the laughter that kept welling up.
……Startled by the commotion, Madame Kikue entered and sat beside her husband.

“What are you doing, laughing so loudly like that? Whatever could it be about?”

“This guy—this Orewa—”
He started to say—but when he looked there, no one remained—Hannosuke had already vanished.

Where on earth had he gone? Toshinosuke stopped laughing, let out a deep sigh, and wiping away tears, began explaining the situation to his wife,

“He must’ve finally realized and fled at once. What kind of face do you suppose he’s wearing now?”

At that moment, the shoji slid open.

Toshinosuke flinched and turned around.

Madame also looked that way.
It was Miss Shōko…… Miss Shōko sat there with her head bowed and shoulders hunched in meekness—her bearing willowy in a way never before seen—delicately placing both hands on the floor as she spoke in a sweet, melting voice:

“Father, Mother, I beg of you—please allow me to go to Edo with Master Orewa.”

In the corridor, Hannosuke coughed with an 'ahem'.

On the raised path at the outskirts of the castle town, the Genbu Society executives gathered and were glaring down the road.
Their uniform cheek beards gallantly fluttered in the refreshing early morning breeze.

“Is he what you’d call cunning, or just nimble?”
Tachihara Heisuke said.

“That bastard came all the way from Edo, made utter fools of us, even snatched away Miss Shōko, and then just… flitted off into the wind.”

He gave a light flick of his hand.
And thus, Orewa Hannosuke returned to his post in Edo.