Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

The sky was a clear, pale yellow.

Along the Koshu Road, where spring arrived late, the days of March passed unhurriedly: Japanese knotweed sprouted vigorously along the embankments, while behind farmhouses and across rolling hills, the vermilion of peach blossoms and the green of wheat struck the eye with vivid clarity.
The calls of wagtails skimming low over Sasagoe River’s white riverbed were also serene—.

The highway departing Ōtsuki’s post town became a single path rising toward Sasagoe Pass after half a ri; traveling thirty chō alongside a clear stream on the right led into Hatsukari Village—a mountain-pass lodging cluster where three or four tea shops sold local specialties like chikara mochi rice cakes and Sasagoe candy.

“Old man, what fine weather we’re having.”

“Oh my, this is a rare sight.”
“Please, do sit down.”

“Excuse me there.”

A man who appeared to be a silk-buying merchant briskly entered a tea shop; the elderly owner poured tea while...

“Every year when I see Mr. Hachiman-ya, I think spring has truly arrived—but this year seems a bit early, I must say.”

“Since it seems this year’s market prices will hit new highs, I thought I’d make advance payments (*deposits to sericulturists*) before things get busy—so I came about ten days early… Say, old man—”

The man lowered his voice and said, “I’ve been seeing quite a few bosses at those tea shops over there—has something happened?”

“That’s precisely the matter, sir.”

The old man urged tea while saying, “You must know of him too—there was a boss named Sanukiya Shobei, a loan operator in Nirasaki.”

“I hear he was a man of great virtue.”

“Well now, on the seventh of last month, he was killed at another’s hand.”

“Huh—that’s news to me.”

Speaking of Sanukiya Shobei of Nirasaki, he had been an imposing loan boss who held sway over two neighboring districts.

Shobei was generous in both spirit and purse, and moreover, as he governed his subordinates with moral integrity, he had built a following of over a hundred family members to become an influential figure beyond challenge—but from early on,

“The yakuza life ends with me.”

Having declared this, he sent his only son Hantaro to apprentice at a cotton goods wholesaler in Edo when the boy turned fifteen.

There was a gambler known as “Hana-Inosuke”—a sworn younger brother who had shared sake cups with Shobei.
His name was Inosuke, but due to his large nose, he was called Hana-Inosuke—a rogue disposition born of an intensely volatile nature—though he had a daughter named Oshin.
She was a capable girl who took after neither parent in appearance, possessing both delicate beauty and a gentle disposition. Inosuke had considered marrying her off to Shobei’s son Hantaro someday, and during idle conversations with Shobei, they had made casual promises to that effect.
However, when Hantaro turned fifteen, Shobei promptly sent him off to apprentice at a cotton goods wholesaler in Edo.

“This ain’t no joke.”

Inosuke’s face twisted with anger. “What’re you plannin’ to do about Sanukiya’s succession? I ain’t makin’ Oshin some merchant’s wife!”

“Is that so?” Shobei replied evenly. “I decided long ago the yakuza life ends with me. Can’t stomach being straight? Then quit it.”

Shobei, for his part, had been straightforward.

Inosuke—a man dyed to the marrow in yakuza ways—found Shobei’s declaration striking deep. From then on, he ceased visiting Sanukiya, swelling his ranks with kindred outcasts to oppose Shobei at every turn—until at last,

“Yakuza turf disputes should be settled with strength against strength, Boss.”

With that as his battle cry, he began openly encroaching on the turf.

However, Shobei had long grown disillusioned with the yakuza life; he forcibly suppressed his subordinates’ protests and silently allowed Inosuke to have his way.
Due to this state of affairs, members within Sanukiya’s group who grew dissatisfied with Shobei’s attitude began to emerge—one left, then another… Over these four or five years, their headcount had drastically dwindled.
At this juncture came the present incident.

On the evening of February 7th, Shobei was invited to a banquet hosted by influential patrons and went out alone. At that gathering, he encountered Inosuke, and it’s said they exchanged some sharp words—on his way back, he was cut down near the row of cedars at Sakamoto Slope.

“So the perpetrator is—?”

“They say they ended up never learning who it was.”

The old man caught his breath. “Though mind you—rumors say the Sanukiya side claims Boss Inosuke was the one who did it, and they’re all fired up about having secured proof.”

“Huh… That sounds like it’ll stir up quite a mess.”

“There’s trouble brewin’, I tell ya—been ages since we had boss squabbles, but looks like blood’s gonna rain this time. See ’em over at that tea shop? That’s Sanukiya’s crew. They say they came all this way to meet Hantaro-don—he’s comin’ back today from his Edo apprenticeship.”

“Oh, now you mention it, they’ve all stepped out onto the road…”

“Then the young master must’ve come into view.”

The old man and the customer went out to the eaves.

A young man was coming along the highway.

Standing around five feet four or five inches tall, he had a well-built frame, a fair-skinned face with thick eyebrows and cool, piercing eyes—a striking figure of a man. Travel-ready, he approached with a bamboo hat in his left hand and a bundle slung over his shoulder.
This was Sanukiya Hantaro—the very man who had been discussed at the tea shop.

From the tea shop spilled Kichizo, Heikichi, Kuratsugu, Tanzō, Kyūta, and Matajirō—core members of the Sanukiya group—followed by about ten young men who lined up in a formidable row,

“Ah, you’ve returned, sir.”
“Young Boss, you’ve returned.”
While voicing their greetings in unison, they bowed their heads.
When Hantaro saw this, he took down the bundle from his shoulder,

“I am grateful to you all—beginning with Mr. Kichizo—for taking the trouble to come greet me.”

He bowed courteously.

“Your courtesy overwhelms me—please raise your hands. You must be exhausted.”
“The path ahead crosses a mountain pass. Would you care to rest here awhile?”

“I shall accept your suggestion.”

“Sasuke—clean off the stool.”

The tea shop’s stool was cleaned and Hantaro was ushered to sit; the group encircled him, crouched down around him in close attendance.
Kichizo knelt on one knee upon the ground,

“This time, an unforeseen calamity has befallen our Boss. We who were entrusted with his domain in his absence have no face to show you, Young Boss. We shall offer our formal apologies another time—for now, we can only express our deepest condolences.”
“You must be overcome with grief.”

“Thank you. This too must have been fated.”

Hantaro did not so much as furrow his brows.
Midō no Heikichi rubbed his eyes with a clenched fist while,

“However, we have identified who killed our Boss—you may have already surmised it—Boss Inosuke of the Flaring Nostrils.”

“Was there evidence?”

“The tobacco pouch flauntingly placed upon the Boss’s corpse was an item Boss Inosuke of the Flaring Nostrils never let leave his waist. Not only that—he had even left behind a lantern bearing his crest as though daring us to see it.”

“Matajirō will now speak.”

Matajirō of the Prominent Chin edged his knees forward. “That night at the patrons’ banquet—so it’s told—the Boss and Inosuke exchanged words. When Inosuke kept pressing about turf matters, the Boss said: ‘If you’re not sneaking around with daily-interest loans to wring out profits, then take what you want cleanly and boldly! Yakuza turf is settled strength against strength…’ At that, Inosuke smirked and said—so they say—‘If that’s how things stand, this’ll work out nicely.’”

“Leaving the evidence items by the corpse was his way of declaring—‘If you bear resentment, come settle it with strength’—like a formal challenge letter.”

“Though we’d all made ready to storm their den together, we couldn’t act willfully by excluding you, Young Boss—since even a single strike of vengeance must be yours to deliver. That’s why…we’ve awaited your return until this day.”

Kichizo spoke as though drawing a final line,

“To recapitulate matters—though our numbers have dwindled, the Sanukiya family will stake our lives to back you, Young Boss. We beg you to lay our Boss’s grudge to rest at the earliest hour.”

“I see… Well—I fully understand.”

Hantaro nodded quietly. “Until today, the only thing that concerned me was understanding why my father met such a violent end. However, from what you’ve just told me, I now understand that he died in a manner befitting a yakuza, which brings me some relief. I apologize for causing you all such worry, and I offer my gratitude on my father’s behalf.”

“N-no, that’s—that’s absurd.”

“And then—”

Hantaro checked Kichizo’s flustered response. “Though you have come all this way to welcome me, as you can plainly see, I am a law-abiding merchant. I cannot journey together with your kind. I shall go on alone from here. Please take your leave separately.”

“So—you’re saying we can’t accompany you?”

“I appreciate the gesture, but I must decline.”

“Then… What’s the reason this time?”

“I will explain the reasons once we return home. Now then, everyone, I must take my leave.”

Having said this, Hantaro took up his bundle and bamboo hat, then stood up briskly without so much as a glance at the dumbfounded family members.

A bush warbler sang nearby…

II

Five nights later.

In the zashiki of Sanukiya in Nirasaki Funooka, they removed the shoji and fusuma partitions as around seventy family members and subordinates gathered. At the front sat Shobei’s wife Ofuku alongside Hantaro; before them lay small hōsho paper bundles stacked according to their numbers—prayer beads encircled Ofuku’s wrist.

“Mr. Kichizo, is everyone present?”

Hantaro asked.

“Yes, everyone is present.”

“I see. I am deeply obliged that you have all gone to the trouble of gathering here today. As this marks my father’s thirty-fifth day memorial, I also wished to discuss certain matters with you, which is why I requested your presence. Please make yourselves comfortable.”

Hantaro adjusted his seating position.

“What I wish to discuss is nothing other than this: During my father’s lifetime, we caused you all considerable trouble, yet it ultimately came to such an end without having been of any real benefit to you. I can offer no adequate apology before you all. Therefore, with my father’s passing as our opportunity, we have decided that the Sanukiya family shall hereby sever its lineage. While it would be ideal if I could advise you all regarding your futures, as you know, I was raised a law-abiding merchant and know nothing of worldly affairs. Thus… here lies a modest sum from our savings and the sale of our estate.”
“After discussing it with my mother, we have apportioned it according to the number of members.”

“W-wait a moment, please!”

“Ah, but please kindly hear me out to the end.”

Hantaro calmly restrained him. “For four or five years now, Sanukiya has been in decline—we cannot provide anything sufficient. Though it may be inadequate, I humbly ask that you all accept this and use it to secure your futures.”

“And so—”

“And what about you, Young Boss? What’s to become of you?” Kichizo interjected urgently.

“As for me—I intend to rent a small shop nearby and tend to my mother’s final years while continuing my familiar trade in cotton goods.”

“A cotton goods merchant…?”

Everyone raised their voices in unison in surprise.

“The reason for my delayed return was in fact due to the time taken for those preparations—such as requesting leave from the shop and arranging through the master’s kindness to have goods supplied henceforth.”

“Th-then… what will you do about avenging our deceased Boss?”

“Inosuke is alive and kicking.”

“Young Boss! You can’t possibly mean to let that bastard live!”

Tanzo, Heikichi, and Kyuta impatiently stepped forward.

Hantaro showed no particular urgency,

“You all may have your opinions, but I have no intention of avenging my father’s enemy.”

“What do you mean—?!”

“The yakuza way inherently gambles with life itself—a realm where the strong triumph and the weak fall, nothing more. It is a trade that has strayed from human decency, incapable of honoring ordinary duty or compassion. To kill or be killed lies at its core—affairs in which we law-abiding folk should take no part.”

“Young Boss!”

Tanzo thrust his knee forward. “Ain’t you bitter? Don’t you feel any damn regret—your parent being killed like that?”

“That and this are entirely separate matters.”

Hantaro answered resolutely.

“How the hell’re they different?!”

“I cannot say.”

“That’s right—you can’t say it!”

Tanzo’s demeanor shifted violently. “You’re haunted by cowardice! Lost your manly grit! What a goddamn fool!”

“Tanzo, that’s going too far.”

“Leave it be, Kichizo-aniki! You’re mockin’ us too damn much! We’re throwin’ our lives into avengin’ the Boss! What’s this ‘yakuza gettin’ killed’s just part of the trade’ bullshit?! Eat shit—you’re gonna sit there watchin’ the bastard who killed your father strut around like he owns the place, then live out your days peddlin’ cotton goods? What kinda rotten, spineless coward are you?!”

“Wait—wait, I said, Tanzo!”

“Enough waitin’! Had no idea you’re this gutless—me hangin’ around ’til today makes me the damn fool! I’ll settle the Boss’s grudge myself, proper-like! You good-for-nothin’ rat!”

as he suddenly raised his fist and tried to strike Hantaro,

“Wait, Tanzo! It’s dangerous!”

Two or three of them restrained him.

“Let me go! My guts’re boilin’ over—can’t take it no more! Let me go!”

“Alright then—leave it to me.”

...they finally carried him out to the front as if shouldering him.
Hantaro waited motionlessly for the commotion to subside, then quietly raised his face.

“With that, I have finished stating what needed to be said. As those from the temple should be arriving shortly for the memorial service, I must ask you to take your leave now.”

“Well then—”

said Kichizo.
“So you’re truly resolved to proceed exactly as you’ve just stated?”

“My mother has also given her consent. Please take your leave without further comment.”

Hantaro pushed the document bundle decisively forward.

Hantaro pushed the formal document bundle all the way forward.

“That’s how it is, I hear.”

“Hmm…”

Two years had passed since then. At the beginning of March, when spring was just beginning, there was a conversation between a tea shop old woman and a traveler-like man at the outskirts of Nirasaki's post town.

"And what about the members—?"

"Well, you see—at first they'd made a big fuss about storming in on their own without the Young Boss to avenge their leader. But these days everyone'd grown shrewd about self-interest. One by two by three they dropped out—some even started taking cups from Boss Inosuke—until finally the whole thing fell apart."

“What became of Mr. Hantaro?”

“He has a shop at the crossroads just past here, you see. Every day he goes out peddling cotton goods to nearby areas—though young, he’s a dutiful son beyond his years.”

“Hmm… I see.”

“Oh my—come to think of it! Someone with a cloth-wrapped bundle on their back is coming this way. That would be Mr. Hantaro himself.”

The traveler looked in the direction the old woman pointed.

Hantaro, thoroughly sun-darkened, wore a cotton-lined kimono with an Ogora sash and dirt-covered tabi socks, a large bundle on his back—even sweat beading on his forehead.
When he approached the front of the tea shop,
“It’s been a fine day.”
He exchanged pleasantries with the old woman and passed by.

The day was nearing dusk; evening mist began rising from the direction of the Kamarigawa River, with only the peak of Mt. Komagatake sharply defined under the slanting sunlight—Hantaro, wiping sweat from his forehead, silently started down the raised path between rice fields.

Beyond the vacant lot adjoining the inn, where a single peach tree’s blossoms spilled soundlessly from a neglected field, he came to the Dosojin roadside-deity shrine.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hantaro—”

As she said this, a girl stepped out alone.
She was Inosuke 'the Nose’s only daughter—twenty-two at the time, a petite woman with well-fleshed eyes and an endearing face.

“Ah, Miss Oshin?”

“You must be exhausted. How diligently you work.”

“A poor man has no time to spare.”

“Um—”

Oshin looked down at her toes and abruptly flushed crimson.

“About the letter from the other day—did you read it?”

“Ah, I have read it.”

“So…?”

“Miss Oshin, that letter was a love letter, wasn’t it?”

Hantaro admonished, “Please refrain from such acts henceforth. I am merely a poor merchant as you see—barely managing to support my mother and myself—with no time to speak of taking a wife or such matters.”

“I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I…”

“Miss Oshin.”

Hantaro stiffened.

“That’s futile—no, I say it’s futile no matter how long you wait for me. As you know, I’m a law-abiding merchant, and you’re the fine daughter of a loan boss—there’s no possible way for you to become my bride.”

“I know.”

Oshin was already halfway to tears.

“Mr. Hantaro despises my father—my father who took your father’s life.”

“Please wait.”

“No, let me speak. When I heard the rumor that my father had done such a thing, I was shocked to death.”
“I truly thought to kill myself in my father’s place to atone—but I couldn’t die, I couldn’t… The image of you that had seeped into my heart since childhood—it fluttered before my eyes and kept me from dying.”

“—Miss Oshin.”

“Until I hear you call me Oshin… even once… I’ll endure any hardship waiting—five years, ten years— If you tell me to do something, I’ll do anything… Han-san.”

“Please give up. This is all I can say. Goodbye.”

“Wait.”

“As for prying eyes being a mutual nuisance, I must beg my leave here.”

“Han-san.”

Hantaro adjusted his load, turned his face away, and hurried off at a brisk pace.

III

“Mother, shall I massage your shoulders?”

“No need. You’re tired from your day’s work—go rest a while.”

“I don’t work hard enough to tire myself out—let me at least do this much.”

“Well then, thank you.”

After cleaning up from dinner, with just mother and son alone before the dim lamp, Hantaro moved behind his mother and began gently rubbing her shoulders.

“Hey, Hantaro—”

After a while, Ofuku began to speak, as if mindful of her son’s feelings.

“You might get angry, but the truth is Miss Oshin came again today.”

“Mother, if it’s about that—”

“Well, you know… I do understand your feelings perfectly. But when I think of that girl, it’s so pitiful—because we parents made such a mistake, you young ones…”

“Mother.”

Hantaro pleaded, “I beg you, don’t speak of that matter. Hantaro is a law-abiding merchant—no matter how deeply he may yearn for someone, he cannot take a yakuza’s daughter.”

“But you—could it be…”

Ofuku recoiled as if touching something horrifying,

“Could it be… even now, you still think of him as your father’s enemy…?”

“Hahaha”

Hantaro gave a light laugh.

“I hate to put it this way, but Father’s death was his own doing in the yakuza life—those who slipped through the cracks of the law and strayed from society’s path fighting among themselves have nothing to do with law-abiding people.”
“Even if someone kills a person—if they never once feel remorse, they’re not human. There’s no point declaring enemies or foes against those who aren’t human.”

“That’s right, over here—”

Just as she started to say—thud!
A violent thud rang out as someone crashed against the storm shutters at the rear.

“—What was that?”

Ofuku started and turned around—and in that instant, the storm shutters burst open as a man with a drawn blade came crashing in.

“Hantaro!”

“It’s all right, Mother.”

Hantaro shielded the frightened mother behind him,

“—Who’s there!” he shouted, springing to his feet.

The man who had rushed in, while hurriedly propping up the dislodged storm shutters, spoke in a low, strained voice:

“Sorry, but hide me for a bit—I’m bein’ chased.”

“Ah!”
Hantaro was stunned.

“You’re… Mr. Inosuke!”

“Huh?”

The one who turned around was Inosuke the Nose.
Even he stood frozen in shock, but just then came the scattered sound of footsteps rushing toward the front.
Inosuke clasped his hands in a pleading gesture,

“Sorry ’bout this—didn’t know this was your place when I jumped in. Got caught up in a gang squabble—no way out for Inosuke here. Hide me, will ya?”
“——”
“Please—I’m begging you—”

Hantaro bit his lip for a couple of beats, then gave a firm nod.

“Very well, come over here.”

“Will ya listen? I’m obliged.”

“Please go into this storage room.”

After pushing Inosuke into the storage room and closing the door behind him, he turned back toward his mother with a look that asked what had happened.
The footsteps on the road passed by once—but soon turned back and began thudding violently against the front storm shutters.

“Who might this be?”

Hantaro answered quietly.

“Open up, won’tcha?”

“What business might you have?”

“There’s somethin’ we wanna ask—open up.”

Hantaro stepped down into the dirt-floored entryway and, drawing back a step, opened the storm shutters a crack—the moment he did, three or four men who looked like itinerant gamblers, drawn swords at their sides, came barging in as if to kick the door down.

“How rude! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut up.”

To Hantaro’s face as he blocked the way, one of them thrust a bared blade and barked.

“That Inosuke the Nose bastard fled in here just now, didn’t he? Where’d you hide him? Try to cover for him half-assed, and we ain’t lettin’ you off either!”

“And who might you be?”

Hantaro did not so much as flinch.

“We ain’t answerin’ to no interrogations! We’re askin’ if Inosuke the Nose came here—spit it out!”

“What a nuisance. Search the house.”

Just as they were about to charge in, Hantaro firmly blocked their path.

“Wait a moment. You stated you intend to search the house. Very well—search to your heart’s content. But first, I have one matter to declare.”
“You gentlemen must be well aware—this is the home of Sanada Shobei, who died two years ago.”

“Gah!”

“The one there is my mother. I am Hantaro, son of Shobei—now a law-abiding merchant. But if you gentlemen search this house and find no trace of Mr. Inosuke here, even were I to stay silent, the blood of Sanada Shobei won’t stay quiet.”
“Knowing that, search to your satisfaction—I’ll even provide a lantern.”

The men’s advance was checked.
They clearly hadn’t known this was the Sanada bereaved family’s home; the eldest among them hastily lowered his drawn blade,

“This was a terrible thing we’ve done.”
“We’re from the Nawakami group in Saijo Village—complete strangers to these parts—so we humbly beg forgiveness for this disturbance.”
“Why, just knowing this is the Sanada residence tells us Inosuke the Nose ain’t here—please overlook our rudeness.”

“If you understand, that’s well enough—but should I guide you through the house regardless?”

“No need for such kindness—we’ve caused quite the unwarranted commotion. Our deepest apologies to your honored mother.”

With their greetings left half-finished, they all went outside.

“Hah! Where’d that bastard slip off to?”

“Scour westward.”

They left, clamoring all at once as they went.

Hantaro listened intently to the receding footsteps, closed the storm shutters, and began rubbing his mother’s back once more.—After about a quarter of an hour passed in this manner, Inosuke quietly opened the storage room and emerged.

“I’m sorry,” he said and sat down there.

“Ah, there’s no need for thanks. If you would, please leave right away.”

“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ tonight, Mrs. Ofuku.”

Inosuke looked at Mrs. Ofuku and said, “Thanks to you, my life’s been spared. Make sure you tell your son right proper about my gratitude—I ain’t lettin’ this end here. I’ll come back formal-like to make my respects.”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Well then, I’ll beg your leave for tonight.”

Inosuke stood up with a drawn sword.

Hantaro watched silently, but when Inosuke’s figure vanished outside, what crossed his mind—he suddenly went to the Buddhist altar and,
“Father, forgive me!”

With a voice tearing as if it would rip apart, he uttered a single word—then, choking back sobs, collapsed there weeping.

Five days after that night—Hantaro had finished his day’s work and was tidying up after dinner when Tazaemon, the elder, came to him and,

“Mr. Hantaro, I apologize for troubling you when you’re weary, but might I borrow a moment of your time?”

“Is there some business you have with me?”

“There’s a bit of a situation at Inadaya where people have gathered—we absolutely need your presence there. It won’t take long—just show your face.”

“How very courteous of you. I shall accompany you.”

“Then I’ll guide you.”

Entrusting matters to his mother and changing his clothes, Hantaro left the house with Tazaemon.
Inadaya was a restaurant teahouse located in the highway's backstreet—a rural-style establishment that kept courtesans yet maintained decent standing, even serving for town council meetings. Without particular suspicion, Hantaro entered.

“Don’t mind me—come along. It’s upstairs.”

“What manner of company awaits?”

“You’ll see once we get there.”

Tazaemon led the way up the wide stairs; to the right was a large room. When they slid open the shoji, seven or eight bosses were lined up in a twenty-tatami space devoid of women.

“Come in,” he was told, and Hantaro jolted.

“This…?”

“A mediator’s present—we won’t do you any harm, so come all the way in.”

“I see. Then—”

Hantaro entered with a slight bow and knelt in the lowest seat. When he glanced up, he spotted Inosuke to his right and startled.

“Mr. Hantaro, you came.”

Inosuke gestured to a seat with his hand. “Now this here’s your spot—quit dawdlin’ at the threshold. These sittin’ here’re fellow bosses in the trade—might be faces you know. This’s Mr. Yasauemon from Nawate, next’s Mr. Iyogo, beside him’s Mr. Genbei of Wada House in Kofu, Mr. Kichibei from Isawa, Mr. Hara Tatsushi from Kamakuri, an’ Mr. Gonkuro from Kurashiki.”

Hantaro had been silently listening to the round of introductions, and when Inosuke’s words came to an end,

“Well then—” he raised his pallid face,

“What business might you have had in summoning me?”

IV

“I shall explain the circumstances.”

Wada Gen of Kofu knocked his pipe.

“The other night, there was an altercation between Inosuke of Nirasaki and Mr. Nawaken’s men—they were saved from certain peril by your quick thinking.”

“I am deeply ashamed.”

“Despite having not just ordinary dealings but a bitter history between you, you still acted as you did—truly worthy of being Mr. Shobei’s son, I must say even I was grudgingly impressed when I heard of it. Now regarding this—Inosuke came and stated: ‘There’s no undoing the wrongs I committed against Mr. Shobei. But this time, without fail, I’ll bow my head before you and apologize however you demand. I beg you—wash away the past and grant me forgiveness.’ That’s what he says.”

“Yes.”

“So I reckoned if Inosuke of Nirasaki went that far in his plea, I’d try mediating matters. That’s why I’ve gathered folks tied to Sanuya here like this—but what say you? How’s your mind set on this?”

Hantaro did not answer; Wada Gen continued soothingly.

"I might as well mention this now—there's another reason for apologizing to Inosuke of Nirasaki. It's about Miss Oshin—"

"Wait a moment, please." Hantaro raised his hand and cut in.

"Before inquiring about Miss Oshin, there is one thing I wish to ask. Mr. Kofu, if you would permit me."

After bowing to Wada Gen, Hantaro turned sharply toward Inosuke.

“Boss Inosuke, since you’ve stated that what’s done cannot be undone—how do you propose to apologize for this irreparable act and set things right?”

“Ain’t got no excuses.”
Inosuke hung his head. “Back then I was all riled up—the feud with Sanuya flared up, and I went and did somethin’ terrible. But that night you saved my hide… Felt like wakin’ from a bad dream. For the first time, Inosuke here actually felt like a proper human bein’. I was wrong—I’ll let ya do whatever settles your mind. Just… gimme your forgiveness.”

“It was wrong—wrong to kill Sanuya Shobei—is that what you’re saying?”

“I’ve got no pride left—it’s just as you say.”
The moment Inosuke lowered both hands there, Hantaro’s left hand shot out and seized the object at Wada Gen’s waist.

“Old man, I need this!” he said, springing to his feet.

“I’ll take my father’s enemy—Inosuke’s head!”
Shouting, he struck with a sudden draw of his blade.

“Agh!”

“Wait, Hantaro!”
By the time the assembly had risen in shock, Inosuke—cut down from shoulder to chest, drenched in blood—lay collapsed there.

“Hantaro! What do you think you’re doing?”
As Wada Gen pinned him down from behind, Hantaro shouted while forcefully dragging himself away.
“Those who kill without ever once thinking it wrong may follow yakuza codes, but they’re not human—they’re beasts! I won’t hunt beasts as my father’s enemy! But now that he’s regretted his evil deeds and become human again—now I must settle this grudge against my father’s killer! Mr. Kofu—let me go!”

“Wait! Are you trying to make fools of us?”

“Hah… Let ’im go!” Inosuke choked out in agony.

“Now… Now with those words just spoken—I fully understand Mr. Hantaro’s anguished feelings up until this day… I’ll be cut down… With this… my debt can finally be repaid…”

Inosuke caught his breath,

“In return—Mr. Hantaro—I’ve got one last ask. Please—please take care of Oshin. Never told you before now—she ain’t my blood… Just some kid my dead woman dragged along—not a speck of my blood in her veins. Mr. Hantaro—her future’s yours to mind.”

“Hantaro, give him your answer.”
Wada Gen said in a low voice.

“It’s my death throes… Let me die in peace.”

“L-listen… will you, Mr. Hantaro?”

“I-I accept,” Hantaro said, but then collapsed heavily into a sitting position there.

Inosuke looked around at those gathered,

“People of Kofu… esteemed assembly… I, Inosuke, did indeed take Mr. Shobei’s life two years after our feud began. Th-this… stands as a proper act of vengeance… I ask this assembly… to bear witness… before the authorities.”

“Good,” Hantaro acknowledged. “Wada Gen has indeed accepted.”

“Thank ya…” Inosuke rasped. “I’ve washed Mr. Shobei’s blood with my own—now Mr. Hantaro and Oshin’s bond’ll be purified clean through… All that’s left… is begging Mr. Shobei’s forgiveness… in the afterlife.”

As he finished speaking, Inosuke slumped forward and breathed his last.

Outside the window, within the night fog, peach petals soundlessly fluttered down.