Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

Violent winds and torrential rain were raging.
The swollen waters of the Sumida River had already flooded this house's floorboards and continued rising with undiminished force.
The southern gale that had been blowing since yesterday's predawn hours, bearing torrential rains for a full day and a half, had finally begun showing signs of subsiding.
Though its strength remained undiminished, it now paused intermittently like labored breathing, and even the clouds racing low across the sky seemed to slacken their frantic pace.

Sanosuke was lying sprawled out in the six-mat room on the second floor.

The second floor had three rooms, with the six-mat one at the eastern end.
Since the sliding door between them was left open, the other two rooms could be seen through.
There, tatami mats, sliding doors, and other furniture—chests, long chests, braziers, and various boxes—were tightly stacked.
The light streaming through gaps in the blown-off storm shutters cast the piled furnishings in uneven, dim illumination.
They had been carried up from downstairs.
The people of this house had carried up those belongings and fled early in the morning while it was still dark.

"It wasn’t bad—this too was a life."
Sanosuke muttered under his breath, "I lived my life my own way."

The striped unlined kimono's chest had come undone, and the three-shaku obi was coming loose.
Though slightly lean, his body was tightly muscled and bore a robust appearance.
The face was pale and dry.
The hollow cheeks and bony jaw showed intense fatigue and slackness.
He seemed completely exhausted and prostrate.
He appeared to have cast aside everything—both body and soul.

"Being born was good," he now clearly muttered, "Better to have been born than not—there was hunger and cold, so much pain and suffering... But was that really how it was?... I always thought only of running away. And I always ran. Had I not run, worse things would have happened... This time I didn't run. Couldn't run. And there was no other way but this."

His expression changed.
The roar of wind and rain engulfed the house.
As if caught in the midst of violently beating drums, the raging sound echoed throughout the room.
Sanosuke's eyes glistened with hatred.
His lips twisted with hatred.
But that expression quickly vanished, and he swayed his head slowly before closing his eyes.

"With these arms of mine, I held Ogin."
He muttered again.
"I held Otai, Osachi, Masakō in these arms."
Held them, caressed them, and there were times I struck them.
……They cried, bit me, and dug their nails into me.
They left marks from their nails and teeth on my shoulders and arms.
"They wet these cheeks and chest of mine with their tears—lukewarm, briny tears… I tasted that warmth and saltiness."

Precisely because I was born, I was able to know that taste.
Sanosuke continued like that.
However, that muttering was too faint, barely even a voice.

A sudden wind howled sharply as rain lashed against the storm shutters and wooden siding with machine-gun intensity.
The pounding resembled gravel being hurled at full force.
The entire house shrieked while shuddering violently, followed by what sounded like walls crumbling downstairs.
Sanosuke muttered something about it being strange.
When the wind momentarily died down, a thick gurgling noise emerged somewhere—the sound of water being violently sucked into an unseen cavity beneath them.

"What could it be?" he cocked his head.
His eyes remained closed.
"The other things I can't recall clearly—the hunger, the cold, those bone-numbing hardships—they've all blurred like some distant landscape. What I remember are just those women—pleading with them while holding them close, making them cry, hitting them, until we all split up. None lasted long... Otai didn't resemble anyone else. Neither Ogin nor Osachi nor Masakō did either—they were all different from others, yet ended up just like any other women. Once I got familiar, I understood—though each was unique, they all carried the same thing other women did."
"The thing I hated most... I ran away—couldn't help running... But that wasn't all."
He opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. "No—it's not that. Not something I hated. Not just hate... Something else... Yeah—different from that. What made me run was something other than that."

Sanosuke jerked his head up suddenly.
A thudding sound came from somewhere on the north side of the house.
It was less a sound than a vibration—not terribly loud, but something had definitely collided.

"—That might be her."

Sanosuke said to himself.

"It must be—Oshige."

Keeping his head raised, Sanosuke listened intently.
Amidst the howling wind and rain, he tried to catch the next sound that might come.
The second-floor roof tiles must have been torn away—they clattered as they fell onto the rear eaves.
Sanosuke stood and stepped into the corridor.
Rain whipped sharply against his face.
Through gaps where storm shutters had blown off stretched a vast expanse of water—murky and mouse-gray.
Battered by wind and rain, he leaned halfway out to peer toward where the noise had originated.
Yet nothing resembling its source met his eyes.

The landscape was utterly transformed.

The river flowing eastward from Senju Ohashi Bridge made a sharp southward bend there. The terrain jutted out into this curving river—on an irregular triangular protrusion of land elevated above ground level stood this house. Across the bank lay Suijin Sacred Grove, with Masaki Inari’s grove slightly downstream. Beyond Suijin Grove should have stretched Mukojima Embankment’s cherry tree rows. But now none of this was visible—Suijin Grove itself lay half-drowned, reduced to shrub-like thickets, its trees felled by violent winds so their treetops swept across floodwaters, barely discernible through the torrential rain.

A man, completely drenched, slipped into the second floor from the western end of the corridor. Sanosuke was looking outside. The man seemed to have come around from the back along the roof. And then, through the gaps of the blown-off storm shutters, he stepped over the handrail and slipped inside quite nimbly.

Sanosuke was looking outside.
Wherever he looked was mouse-gray water; there was no ground to be seen anywhere.
The water was choppy from the wind, but it did not seem to be flowing.
The floodwaters didn’t feel violent.
The floodwaters spread heavily and boundlessly as far as the eye could see through the rain.
Yet it was certain that the waters were rising without pause—creeping steadily with unseen force, already submerging more than half of the lower floor.
The floodwaters were soon about to reach the eaves.

“Did you come by boat?”

Sanosuke said.
He said it quite naturally, still looking outside.

II

The wind assaulted them, nearly tearing away the storm shutters Sanosuke gripped.
As he retreated into the room, Sanosuke demanded again:

“You come by boat?”

His voice rose sharper this time.
He dropped to the floor.
The man started.
Hunched among piled furniture in the adjacent eight-tatami room, the man wiped his sodden arms and legs while mumbling a reply.
Though his raincoat kept the bold-striped work jacket dry underneath, water still streamed from his hair.

“Barged in without askin’,” the man said loudly while wiping his head, “but you mind me botherin’ you, Boss?”

“Heard a boat knockin’ against somethin’, didn’t I?”
Sanosuke said, “So you came by boat.”

“From Kozukappara onward, it was all water.”
The man said, “I can handle a scull some, so I took the plunge and rowed out—but damn, got pushed by the current at Senju Ohashi Bridge and couldn’t cut through no matter what. Fought like death itself and barely made it to this house. For a spell there, thought I was done for.”

The man came over here. He was a small-built man in his mid-thirties. He was small in frame but thick-boned and solidly built. His limbs were thick, his fingers gnarled, yet there was something agile about him—a spring-like resilience that could be sensed. He seemed to be a hairy man, with a rough-looking unshaven beard growing from his cheeks down to his jaw. His lips were thick, and within his angular yet rounded face, his small, narrow eyes moved sharply. Those eyes were tenacious, bearing a light that refused to yield to anything.

“I ain’t no boss or nothin’.”
“This ain’t my house either,” Sanosuke said, “so there’s no need to hold back at all.”

The man sat diagonally across from Sanosuke.
Then he took out a tobacco pouch and flint pouch, and lit a cigarette.

“I never noticed there was a house here,”
the man said. “What sort of person’s place is this anyway?”

“Funashichi’s retirement house,” Sanosuke said. “They used it for hosting guest banquets too.”

“Funashichi… you mean that boat house by Senju Ohashi Bridge?”

“There’s this main attraction named Oshige—you know about her, right?”

“I...”
The man coughed on his tobacco smoke. “I... I know the name Funashichi,” he said, “but... I’d heard there was a boat house like that by Senju Ohashi Bridge.”

The storm shutters rattled violently in the wind, drowning out the man’s words.

Sanosuke retied his three-foot sash that had come loose and lay down there using his arm for a pillow.
The man saw this from the corner of his eye—his eyes glinted sharply.
The man raised one knee and adjusted his pipe.
Then Sanosuke looked toward the man.
The man suddenly broke into a coughing fit.

“Did you say something?”

“This house—that...” The man stammered, “Do you think it’ll hold against this water? The storm looks like it’s letting up, and I don’t reckon the flood’ll rise much more...”

“Hard to say.” Sanosuke smirked with his lips, “This house was built on an earthen mound. During July’s big storm, the stone retaining wall in its foundation got wrecked—they never had time to fix it. …So the folks here fled at dawn. Kept urging me too—‘If you value your life, run with us’—while they scrammed.”

“But you’re still here.”

Sanosuke remained silent and smirked again with his lips.

The man said suspiciously and insistently.

“You didn’t run away… Not like you stayed knowing this house was done for.”
“Hard to say.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“Just listen.”
Sanosuke said, “There’s a gurgling down below. Press your ear to the tatami—you’ll hear it plain.”

The man held his breath to listen.
Then he pressed his ear to the matting.

“There’s a hole somewhere in the foundation.”
Sanosuke said, “The collapsed stone retaining wall must’ve opened up a hole under this house’s foundation—that’s where the water’s draining out. This noise is that water rushing through. It’s gotten way louder than before. Yeah, if this keeps up, the whole place’ll either collapse or get swept clean away.”

“Then why’d you stay? If you knew that, why not try to escape?”

Sanosuke looked at the man with mocking eyes.

“There’s no point threatening you.”
Sanosuke said, “Ain’t a shred of me aiming to threaten you. I’m here ’cause I figured this house’d either collapse or get swept clean by the flood.”

“What the hell?”

“No need to ask again. You got things to do with that time, right? You came here ’cause you got business to handle. Ain’t that how it is?”

The man’s eyes narrowed into slits. With those eyes, he swiftly scanned Sanosuke’s face. A gust of wind roared through, shaking the entire house. From the rear came the sound of a plank splitting somewhere, followed by something scraping against the eaves with a grating creak. Another crack of splintering wood followed the unfamiliar noise—then vanished into the howling tempest.

“What d’you think I came here for?”

“Ain’t no time to wait.”
Sanosuke said, “I’ve known from the start what you came here to do. The way you carried yourself and that look in your eyes when you barged in—I figured it out right then.”

The man set down his pipe.
Sanosuke jerked his chin while remaining lying down with his arm as a pillow.

“Hurry up already; I ain’t gonna resist. I meant to settle my score with this house—still do. Wanted to end things clean in one go... I swear I won’t put up a fight.”

“You mean that?”
The man slipped his right hand into his pocket. “You really won’t resist?”

“You sure seem dutiful.”

“The authorities show mercy if you show proper remorse.”

A violent gust tore off another storm shutter, sending rain lashing sideways into the room.
The man braced himself and glared at Sanosuke.

“If you show proper remorse, the authorities will show mercy. Will you accept the arresting rope with due humility?”

“Mercy, huh?”
Sanosuke’s expression twisted sharply; hatred flashed in his eyes.
But this lasted barely an instant before his expression reverted to one of mockery and weariness. “Hmph—I’d say keep your mercy for yourself. Whatever—just get on with it already. Unless you want to go down with this house too.”

The man lunged at Sanosuke.
Even though his opponent lay sprawled out, his movements were methodical and merciless.
Sanosuke let out a "Ugh" twice but did not resist.
The man bound Sanosuke’s hands behind his back, dragged him to the wall, and stood up.
His face was pale and rigid, twisted uglily.
He took out a jitte from his pocket and, striking Sanosuke’s shoulder (as per protocol), said.

“Sanosuke of Tsukuda—you’re under arrest!”

The faded red tassel of the jitte brushed Sanosuke's cheek.
Sanosuke leaned his back against the wall and sat cross-legged, looking up at the man.
Then he gave a low laugh.

"So you really are the dutiful type after all."

“Shut up. I won’t let you spout any more nonsense.”

The man glared at Sanosuke.

San

“Nonsense? Hmph.”
Sanosuke shrugged his shoulders. “Why don’t you go check on the boat instead—your boat that you came here in? Ain’t that more important?”

The man jolted.
He slipped the jitte into his pocket and hurried toward the adjacent room.
Sanosuke listened to the sound of the man putting on his raincoat and heading out from the corridor to the roof, an ironic sneer playing on his lips.
In that brief span, the wind’s force had weakened.
The violent gusts were still quite fierce, but the intervals between them had begun to lengthen gradually.

“Hey!” A man’s shout was heard from the rear roof. “Hey… Hey…”

Sanosuke twisted both shoulders.
The ropes seemed to be digging in painfully, but if he struggled, they only tightened further.
Sanosuke clicked his tongue and leaned back against the wall as if to say, “Do whatever you want.”
The man returned.
Although he had been wearing a raincoat, the front of his long coat was thoroughly soaked.
While wiping his face and head, he went out into the corridor to look outside, then came before Sanosuke and sat down.

The water must have reached the eaves, for a heavy splashing sound of it striking the eaves boards from below began to be heard.
The water’s surface had risen to an astonishing height.
This too was visible from Sanosuke’s position—through the open shoji screens and gaps in the storm shutters…the swollen muddy surface being struck diagonally by torrential rain falling like a dense thicket of bamboo, creating a blanket of gray spray across it.

“What a shame—you didn’t know how to tie a boat properly. And you picked a terrible spot to moor it too.”
Sanosuke said, “I heard it—the mooring rope got ripped from where it was tied. The boat must’ve just drifted off. That’s the sorta sound I heard.”

“So you think you can escape now?”

“—Me?”

“I’m Sahei of Takeiya—that’s who I am.”
The man picked up his pipe. “It’s unfortunate, but once you’re under arrest, I won’t let you escape no matter what happens. So prepare yourself for that.”

Sanosuke snorted.

At that moment, there was a heavy thud as something slammed into the house. Likely a piece of drifting timber or similar object—the entire house groaned and swayed with the weighty impact. The man rose to a half-crouch, poised as if to leap outside, but immediately settled back down and gripped his pipe upside-down.

“You killed someone in Matsushima-cho.”
The man looked at Sanosuke and said, “Jinbee Aburaya—landlord of Nihonbashi Matsushima-cho—stabbed to death with a dagger. No mistake about that.”

“You planning to take my testimony here or something?”

“Answer what I say properly first, then fix that mouth of yours,” the man said. “Keep talking like that and I’ll make you hurt.”

Sanosuke remained silent.

"I mostly understand your tragic circumstances."
"Your old man was a fisherman from Tsukuda Island named Masakichi," the man said in a tone that was stern yet carried a hint of compassion. "Your mother was Ichi. Including you, there were four children: Senkichi, Yone, Isaburō. You're supposed to be the second son below Yone."

"I was disowned."
Sanosuke closed his eyes. "Got disowned at fifteen—struck from the family registry. I ain't got no siblings."

“I know why you went astray too.”

The man called Sahei said.
Sanosuke’s family was extremely poor.
His father Masakichi was naively honest, drank no alcohol and smoked no tobacco, and was constantly deceived or taken advantage of by others.
He always said he was born to draw the short straw in life, but when his eldest son Senkichi was eleven and went out fishing, he encountered a sudden gale and died.
At that time, Sanosuke was six, and the youngest child, Isaburō, was two.
It was nothing unusual—from that day onward, the mother and her four children were driven into a life of relentless hardship.
They sent eight-year-old Yone out to work as a nursemaid, while Ichi and Senkichi began peddling simmered preserves and shellfish.

“You were always left behind,” the man said. “Your mother would go out with Senkichi, carrying Isaburō on her back.”
“You were the only one left at home.”
“The neighborhood was a fishing town—the kids you played with were mostly rough and undisciplined. Frankly, it’d be a miracle if you hadn’t turned out bad under those circumstances.”

Sanosuke was a delinquent.
In both Tsukuda and the Tsukiji riverbank area, his name quickly became known, and he came to be shunned.
Had he remained as he was, he would surely have been driven from the island.
He declared he would become a craftsman and, at the age of twelve, became an apprentice at "Sashigane" in Kayabacho.
Sashigane was a renowned joinery in Edo at that time, but Sanosuke left after about six months and tumbled into a boat house called Funatatsu near Ryogoku Bridge.
From then on, through fighting and gambling, by the age of seventeen or eighteen, he had already gained the street name Sanosuke of Tsukuda.

“Your brother Senkichi became a fisherman,” the man continued. “Still works honest as one in Tsukuda even now. Yone married a fisherman too. The youngest, Isaburō—he’s a cooper with his own household now. You’re the only one turned rotten. They say you were decent as a boat-house skipper, but never quit brawling or gambling, never stopped chasing skirts—and now you’ve gone and killed a man.”

“That’s right—you know it all, don’t you? Quite the thorough investigation.” Sanosuke said, “But you don’t know—you ain’t got a clue.”

“What do you mean I don’t understand? What exactly?”

“Ain’t got no business with you.” Sanosuke leaned his head against the wall. “Instead of calmly taking down testimony here, why don’t you figure how we’re getting out? That hole in the foundation’s just growing bigger, and the water’s about to reach the second floor any minute now, Boss.”

“What d’you mean I don’t know? Spit it out—what exactly don’t I understand!”

Sanosuke remained silent.
He closed his eyes, appearing to listen intently to the storm's roar.
From the wall he leaned against, various sounds transmitted directly to the back of his head.
The gurgling sound from near the foundation downstairs had now transformed into a different, far louder reverberation.
The house's pillars trembled ceaselessly, and with every impact of floating debris, the entire structure swayed pitifully.

"My mother was called a thief."
Sanosuke muttered as if to himself, "Because she stole five rice balls at one of her regular tsukudani sales stops. The Teppōzu pawnshop had caught fire nearby—they'd laid out a relief spread for the helpers who came to assist. Sake, rice balls, simmered dishes all lined up there for the taking. Anyone could eat and drink their fill... Course my mother wasn't there to help. She'd stopped by to sell tsukudani, and... her hand just reached out for them."

At that time, the family was starving.
The mother and five children (Yone had returned from her babysitting job) had gone four or five days without eating anything.
There was no particular reason—going hungry was a constant occurrence.
At the slightest change in conditions, the family would immediately go without food—they had grown accustomed to hunger.
But at that time, it was terrible—there wasn’t even any thin gruel to sip.
......The pawnshop’s maid had seen it—seen Ichi wrapping five rice balls in bamboo leaves—and told this to a fisherman from Tsukuda Island who was out selling small fish.

Oichi-san became a thief.

Within the confines of the small island, the rumors spread swiftly.
The children were called thief’s children.

IV

“If those rice balls were meant for the relief workers,” the man said, “then what your mother did was theft. Even if your family was starving, she shouldn’t have taken them.”

“You ever starved as a family, Boss?”

“I’m a decent man.”
Sahei flared up, “Decent people don’t let their families starve! Anyone who does ain’t worth callin’ human!”

“Absolutely—I think so too, Boss.”

Sanosuke laughed, baring his teeth.

“Those types,” the man said loathingly, “put aside their own uselessness and blame society. They hate those living proper lives and the wealthy, spoutin’ nonsense ’bout how their hunger’s ’cause of such people—and that’s how they turn to wickedness.”

“Absolutely—exactly as you say, Boss.”

“You mocking me?”
The man bristled as if personally insulted. “You’ve caused endless trouble for everyone, made who knows how many women cry, even killed someone—and still you don’t think you’ve done wrong?”

“I don’t think it was right at all.”

“You don’t think you’ve done wrong at all, do you?”

“I don’t think it was right at all—really, Boss.”
“I don’t think killin’ Jinbee was any good deed,” Sanosuke said. “Might not even be a bad thing—can’t say for sure. But I couldn’t help doin’ it.”

“Can’t say for sure, huh?”

“That’s right. I killed Jinbee with a dagger, but that old man did worse than any blade—he did it with money and greed.”
Sanosuke’s lips twisted. “That old man was a demon as a landlord—on top of that, he ran an outrageous moneylending racket, suckin’ the blood from the poor. How many folks sold their daughters because of him? How many families got torn apart or thrown naked into the streets? You got no idea, Boss. And that ain’t all. An old woman hanged herself in his tenement ’cause she couldn’t pay up. Over in Hisamatsu-chō, a wife drowned herself in the river. Just lately, a girl in his tenement jumped down a well rather than be sold into whoring… Far as I know, three people died ’cause of him. He never used a blade, but he killed three—*he’s* the real murderer.”

“What’s that got to do with you?”
“If Aburaya really committed such atrocities,” the man said, “then the victims themselves should’ve appealed to the authorities. It’s none of your damn business.”

“So you’re saying they should’ve filed complaints themselves?”

“That’s why we have authorities! If Jinbee was truly evil, they wouldn’t let him be.”

"But the old man was left alone, Boss."

“It’s because Jinbee didn’t break the official codes—you can’t put ropes on someone just for being greedy when they haven’t crossed legal lines.”

“Seems that way. That’s how things work.”

Sanosuke's lips parted slightly—trembling enough for the movement to be visible. On his face floated a kind of despairing expression that could be taken for either sorrow or anguish, and in his eyes tears had pooled. With particular force, the house shook with a heavy thud. Perhaps another piece of driftwood had struck it—Sahei flinched.

“Poor people shrink themselves just for being poor,” Sanosuke said. “Society doesn’t give a damn about the poor—we know damn well nobody’ll listen to us. Even when they’re squeezing our blood dry with cruelty, we’d rather die than beg the authorities. Wherever you go, a poor man’s words don’t mean shit—we know we can’t beat those with money living proper lives. I know it too—my mother got called a thief for taking five rice balls ’cause we were starving. If our family hadn’t been hungry, if we hadn’t been that poor, five measly rice balls would’ve been a joke! But I… I killed Jinbee. Had to kill him—that bastard who squeezed blood from weak paupers, forced daughters into whoring, threw folks out naked, drove three to suicide! Let him live and he’d keep doing it! I couldn’t help myself—don’t think I did any good deed either, never thought that. That’s why I tried ending it all with this house… why I surrendered quiet-like when you came. Bitter as it is—I’m still a poor man’s son through and through.”

“Don’t act all righteous—what makes you think you’re any better?”
The man retorted, “Don’t act like you know it all—you ain’t got no right badmouthin’ Jinbee!”

“You’ve got your own logic.”

“Don’t you act all high-and-mighty! What about Ogin and Otai? Osachi and Omasa? What about all those women you sweet-talked into submission—the ones who gave themselves to you, got tossed aside, and are left crying in your wake?”

“You wouldn’t understand that.”

“What about those women?” the man pressed on. “There’s more than just four—there must be others. After making those weak women cry so much, you still say you ain’t cruel?”

From behind came the sound of roof tiles cracking.
The wind that had been abating grew violent again, violently shaking the storm shutters and roaring sharply past the eaves.

“That’s right—it might’ve been cruel.”
Sanosuke said in a low voice, “But there was no helping it—even I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“You think saying that makes it okay?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

A violent wind's howl interrupted his words.
And amidst that sharp roar, a girl slipped skillfully into the second floor.
She had apparently come around from the rear via the roof, just like Sahei.
The girl had entered from the same end of the corridor as Sahei, but more nimbly and adeptly.
Soaked from head to toe, she clutched an oar in her hand.
Stealing her footsteps, she moved into the six-mat room at the western end—each step leaving the tatami mats sodden in her wake.

“I never meant to deceive anyone—didn’t trick a single soul. They were all genuine.”
Sanosuke closed his eyes again. “I was serious with every one of ’em—but none worked out. Once we got together, after a spell I just couldn’t help leavin’.”

“It’s ’cause you get bored! Bored with women quick as anything—then toss ’em aside like worn-out sandals.”

“That ain’t it—it’s different.”

“I know!”
The man snarled, “You meant to reel her in too, didn’t you? That girl you mentioned earlier—Oshige, Funabata’s daughter!”

Sanosuke shook his head.
A clattering sound came from the neighboring room.
It was the sound of something among the stacked furniture collapsing from the house's tremors.

Five

“That’s right—I’ve started to get it a little.”
Sanosuke suddenly opened his eyes. “Being told about Oshige made me realize things I never understood before.”

“You can twist it all you want—the cracks are showing!”

“Oshige and I go way back.”
Sanosuke’s voice remained low. “I was a disreputable boatman along the riverbanks—she was the daughter of a prominent boat-house owner. She knew exactly what kind of man I was, knew it all… and still devoted herself to me. Devoted herself in ways I couldn’t put into words—ways beyond describing. She even asked me to make her my wife. But I… I always turned away. Even when gratitude brought tears to my eyes, I coldly turned away.”

“To make her even more infatuated with you?”

“Because I loved her more than anyone else.”
Sanosuke shook his head quietly. “She’s different from the others—completely different. Mustn’t lay a hand on this girl—I’d always told myself that. ‘Don’t touch her no matter what,’ I said… That’s how it was. ’Cause I loved Oshige so damn much I couldn’t see straight—that’s why I never laid a finger on her.”

A wave surged over the corridor.
The house swayed unceasingly from the violent current’s force, while around its perimeter and belowstairs, the churning water’s sounds grew louder and began resonating ominously.

“That’s how it was,” Sanosuke said. “Those women—there was something about them that resembled Oshige. Their natures were different, but they all had some part that felt like her. But it wasn’t true. Once I got together with them, I realized it wasn’t so. Otai, Osachi, Masakō… Not a shred of resemblance. Completely different. Utterly different.”

“So that’s the sin of those women?”

“And then I realized,” Sanosuke muttered as if to himself. “Those women—when they’re with me, they fall apart. Like my corrupting fire’s spreading through ’em, I can see ’em turning into worthless women, bit by bit. Couldn’t stand it. Ain’t sure whose sin it is—theirs or mine. Just couldn’t bear to watch no more—had to leave ’em every time.”

“Don’t you laugh!” the man bellowed. “Getting all high and mighty just ’cause I let you talk—quit spouting your clever crap, you bastard!”

The man slapped Sanosuke across the cheek with his open hand.
At that moment, from the neighboring room, the girl stealthily emerged toward them—but Sahei did not see her.
Sanosuke saw her.
Sahei had his back turned that way; he grabbed Sanosuke’s collar with one hand and landed three more slaps.

“They say even thieves have three parts reason, but you’ve got not one shred! Acting all high and mighty thinking you’re the only righteous one—that’s why your nature’s so rotten.”

Sanosuke cried out.

The girl crept up behind the man and raised the oar she held; standing behind him, she swung it up high with both hands and brought it down with all her might.
Sanosuke had not anticipated this; he had never imagined the girl would do such a thing.

“No good, Oshige-san!”

He cried out in surprise, but the oar had already been brought down.
At Sanosuke’s startled cry, the man tried to turn around—but with a dull, sickening thud, he let out a choked “ugh” and collapsed sideways.
The girl struck again—twice, three times—against the back of his head and his back.
It was a blow struck with all her might.
The man collapsed facedown and stopped moving.

“What have you done, Oshige-san!”

“I don’t have a blade,” the girl gasped. “You had a dagger, didn’t you?”

The girl looked around the room.
Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she'd gone mad.
Her well-formed oval face—thick eyebrows stood on end.
Her smooth, wheat-colored skin and strikingly delicate features stood out; though she seemed strong-willed, her refinement remained impeccable.
The girl found the dagger—likely Sanosuke’s—which had been left in the corner of the room.
The girl pulled it out and returned to Sanosuke.

“Forgive me, San-chan, forgive me,” the girl said as she cut Sanosuke’s ropes. “I’m the one who told this man you were here—I told him!”

Tears spilled from the girl’s eyes.
The waves crashing over the corridor grew fiercer than before, and their spray reached all the way to where the two of them were.
The girl, in her extreme agitation, couldn’t steady her hands; even without that hindrance, the sturdy rope proved difficult to cut.

“I was terrified about Osachi-san—I thought you’d run off with her.”
The girl spoke in a frantic, faltering voice: “I thought you and Osachi-san would meet here and run off together—that’s why I got scared and told him! Forgive me, San-chan—please forgive me!”

“That’s okay—really okay, Oshige-san.”

“No good! I was a fool—a blind, deaf fool! Hearing you speak over there made me realize how stupid I’d been. After all this time together, I knew nothing of the truth—like some blind, deaf thing, just crying without understanding anything!”

The rope snapped.
The girl flung the rope aside and leaped at Sanosuke.

“Forgive me, San-chan.” The girl clung to Sanosuke’s neck with both hands. “I’m happy… I’m happy I finally understand your true feelings. I’d die content like this now—let me die with you, San-chan.”

“No good—it won’t work, Oshige-san.”

Sanosuke pushed the girl away.
He shook off her hands and stood up.
The girl let out a shriek-like scream and tried to cling to him, but Sanosuke went to the side of the fallen man.

“I should not have done this—this man has done nothing wrong. He was just doing his job. I meant to die from the start—still do—but that is my own business.”

“I won’t let go—I won’t leave San-chan.”

“No good—that alone is no good.”
Sanosuke lifted the unconscious man. “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you die no matter what—gotta save this man too, no choice about it, Oshige-san.”

Sanosuke went out into the corridor still holding the man.
The girl leaped at him and screamed; clinging while she wept.
Sanosuke let her cling as she wished, propped the man’s body against the handrail once, then climbed down onto the roof—already nearly submerged—before hoisting him onto his shoulders and feeling his way around to the rear.
The girl started to follow him but suddenly reconsidered, turned back, and picked up the discarded dagger.
And swiftly, from the eastern end opposite where Sanosuke had exited, she descended onto the roof and circled around to the rear.

“Oshige-san!”
Sanosuke shouted, “Come here! You’ve got to come, Oshige-san!”

Then from the direction of the rear roof came the sound of tiles cracking underfoot, and Sanosuke shouted.
The girl's scream could also be heard.
Though obscured by the storm and indistinct, it was unmistakably a desperate, urgent voice.

“I beg you!” the girl shrieked. “The one request of my life… San-chan.”

That voice receded far into the distance.
As if yanked away by some tremendous force, it darted into the distance—then was heard once more.

“—San-chan”

Sanosuke returned alone.
When he returned to the room soaked like a drowned rat, he collapsed onto his back right there.

“This’ll do.”
He muttered, “This is how it should be, Oshige… Don’t you give up.”

He covered his face with his left arm, breathing harshly.
Then on the inner side of his upper arm appeared two deep scratches, their oozing blood visible.
He shook his head dizzily; beyond the corridor came splashing water and a gurgling choke.
Again water slapped violently—the sound of labored gasps reached him… Sanosuke raised his head—another splash.
He sprang up and lunged into the corridor. Peering through dimness, he spotted a human hand at the western edge.
The hand clung precariously to the shutter box while its body hung submerged.
Sanosuke raced over and seized the wrist.
It was Oshige—that girl called Oshige.

“What happened, Oshige-san? Why…”

He was speechless.
The girl's body in the water was naked.
She had nothing on except a white bleached cotton waistcloth.
She must have stripped to swim here—only the white waistcloth fluttered in the water.

"He’s regained consciousness."

The girl said, gasping heavily.
While being helped up by Sanosuke, she clung to him with both hands and vomited water twice in apparent distress.

"He’s come around," Oshige said through tears. "He’s fine—he’s safe, San-chan."

Sanosuke carried the girl back to the six-mat room and sat down heavily, still holding her.
Due to that impact, the eastern wall collapsed.
The damp, loosened wall crumbled from above, then collapsed in a larger section.

“Let me die with you, together!” The girl shouted through tears, clinging to Sanosuke’s neck with her bare arms, pressing her naked chest against his as she writhed and screamed: “I can’t live without you—if you die I’ll kill myself too! San-chan, I’m begging you—let us die together!”

“Alright, Oshige-san.”
Sanosuke said deliriously, “Forgive me… I was wrong.”

Sanosuke stroked the girl’s back with one hand and roughly pressed his cheek to hers.
The house lurched violently, and the two clung to each other even more tightly.
The girl’s rounded, glistening flank twitched like a wave, and her legs—entangled in wet bleached cotton—contracted as if seized by death’s convulsions.

“I’m happy, San-chan.”

Their lips met by chance.
The entire house floated into the air—a weightless sensation, as if levitating—when pillars and beams creaked ominously and swayed violently. Then the house lurched westward, tilting nearly three feet as its foundation on that side gave way. Stacked furniture and boxes clattered as they tumbled down, and the embracing pair nearly toppled over.

“I’ve changed my mind, Oshige-san.”
Sanosuke pulled his face away and said, “If we’re going to die like this, let’s die together—but let’s not decide to die yet. We might die, but we might survive. Listen—if we make it through this, let’s find a way for the two of us to live. Understand?”

The girl nodded while gasping.
Because the house had tilted, the water surged all the way into the neighboring room; floating furniture collided with each other, and the sound of shoji screens snapping rang out.

“Given how things are, it’s probably hopeless—we’re as good as dead already. But if by some miracle we survive, it’ll be like being reborn anew. Don’t you think so, Oshige?”

“I do.”
The girl buried her face in Sanosuke’s chest. “I’ll do as you do—whether we die or live, being with you is all I could wish for.”

“Ah, if we survive...”
Sanosuke hugged the girl tightly. “If we survive... this time—”

The house shook once more, lurching westward, and tilted another foot or so.
Because the tilt had grown steeper, water had begun flooding into this room.
Sanosuke made the girl stand, went out into the corridor, and grabbed the handrail.
The girl had clung on with both hands, but her fingers lacked strength as if drained of all vitality.

“Just a little longer, Oshige.”
Sanosuke pulled the girl closer. “Whether we die or live… Either way, it won’t be long. Just one more stretch of endurance, Oshige.”

“San-chan.”

The girl stared piercingly up at the man.
Sanosuke pulled her close with force.
Rain pelted down on their heads, and surging waves washed over their feet.
The ferocious sound of water swirling around the house roared, and in the sky, tattered rain clouds drifted low and swiftly northward.