Pathway to Japanese Literature

Frost on Snow

I

The work was simple.
When standing on the highway, if a traveler carrying (heavy-looking) luggage came along, he would amiably call out and say this.

“I’ll carry your luggage to the next inn.”
In other words, he would carry luggage for customers who—though not wealthy enough to ride horses or palanquins—had grown weary from walking and found their belongings slightly troublesome, offering this service at a cheaper rate than horse or palanquin hire. The idea was... Of course, this was no innovation of Misawa Ihei’s; during his long itinerant travels with his wife, he had several times seen children doing the same.
They were all children around ten years old, and this work—suited for those of that age—was likely nothing more than a way to earn a bit of pocket money.
For someone like Ihei—with a stature of five shaku and eight sun and a physique weighing over seventeen kan, honed through martial arts training—it was not so much unsuitable as somewhat comical.

But he could not afford to care about such things.
His wife had fallen ill and spent a full two months under a doctor’s care, and was now continuing her convalescence at Takizawa Hot Spring Inn.
Moreover, this was a relay station, and for the time being, there were no other means of earning money.
To him, he even considered it a rather ingenious idea.

The work itself was simple, but when he actually tried doing it—as was true of all livelihoods—it did not go smoothly.
Though fallen on hard times, his bearing differed and his physique stood out, so travelers seemed to misunderstand.
When he called out to them, some would suddenly adopt frightened expressions and run off without a word.
Such occurrences happened frequently at first.
Then there were those who, perhaps thinking he offered kindness out of goodwill, became exceedingly apologetic and engaged him in polite conversation about various matters along the way.
Matters of business, affairs of weather and seasons, troubles with wayward sons, and sundry other topics.
……Owing to his innate kindness and meticulous nature in all things, Ihei would adopt an attitude even more courteous than his counterpart—nodding earnestly, feigning surprise, expressing admiration, tactfully voicing dissent, or offering gracious smiles.
And so, after crossing one mountain pass and arriving at an inn called Nakayama, the traveler would take back their luggage, express profound gratitude, and depart.

“Truly a reluctant parting, this.”

They would say things like that, but Ihei could never bring himself to ask for payment.
With a similarly reluctant heart, he would set out to find his next customer.
There were quite a number of such instances.

Of course, it wasn’t all like that, and once he got used to it, he began to understand the rhythm, so that after about ten days, he somehow managed to start earning a little. Then, as the world was a difficult place, this time an inconvenient situation arose from another quarter. This was because the horse handlers and palanquin bearers on the highway would glare at him unpleasantly or make sarcastic remarks.

“On a highway that already has few customers, having this many workers makes it unbearable—this is just us eating each other alive.”

“To begin with, isn’t it illegal for someone not registered with the station to earn money on this highway?”

They would say things like that.

At first, Ihei did not notice.
His target clientele were travelers who weren’t wealthy enough to ride horses or palanquins and those who found their modest luggage slightly troublesome; he believed he wasn’t encroaching on others’ livelihoods but merely receiving the meager scraps they left behind.
However, recently, he finally came to realize that these were digs aimed at him.

This had become a problem.

He had realized this, but even so, he still did not think his work was causing them enough trouble to be a hindrance, and since it was a job he had managed to secure after much effort, he had no choice but to continue as discreetly as possible.

It was a clear day in mid-February.

In the morning there were two customers, and right after he ate lunch, there was another customer who looked like a merchant.
He was a corpulent, ruddy-faced man around fifty years old, and no sooner had they started walking than he began talking about gallstones.

"You see, gallstones are like setting fire to kindling—once it starts, there’s no stopping it. Brown wrinkles form between your eyebrows—that’s how it begins. Neglect it, and they’ll turn black. Once that happens, treatment’s near impossible—you’ll be like old timber from a demolished tenement."

As usual, Ihei listened admiringly, skillfully feigning surprise and expressing deep interest.
The merchant went on to say that gallstone pain felt like being pounded with a round gouge.
“The stabbing in your stomach’s like being gouged with a small knife,” he continued, “and liver pain’s like having a hole drilled through it with a gimlet.”
“When it hits your guts, it’s like being sawn apart with a rusty saw—and acute kidneys? A thousand needles jabbed in and stirred around.”
“But mark my words—no pain beats gallstones.”
With that final pronouncement,
……Ihei finally ran out of responses and reluctantly asked:

“Excuse me for asking, sir—are you suffering from gallstones?”

“Are you saying I have gallstones?”
The merchant turned around with a look that seemed to say he’d been asked something outrageous. “Outrageous! Even as a joke—I may have beriberi as a chronic condition, but I’ve never even encountered gallstones!”

“Oh, is that so, sir?”

“It is indeed—as vast as the Great Buddha’s loincloth, you see.”
As he said this, the merchant went on listing medicines effective against gallstones, deities suitable for worship, secret incantations, and foods to avoid—then added, “And you see, the crucial thing is your sleeping direction. Northwest is forbidden for gallstones—those with gallstones sleeping with their heads facing northwest is like stepping barefoot on a broken bowl.”

The merchant went so far as to say even such things.

The road climbed to the mountain pass.

As they walked, it was a day so warm that sweat beaded on skin, heat haze ceaselessly shimmering from snow-patched ground. Having grown weary of the merchant's endless chatter, Ihei noticed—just as they reached the mountain pass—the deliberately loud voices of two horse handlers approaching behind.

"How long we gonna keep sugarcoatin' this? That bastard's makin' fools of us all. Time we settled this proper-like."

"I been sayin' that since day one. Eighteen men at Nakayama and Yoshida stations ain't gonna keep suckin' their thumbs."

It was clearly a hint of violence.
The tone differed entirely from their previous sarcastic jabs and empty threats.
It was utterly different.
And likely to make their meaning unmistakably clear, the two men’s language grew more forceful, blunt, and crude.

Was he truly such an obstruction?

II

When one ascended to the top of the mountain pass, the castle town of Matsudaira Tsushimanokami (46,000 koku) came into view.
The post station called Nakayama at the foot of the mountain pass lay almost at the domain’s border, and from there to the castle town was about one ri.

“Thank you for your trouble. This will do here.”

When they reached the teahouse at the top of the mountain pass, the merchant stopped talking about gallstones and said this.

“No—I’ll carry it all the way to Nakayama.”
Misawa Ihei gave a strained smile. “Your payment up to here suffices, but since I’ll be heading to Nakayama to pick up a return customer anyway—and it’s on my way—allow me to carry it for you.”

“No, that’s quite all right—there’s no need for that,” said the merchant. He took out a handkerchief and coin purse, counted out one coin, then two more in front of Ihei, added three additional coins as a meager tip, wrapped them in the handkerchief, and handed it over. “Thanks to you, crossing the pass was easy. Should fate bring us together again, I’ll be sure to request your services.”

Then he took the luggage and went into the teahouse.

――What should I do?

Ihei hesitated for a moment.
Should he go down to Nakayama to pick up another customer, or should he call it a day and return home...? While wavering, he suddenly opened the payment package he had just received.
The texture felt somehow strange, which was why he opened it, but inside the handkerchief there were only five small stones—not a single coin, nor anything resembling money.
There were just five small stones, and at this, Ihei was stunned.

――What on earth is the meaning of this?

When he turned around in near disbelief, the merchant was sitting inside the teahouse, lighting his tobacco pipe.
Ihei hurriedly went over there and, while showing what was in his hand, forced a smile.

“What’s going on here?”

The merchant looked at the items in his hand, then looked suspiciously at Ihei.

Ihei was perplexed.
Around the benches were six or seven travelers, while across the way sat about four men who appeared to be palanquin bearers—and now the usual two horse handlers from behind, having tied up their horses, came entering as well.
The sheer number of people left him at a loss, yet he couldn’t simply retreat in silence.
Forcing another strained smile, he spoke.

“This is what I just received from you, but when I opened it, these things came out.”

“Well now,”
The merchant leisurely exhaled smoke. “What is this? It looks like stones.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

“Then they must be stones, I suppose?”

“Yes, that’s right—they are stones.”

“So?”
The merchant tapped his tobacco pipe. “What do you plan to do with those stones? Are you going to perform some kind of trick?”

“Not at all—that’s not the case. What I just received from you wasn’t payment, but when I opened it, there was this inside. So I thought there must have been some mistake.”

“A mistake… What kind of mistake?”

“In other words, you made a mistake with the package—”

“Don’t joke around—I counted the coins right in front of you, wrapped them up with a meager tip added to the payment. You saw it all yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yes, that’s right—I did indeed see it.”

At that moment, someone’s stifled laugh was heard from across the way.
The people in the shop—including the palanquin bearers and horse handlers—had overheard this unusual exchange and, having stifled their laughter until now, were watching intently.

“Then that’s just fine.”
The portly merchant took the tobacco tray again and lit his pipe. “I counted it before your eyes, wrapped it before your eyes, and handed it directly from my hand to yours. What did you do after receiving it?”

“No, absolutely not—that’s unthinkable! I did nothing at all.”
He shook his head vehemently. “I did nothing whatsoever—truly, absolutely nothing.”

Again someone stifled a laugh from across the way; the merchant exhaled a puff of smoke and spoke mockingly.

“Whether you did something or not, I was here lighting my pipe—how should I know? If you had complaints about what you received, you should’ve said so when you took it. Who’d believe you now? This isn’t my first time traveling these roads—spare me your trivial complaints.”

Misawa Ihei flushed crimson with discomposure and involuntarily brought his hand to his head in a bow.
This time five or six people burst into stifled laughter simultaneously.
There he became increasingly flustered, felt ashamed, muttered something unintelligible, and bolted outside.

――What a disgrace. What have I done?

His five-shaku-eight-sun frame felt as though it had shrunk to a mere three sun. He was so ashamed he wished—he could either sink into the ground or vanish into smoke.

All over such a trivial payment.

Why had he made such a fuss? That customer had such a portly, imposing build.
His attire was fine, and his luggage was heavy.
He must be a wealthy merchant from somewhere—certainly not the type to cheat someone out of a few coins.
Despite all that, to say such a thing... While lost in these thoughts, he left the teahouse and had walked about fourteen or fifteen ken toward Yoshida when a voice called out from behind.

“Hey, you there! Wait a moment!”

When he looked back, seven or eight horse handlers and palanquin bearers—some holding staves or clubs—were chasing after him.
They had witnessed the recent incident and seemed to think that despite his large build, the man was a weakling.
When they rushed up, they surrounded Ihei in a circle and began shouting in an intimidatingly overbearing manner.

“I’m Gonroku of Dobashi! Where the hell’re you from? Where’d you drift in from? What’re you skulkin’ around here for? Who the hell d’you think you are?”

Ihei bowed.

“I sincerely apologize. I am a ronin named Misawa Ihei.”

“Quit your bullshit!”
Another horse handler shouted from the side, “I’m Kantā of Gakekita! Even if you’ve fallen on hard times, any proper samurai’d still be wearin’ a bamboo sword! You lookin’ down on us? Think we’re gonna piss ourselves just ’cause you say you’re some ronin?”

“No, I’m not lying. I truly am a ronin.”
With a feeling like he wanted to cry, yet earnestly, Ihei explained, “I do possess a sword, but wearing it scares off customers—it’s truly impossible. They all seem frightened by it.”

“Shut your trap! ‘Customers’ my ass! I’m Hachibei with a lump! Even this highway’s got its guild—to earn coin from travelers, you gotta buy shares in the guild! Horse handlers stick with horse handlers, palanquin bearers with palanquin bearers! But you—some nobody who might as well be a cow’s tail from god knows where—waltz in without even bowin’ to us, steal our customers like it’s nothin’, and swipe our hard-earned coin! Go on—tell me! Who the hell gave you permission to pull this shit?”

“I’m truly sorry—I sincerely apologize.”
Ihei bowed repeatedly. “I didn’t know such customs existed, and with a sick person to care for, I have no other work available.”

“You bastard! Still trying to weasel out of this?”

“Enough talk! Beat him senseless and leave him for the wild dogs!”

No sooner had they shouted this than suddenly one of them lunged to strike him.
Ihei grabbed his arm,

“Ah, please wait—I beg you, not that!”
He pleaded while waving one hand, “There’s a sick person depending on me—I apologize—ah, watch out! Please stop—it’s dangerous—ah, forgive me—please, I implore you!”

Though his words offered earnest apologies with no intent to harm, his body’s martial instincts proved uncontrollable.
His lightly evasive hands and feet struck pressure points with precision, sending attackers flying four or five ken—some tumbling spectacularly while Hachibei with a lump shrieked as though facing death.
This only inflamed their fury further, driving them to attack from all directions with raised clubs and staves.

“Please wait—have mercy!” Ihei pleaded. “You see how it is—I beg you, please don’t—ah! Forgive me!”

He seized their clubs and snatched their staves. Though there were five weapons, he held them all at once in both hands—bowing and apologizing all the while—as he dodged right and left to evade the assailants lunging at him, then raised his voice even louder—

“Someone, please come! Please stop these people!” he shouted.
Because the stronger one was pleading for help, it must have been a rather comical sight to those watching from the sidelines.
In fact, a samurai had been watching the scene unfold with amusement.
He was a man nearing fifty, small in stature but with a sturdy build and sharp eyes.
With those sharp eyes, he had been intently watching Ihei’s movements but now wore an expression that seemed to say *that was enough*.

“Withdraw your hands, lowlifes! Fall back!”

He approached while shouting.

“I am Komuro Seigaku of Minoyama Castle town—cease this!”

He must have been a well-known figure, for upon hearing the name Komuro Seigaku, they scattered instantly.
Three of them had been knocked down and were gasping as if on death’s door, but even these men—startled—scrambled to their feet.

“I was at that teahouse and heard your scheming, so I followed you here.”
Komuro Seigaku declared decisively, “—And I saw everything. This man knew nothing of local customs and struggles to care for his ailing mother. He has been apologizing profusely. Yet you insulted and humiliated him before attacking en masse—you’re utterly lawless!”

“Please, that’s enough.”
Ihei waved his hand. “This is my fault.”
“No—they are ones who will not understand unless told.”
Seigaku returned a bow and continued scolding them fiercely.

“You lot wouldn’t understand, but this man is a master of the first rank. Had he been serious, not a single one of you would’ve escaped unscathed. I’ll offer the apology on your behalf—come here, all of you, and bow your heads!”

Three

Otoyo sat atop the futon, gazing with concern at her husband as he fastened his hakama.

Though traces of her post-illness gauntness lingered, her young body seemed to recover swiftly—her skin now lustrous, her complexion healthy, her eyes sparkling with vitality—as if a delicate charm had begun to bloom about her.

“And where did you become acquainted with this Mr. Komuro you speak of?”

“That’s… well…”
Ihei faltered slightly but continued, “At that wholesaler’s shop—it started with a trivial matter. But given how things stood, he insisted I should visit him. Though I did refuse once.”

He had kept his work as a luggage carrier strictly secret from his wife.
Of course, he could not speak of the incident at the mountain pass.
What Otoyo wanted to know was not that point, but rather who this Komuro Seigaku was—the man her husband was now going to visit—and what business he had with him.

“Is this another offer of an official position?”

“What will come of it?”
Ihei coughed. “—We haven’t discussed the details yet, and it all depends on how the visit goes, but… if it does turn out to be about an official position, I intend to give it a try.”

Otoyo stared intently into her husband’s eyes.

Her husband possessed rare talent. His scholarship extended to Zhu Xi, Wang Yangming, and Laozi; his martial arts spanned swordsmanship, spearmanship, naginata, archery, jujutsu, staff fighting, horsemanship, and swimming—and though his academic pursuits were less pronounced, his martial skills were unparalleled, each discipline sufficient to make him a first-rate instructor... Yet conversely, by nature he could not bring himself to oppose others. He always prioritized others’ circumstances over his own—deeply humble, quick to tears, feeling guilty toward society when his own life was comfortable, believing others must suffer more when he himself struggled… It was due to this disposition that he had become a ronin, forsaking the hereditary lord he had served at 250 koku, and for over seven years now, he had continued this wandering journey with Otoyo. During this time, countless times his talent had been recognized, and opportunities that might have led to official positions had presented themselves. But because of his nature—his nature stood in the way—in the end, not a single one ever came to fruition.

For humans to live, they had to push others aside to a greater or lesser extent.
Ihei was unable to do that.
As long as it remained unseen, that was acceptable—but the moment he realized, even slightly, that he was pushing someone aside or hindering someone, he could never remain in that position.
Feeling too sorry for the other party and unable to bear it, he would withdraw of his own accord.

Her husband could not rise in the world; as long as his nature remained unchanged, he could never hope for prosperity.

Otoyo had come to believe this.

Yet her husband was always making someone happy; the rightful place he ought to occupy, the things he could rightfully take—these he always yielded to others… This was right. He possessed a rare ability; moreover, with that ability, he was always sharing happiness with someone. This was right.

Even now, her husband sought opportunities for advancement; it was for Otoyo’s sake.
Otoyo was born into a family holding the junior councilor position of 950 koku and had been raised pampered, knowing no hardship.
Making her endure poverty and forcing her to continue their wandering journey was something her husband could not bear.
He could not take another’s place, but he wanted to bring happiness to his wife.
Caught between these two, her husband was constantly tormented—this much Otoyo understood well.

I am happy as I am—I will never wish for anything more.

She had often said this, but her husband was about to repeat the same disappointment here as well.
That was unbearable for Otoyo.

“I’ll try even a thousand times.”

Ihei continued.
Even he understood his wife’s feelings.
That, conversely, was what roused him.

“There’s another reason too, and this time I think I can overlook certain things. Well then, I’ll be going.”

As if fleeing his wife’s tearful gaze, he left the inn with a folding fan in hand.

The hot spring resort called Takizawa was located about twenty chō [2.18 km] from the highway, nestled into the mountains.
The place where one emerged onto the highway was a post town called Yoshida, and it was nearly three *ri* [about 11.8 km] over the mountain pass to Mineyama Castle town.
When Ihei reached the outskirts of Yoshida post town… he recalled his own figure standing there until just the day before, waiting for customers,

“Hey, Misawa Ihei, get a grip,” he muttered. “Because of that mountain pass incident, you can’t even do luggage-carrying work here anymore. When you visit Mr. Komuro, make sure you handle it well.”

Then—likely because he had been standing there—a horse handler leading a horse approached from the opposite direction.

“How about a horse, sir?”

The horse handler called out.
Ihei turned around with a startled “Oh!” and was surprised to see the man.
It was Kanta from the Cliff Base—one of the horse handlers who had caused trouble at that mountain pass yesterday.

“Oh… uh… ’scuse me ’bout yesterday,”

When he said this, the man grew even more astonished. Ihei’s appearance had completely transformed—clad in samurai attire, he now exuded a striking dignity.
Were it not for his slightly drooping eyes, round face, and bashful demeanor, he might have seemed an entirely different person.

“Well, sir… uh…”
The horse handler stammered, his eyes wide, “W-well… uh… this’s all wrong, see… please, just… just give me a chance to make it right…”

And then he hurriedly left.

IV

Komuro Seigaku was a spearmanship master.

He owned a large dojo in Gofukumachi, Mineyama Castle town, and taught the Matsudaira family’s samurai.
It seemed he also received a stipend, and it was said that when the lord was in residence, he would go to the castle for maintenance as well.
Lord Narimasa, Tsuwamono no Kami and feudal lord of the domain, was exceedingly devoted to martial arts; within the castle town, there existed another dojo—run by a man named Tsumura Kurobee—which taught the Nen-ryu sword style, and there were also retainers employed for their expertise in disciplines such as jujutsu and archery.

Komuro seemed to be quite well-known, as many came from other domains to seek his instruction, and at present, he had eight such disciples.

Seigaku seemed to regard Ihei as a spearmanship expert.
When Ihei went to the dojo, Seigaku first had him spar with four or five disciples; he realized Ihei’s skill far exceeded expectations—indeed, if one were careless, he might even prove superior—and Seigaku appeared wholly captivated.

“With such skill, for you to engage in that sort of labor—there must be some circumstance behind it. Yet such matters hold no concern for me.”
Seigaku continued, “Rather than merely asking—if you would oblige me, I earnestly wish for you to oversee training at this dojo.”

“Well, I am utterly incompetent, but if I can be of service, then by all means…”

When he agreed, Seigaku was delighted and proposed a monthly remuneration of one gold coin.
The unexpectedly high amount made Ihei beam involuntarily, but he then felt slightly perplexed.

“When I inquired yesterday, I heard you have an ailing mother. Takizawa must be rather inconvenient in various ways, and we would also prefer you to reside at the dojo as much as possible, so I thought of having you accompany us here.”

“Well, I would like to do that, but…”

“Fortunately, there happens to be a vacant house within this area. If it suits you, please feel free to make use of it.”

“That is most kind, but…”

Seigaku had also mentioned the existence of a mother during the mountain pass incident.
It seemed there had been some misunderstanding, but Ihei could not correct it.
Believing that he was caring for a sick mother, Seigaku might have been acting out of kindness.
It was because he thought that, for the time being, it would be safer to leave things as they were.

“Actually, on the doctor’s recommendation, I would like to have her continue the hot-spring treatment a while longer—I think another month should do.”

If necessary, I could reside there and return once every five or seven days to check on her.
When he gave this answer, Seigaku didn’t press further—the matter was settled with him saying, “I’ll prepare a room, so come tomorrow if you wish.”

After selecting practice spears, measuring his training attire’s dimensions, and receiving a preparatory fund package resembling a modern contract fee, Ihei returned to Takizawa brimming with courage.

“Congratulations on that.”

Otoyo offered her congratulations with apparent delight.
To say “with apparent delight” meant she had feigned it.
She did not believe matters would settle peacefully now.
Something would inevitably go wrong—they would surely have to leave this place again.
It was because she had been thinking this.

Of course, she did not let such thoughts show.
She said she wanted to celebrate at least in form, got up, and prepared a modest celebratory meal.

"This time, you see, I've come up with a clever idea."
Ihei, cheerfully tipsy from his first drink in ages, grinned with a face that seemed to have all its tension dissolved away. "I can't believe it took me this long to realize," he said. "To put it simply—it's about not drawing out the fire within the stone. You suppress the flames."

This required some explanation.
In his boyhood, Misawa Ihei had received both mental and physical cultivation from Genwa, a Zen monk at Sōkan Temple.
Among these teachings

There is fire within stone; strike not, and it will not emerge.

there existed a phrase resembling a Buddhist verse.
There is fire within stone; if you do not strike it, it will not emerge. How to strike? How to strike and make the fire ignite?
This was its meaning, and therein lay the essence of Ihei’s martial arts.
In other words, “the single point that emits fire through striking” formed the core of his technique.

“Up until now, I have conducted matches with the principle of ‘the single point that emits fire,’ so the outcomes became too clear-cut.”
“This time, it’s about suppression,” he said with a gentle smile. “You firmly hold back the fire trying to ignite—into the opponent. You understand, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.”
Otoyo smiled and nodded. “But it seems like I can understand.”

“This is progress—remarkable progress. Yes, one could even call it immense.”
He remained in excellent spirits, his flushed, drunken face perpetually grinning as he continued sharing his ambitions for future training. “I could almost say we’re secure now—after all, I’ve made this innovation, Mr. Komuro is a good man, and this time for sure—”

“No, please don’t say any more.” Otoyo interrupted with a laugh, “Whether we settle here or set out on another journey, it makes no difference to my happiness. I only ask that you do what puts your heart at ease—that you never force yourself to endure beyond your means.” Ihei smiled sadly and silently bowed his head.

Otoyo consented to his residing at the dojo.
There was no need for the condition of returning once every seven days; if anything changed, he would be informed, so it sufficed for him to return on a day off.
With this settled, the following day, carrying his belongings, he set off for Miyama.

It was probably around ten o’clock when he crossed the mountain pass. As he descended and was about to approach Nakayama Inn, some sort of commotion was occurring just before the inn.

Five horses were wandering about, and samurai and what appeared to be horse handlers were arguing loudly about something.

Well, well—isn’t that Gonroku of Tsuchibashi?

Upon seeing one of the horse handlers, Misawa Ihei muttered this to himself as he approached.

――Well now, Kanta from below the cliff was here too.

There were other faces he remembered clashing with at the mountain pass.
This time, were they lodging complaints against the samurai?
Thinking this, he drew near.
But that proved not to be the case—the horse handlers were bowing low while begging for their wages.

“We carried you over two ri—if we don’t get our pay today, our wives and children won’t even get to sip gruel. Please don’t make sport of us—just give what was agreed.”

When Gonroku said this, the other four also bowed their heads and pleaded together.

“No way! No way—you’re not getting anything!”

One of the samurai spat.
They were all around the same age, but this samurai looked the oldest, appearing to be twenty-seven or twenty-eight.
He was likely the son of a prominent family—his features were striking, and his clothing splendid.

“You set the fee upfront yet have the gall to demand extra tips—you lot must always be pestering travelers like this, I suppose.”

“The very idea of causing trouble! Tips are simply our custom.”

“Shut up! To dare call your tip-extortion ‘customary’ makes this inexcusable—for all travelers on this highway, I’ll cut you down!”

The samurai drew his sword.
To Ihei, the threat was understandable, but given how matters had developed up to that point, the horse handlers were startled and instinctively leaped to either side.
At that moment, Misawa Ihei called out.

“Oh, if it isn’t Mr. Gonroku of Tsuchibashi! What’s happened here?”

Having called out this way, he grinned and strode toward them.

Five

The horse handlers gasped.
They held their breath.
Though his appearance had changed, this was the man they had crossed blades with at the mountain pass—the one who had instead soundly defeated them.
His striking features and amiable countenance remained unforgettable.

He surely hadn’t forgotten either.

He must be furious.

This would only escalate matters further, they seemed to think.
But Ihei ignored the samurai entirely, his characteristically round face all smiles as he bowed,

“Oh, I must apologize for my behavior back then,” he said amiably. “Thanks to that, I’ve now secured steady work—helping out at Mr. Komuro’s dojo. So you can rest assured I’ll never cause you all any trouble again. Truly.”

The horse handlers were flustered.
They could not grasp Ihei’s true intentions; they could not believe he was speaking in earnest.
Yet Ihei continued to smile warmly,

“I overheard from over there that there seems to have been some sort of misunderstanding with these people. What exactly happened here?”

“W-well, you see... W-well, that...”

“Now, now,”
He nodded to himself. “Are you saying these people rode the horses and now refuse to pay the fee? No—such foolishness couldn’t possibly be true. That must be a joke.”

“Indeed, that’s exactly right—we’re not paying.”

The eldest youth said this.
From both his conspicuously fine attire and the arrogance of his demeanor, one could discern that he was the leader among the five and a man of considerable standing.
As he sheathed the sword he had drawn,

“We have no need to waste our leisure time jesting with horse handlers. It is only because these wretches made unreasonable demands that we act for the sake of all travelers on this highway.”

“Yes, I had heard that.”
Ihei bowed. “Regarding their request for tips—it’s not something worth getting so angry about. You may not be aware, but they are all poor. Many of them borrow their horses from the stables, and even those who don’t must pay a portion of their fees back to the stables. Moreover, it’s their custom to quote low fares to attract customers, so their actual income depends entirely on gratuities like these tips.”

“We don’t know such things, nor should travelers have any business knowing.”

“Oh, but they do understand,” Ihei said with a smile. “Those accustomed to travel naturally know—and as long as one isn’t a child, anyone would have a rough idea of how much the fee should be for a distance like this.”

“How dare you speak so rudely!”

Another young samurai spat and said, “You claim even a child would understand fare amounts—are you treating us like children?”

“How tedious, how tedious!”

Another samurai said, “This debate is idiotic. Let’s go, Mr. Iwao—it’s absurd.”

“Please wait—that won’t do,” Ihei interjected.
He stepped in front of them. “That’s a sin! They’re all poor people—please pay them their fare. I beg you.”

“No, move out of the way.”

The eldest youth called Iwao sneered and jerked his chin.

“Is there truly no way?”
Ihei pressed the point.
Then, turning to the horse handlers, he pointed at the samurai and said, “I dislike people like this.”

He said in a sullen voice.

“Carrying swords yet bullying the weak—they must not be true samurai but imposters. And perhaps they don’t even have any money.”

“You insolent wretch—you called us fake samurai, didn’t you?”

The youth who had spat shouted.
And, as if provoked by his own shout, he drew his sword with a glint.
Since they were all youths of the same age, they were easily incited to such rash actions; the moment their swords glinted, they all drew their blades in unison.

"No, no—please stop!"
Ihei waved his hand placatingly. "Let's stop this foolishness—it's dangerous, pointless for us both, and you mustn't get hurt."

“You insolent wretch—don’t move!”

The youth who had drawn his sword first swiftly slashed.

Whether he truly meant to strike or not—it was likely half a bluff—but the moment he swung down (how it happened none could tell), the blade found itself in Ihei’s grasp.
Of course it hadn’t been surrendered—it had been wrested away.
What’s more, the youth himself now clutched his right arm with his left hand, shrieking as he scrambled sideways.
Under normal circumstances Ihei would have shown more restraint, but irritation had taken hold of him.
He possessed no tolerance for those who tormented the weak and destitute.
While any decent person might feel similarly, his vehemence surpassed all others.
Even those samurai ought to have recognized their opponent’s prowess from that single maneuver.
Being so thoroughly outclassed, they should have yielded—yet whether from blindness or hot-blooded folly, they flew into a rage and came at Ihei from both flanks.

“Please stop.”
“...Refrain from violence—it’s dangerous.”

Yet his movements defied ocular tracking, his technique uncharacteristically brutal.

Perhaps they were hand strikes—sharp cracks resounded, screams and moans arose, and instantly the samurai—those who had attacked from the right flung leftward, those from the left hurled rightward—staggered, recoiled, and fell: four of the five onto bare earth and withered grass, the last plunging headlong into a brook.

"My deepest apologies—truly inexcusable."
Misawa Ihei approached the youth called Iwao and said with an amiable smile: "No injuries sustained? It shouldn’t have been too painful indeed. Allow me—I’ll assist you up." After making his opponent rise and executing a swift bow of precisely thirty degrees from the waistline—a movement perfected through decades of martial discipline—he extended his calloused palm.
"...Let me reiterate my request—pay these horse handlers their due fare."

The horse handlers stood off in the distance, their faces looking as if they had been made fools of, staring blankly in this direction.

Six

Life at the Komuro Dojo was splendid.

Seigaku had branched off from the Hōzōin-ryū school, founded his own faction under his name, and possessed a unique technique called “Ichiji” (Single Character).
Ihei had studied the Chūya school, but through incorporating naginata techniques, he had mastered a distinctive handling method that emphasized the butt end over the blade tip.
As the Komuro Dojo, they naturally taught “Seigaku-ryū”—there should have been no reason to instruct in other schools’ techniques.
Ihei had indeed been concerned about this point; however, Seigaku appeared to have some design in mind—he remained silent regarding teaching methods and left everything entirely up to Ihei’s preferences.

Ihei conducted the training with overflowing energy, appearing to thoroughly enjoy himself.

He was genuinely enjoying himself.
He was brimming with vitality.
Until now, he had often thought that perhaps he had been born to practice martial arts—but if it was martial arts, anything would do; even sumo would suffice.
He would settle the contest by exerting all his physical and mental capabilities.
Clear and pure, there was nothing that demonstrated his own talent so directly.
Ihei liked all things clear and direct.

Teaching others was nearly his first experience doing so, but when he tried it, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
Moreover, unlike before, he had devised a method called “suppressing victory,” so it was well received by the disciples.

“Sensei Misawa, please give us another round.”

“Even if they keep pressing you like that, it will only wear you out. You should stop for today.”

“No, we’re fine—sorry, but another round.”

There were many who eagerly begged for training in that manner.

There was just one thing that perplexed him.
The matter was that Komuro Seigaku had a daughter who attended to his daily needs.
As if she were a maid or something of the sort, she remained by his side almost constantly from waking until sleeping, her approach both meticulous and heartfelt—one that anticipated every need.
By the standards of that time, she was somewhat advanced in years at twenty-two or twenty-three, and went by the name Chigusa.

She was tall for a woman, with a well-proportioned build of firmly toned flesh, and her features were exceedingly beautiful. The space between her eyes, and between her eyes and eyebrows, was wide and generously proportioned. Her nose was also high. Her mouth was on the larger side. Her overall features were loosely structured and broadly proportioned, yet in that very state, she was exceedingly beautiful.

Her mother had apparently passed away quite some time ago.
It seemed she had been caring for her father ever since, and her conduct and attentiveness toward Ihei were remarkably composed and meticulous.

Ihei’s room was a six-tatami two-room suite in the same building as Komuro Seigaku and his daughter’s residence, located near the dojo.
One side served as the bedroom, while the living area contained a sunken hearth along with furnishings such as a desk, a writing box, and a utility chest.
In the tokonoma, flowers were always arranged, and Chigusa would often come to prepare tea using that sunken hearth.

She was a woman of few words.
However, her gestures and expressions sufficiently compensated for her lack of words.
Early in the morning, she came to wake Ihei.
She would have him wash his face, help him change his clothes, and sit down to serve breakfast.

“That’s enough—I’ll do it myself.”
He would say this every time: “Please don’t trouble yourself—I prefer to do it myself.”

However, Chigusa merely smiled. During training, if he stepped out briefly to wipe his sweat, she was already properly waiting by the wellside. For lunch and dinner, he usually ate with Seigaku—so of course Chigusa served them—and neither the preparation of his bedroom nor his change of clothes at bedtime ever left her hands.

This was troubling—truly troubling.

He felt thoroughly perplexed, yet it could not be called a nuisance. At times—when sensing Chigusa’s fragrant presence close by—he would suddenly recall the inn at Takizawa and feel guilt toward his wife, Otoyo. That was likely his conscience reproaching him in some hidden recess of his mind, though he himself remained unaware of it. Regarding the subtleties between men and women, Ihei was as simple and ignorant as a child.

The dojo’s days off were twice a month: the 5th and the 20th.

He returned to Takizawa on the fifth day of the following month—his first visit in seventeen days.
Otoyo appeared to be recovering well; she had gained more weight than before, her complexion glowed healthily, and her skin now held a glossy firmness.

“I’ve been preparing my own meals since the day before yesterday,”
Otoyo said with a laugh, “...This way the lodging fees stay lower, and it’s better for my recovery too.”

“That’s absurd—the lodging fees.”

“No, this was originally a hot spring inn where all guests cooked for themselves by custom. Now that I’m healed, I must do the same—otherwise it feels improper to stay.”

“Then let’s change inns.”

With these words, Ihei took out the packet containing his payment from his pocket.
It was something Seigaku had handed him that morning as he was leaving.

“Please look—I receive this much every month.”

Otoyo looked at her husband’s face.
Then, when she opened the packet, inside there was one ryō and two bu.

“Oh, this is—”
Ihei involuntarily raised his voice, “...This is unexpected—the agreement was for one gold coin, but there appears to be 1 ryō and 2 bu here.”

“Ah, there is indeed 1 ryō and 2 bu here.”

“I wonder what this means. Since it’s been a little over half a month, even if they wouldn’t prorate and deduct the amount, the fact that it’s more than agreed upon—of course, there can’t possibly be a miscalculation here…”

It must have meant they valued his skills highly.
He couldn’t bring himself to say that—that was where Otoyo would voice it for him.
But she did not say it.
With no indication she shared her husband’s doubts, Ihei felt somewhat dissatisfied—yet—

“Anyway, since we’re receiving this much regularly—if this house works that way—let’s change to a slightly better inn.”

“Ah… perhaps next time…”

Otoyo evaded the answer and stood up to prepare lunch.

He understood well.
The wife still could not believe it—that the income was reliable, that they could settle here.
……Ihei was saddened.
The wife was unbearably endearing.
Yet he still lacked the courage to persuade her—to declare that this time would truly be all right.

—Over seven years of wandering, countless bitter experiences…

Indeed, if one were to lay bare the truth, even he himself might not have had any certainty that they could settle down like this.
After a long time, the couple ate lunch together, talked for about an hour, and when they were about to return to the dojo, Otoyo returned the payment money to her husband.

“I still have plenty of the remaining preparation funds on my side. Since one never knows when something might happen, please keep this with you.”

It was customary for samurai to carry gold on their person.
Since she insisted he take it, he had no choice but to return it to his pocket.

“Then I’ll come again on the 20th.”

“I am quite all right here, so you need not come until the month turns.”

Otoyo said resolutely and smiled.

Seven

On his return journey, Ihei noticed something strange. Children around ten years old—some girls among them—were carrying travelers’ luggage exactly as he used to do. By the time he approached the mountain pass, he had counted five people going up and down. Some struggled under conspicuously heavy loads, grunting as they walked.

Well now, I’ve gained quite a few successors.

This thought made him both mildly amused and somewhat pleased. Being who he was, he couldn’t stay quiet in such situations. When he spotted two boys about his former clients’ age shouldering bulky packages, he smiled and called out to them.

“Hey there—you’re doing great work, boys. Heavy load?”

That must have been the owner of the luggage.
A traveler in his mid-thirties who looked like a merchant glanced over.
Ihei smiled cordially and addressed him.

“Until just recently, I too did this work—not that it’s worthy of being called proper work—but though I’ve quit now, seeing children like these makes me feel a sort of kinship.”

The traveler smiled back ambiguously (with a somewhat uneasy air).
The traveler seemed unable to grasp why such an imposing samurai would speak of such things.
Ihei paid no heed to this and,
"But you see..."
he continued.

“This luggage looks a bit heavy—isn’t it too much for the children? For something this size, you really should use a horse or palanquin…”

“I would like to do that as well.”
The traveler nodded and said, “I would like to do that as well, but between Yoshida and Nakayama, there are no horses or palanquins available.”

“From Yoshida to Nakayama.”
Ihei looked at the traveler’s face. “No horses or palanquins in that entire stretch? That can’t possibly be the case.”
“Well, it seems to be true. I’ve been observing like this, but I haven’t actually come across any packhorses or palanquins.”

When he was told that，he realized it was exactly as the merchant had said．That morning too，when coming from Minoyama Castle town，there had been no horses or palanquins on the highway．

“So what does that mean？Is today their day off，I wonder？”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing. For all the horse handlers and palanquin bearers to take a day off together—no matter how you look at it, that cannot be the case.”

“So—there must be some reason for this, then.”

“There’s a reason.”

One of the boys carrying luggage stopped, caught his breath, and spoke.

“Well, well, you know about that, do you, lad?”

“From Yoshida to Nakayama,” the boy wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, “horses and palanquins aren’t allowed to go out for work anymore.”

“Hmm, that’s strange. How come?”

“If you go out, you’ll get a terrible beating from the samurai in Minoyama. Our fathers, Yoshibei’s father here, and three others—they all got beaten bad and are lying at home now.”

"My pa's hip bone got knocked clean outta place."
Another boy chimed in, "Ain't got coin fer doctors neither. Can't even buy rice nohow. That's why we gotta hustle out here."

"If that's how it stands—don't add up one bit. Why'd samurai go doin' such..."

As he began to say this, Ihei suddenly startled.
As if struck, he looked around and let out a low growl.
Then the boy who had spoken first glanced sideways toward him and,

“That’s right,” he said.

“It’s because of you—they said you’re a good person—Pa and everyone said so—you don’t seem like a bad person—but you went and did something unnecessary!”

“Is this about the Nakayama disturbance?”

“When you said just now you used to carry luggage, we figured it out—if you’d kept quiet during that trouble, even if we’d lost the pay then, we wouldn’t have suffered this retaliation. But you probably meant well by what you did, and now you’re a samurai again after all—so they say we can’t exactly press the matter.”

“I didn’t know,” Ihei said hoarsely. “I never dreamed… Never thought a man calling himself a samurai would commit such vile acts. I cannot let this stand.”

And then he hurriedly turned to the traveler,

“I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, but given what you’ve just heard, I must look after these children’s parents. Since the mountain pass teahouse is right there, would you kindly let them return there?”

“It’s fine, old man.”
The boys said hurriedly, “Even if you came helpin’, wouldn’t make no difference! We gotta earn our keep—we’re takin’ this luggage through!”

“No—this won’t do. It’s shameful for you lads, but I’ll cover your wages and take you to a doctor without fail. There’s something far more important we must discuss.”

“You say that, but ain’t you just gonna go meddlin’ again?”

“When you say that, I’ve got no words.”
Ihei bowed his head earnestly. “I apologize—truly—but come back with me. We can’t leave things like this. First we’ll check on ’em, then we absolutely gotta discuss…”

He was completely flustered, but somehow succeeded in convincing the two boys.

Eight

Seigaku sat with his arms crossed, wearing a stern expression, and listened in silence.
With a terribly stern expression, when the flame of the lamp beside him flickered, it cast a shadow that looked terrifying.

“And at that time, I made the payment.”
Ihei was fervently explaining the situation. “It may have been unnecessary interference, but I asked that they be given a small gratuity—or rather, compensation for their time.”

“I have heard that story.”
Seigaku coldly interrupted, “If you must continue, then proceed—but keep it as brief as possible.”

“Then, the rest of it—the main points.”
Ihei faltered slightly. “—And so, under those circumstances, I had thought everything was resolved amicably. But soon—yes, about five or six days after that day—a man named Iwao Kyuma and about ten of his retainers came to the foot of the mountain pass. They declared that no one would work on this highway henceforth, then began grabbing every palanquin bearer or horse handler who passed by, beating them, kicking them down—it’s said five people were injured.”

Ihei was agitated.

He visited the five households with the children as his guides and heard their accounts directly. Dobashi no Gonroku—father of a boy named Yoshibei—had dislocated his hip joint and would likely be unable to walk for six months, while the other four also bore considerable injuries, all requiring medical treatment.

"They are day laborers—the poorest and most powerless people. Every one of them has a large family to feed, and even with their children carrying loads, they can’t eat properly. How could samurai—no matter their reasons—act so cruelly toward such vulnerable people?"

“What then do you propose as your conclusion?”

Seigaku’s tone remained calm, his expression showing not the slightest change.
He might as well have said *So what?*—and Ihei found his resolve faltering.

“Well… To state my conclusion—”

“You mean paying those laborers’ treatment costs and restoring their highway earnings would settle this?”

“That—of course that above all—no matter what—”

“Very well. I shall see to it.”
Komuro said briskly, “—However, you must withdraw from this matter.”

“Well, that is… I’m grateful, but I can’t possibly trouble you so much, Mr. Komuro. Moreover, for my part, simply paying their medical expenses and restoring their earnings isn’t enough to satisfy me—this differs from other matters. I must clearly establish right and wrong to prevent such things from recurring. I intend to take all those who committed the violence with me and make them apologize.”

“When you say ‘them,’ do you mean the laborers?”

“Yes, that’s right. Otherwise, I won’t be satisfied—I don’t believe this is merely a matter of money.”

Though his words were gentle, the tone in which he declared them was intense.
Seigaku sat dumbfounded and stared at him briefly; then, as if in admiration, he said leisurely,

“You are an unusual man. Since our first meeting at the pass, I have observed your daily conduct and believe you possess a character truly rare in this age. Yet—is this not somewhat excessive? … A strong sense of justice is admirable, but efforts like adding frost to snow are futile.”

“That... what do you mean by that?”

“Now, do listen.”
In a placating tone, Komuro said, “—I am aware of the disturbance at Nakayama Inn—I was informed by someone—and when it became known that you were at this dojo, matters threatened to grow complicated. So I met with the five individuals, explained your nature thoroughly, and had them agree.”

“So you got them to agree…… When was that?”

“About seven days had passed since you began training, I believe.”

“Oh… I had no idea about that, but… why did you do such a thing?”

“There are two reasons.”
Komuro’s stern expression softened slightly. “First, at that time, Iwao Kyuma was the son of the second senior retainer, and there were two others from families of elder retainers. What they did was wrong, but they are youths in the heat of their prime—sometimes they get carried away and act violently. Moreover, their opponents were highway laborers who once made unreasonable demands on you and resorted to mob violence.”

“No—that matter was also my failing, so I apologized to them.”

“However, had I not intervened, that disturbance would have grown far larger.”
Seigaku shook his head. “The case of Iwao and the five others was a simpler matter. You should have remained silent and passed by. There was no need to subdue five samurai before the laborers—that was your overreach.”

“I… I don’t think that way.”

“It’s not too late—begin thinking that way now.”
Seigaku pressed firmly, “The second reason I obtained consent from those five was to prevent strained relations between you and our house retainers—because… well, as this seems opportune—I intend for you to inherit this dojo. You surely know that when our lord resides here, attending castle affairs requires one who’ll naturally assume those duties in due course.”

Ihei's eyes widened.
Seigaku continued.

“If I phrase it thus, I imagine you’ve grasped my intent—and I presume you’ll have no objections—but I wish you to wed my daughter Chigusa.”

This time, Ihei tilted his head.
It seemed he thought he had misheard something, but he immediately understood its meaning, uttered a soft "uh," and sat up straight.

“Are you telling me to marry your daughter?”

“Exactly. That has been my intention from the start—to have her attend to you. Chigusa is naturally aware of this, and given how you’ve silently allowed her to care for you, I believe you’ve more or less accepted it as well.”
Komuro’s expression softened for the first time. “—And so, you must strive to maintain harmony with the household members. Particularly the Iwao family—though second in rank, they are a prestigious clan in the domain. Since we owe Mr. Iwao’s considerable efforts for the stipend this dojo receives, you must keep that well in mind going forward.”

“Please wait—if you would, just a moment.”

Ihei raised a hand to interrupt.
His face turned red, his eyes brimmed with a complex light of anger, sadness, and shame intermingled, and his entire expression took on a look as if he were about to burst into tears.

“Though I have heard all you’ve said—though it is truly presumptuous of me—and though there are inexcusable aspects to this—I cannot comply with your proposal.”

“Which part do you oppose?”

“All of it. But I will not state my reasons—even were I to explain, you would not understand. Nor does it seem I can speak in a way that would make you understand. I shall take my leave.”

“What did you say?”

“There is one thing my conscience compels me to confess—I already have a wife.”

This time, Komuro widened his eyes.
He seemed utterly taken aback; after widening his eyes, he uttered a strained “uh.”

“The one staying at Takizawa Inn is my wife; therefore, I cannot possibly take Miss in marriage.”

“But you said it was your mother—”

“No, I did not say that—it was your misunderstanding. Likely you misinterpreted when I mentioned having a sick person to care for during the disturbance at the pass. Of course, I later realized this misunderstanding had occurred—for that, I deeply apologize—but at the time, believing you were assisting me out of concern for my ailing mother, I had no choice but to rely on your kindness then. I intended to clarify matters when an opportunity arose…”

“So you pretended ignorance—” Komuro said as if unable to contain himself, “—pretended ignorance, and accepted my daughter’s care for over half a month?”

“I truly had no idea—not a shred—not in the slightest awareness of such feelings. This I swear on my conscience—I believed it was simply your kindness and was deeply grateful—this I vow.”

Seigaku tried to say something.
But no words came out.
Ihei continued.

“Given these circumstances—though this is most improper—I shall now take my leave. Of course, regarding the one ryo and two bu I received—ah, yes—it was inexcusable to accept two bu more than our initial agreement. I am deeply, profoundly grateful.”
He bowed politely. “—I will return that immediately. I had no idea things would come to this, so I had distributed it to the injured horse handlers. I apologize—I will make arrangements to repay it at once.”

“That is unnecessary—but if that is how it must be, I will not detain you.”

Seigaku also said with a complex gaze.
Anger welled up, filling his entire chest.
He felt deceived and mocked, wanting to roar out a rebuke, but seeing Ihei’s innocent, childlike openness devoid of malice, he instead found himself wanting to console him—which only deepened his frustration.

“Even if you were to leave now, it has become night—it would be best for you to depart early tomorrow morning.”

“No—I cannot do that even for Miss. I am grateful, but… though it’s truly awkward—just briefly—”
He stepped back and said, “—I would like to go out just briefly—I’ll return immediately and then take my leave right away. I’ll only be gone for half a moment.”

And he stood up hurriedly and left the room.
Then, there in the corridor, Chigusa stood.
Ihei was startled.

“Ah… well… this is most awkward.”

He stammered and bowed.
Chigusa looked up.
It was too dark to tell, but her demeanor and breathing suggested she had been crying.

“I’m sorry.”
Ihei whispered, “Please forgive me—please, I’m sorry.”

It was a sorrowful voice, like a child apologizing to their mother.
Chigusa looked as though she might say something, but she turned her face away in silence and departed with a listless gait toward the other side.
Ihei bowed once more behind her and went off somewhere.

Nine

It was indeed the height of spring.

Although snow still remained visible on the distant mountains, in the fields the wheat grew tall and rapeseed flowers bloomed in profusion.
Along the roadside, grass sprouts were tenderly budding, and the woods too seemed hazy with a pale purple hue.
The day was warm, and the wind—though there was some wind—was a gentle breeze unmistakably of spring, making it rather refreshing to walk.

“So, what happened next?”

Otoyo, in her traveling attire, tilted her hat and looked up at her husband while smiling enigmatically.

“You understand, don’t you? My unforgivable feelings.”
“Mr. Komuro is a good man—a man of understanding and high principles,” Ihei said emphatically as he walked. “But alas, he receives a stipend, maintains a dojo with disciples, and lives in comfort. That’s why his judgment of right and wrong grows dull—he doesn’t want to lose his stipend, or his dojo and disciples, or let go of his comfortable life. So without realizing it himself, he dismisses it all as ‘youthful mischief.’”

He stamped one foot heavily.

“Youthful recklessness? Hot-blooded antics? Don’t make light of this! On one side are poor, vulnerable people—and samurai, who should uphold honor, threatening them with swords! If they want to vent their spite by gathering ten men to come at me, fine! But attacking defenseless folk with no backing, leaving them gravely injured and stripping their livelihoods—this isn’t mere recklessness; it’s pure wickedness! To compromise with such scoundrels? Never!”

“That much I understand.”
Otoyo, still smiling enigmatically, said, “—what became of the money you returned as thanks?”

“About that… well, Otoyo, I don’t think you’re angry anymore—I should have obtained your forgiveness by now—but even though I only returned one ryo and two bu to Mr. Komuro, there are those injured and bedridden—all five have large families struggling to feed themselves—I think you’d understand if you went to see them—it’s truly pitiful and wretched—so why are you laughing?”

“If you had simply stated so, you wouldn’t have needed to resort to that duel,” she said.

“Well... that is... in essence... precisely how it stands.”
He flushed crimson and laughed uncomfortably. “There exists a man called Tsukura Kurobei who operates a Nen-ryu dojo. I visited him and made a rather... insistent proposal. Though he showed no inclination to consent, I succeeded in irritating him somewhat. Curiously enough—it’s truly perplexing—when one provokes the head of a dojo in such fashion, they inevitably propose a wager match. Yes, most perplexing indeed.”

“Did Mr. Komuro accept it?”

“He refused to take it back, so I left it there. There were expenses for food and all the care I received—since I’m not becoming his son-in-law after all, it would’ve been improper not to settle those debts.”

“What do you mean by ‘not becoming his son-in-law’?”

“What do I—? That is, Miss Chigusa as my—no—me being her… Well—ah! There’s a tea shop.”
Ihei pointed ahead in flustered haste. “Shall we rest awhile? It’s early yet, but we could have our midday meal there.”

“No, I would like to hear more about what you were just saying.”
Otoyo shook her head and looked squarely at her husband’s face. “This Chigusa you mention—she is Mr. Komuro’s daughter, is she not? And you are to become her husband?”

“Well—you see—it’s just that Mr. Komuro harbored those intentions himself, and I was entirely…”
He blushed again and stammered, “—I had absolutely no idea, truly! So when I realized that, I couldn’t stay a moment longer—that’s why I left right away.”

“What kind of person is she, that young lady—wasn’t she beautiful?”

“Don’t be absurd—it’s nothing of the sort… At any rate, that’s why I bolted out immediately—hurried through the night roads to visit five homes—woke those sleeping—handed out the money—and they wept.”

“How old is that young lady?”

“They truly wept—at Gonroku’s house they told us to eat some gruel and stay, and there were houses that urged us to spend the night—but come now—let’s take a short rest at this tea shop.”

With these words, Ihei briskly entered the roadside tea shop.

They had come nearly four *ri* west from Yoshida post town, in the direction opposite to Miyama Castle Town.
They had departed Takizawa while it was still dark, but accommodating Otoyo’s pace, they walked leisurely with frequent rests.
Although they had ridden in a palanquin for a short while during the journey, since they had walked most of the way, he found himself growing hungry rather than tired.

“I’m truly sorry to you, Otoyo—please forgive me.”

As soon as he sat on the bench and ordered a meal, he said in a hushed voice.

“So it was true after all.”
Otoyo glared sidelong. “—so you *did* have something with that Chigusa after all.”

“Don’t say such foolish things—I’m being serious. This time I truly thought I could settle down—the conditions were good, and I’d even attained some clarity—this time I thought I could finally stabilize things and let you live more comfortably, Otoyo. But it all collapsed again… Honestly, I don’t know whether to call it shameful or inexcusable.”

“That’s enough—I understand.”

Otoyo gently touched her husband’s arm.

You always throw away what you could take for yourself—rescuing others, protecting them, making them happy with such nobility.
No matter what, you cannot help doing this—that nature of yours will never change—and that is perfectly well.
Otoyo loves you exactly as you are.
If I could live together with you like this—that alone would make Otoyo happy.

She had wanted to say this.
Yet in reality, she did the opposite—glaring gently while lowering her voice further.

"The reason you protest so strenuously must indeed stem from something having transpired with that Miss Chigusa—though I cannot quite..."

Otoyo cut her words short.
Ihei had silenced her with an outstretched hand.

Ihei stared intently toward the entrance with tense eyes.

There were people coming this way along the road, talking in loud voices.

“You see, when it comes to gallstones—it’s like a tilted house hit by an earthquake. First, brown stains appear under both eyes—like this—something laypeople can’t quite discern.”

As they said this, two travelers entered the tea shop.
Ihei gasped.
One was unmistakably that customer from before—a man of about fifty, portly and ruddy-faced with a merchant’s bearing.

“Before you know it,” he said, “those brown stains start turning darker.”
Placing his hat and raincoat aside while sitting down, he continued: “—once that happens, you’re utterly—”

“So it was true—it was you after all.”
While saying this, Ihei stood up and approached with a cordial bow. “I thought this tale sounded familiar—what a pleasure to meet you again.”

The man looked this way and narrowed his eyes.
He didn’t seem to recognize him because his appearance had changed.

“Have you forgotten?”
Ihei forced a smile. “You had me carry your luggage once before, didn’t you? From Yoshida post town to the tea shop at the mountain pass.”

The man let out a sharp yelp.
“Ji” it might have been—in any case, he made some such noise and grabbed his raincoat and hat with one hand.

“You’ve realized now, haven’t you?”
Ihei said amiably, “It’s me from that time. That was quite amusing, wasn’t it—when the payment I received at that tea shop turned into stones.”

The man vanished in a flash.
He grabbed his raincoat and hat, leapt sideways out of the shop—but his movements were so swift that he seemed to vanish into thin air.

“Ah—hey!”
Ihei also chased after him. “Hey—what’s wrong?”

When he looked, the man was already five or six *chō* ahead.
With tremendous speed, dragging a band of dust behind him, he rapidly grew small, receding farther and farther into the distance…

“What’s going on?” Ihei muttered under his breath, scratching the back of his head as if unable to contain bewilderment. “There really are some strange people.”

Otoyo came out and informed him.

“You—your preparations have been completed.”