Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

On the outskirts of Kanaya post town along the Tokaido highway lay a seductive quarter.
It was a narrow-fronted, flat board-walled structure, its front hung with colorful noren curtains dyed with various shop emblems, where seductive young ladies with thick applications of rouge and white powder lined up.
They had arranged it to look like a teahouse serving light meals or a souvenir shop, but if you went in for a meal or stopped by to buy souvenirs, you would have a terrible time.
The seductive young ladies lining up there being rather simple and unpretentious, they showered such customers with unrestrained ridicule and abuse.
If you were unlucky, you would have salt thrown at you and be told to come back two days ago—so did take care.

An unseasonal torrential downpour had persisted for four or five days during the rainy season, and still the persistent drizzle continued to fall.
Under normal circumstances these would be conditions that reduced customer traffic, but this quarter was currently experiencing remarkable prosperity.
This was because the Ōi River had become impassable due to flooding, leaving the station overflowing with stranded travelers.
Every inn worth the name, every restaurant worth the name.
Every nook and cranny was packed with customers who thrived on raucous revelry born of cabin fever—a testament to the blessings of this peaceful era.
These spillovers would descend upon that seductive quarter for clandestine amusement.[...] Now among them there was a samurai customer who came nightly to one particular establishment—a shop bearing the curtain marked "Osome."
Samurai who frequented this place were usually foot soldiers or low-ranking retainers, but this particular customer wore splendid attire, was an exceptionally handsome man, and what's more proved exceptionally free with his coin.
He appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
The simple young lady assigned to a customer for the first time found herself utterly charmed,

"My, what a delightfully handsome man you are! I've completely forgotten all about business!"
With these words, she swiftly stuffed the received coins into her obi and nearly twisted the customer's arm out of its socket.
"You're just like some young lord of a great daimyo! But if you even think of cheating on me, I'll thrust a red-hot fire iron through your eyeballs!"

"Ha ha ha! 'A young lord of a great daimyo,' you say?"
The samurai customer chuckled while rubbing his nose with a clenched fist, then stroked his chin. "Ain't sayin' it ain't so."

He would come for three or four nights straight, and someone would always be waiting in the shadows out front, timing it just right to take him back.

"If it's your friend, why don't you bring them along?"

When she grabbed him by the collar and shook him,

“That’s just my retainer,” he dismissed.

“Quit spewin’ them barrel-bottom lies! That lily-white mug might look like some young lord’s, but your tastes’re lower than a beggar’s when it counts! Your retainers would faint hearing this, you beriberi-ridden horse trader!”

“What bilge you spew! You’re the skirt-snatching hag here—all bitter vinegar with your endless nagging from behind! Never satisfied, never stopping, pestering dawn to dusk like some twenty-four-hour pestilence!”

“What airs you put on, Mr. High-and-Mighty! Every last woman from noble ladies to bridge-dwelling beggars are made this way—why else’d the likes of you keep your sanity? You dried sardine noose-neck!”

All these vulgar terms were in fact rustic expressions of affection.
As proof, after saying this, the young lady bit down hard on the customer's shoulder.

“Enough of this, you lecherous fiend! Though I tremble to mention it, this is the august personage commanding 186,000 koku! If you get so much as a bruise—”
“If you get so much as a bruise—”

“Ahem.”

A cough sounded from outside.
Likely that retainer of his, thought the customer as he hunched his shoulders, fell silent, and rubbed his nose with a clenched fist.
In general, this customer’s speech and behavior were crude, unbefitting his dignified appearance.
At every turn he rubbed his nose with a clenched fist—his very demeanor resembling that of a palanquin bearer or porter—and even this seemed to displease his retainer, for in the shadows on their way back from “Osome,” he was harshly scolded.

"What a loose-tongued fool you are—I told you repeatedly, yet here you go again, you imbecile!"

"Everyone says that."
He grinned nonchalantly.

"They say that fool's idiocy's congenital—hmph! Been that way forever."

It was on the fifth night he came.
As the retainer waited in the shadows out front, about three masked samurai approached and quickly exchanged whispers among themselves.
Among them, one—

“Ah, you’ve memorized his mannerisms well. This should suffice,” someone was heard saying.
“The voice is acceptable too—it’s just a matter of mimicking vulgarity.”

“Then...”

And they vanished once more into the darkened streets.
Of course, the retainer remained.
And so they hurried their charge home earlier than usual—but gentlemen, mark this well—for the instant those two emerged onto the main street, some ten masked ruffians materialized to surround them.
What tragedy might unfold? You'd lean forward in expectation—yet hold! No tragedy transpired; rather than unfolding, the figures seemed to implode inward, leaving only a stifled yelp resembling "kyu" echoing through the night.
Then wonder of wonders—while retainer and charge ambled leisurely townward, those ten brutes bore away some hapless soul along the drizzling westward road.

Dear readers, you had patiently endured the vulgar exchanges at Osome; I trusted you would now accept this suggestive nighttime incident without demanding explanations. I would have guided you to a brighter chamber next—ah! Here we are! This inn at Kanaya Station bearing the signboard "Ōtaya Ryōsuke, Official Lodgings." Here had stayed seventeen retainers from the Edo residence of Mori Hōki-no-kami—lord of Tsuyama in Mimasaka Province ruling 186,000 koku—for seven days now. They had come to welcome their young lord traveling from Mimasaka's provincial seat—Lord Daisuke—while bearing a most delicate secret commission.

II

Five samurai were sitting in the inner chamber of Ōtaya.
The candlesticks blazed brightly, making everything clearly visible, and among them sat two who were none other than that very customer who had just returned from Osome and his retainer.
The remaining three were Isozuka Montayu, Nukata Uzume, and Harano Kurobee—all officials of at least captain rank from the Mori clan’s Edo estate, with Isozuka serving as commander of a seven-hundred-koku escort unit.
A man in his forties with broad, imposing shoulders, a swarthy complexion, a thick beard, and a face that bore a piercing glare.

“Listen well, Dengiku—your duty finally begins tonight!”
Isozuka Montayu declared in a piercing voice.

“—I’ve heeded every word you’ve said, granted every wish you’ve desired—but this ends now. Forget everything that came before. Listen well—you are Dengiku no longer. Sever all ties with vulgar pastimes, cheap sake, and base living. You understand?”

“Right in the thick of it, eh?”
The wildly popular customer at Osome—this young man whom Isozuka had called Dengiku—slapped his knee with a smack and struck a pose.
“Ain’t like I’m askin’ for that cheap swill measured down to the momme! Gimme Kenbishi or Mitsuuroko’s pure-brewed stuff for New Year’s cheer! Rather than beddin’ some hag who looks like a reborn stargazer fish, I’ll take palace maids an’ princesses any day!”

“Shut your mouth, fool!”
Montayu scolded in a low voice.
“Your role starting tonight isn’t some carefree game. Obey our commands meekly, and you’ll live in splendor till your last breath. But defy them even slightly—make one worthless blunder—and it’s the gallows for you. That this isn’t empty bluster should be plain enough if you ponder your position.”

“B-but...”
Dengiku rubbed his nose with a fist.
"But y'see, I..."

“Silence! That ‘I’ is forbidden henceforth. Your posture, movements, speech—all must follow what you were taught. Mark this—you’re a fool. Engrave in your gut that you’re an imbecile. ‘I am a fool. I’ll obey my handlers’ every word.’ Repeat this ceaselessly—understood?”

“But… y’see… I…”

“If that slips out—gallows.”
Montayu barked like a slap to the face.
He turned to his retainer: “This won’t hold without your say-so. Chūno—handle it.”

“I shall attend to it.”
Chūno—that is, the retainer—was a robust twenty-seven-year-old youth named Chūno Gihee, with eyes that suggested an extra fold in his brain.
“However, I’m afraid accompanying him immediately may prove difficult.”

“We shall entrust that to Mr. Harano’s capabilities. Since your role as the young lord’s attendant has been established, and with Sakatsuji Shōjirō also present, there should be no complications.”

“Indeed, complications will likely not arise.”

Harano Kurobee nodded.
“Well then, let us take our leave—”

Flanking Dengiku, Chūno Gihee and Harano stood.
They adjusted their attire, donned their gear, and slipped out from behind the rain shelter to avoid prying eyes.
There, three samurai were waiting. Silently guiding them onward, they entered a mixed grove at the inn’s outskirts, whereupon everyone mounted horses and departed westward along the night road through drizzling rain.

Though I had gone to the trouble of guiding you to a bright room, I must profusely apologize that this too had turned into such a shady and disreputable scene. However, thanks to this turn, our story seemed to have gotten properly underway. We too would take a good night's rest.

The next day, before the Ōtaya designated inn, a curtain bearing the Mori family crest was hung, and the formal preparations for a feudal lord's stay—sprinkling water and heaping sand—were completed. That is to say, Lord Daisuke, the young heir to Mori Hōki-no-kami, had departed from Tsuyama's domain headquarters for Edo and arrived this day at Kanaya; Isozuka Montayu and seventeen others had come from the Edo residence all the way here to welcome him.

Lord Daisuke was the second son of Hōki-no-kami who had been sent to the domain headquarters at age fifteen due to certain circumstances. While officially labeled as "eccentric behavior," this actually stemmed from a succession dispute—he had been exiled to make way for Einosuke, a concubine’s son, to become heir. However, with Einosuke having died that spring and Hōki-no-kami confined to his sickbed with no hope of recovery, he was now to be formally welcomed to Edo as heir. If I may say so, astute readers will have discerned that Daisuke was the ill-fated heir. Moreover, considering that even now as he was being welcomed to Edo, some sinister scheme still lurked in the shadows, one could not help but declare his future fate grim indeed. But then the procession seemed to arrive—when the palanquin halted surrounded by eighteen retainers, our Lord Daisuke emerged with perfect composure. Lord Daisuke, young master of Tsuyama in Mimasaka Province commanding 186,000 koku—but lo and behold! The Lord Daisuke now stepping forth from the palanquin bore the spitting image of Dengiku, who had departed this inn under last night’s cover. Nay, not merely his image—one might say he was Dengiku himself! The mystery stood solved—the conspirators led by Isozuka had audaciously accomplished the "young lord substitution."

“The welcoming ceremony had been but a formality.”
Having been ushered into the audience chamber, Lord Daisuke addressed his retainers’ congratulatory speeches with these words:
“You must have endured great hardships on the journey. I desire to offer a toast—prepare a banquet at once. Let all formalities be cast aside. Fetch courtesans and such.”

“With deepest respect,” Isozuka interjected in alarm, raising his hand while fixing him with a fierce one-eyed glare, “as your lordship’s progress to Edo constitutes an affair of supreme importance, such amusements along the way cannot be permitted. We must humbly request your abstention from these indulgences.”

III

That night’s lodging was in Kanaya, but when the young lord entered his bedchamber, Montayu came and snapped, “You fool!” Since there were samurai from Tsuyama in the adjacent room, his voice remained low, but the anger behind it was terrifyingly fierce.

“Even after all that carousing, you still blabber about courtesans! What’ll you do if the attendants from the domain notice? There’s no fool as woman-crazed as you—I’ll really have you hanged!”

“But c’mon, Montayu,” the young lord grinned and said. “I’m a man who can’t last half a day without women—I told you that straight out from the start. I’ll follow your orders on manners and speech to the letter, but you’ve gotta properly set me up with women—didn’t we agree on that, Montayu?”

“Silence, you fool! Once we enter Edo Palace, maids will attend to you. Endure until then—that’s what I’m telling you!”

“You fool—it’s the gallows for you!”
After saying this, the young lord snickered.
“Nice touch, Montayu? I’ve got it down pat.”

After leaving the bedchamber, Montayu held a secret meeting with his co-conspirators in a separate room.
Astonishingly, thirteen samurai who had served as attendants from the domain headquarters were now among those gathered—apparently, the traitorous retainers existed both in Edo and Tsuyama, having plotted this affair through collusion between both factions.
The retinue leader was called Wakaiya Shirozaemon, but even including him, there were only three or four loyal retainers.

“So that person’s disposal has been taken care of?”
Montayu asked in this manner.

“You need not trouble yourself,”
Chūno Gihee answered on behalf of the conspirators.
“By stating that I and Kingo Takekichiro would accompany him, we successfully—”

“There will be no traces linking back through the corpse?”

“Absolutely not.”
Kingo Takekichiro shook his head resolutely.
“Even should the earth itself turn upside down, you need not concern yourself about that matter.”

“That is satisfactory.”
Montayu gave a firm nod.
“—Through everyone’s cooperation, we’ve safely reached this point. Yet critical tasks remain ahead: the father-son audience, presentation before the shogunate, and expelling the reformist faction."
“Until we accomplish these, remember—complacency is our greatest enemy. Maintain heightened vigilance. I entrust that fool’s management to Chūno and Kingo here. Ensure no oversights—this I particularly emphasize. With that—”

And the secret meeting concluded.

Early the next morning, Lord Daisuke's procession crossed the Ōi River and headed east.
The journey passed without incident—or rather, without what one might call incident, though there was a curious occurrence. When lodging at Mishima Station, the young lord threw a tied letter from his bedchamber window into the pitch-dark night. From the shadow of a building darted out an underling who retrieved it, then scampered eastward like a weasel.
Then similar incidents occurred at Fujisawa Station and Kanagawa—how such external communications were established, what matters were being discussed with whom through covert messages remains unclear—but I ask that you gentlemen commit this fact to memory.

Now, the procession arrived at the Mori family's secondary mansion in Shiba Atagoshita.
There, they would first settle in before proceeding to the father-son audience with Mori Hōki-no-kami Nagatake.
On the night of Lord Daisuke’s arrival, another secret meeting of traitorous retainers took place at the secondary mansion—Chamberlain Matsuda Hisaya; Finance Magistrate Haiyama Chikara; Senior Councilor Masui Kotayu; Middle Councilor Kakuta Seiichirō; fellow retainer Senuma Rokurōbei; Chief Inspector Kobayashi Sannojō; and eighteen individuals including Isozuka, Nukata, and Harano had gathered, comprising the most prominent of the Mori clan’s senior vassals. To put it plainly: they aimed to seize control of the governance of 186,000 koku into their own hands.
For this very reason—since the astute Lord Daisuke posed an obstacle—they had exhausted every means to seek out one Dengiku, who bore the spitting image of the young lord, and succeeded in substituting him during the procession to Edo.
And once this impostor was confirmed as heir, their final remaining task would be to convene a council before the lord and expel the reformist faction members—beginning with the Edo-domain elders and five senior officials.

While the traitorous retainers secretly conferred in the audience chamber，Lord Daisuke in the inner sanctum was greatly pleased.
As he remained unmarried，three samurai－Chūno Gihee，Kingo Takekichiro，and Madōi Masuzō－attended him.
Yet eight maids tended the cups and trays－all aged sixteen or seventeen up through twenty－their beauty heightened by fine figured silk kimonos and exquisite makeup－dazzling enough alone－but having welcomed this peerlessly handsome young lord after such prolonged lack of a master－they all flushed pink－eyes glistening－every gesture displaying coquetry’s utmost refinement－needless to say－the young lord’s satisfaction needed no explaining.

“Now then—you there, what’s your name?” He asked all eight maids their names one after another, but it seemed the eighteen-year-old maid called Futaba had caught his fancy. Drawing her close to his side, he declared, “Futaba—now that’s a fine name! Let’s share a drink—no—let’s share one cup together.”

“My lord.”
Chūno quietly called out.
“My lord, you must refrain from such conduct.”

“No—leave it be, leave it be! We are the master of this residence! Right, Futaba? Just take the cup already. The pouring’s for me—no—We’ll have someone pour for you! Let’s drink it down!”

“You honor me too greatly, my lord.”
Futaba gazed intently up at the young lord’s face, accepting the cup while exerting her entire body in an alluring display of coquetry.
“As one of lowly station, I beg you to go lightly.”

Four

"No—magnificent! That's how you down it! Another round—no—let's pile on another! They call this the three-cup sprint!"

“My lord—if I may be so bold...”

“Nah, don’t butt in, Chūno! When there’s a beauty who can hold her liquor, I ain’t got no defenses!” The young lord appeared thoroughly drunk, his arm draped around Futaba’s shoulders as he called out, “Hey there, you ladies! Tonight’s when me an’ this Futaba here get nice an’ close! Y’all better pretend you don’t see nothin’, yeah? C’mon, Futaba sweet—we’re good, ain’t we?”

“You honor me too greatly, Young lord.”
Miss Futaba’s eyes flushed red at the rims from two cups of sake, and she responded to this unparalleled favor with her most alluring sidelong glance.
“If you insist so earnestly, I might just take you seriously, my lord.”

“Whoa there, eyes worth a thousand gold pieces! No real ailments or beriberi here—I’m the Young Lord of 186,000 koku! Just gulp it down! This ain’t no hangover-brew—it’s Nada’s finest raw sake! Plus, no coin-countin’ worries—drink easy!”

“Young lord, your words overstep propriety.”
Chūno glared, unable to endure any longer.
“If Your Lordship doesn’t moderate these antics, word will reach the senior councilors.”

“And another hanging, is it?”
The Young lord snorted derisively through his nose.
“Once I’ve plopped my ass down in this seat, it’s solid as a damn boulder—empty threats don’t scare me one bit! Hey Futaba dear—if I end up swingin’ from the gallows, you’d better swing from the same rope with me, yeah?”

“There’s no need for you to command it, Young lord. Should any misfortune befall you, I couldn’t bear to live another moment.”

“Heh—so this is yer real sweet talk? Now I’m all fired up! Keep that sake comin’! None o’ these bland snacks neither—gimme sardine tempura an’ chunky medium-fatty tuna! Salted squid guts an’ bonito paste! Offal hotpot an’ loach soup—whatever ya got! No more formalities—don’t give a damn! Let’s go wild! Who’s gonna slam down a big platter for me here?”

Once again, I must offer my inexcusable apologies to you gentlemen for presenting such an utterly vulgar scene—though the maids themselves seemed not to think so in the slightest. Not a single one among them frowned or showed displeasure at this young lord’s questionable words and deeds—no, rather, they appeared increasingly charmed, dazzled, and drawn to him.

“Oh...” One of them sighed.
“What a dashing young lord!”
“Not a hint of pretense—such an open-hearted personality he has!”
“He asked for sardine tempura and chunky medium-fatty tuna? My word—His Lordship must be quite the gourmet!”

“His Lordship is so attuned to the people’s sentiments—He must know absolutely everything—absolutely everything!”
One of them closed her eyes with a troubled look as she said this.
“Yes, absolutely everything! My heart’s racing just thinking about it.”

In other words, they harbored not the slightest doubt that the young lord was indeed the young lord.
To be fair, some scholars argue that the inner lives of daimyo and such are not as refined and clean as we might imagine.
Many scholars vehemently declare they’re more vulgar, squalid, and shamelessly debauched than back-alley dwellers.
Indeed, this author has personally heard noble young ladies of Kashū Academy uttering phrases like "Damn bastard pissed all over our last promise!" and "Hey Princey-boy, let's make our escape this Tuesday!"
If even seventeen- or eighteen-year-old noble princesses act in such ways, then surely the substituted young lord's words and actions are scarcely worth doubting at all—therefore, I shall bid you, gentle readers, to peruse this account free from suspicion.—The young lord promptly collapsed in drunken stupor.
He could stir up a storm of commotion, but his tolerance for alcohol seemed rather low.
Or perhaps, surrounded at last by the long-awaited ladies, he had been overwhelmed by their gentle allure and the fragrant aroma they exuded.
Carried to his bedroom by three retainers, he was changed like a puppet and laid within the bedding.

“Hey, call Montayu over here!”
He shouted such things from within the bedding.
“That bastard’s got some nerve—have ’em strung up and dragged over here! And while you’re at it, fetch me some sober-up water! Miss—I may not look it, but I’m a hundred thousand—no, make that a hundred twenty thousand—hell, an 186,000-koku idiot lord! You hear me, you morons?! Hey, anyone there?!—If there’s anyone there, bring me some damn tea rice or slop! You make a fool of this idiot lord, and I’ll have your heads!”

Ahem—a cough sounded from the night watch.
In Chūno Gihee’s voice came a whisper: “Madōi has withdrawn. Rest well, Your Lordship.”

What could this mean? The moment he heard this, the Young lord ceased his shouting and turned over in bed.
Then, declaring "Gonna sleep!", he soon began breathing quietly and drifted off to sleep.
The curtain fell on this velvet-draped farce, bringing an end to the utterly vulgar commotion.

The sound of the night watchman's clapper making its rounds through the inner garden, the whisper of the night breeze skimming the palace eaves—everything settled into tranquil, peaceful slumber.

No sooner had one thought this than—oh calamity!—the Hagi door of the bedchamber began creaking open. For someone to intrude upon His Lordship’s chambers at such an hour could only mean an assassin come to threaten his life—ah, peril!—but no sooner had one thought this than—what’s this? Why, this was no assassin—it was a woman!
Clad in a seductive long underrobe with her obi carelessly fastened—her breasts swelling and hips curvaceously exposed—she glided toward the dais on bare feet tipped with rouge, hiding one cheek behind her sleeve as she tenderly whispered, “Young lord.”
As expected, this was indeed Miss Futaba.
At this moment, the Young Lord stirred awake in bewilderment and, looking utterly perplexed, lifted his head with a “What?”

Five

“Who’s there—”
With these words, the Young lord raised his upper body, but upon seeing the person before him and her dazzling appearance, his eyes widened in astonishment.
“You—isn’t this Futaba?”

“Yes, it is Futaba.”
From beneath her sleeve, she fixed her fiery eyes upon the Young lord and smoothly slid her ample knees closer. “I have not forgotten your words, but truly, I know nothing of such matters—Oh my, how shameful this is.”

“Wait, wait—hold on!”
The Young lord raised his hands in surprise and slipped out to this side of the bedding.
“However—this being late at night, and considering that saying goes ‘men and women past seven years,’ and a woman’s dignity being something solemn and precious—therefore such misunderstandings arising from these circumstances—”

She gazed ecstatically at the Young lord’s face.
Then, leisurely making her whole body undulate in waves of curves, she slid another knee closer with a heated sigh and whispered with pure innocence:

“Oh Young lord, let’s save this talk for later.”

According to marginalia by an apostate monk named Nietzsche, men first deliberate and then err, while women err first and then deliberate.
The Young lord, seemingly unaware of this marginalia, stood up in panic and—while saying “In short, you are pure as a flower—” —pushed aside the curtain and went off somewhere.
Futaba, having collapsed in tears upon the Young lord’s bedding, was helped back to her quarters by an elderly woman—but when met with the envious and curious questions from maids who had been eagerly awaiting her,

“Poor Young lord,” she sobbed.

“He declared he loves me beyond what words can express—that he’s been yearning for me since we were seven years old! He even called me a solemn and noble woman! Ah, in all this vast world, could there possibly exist another soul loved so fiercely and deeply as I?”
And she sank into tears.
“Could there truly be two? Even one other besides me?”

The maids exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.
To declare oneself as being loved more deeply and passionately than anyone else among women was to invite the same fate as a novelist reciting their own work before critics.
One of the maidservants, twenty-one or twenty-two years old, first wrapped her barb in silk floss and pressed it against Miss Futaba’s heart.

“How utterly enviable, Miss Futaba! To be loved so deeply—what divine favor for one born a woman! Why then, naturally your jewel box’s seal must be broken by now, hasn’t it?”

“Oh no such thing has occurred!”
Miss Futaba indignantly raised her face.
“His love is far more beautiful than that! He doesn’t harbor even a speck of vulgarity or lewd thoughts! Truly pure and lovely, and—”

“And then His Lordship just up and fled, leaving you all alone in the bedchamber?”
Another maid spoke.
“What a disappointingly brief affair passionate purity turns out to be, isn’t it?”

A raucous laughter shook the sliding doors of the maids’ chamber, but each of their hearts trembled more violently than those papered walls.
The Young lord did not love Miss Futaba.
The Young lord’s body remained entirely pure—his nightclothes and bedding untouched—and this confirmed fact kindled the flames of “possibility” in their breasts, tempting even the most unattractive middle-aged maids.

“The Young lord remains pure,” she muttered to herself. “So first you must clear the path properly—young ones won’t do for this. Even when eating chestnut buns, young ones get so absorbed in devouring them that they break them clumsily, spill the chestnuts, or choke themselves. To properly eat a chestnut bun, you must first gently take it in hand—check if it’s soft or firm, whether it’s well-steamed, if the color’s good. As you test its firmness and softness, steaming quality and hue, your mouth naturally waters. Then you quietly split it—but don’t stuff your mouth full right away. First take a small broken piece, savor its sweetness and texture, sip some tea to cleanse the aftertaste, let your tongue rest—then finally put in the part with chestnuts that gives satisfying chew.”
“And then you sip tea again to fully savor both sweetness and bitterness on your tongue before eating what remains—only by enjoying these flavors slowly and without rushing, letting your tongue delight in the sweetness and tea as you eat, can you truly say you’ve partaken of a chestnut bun.”

Given that even middle-aged maids became engrossed in such monologues, one can well imagine what fantasies the young attendants—who showed no discernment when it came to sweets—indulged in and what intoxicating illusions they succumbed to. But let us return to our story.

The next day being for his audience with Lord Hōki, he went to the upper residence in Ushigome Wakamiya-chō.

“Mark my words—I’ve told you repeatedly—don’t say a thing.”
Montayu barked with his usual meticulous enunciation.
“You must appear deeply moved—after saying this, simply pretend to wipe away tears. When meeting your father after ten years, feign being too overwhelmed by joy and sorrow to speak.”

“But Mr. Monta—there’s gotta be maids or attendants in the upper residence too, right? Otherwise, I...”

“Shut your mouth, you fool! Today’s audience is just the first test of your nerve. Next comes the crucial matter of an audience with the shogunate. Steel your resolve!”

Six

The audience with Lord Hōki was a splendid success.
From his sickbed, Lord Nagatake gazed upon his child, and upon seeing that vigorous and robust growth, was moved to shed tears, nodding repeatedly as he murmured, “Daisuke… Daisuke…”
“Your splendid coming of age is most auspicious. We too can now rest assured.”

“――――”

The Young lord remained prostrate with his hands on the floor, gazing up fixedly at Lord Hōki—his breast choked with a thousand emotions, his very bearing that of one rendered speechless—as copious tears streamed from both eyes.
The young lord, having endured ten years of misfortune, now met his father lord openly; those in attendance, empathizing with his innermost feelings, shed tears of shared emotion—some even raising their voices in sobs.
Montayu and his ilk had been watching from the lower seats, but the Young lord’s performance appeared so divinely inspired that he nearly shouted, “Brilliant work, Dengiku!”
Presenting get-well gifts from Tsuyama and receiving a straight-edged dagger, when this moving audience concluded, the Young lord quietly said, “I wish to pay my respects at Mother’s mortuary tablet.”

Montayu and his faction felt a chill run down their spines.
There are established precedents for such matters—they worried this might contravene proper protocol.
However, Lord Hōki readily permitted this and instructed the elderly woman, “Have her escorted to the inner chambers.”

While Lord Daisuke was in the inner chambers, I shall leave to your imagination how mightily the traitorous retainers’ gall bladders stewed with anxiety; likewise, I entrust to your conjecture the immensity of their relief when Lord Daisuke returned unscathed and they learned all had concluded most auspiciously.
With an unalloyed triumph of the first order, the Young lord and his retinue returned to the Atagoshita middle residence.
It was at this moment that Montayu first permitted himself a smile.

“To think of requesting to pay respects at Mother’s mortuary tablet—what an audacious scheme! How did you come up with that?”

“Well, that’s just human nature, ain’t it?”
The Young lord smirked smugly.
“Lucky I happened to notice—old man might’ve blown his top otherwise! This deserves a reward, Mr. Monta!”

“Alright—stretch your limbs and drink freely for two or three days. I’ll let you catch your breath until the retainer audience ceremony.”

Montayu nodded in rare good humor.

That night’s banquet too unfolded with tavern-style extravagance—all formality abandoned, every protocol discarded.
The Young lord was entreated for loach soup and salted sardine grill, then rowdily commanded the maids to perform a nude dance.

“C’mon everyone! Strip bare-naked an’ dance till yer bones give out!”

But when he saw one of them actually start undoing her obi and slipping off crimson undergarment sleeves, he frantically waved his hands,

“Stop it! Stop it!” he hollered.
“Y’all gone mad? Think we’re really gonna get buck-naked here? Women who can’t take a joke ain’t worth keepin’! You—Yashima-what’s-yer-face—”

“Yes, my name is Yashima.”

“You gotta get jokes, understand? Jokes! C’mon, here’s your cup—down it already!”

He had spouted some nonsensical excuse, but Yashima the maid—understanding the hidden meaning behind his words—flushed crimson from head to toe. Accepting the cup with trembling hands, she glared at the Young lord with every ounce of her being.
The consequences manifested after the banquet concluded, when the Young lord had gone to the bathhouse.
He soaked, entranced in the bath, pleasantly intoxicated.

“Hey! Drag Monta here! It’s the Young lord’s bath time—get over here and scrub my back! Ugh, this blows—maids actin’ all prim and proper, not a single dame who can belt out a decent hauta verse! Screw this—Montayu’s skimming 186,000 koku but won’t spring for one lousy geisha party? You moron—I’ll see you hanged!”

The door opened and someone entered. Assuming it was Kingo from his attendants, he said, “How’s that for smooth?” but got no reply.
“Who’s there?”
When he turned around at this question, through billowing steam he glimpsed skin white as an egg and something red as a poppy blossom.

“What’s this, Kingo? You’ve brought a strange yukata.”

As he said this and stepped out of the bath, the Young lord let out a yelp as if scalded and hurriedly retreated back into the tub. Smooth, rounded skin glistening with healthy fat; a crimson bath garment barely concealing her hips; a face flushed with trepidation and bashfulness—these emerged gracefully through the steam.

“What seems to be the matter?”

Kingo Takekichi, who had been waiting nearby, was startled by the Young lord’s scream and opened the door.

“Did you require assistance?”

The Young lord could only point wordlessly.
Kingo gave a wry smile at the maid frozen in place and gestured for her to leave through the servants’ entrance.

“That scared me!”
The Young lord emerged from his boiled-red body, steaming like Fudō Myōō as he came out.

“I ain’t never let nobody lay hands on my body—got too much pride for that. And now some woman barges in? You expect me to handle that? This how all you Edo daimyos carry on?”

“I cannot presume to know what transpired.”
With a sly grin, Kingo remarked, “It would seem Her purpose in coming here just now was not back-scrubbing duties.”

“She didn’t come to scrub my back.”
The Young lord glared at Kingo.
“Then—what’d she come for?”

“It must be the joke you made during the banquet.”

“But that was—” he began, then waved a hand as if insulted. “That’s ridiculous! You think some proper maiden would—over a few words? The bathrobe—I’m getting out!”

Seven

“That’s ridiculous!”
The Young lord muttered these words all night long in his bedchamber.
“Women are supposed to be gentle and chaste—men got beastly urges.
“But women’re near-divine! Pure like snow ’n innocent like flowers! Even if their lord tosses out some offhand remark… No—I ain’t buyin’ it! Must be some mistake! Women ain’t made like that!”

Yet the next day brought another banquet, and the day after that more rowdy revelry—each time forcing the Young lord, firm in his conviction of women’s purity, to flee his bedchamber. Dengiku was fond of women; therefore, the Young lord he impersonated must also be fond of women; hence, whenever the Young lord saw a lady, he would attempt to woo her. Never had there been a syllogism so impeccably structured. Yet every time his wooing succeeded, the Young lord found himself desperately fleeing—and now they spoke of feminine dignity? What possible reason could there be for—no—rather, something even more dubious had occurred. On the eve before the retainers’ audience ceremony, two samurai secretly attended the Young lord’s bedchamber. On night duty were Kingo and Chūno. From the bedchamber came a low whisper: “We’ve taken him into custody without incident. He appears to have resigned himself and is behaving with utmost compliance.”

“—Māsai Kotadayū.”

“As you command. Next: Senior Inspector Kobayashi, Mid-Elder Kadota. These three should suffice.”

“Don’t falter.”

And after some time, the two men left.
Seeing Chūno and Kingo exchange silent nods, they appeared acquainted with each other; before long, light snoring began to emanate from the bedchamber.

Dawn broke, ushering in the day of the audience.
The ceremonial announcer was Chamberlain Matsuda Hisaya, who had arrived early at the middle residence and—together with Montayu—repeatedly instructed the Young lord.

“Listen carefully—today forty-two officers above company commander rank will attend the audience. When I announce their names and go ‘ahem’ with a cough, remember those are our allies.”
Matsuda said in his characteristically low tone, “—Ahem. When I cough like this, the name that follows will be our ally—loyal comrades striving to rebuild the Mori clan’s 186,000-koku domain. Understood?”

“The cough signal’s reliable, yeah?”
The Young lord pressed further.
“If that cough don’t come out proper-like, allies ’n’ enemies’ll get all tangled up.”

“Shut your mouth!”
Montayu rebuked him from his side.
“You need only memorize what you’ve been told—no idle chatter, and don’t forget your orders.—One more thing: Should that Edo-domain elder Korikata Banri try petitioning something or demanding a private audience—no matter who says what, act as though you don’t hear it.”
“Got that?”

And so the moment arrived at last.
For the forty-two retainers led by Edo-domain elder Korikata Banri attending the Young lord’s formal audience ceremony, no ceremonial sake cups were presented.
When Matsuda Hisaya called out a name, each came forward to the upper level and bowed—those of mid-elder rank and below did so in pairs.
Korikata was a white-haired, earnest-looking man over sixty who, upon appearing before the lord, gazed up at the Young lord’s face for a considerable time with eyes brimming with tears.—This elder had been the chief advocate for Lord Daisuke’s succession during the inheritance dispute a decade prior, but after being defeated by the Chamberlain faction, he had remained in a sinecure until recently. When Mori Hōki-no-kami took ill, he was simultaneously appointed Edo-domain elder.
With this explanation, one should now understand why tears overflowed in the elderly man’s eyes as he gazed upon Lord Daisuke.
The Young lord glanced troubledly at Matsuda Hisaya’s face—but whether through some conspirator’s lifetime of cunning—before Banri could utter a word, they made him speak thus.

“Sturdy and auspicious, old man—is everyone in good health?”

“I am profoundly honored by Your Lordship’s gracious words.”
The elderly man wept while prostrating himself.
“May Your Lordship’s vigorous health and felicitous coming-of-age—your glorious return as heir to this residence—fill us all with boundless rejoicing.”

“Too early for wedding rites—seems there’s still dancing and singing left ahead.”
The Young lord, perhaps swept up in his own momentum, let slip something outrageous.

“I’ll show you up close those dancing and singing styles you won’t find in Edo. See you again, old man.”

Well now—the Chamberlain and Montayu’s group were thoroughly startled, but that final remark landed so perfectly it prevented Banri from uttering another word—an accidental boon, no doubt.
Next, Head Elder Māsai Kotadayū stepped forward—this one accompanied by an “ahem” cough.
Of the forty retainers below him, seventeen showed no cough—thereby revealing that a majority belonged to the traitorous faction.

The audience ceremony had been a success. After the retainers withdrew, eighteen members—Matsuda Hisaya, Māsai Kotadayū, Kadota, Senuma, Isozuka, Nukata, and others—remained behind, plotting intently until nearly dusk.

The Young lord was at his usual sake banquet.
It seemed he was playing some prank on the maids, for they were shrieking and squealing in a tremendous uproar.

“I must say, I’m surprised that fool proved unexpectedly useful,” Māsai Kotadayū remarked as he rose to take his leave. “Not only during the initial audience, but even how he handled Korikata at the formal ceremony—his performance was flawless. One could scarcely believe him an impostor—no doubt owing to Lord Isozuka’s meticulous preparations. Truly commendable work.”

“You know the saying about scissors and fools…” Montayu responded with a pained smile. “The man lives for nothing but drink and women—yet rest assured, I’ll maintain strict vigilance.”

With a "Well then, I'll take my leave," Kotadayū departed.

Eight

Around the time Māsai had left and turned the corner of the estate, the retainer who had been accompanying him turned pale and came rushing back.

“Assailants appeared and abducted the Senior Elder.”

"Now!" About eight men who happened to be present rushed out with swords drawn—and thus commenced the swordplay.
It was vexing how conversations turned stilted without the occasional clang of blades erupting—just as someone started to say, "Now gentlemen, let us observe...", but alas, matters seemed already concluded, for those who had dashed out came straggling back.

“We were too late,” they gasped, shoulders heaving. “They reportedly fled toward Seishō-ji, but we found no trace whatsoever.”

“How could this happen?”

“It was nothing short of a madman’s ambush.”

Trembling, Māsai's retainer explained.
“After departing from the estate’s earthen wall, we made our way to that large zelkova tree.”
“Then from the shadow of the trees emerged five masked men—two seized me in a grapple while three lunged at the Senior Elder. Perhaps they struck a pressure point—with a single groan, they hoisted him up. Recognizing the gravity, I summoned desperate courage to throw off my two assailants and rushed here to report.”

“If you had the strength to throw off two men,” Isozuka Montayu demanded, “why waste time coming to report instead of giving chase?”

“Though this marks the blunder of my life,” the retainer said, producing a letter from his sleeve. “In exchange, I have retrieved something like this.”

Matsuda Hisaya demanded, “Show me,” and took it. It was an unsealed, anonymous letter. Upon opening it, elegant calligraphy read: “—Next comes Ōmetsuke Lord Kobayashi. Exercise caution.” It read “Dai.” When Montayu received it and, furrowing his brows, tilted his head while muttering, “Hmm... ‘Dai’?”, Nukata Uname suddenly turned around and said, “The inner quarters have grown strangely quiet.” Come to think of it, the shrieking commotion had ceased some time ago; it was too early for them to have passed out drunk. “Surely not...” he thought—but Montayu’s complexion changed.

“Gate—the gate! Secure it!”

Shouting this, he rushed into the inner quarters.
The space remained with cups and dishes as they were, only the candlesticks blazed brightly—but not a single human soul remained.
The word “abduction” flashed through his mind. Just as he instinctively moved to rush forward, something red resembling a cord came into view from behind the ornamental screen.
When he crept closer and peered inside, a maid lay prostrate with her back turned toward him—the red object being the loose end of her untied obi.

“This—”
When Montayu called out like that, the maid let out a startled yelp and turned around.

“What are you doing there?”
Montayu bellowed.
“What’s happened to the Young lord? Where is he?”

“W-well… I-I don’t know.”

“How can you not know? Why were you hiding here? What happened? Where are your attendants?”

“Y-yes, well...”
Montayu's furious expression made the maid completely terrified.
“Um—at first, th-the Young lord... had concealed himself...”

“What do you mean ‘hiding’? Has the Young lord passed away?”

“No—it’s merely that he’s hiding.”

“Speak plainly—what exactly happened?”

“Um—um—hide-and-seek.”
The maid’s cheeks flushed crimson. “It was hide-and-seek.”

“You mean that childish game?”

Montayu wiped his sweat while letting out a sigh.
"What an utter fool—no, this is beyond absurd... So everyone's hiding then?"

"Yes, this time the Young lord is it, so everyone is hiding."

"Show yourselves!"
Montayu shouted.
"You go call them too! And we must search for the Young lord!"

"But—the Young lord is it."

The maid who had been told "Silence!" rushed away.
At Montayu’s call, Masuzō Madōi was the first to appear.
Next came maids in twos and threes; Kingo arrived; Chūno appeared; and finally, the Young lord emerged staggering out.

"Heya Mr. Monta—you sneakin’ in too? No—wait, Montayu, you joinin’ in?"
The Young lord said this and staggered toward Isozuka.
"This is hilarious—I’m the demon who’s gonna hunt down all you mixed-in bastards! Got it?"

“Kindly hold your tongue.”
Montayu inconspicuously grabbed the young lord’s arm with all his strength, led him to the upper seat, and forced him to sit.
“Your esteemed person remains crucial ahead of your audience with the shogunate—such frivolous games shall not be permitted. Those in attendance have overstepped their bounds. You will exercise discretion.”

Having delivered his reprimand, Montayu stood.
With a key conspirator now abducted, he could not afford to linger.
After sternly instructing the three retainers and departing, the young lord erupted in raucous laughter.

“Ain’t no need t’get all stiff! Monta’s my retainer! C’mon, drink up! If hide-’n’-seek goes south, we’ll play blind ogre! Let’s raise hell!”

“Young lord, kindly keep your voice down.”
Chūno made a bitter face.
“Because we would be inconvenienced.”

“Then bring a negima hotpot or somethin’! We’ll drink ourselves right with that—hurry up!”

But they had likely grown weary of banquet spectating, and affairs had grown somewhat urgent.—To explain: On the following night, after the faction gathered at Nakayashiki to devise countermeasures following Kotayu’s abduction, Ōmetsuke Kobayashi Sanjūrō was again seized by ruffians on his return journey.
This time he traveled with five attendants, but ten assailants came like a whirlwind to kidnap him away.
Left behind lay an unsealed letter reading: “Next comes Middle Councilor Kakuda-dono’s turn for caution—”
Only “Grea” was written.

“Great— Great— Who could this ‘Great—’ refer to?” Isozuka Montayu immediately went to check on the Young Lord’s whereabouts.
The banquet preparations were complete, and both retainers and maids were present, but neither the Young Lord nor Chūno were to be seen.

“What has become of the Young Lord?”

“He is in the bath chamber, sir.”
Masuzō Madōi puffed out his shoulders as he answered.
“His Lordship was suffering from a dreadful hangover, so we had him take a bath to sober up.”

“Sobering up drunkenness with baths?”

Montayu tilted his head, then immediately rushed off to check the bath chamber—only to find Chūno Gihee sitting there perfectly still.

9

“Is he still inside?”
Montayu placed his hand on the sliding door.
“It’s supposed to be silent, isn’t it?”

“The lock has been engaged, sir.”
Gihee pressed down on Montayu’s hand.
“He was dreadfully drunk and had been rampaging until just now, but as he has finally settled down somewhat, he declared he would sleep a little and locked it from the inside.”

“You fool—”
Montayu clicked his tongue and called out, but upon seeing the clothes there, he must have felt reassured. “Last night Lord Masui, and tonight Kobayashi Uji was abducted—no doubt the work of the reformist faction. They may even target the Young Lord next. I’m counting on you to remain extremely vigilant.”

“Understood. Given this situation, there’s not the slightest cause for concern—I shall most certainly ensure his protection.”

Montayu left.

But why was it? As Isozuka departed, Chūno let out a sigh of relief and quietly wiped the sweat from his brow—his expression that of a man who had narrowly escaped calamity.
And before long, a *clattering* sound came from within the bath chamber—it seemed the service entrance door had opened and closed.
Then, a low voice called out, “Are you there?”

“Here.”
When Gihee answered thus, the sound of rustling garments could be heard, immediately followed by the splashing of bathwater.

“Ahh, this bath’s divine! Hey Montayu!”
“Is this fool comin’ or what? Tell Montayu I’ll fry up a tempura of fool’s pillars to go with my drink! Ha ha—look at ’im panic!”

“Kindly cease this at once.”
Chūno whispered in a low voice.
“Kakuda will be handled by them—it’s too dangerous otherwise.”

“The real danger’s them maids! I teased one called Kaede earlier... Looks like I ain’t gettin’ no sleep in my quarters tonight either... Damn.”
The young lord’s voice fell silent there.
“Hey Gihee... I might really be a fool. Back in Tsuyama... I barely knew a thing about women.”
“For me... my late mother was practically the only woman I knew—so I thought all women’d be like her... chaste... warm-hearted... pure as fresh blossoms... untouched by filth or lowliness... But then—what were those women I actually met like? Those maidens—twice as beautiful... wise... schooled in proper manners—”

“Women are said to be drawn to beauty and strength,” Chūno said consolingly. “Ultimately, it stems from Your Lordship’s character and handsome features.”

“Quit it! What’s with this ‘handsome’ nonsense? I’m dead serious, Gihee—I wanna go back to Tsuyama.”

This too was a perplexing conversation, but with the reader's indulgence we shall proceed.
Two days later, the Young Lord moved to the upper residence.
"The upper residence ain't no place for your usual foolin' around," Montayu warned.
Yet that very night saw him hosting another banquet and chasing after maids anew.
Middle Councilor Kakuda Seiichirou was abducted while the Young Lord played tag with attendants in the garden.
There vanished both the lord-turned-"it" among shrubbery and Kakuda departing palace grounds.
One might imagine Montayu's faction's astonishment.
Presuming their impostor lord kidnapped at last, they relegated Kakuda's case and raised hell.
Yet mercifully mid-furor emerged their Young Lord from inner gardens.

“This is one hell of a garden.”
The Young Lord brushed the hem of his hakama as he said this.
“It’s like Yawata’s Impenetrable Thicket—schemes everywhere you step, till you’re completely lost. Hell, it’d be perfect for luring enemies into battle!”

“Shut your mouth, you fool!”
Montayu hissed through clenched teeth.
“Did you forget how emphatically I told you not to leave the palace? Enemies swarm here! If they catch you—”

“Hanging, right? I get it, Montayu. Ain’t you got better things to do?”
The Young Lord smiled slyly.
“I’m gonna go shack up with this maid Matsugae, so beat it.”

Montayu glared as if ready to bite, but finally restrained himself and left the spot.

That night’s meeting of traitorous retainers was grave and tense.
The three abducted individuals were all key figures within the faction.
Masui Kotayu was the chief elder while Kakuda served as head middle councilor—both held speaking authority as their roles’ representatives in critical moments.
Furthermore, Kobayashi Sanjō wielded prosecutorial power as chief inspector.
If these three were exploited by the enemy, it could deal a fatal blow to the faction.

“It’s time to strike first.”
Chamberlain Matsuda Hisaya declared with finality.
“The reformist faction’s movements prove their resolve has hardened. We mustn’t let them seize the initiative!”

“That seems prudent.”
Finance Magistrate Kaiyama Chikara nodded at once.
“Though I’ve held my tongue until now, that ‘Dai’ signature on the unsealed document troubles me deeply. I can’t shake the notion it refers to Lord Daisuke.”

Ten

Kaiyama’s words sent a shiver through everyone present.
Lord Daisuke—the young lord disposed of at Fukuroi Station on the Tōkaidō—if that person were to return alive—

“That’s impossible!”
Montayu shook his head resolutely.
“The notion of that person being alive is absolutely impossible! Even if—I say if—such an impossibility were to occur, we have already completed both the audience between father and lord and the retainer presentation. In that case, could we not silence any objections and dispose of them as imposters?”

“That point remains immovable,” Matsuda struck his knee. “Even should someone step forward now, none beyond our reformist adversaries would credit them. We must therefore execute matters with dispatch.”

“Quite so—expedition proves wisest,”

Thus, the meeting concluded.

However, immediately afterward, when Montayu went to the Young Lord’s palace, shrill women’s voices could be heard from the inner chambers. Since Madoui and Kingo were on night watch, he asked, “What’s going on?” Madoui made a bitter face and said, “I can hardly put it into words. Please go see for yourself.” Montayu clicked his tongue in annoyance and was about to enter the bedchamber while muttering, “More foolish commotion,” when the Young Lord came bursting out from within, dragging a maid by one arm.

“What is the meaning of this, Young Lord?”
Montayu bellowed.
“What manner of violent conduct is this?”

“Help me, Montayu! I ain’t the one roughin’ folks up—it’s these bastards here tryin’ to—”

“No, I won’t let go.”
The maid shouted like a terrier with its teeth sunk in.
“You gave me your word tonight—ain’t no way I’m lettin’ go now!”

Good grief—it wasn’t that the Young Lord was dragging the maid, but rather that the maid wouldn’t release her grip on his hand.
Not only that—from inside the bedchamber came the voices of four or five others,

“I properly made my promise at Nakayashiki!”

“No, I was first!”

“How shameless can you be! The absolute nerve!”

“Let go! The Young Lord summoned me!”
“How shameless!”
“Quiet! It’s my turn!”

“No! I ain’t lettin’ go—not a chance!”

“Might not look it, but at Nakayashiki I’m the big cheese here, see!”

“Damn you! Let go already, you brazen hussy!”

“Gawd almighty, the shamelessness!”

“That’s right—gonna stake my claim like this!”

“Oho! Fancy airs you’re puttin’ on! Like I’d ever back down!”

Amidst these flamboyant shouts came a clattering tussle, erupting into shrieking bedlam.
Here, the Young Lord tried to shake off the hands gripping him; the maids clung on desperately; he shoved them away and broke loose; they wailed while pursuing him.

“Help me, Montayu! Handle these wenches! Hey, Kingo!”

“If that Kingo shows up, I’ll rip him to shreds!”
The maids shouted while chasing him down.
“No matter what happens tonight—how utterly infuriating!”

Good grief—Montayu's mouth went dry, his vision swam, and for a moment he couldn't utter a sound.
Yet he remained a man of cunning.
When women burned with such fervor, no hands could restrain them.
This equaled a pack of beasts scrabbling over meat—careless intervention meant being shredded. Hadn't one maid actually threatened to "split Kingo like firewood"?
To quell this required offering meat—or at least dangling its promise before them.

“Everyone, calm down!” Montayu roared as if to split the ceiling planks.
“And line up here in a row—we’ll conduct a fair lottery draw.”

The mention of a lottery proved effective.
They stopped scuffling, stopped pulling hair, stopped scratching one another—then raced forward to line up before Montayu.
Three, five, seven—what do you know, there are seventeen of them!

“Ugh...”
Montayu groaned and looked at the Young Lord’s face.
The Young Lord spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders, making a tearful face as if to say, “‘S’my fault.”
“I’ll go make the lottery tickets now, so stay put.”
Having said this, Montayu left for the front together with the Young Lord.

“In just ten days or so—”
Montayu gazed intently at the Young Lord’s face. “To have seventeen in barely ten days or so—”

“Hell, even I’m shocked by this.”

“I’m the one who should be appalled! What exactly do you plan to do with all those people?”

“What’s done’s done! Just shootin’ my mouth off makes it happen—I’m sick of it! You deal with ’em all, Montayu!”

“Shut your mouth, fool! This is no time for that—a grave matter approaches. Speak plainly!”

Isozuka Montayu called Madobei and Kingo, ordered them to “make seventeen blank lots and have them drawn,” instructed that the Young Lord should sleep in the front quarters tonight, then returned to his hut.

Three nights later, Matsuda Hisaya, Haiyama, Nukata, and Montayu—the four men—gathered in the Young Lord’s chambers.

The time had finally come to carry out their long-planned scheme.

Chamberlain Matsuda Hisaya placed a long scroll he had prepared on the floor and said to the Young Lord, “Take a good look at this.”

Eleven

“From Article 1 through Article 8 are listed facts of political monopolization by Edo-domain elders and below, corrupt governance, and bribery-related misconduct. Tomorrow, you will read these aloud before His Lordship and announce sentences for each of the five senior officials recorded here—permanent house confinement, house arrest, and exile.”

“Now that’s a riot!”
The Young Lord grew excited and picked up the scroll.
“So you traitors are gonna get demoted—or so it says here! Guess Otowaya’s next in line? But will just me sayin’ this really do the trick?”

“The preparations are complete—with the Young Lord’s formal inquisition arranged, tomorrow’s council meeting has already been decided. If the charges are exposed, we’ll take care of the rest. But if you botch this, it’ll mean disaster—if you make one clumsy move—”

“Hanging, eh? Don’t worry—I’ll pull it off so slick you’ll all go ‘ah!’ in surprise! I really mean it!”

“Anyway, I’ll drill you. Sit there.”

Then, after drilling him for a little over half an hour with all four of them working together—reaching a point where there seemed no risk of mistakes—they parted ways that night.

The very next day, dear readers, those wicked and unscrupulous conspirators skillfully manipulated the bedridden Lord Hōki to convene all senior officials, finally devising their scheme—using the dubious Young Lord as their puppet to expel the loyalist faction.
In the upper level of the Black Study Hall, Lord Hōki had been made to attend while still on his sickbed.
All sixteen senior officials were seated below.
The Young Lord was seated at the edge of the upper level, and next, Chamberlain Matsuda Hisaya took his position nearby.

“Is everyone present?”
The Young Lord began with these words.
“Today, having weighty reasons to address, I have summoned you all, though it inconveniences each of you in your busy schedules.”

The traitorous faction first froze in shock—then broke into smirks.
His diction and bearing carried solemn authority, his features having taken on an unexpectedly regal sharpness.
“This is an absolute triumph!”
Convinced victory was theirs, Montayu at the far end even gave an involuntary twitch of anticipation.
The Young Lord continued.

“We, during Our residence in Tsuyama, became aware of disturbing reports concerning domain governance.”
“Certain treacherous officials among senior retainers—exploiting Our father’s confinement to his sickbed—conspired to perpetrate ceaseless schemes corrupting internal affairs. So grave were these accounts that We dispatched investigators to thoroughly verify their truth. Today We shall enumerate these crimes and deliver judgment upon these disloyal subjects—proceed!”

Having declared this, the Young Lord lifted the scroll, whereupon all senior officials simultaneously bowed their heads.
Remarkably, this commanding voice showed no sign of being cobbled together through a single night’s rehearsal—it resonated sharply against the study hall’s walls, his erect posture seeming almost luminous.
“Article One,” the Young Lord began reading, though we need not recount each charge here.
As he progressed through Articles Two and Three... members of the traitorous faction began exchanging uneasy glances. Something felt amiss.
Though resembling their own fabricated charges, discrepancies emerged—by Articles Five and Six, the deviations grew glaring.
Far from minor variations, these charges now mirrored their faction’s actual crimes—no, they precisely detailed their own offenses.
What was this? Some error? This must be halted—but their frantic realization came too late.

“By virtue of the aforementioned eight charges, We hereby pronounce judgment.”
The Young Lord read in an even louder voice.
“Chamberlain Matsuda Hisaya, Elder Masui Kotayu, Finance Magistrate Haiyama Chikara—the aforementioned shall be stripped of their stipends and exiled from the domain.”

“If I may—”
Matsuda Hisaya exclaimed in shock.
“This is an unexpected pronouncement—I have no knowledge of such proceedings—”

“I have absolutely no recollection,” Haiyama said, trembling.
“This must be some manner of error.”

“Middle Elder Kakuda Seiichiro: exile.”
The Young Lord continued without pause, “Great Inspector Kobayashi Sanjō: permanent house confinement; Middle Elder Senuma Rokurōbei: house arrest; Page Corps Commander Isozuka Montayu: seppuku; Nukata Uneme, Harano Kurōbei…”

Well now—the entire traitorous faction had been neatly named one after another. With precisely the impact of a thunderclap, the Young Lord quietly looked down upon the dazed and bewildered conspirators as they—

“Chūno, drag that one out,” he said.

In response to the voice, Chūno and Kingo dragged a young man out to the wide veranda.
The Young Lord pointed at the man as if commanding them to look.

“Montayu, look at that—it’s Dengiku.”

“Ah—”
Montayu gaped like a fool. “Ah, Dengiku... It’s you, you bastard?”

It was indeed Dengiku.
He was that man who had charmed the reserved young ladies at Kanaya Inn at the beginning of this story.

“If your doubts remain unclarified, We shall enlighten you: You believed you had switched Dengiku and Ourselves at Fukuroi Inn—but in truth, We had already exchanged places with Dengiku the night prior. Dengiku was at Fukuroi, while We Ourselves had arrived from Kanaya that very eve. With this, there remains nothing further to say. Masui, Kakuta, Kobayashi—all three have confessed to their crimes. You shall not escape.”

The story reached its happy conclusion.
After the conspirators had been punished, when Lord Daisuke first shared drinks without reservation with his trusted retainers—Chūno, Kingo, and others—it is said he spoke thus:

“With this, it seems the matter has been settled.”
“It’s all thanks to you all’s help—but do you know what brings me the greatest joy now?”

Having said this, the Young Lord smiled gently and respectfully.

“Well, you see—it’s that I no longer have to woo women, you know.”