Pathway to Japanese Literature

Prologue

The 18th day of the seventh month, Manji 3 (July 18, 1660). A notification arrived from the shogunate's Senior Councilors: Date Mutsu-no-kami's relative Date Hyōbu-shōyū; fellow senior retainers Ōjō Hyōgo, Shigeniwa Suō, Katakura Kojūrō, and Harada Kai; And then, six individuals—including Tachibana Hida-no-kami, who were relatives of the Date clan—presented themselves at the residence of Senior Councilor Sakai Uta-no-kami. At Sakai Uta-no-kami's residence, in addition to Uta-no-kami himself, Senior Councilors Abe Bungo-no-kami and Inaba Mino-no-kami were seated in attendance, and there was a proclamation of the following nature: "Lord Date Mutsu-no-kami, having long been guilty of misconduct which has reached the shogun's ears and been deemed unacceptable, you are hereby ordered into confinement forthwith; matters of succession shall be instructed hereafter."

This was the essence of the reprimand, but—

"However, the moat dredging works for public construction are to continue." This stipulation was added. The term "moat dredging works" referred to the repair project on the Koishikawa Moat that the Date clan had been overseeing under shogunal orders since March of that year. After the proclamation, Ōta Settsu-no-kami was appointed as the envoy, and together with Tachibana Hida-no-kami and Date Hyōbu, the three proceeded to the Date clan's main Edo residence to convey the order to Mutsu-no-kami Tsunamune.

Tsunamune immediately relocated to the Shinagawa secondary residence.

The night of the following day, July 19th. Two visitors came to the residence of Sakamoto Hachirōzaemon within the Date clan's Hamayashiki. Sakamoto was a man who had been recruited from the masterless samurai ranks, with a stipend of six hundred koku, and served as an inspector. Sakamoto met the two. The two, under the guise of having a secret discussion, waited for an opening and attacked Sakamoto. Sakamoto died instantly on the spot without even time to cross blades. The two men declared, "By imperial order," to Sakamoto's household members and departed.

The same night, the same hour.

Likewise, at the residence of Watanabe Kurōzaemon within the Hamayashiki, two visitors arrived. Watanabe too had been recruited from the ronin ranks—a master spearman of the Hikita school who possessed extraordinary skill in swordsmanship. His stipend was two hundred forty koku, and he taught spearmanship to the clan's retainers.

Watanabe refused to meet them. The visitors were Watanabe Kinbei and Watanabe Shichibei—both foot soldier commanders—but he had no close association with either, nor could he imagine any business that would warrant such a late-night visit. “Actually, we have urgent business.” The two said to the intermediary.

“We need to renew the official gate passes, so we must receive your seal tonight. As the new passes will take effect from tomorrow morning, it is absolutely imperative that we obtain your seal this very evening.” The previous day, the feudal lord had been ordered into confinement by the shogunate and relocated to the Shinagawa secondary residence. Since the renewal of official gate passes was indeed a plausible matter, Watanabe decided to meet the two men. Wearing hakama over his everyday clothes, carrying only his wakizashi short sword, and holding a small deerskin pouch containing his seal, Watanabe Kurōzaemon went out to the guest room. The two visitors had placed something resembling a ledger before their knees and were sitting. Watanabe looked at them, but there was nothing unusual about their demeanor.

“You’ve done well,” Watanabe said as he sat down. “Pardon our late visit,” said Watanabe Kinbei. Then, together with Shichibei, they placed both hands on the floor and bowed deeply. Watanabe placed the pouch on his knees. The right hands of the two men who had bowed low each grasped their swords. Watanabe loosened the cord of the pouch’s opening and attempted to take out the seal from within. At that moment, Kinbei rose to one knee, swiftly repositioned his sword, and struck Watanabe in a single fluid motion. The sword struck Watanabe’s right shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

Watanabe stood while reaching for the wakizashi at his waist. The hand had become entangled with the seal pouch. The cord of the pouch’s opening had become tangled around the fingers—as Watanabe rose, Shichibei thrust from the left. Watanabe instinctively drew the wakizashi and swung it sideways. Shichibei's sword stabbed Watanabe in the waist, and Watanabe's sword slashed Shichibei's shoulder. “For what purpose?!” Watanabe shouted.

At that moment from the right, Kinbei stepped in. Then he fully slashed through the flank of Watanabe, whose body had collapsed after being stabbed in the waist. Watanabe staggered into the sliding door and tumbled into the next room along with it. Kinbei pursued him and delivered another slash from neck to chest. Watanabe groaned, "Un..." Shichibei stood pressing his shoulder wound in the center of the guest room.

At that moment, three young samurai and a young woman came running. The samurai came from the left side of the corridor—the woman ran from the inner quarters and froze in front of the guest room.

“Don’t make a scene—this is by imperial order.” Kinbei said. He came out to the guest room after confirming Watanabe Kurōzaemon’s death. “An official inquest will come later. Until then, do not touch the corpse. Leave the house as it is. Wait quietly.”

The woman let out a scream. Kinbei looked at the woman.

The woman was eighteen or nineteen years old, with a petite build and a spirited yet beautiful face. The woman ran past Kinbei, went to Watanabe's corpse, and clung to it. And she burst into tears.

“Who is that?” asked Kinbei.

The three young samurai did not answer immediately. However, at last, one of them spoke.

“She is a concubine named Miyo.”

Kinbei wiped his sword while looking at Shichibei.

“It’s nothing serious—just a scratch,” Shichibei said. And then, the two men left.

On the same night, at nearly the same hour.

Three visitors arrived at the residence of Hata Yoemon within the Date clan's Sakurada Upper Residence. Hata was a steward (stipend unknown) and had a thirteen-year-old daughter named Uno and a six-year-old son named Toranosuke with his wife. When he heard about the visitors, Hata was suddenly seized by an ominous premonition. Though vague, it was not entirely baseless. He called his wife and asked. “Are the children asleep?”

“Yes, they’re asleep.” “Wake them up immediately,” Hata said. “Get both of them ready and take them to Miyamoto. You’re the one who’ll take them there.” “At this hour?” “I’ll explain later—just hurry.” The wife stood up and went. She woke the children. Neither of them had been asleep. Toranosuke jumped up and said joyfully. “What are we doing? Are we going to play again?” “Hush now.”

Uno said that. Though only thirteen years old, Uno had a sturdy build, a face that appeared mature beyond her years, and a precocious mind. Through her mother's demeanor alone, she intuited something extraordinary was afoot. By the time she finished changing clothes, her expression had grown even more adult-like.

“Aren’t we going to play?” Toranosuke asked his mother. His mother tied his obi while saying, “Hush now.” Toranosuke looked at his sister’s face and fell silent. When the wife left through the back with the two ready children, a high-pitched scream and stomping-like noises came from the guest room’s direction. “What’s that? What is it, Mother?” Toranosuke said. The wife looked fearfully at her daughter’s face. Uno spoke in a composed voice as if soothing her mother.

“Let us go, Mother.”

The wife started walking. Outside was dark. It was pitch dark, so dark that one couldn’t even see their own toes. Uno stood straight; she understood her mother’s fear and thought she had to stay strong. “Mother, where are we going?”

Uno asked. The mother answered. "Oh... Ah—to Lord Miyamoto’s." "We just need to keep going?" "Will you go ahead?"

The mother seemed to want to return to the house. Uno understood that clearly. Uno said.

“Yes, it’s all right, Mother.” “Then go ahead and do that.” The mother handed Toranosuke’s hand, which she had been holding, to Uno. Then, as if she wanted to say something, she glanced furtively at her daughter, but pushed Toranosuke aside and said: “Go on ahead.” She turned back toward the house. Uno took her brother’s hand and walked through the darkness. Toranosuke’s hand was trembling. Even he, in his childish way, had finally begun to feel uneasy and was trying to endure it—this was what Uno realized.

Miyamoto Mataichi was an unassigned retainer with a stipend of three hundred koku, yet he served as a close aide to Lord Tsunamune without holding any official post. The residence was located near the servants' quarters. When the siblings reached the cleaning well, someone came running from the opposite direction. Because the runner was barefoot, there was no sound of footsteps; when Uno noticed this and tried to dodge, she was violently collided with and staggered. “Sister!” Toranosuke cried out and clung to his sister.

The other party also seemed startled; stepping aside while avoiding them, they spoke in a hoarse voice. “Who’s there?!” Uno recognized that voice. It was the voice of Miyamoto Mataichi’s younger brother, Newhachi, who was sixteen years old. Uno said while pulling Toranosuke close.

“It’s me and brother.”

“Miss Uno?” Newhachi panted and approached Uno. “Miss Uno, we’re heading to your house.” “I am as well.”

“Huh? You too—” Newhachi took a ragged breath. Because Uno had come out with her brother, he seemed to have grasped the situation. Newhachi said despairingly, “Then that won’t work. Let’s get outside.” “Outside, you say?” “Something terrible seems about to happen. My brother told me to inform Mr. Hata and then go to Mr. Watanabe’s at Hamayashiki.” “I’m with my brother.” “Let’s go out through the servants’ gate.”

Uno pulled her brother close. “Come now, Toranosuke-san, you must let me carry you on my back.”

“No, I’ll walk by myself.” Toranosuke rejected his sister’s hand. Newhachi urged them on and started running together, but their path was immediately blocked by five people. They came from the direction of the stables. There were two servants holding lanterns and three other samurai. They suddenly appeared from the direction of the stables and surrounded the three of them. Newhachi shielded the Hata siblings behind him. Toranosuke clung to his sister. “What are you doing in a place like this?” one of the samurai said.

The servants thrust their lanterns forward from both sides. The samurai who had called out was around thirty years old—a stocky, small-statured man with a low, calm voice. "I—we—" Newhachi stammered. Then the samurai said to Uno: "You there are Lord Hata’s siblings." "Y-yes," Newhachi stammered, "and I am Miyamoto’s Newhachi." The samurai looked at Uno and Newhachi. "I am Murayama Kihee of the Harada household," the samurai said to Newhachi, "but what are you doing in a place like this at this hour?"

“I don’t know.” “My brother told me—two guests had come—and he ordered me to inform Mr. Hata,” Newhachi said trembling, “to inform Mr. Hata and then go to Hamayashiki—that’s what he told me.” “At this hour?” Murayama Kihee said. “Do you think you can leave through the gate at this hour?” “We were planning to exit through the servants’ gate.” “Because there’s someone my brother knows at the servants’ gate.”

“What in the world—” said another samurai, “what’s this about? What’s happened? Why would you go to Hamayashiki?” “I don’t know,” Newhachi stammered again, his voice quivering on the edge of tears. “Guests came to my brother’s place. I don’t know the details, but something dreadful seemed about to happen—from my brother’s manner, it felt like something beyond ordinary was going to occur.”

“Yazaki—” Murayama Kihee looked at another samurai. The young samurai named Yazaki nodded and hurried off at a trot ahead. Murayama Kihee said to Newhachi. “Come over here.” “What should we do?” “I’ve just sent someone to check the situation. You should wait over there until we know how things stand.”

Murayama Kihee approached Toranosuke. “Boy, let’s go to my house together.” Toranosuke looked at his sister. Murayama Kihee crouched down and said. “I’ll carry you.” “I’ll walk,” Toranosuke said. Murayama Kihee took the three to his own hut. That was one row house attached to Senior Councilor Harada Kai’s residence. The three entered the room. Newhachi was extremely agitated. His complexion was deathly pale, his lips white and parched, his entire body trembling incessantly. Seeing his condition in the lamplight, Uno thought once again that she had to stay strong.

“Let’s go home.”

Toranosuke said softly. Uno stroked her brother's back.

“Be good for me now.” “Let’s go home.”

“Don’t talk like that. Mother will be here soon.” “Is Mother coming?” “Yes, she will.”

Murayama Kihee was at the doorway.

Toranosuke said. “Mother… will she really come to get us?”

“That’s right, so wait quietly now.” “You’re not going to cry?” Uno listened intently. Murayama Kihee left through the doorway where he had been standing. It seemed Yazaki had returned; with the hut being small, fragments of conversation between the two men outside reached Uno. Miyamoto Shinpachi tried to stand. Whether he too had heard or meant to go listen, he began rising but looked at Uno’s face. Uno shook her head slightly.

Newhachi remained seated. “They say both were killed.” Outside the doorway, Murayama Kihee said. “Both of them.” Yazaki Toneri said. He was much younger than Kihee, just twenty-one years old. “Miyamoto Mataichi and Hata Yoemon were killed, and it’s said that at the Hata residence, his wife was also slain.” “They even killed his wife.” “They say she was killed because she got in their way.” “Who killed them?” “I don’t know,” Yazaki Toneri said. “Three came to Lord Hata’s residence, two to Miyamoto’s. Both groups had faces unfamiliar to the household members, and they say none gave their names.”

“They didn’t even state their grudge?” “No—they claimed it was an assassination by alleged order.” “Assassination by alleged order—?” Murayama Kihee retorted. “It is indeed said that both households reported such claims.” “Nonsense,” Kihee said. “His Lordship was confined just yesterday. The only authority left is the young lord—and Lord Kamechiyo, being only two years old, couldn’t possibly have ordered such a thing.” “It is indeed said that they made such a declaration.”

“This bodes ill,” said Murayama Kihee. “For acts falsely invoking imperial orders to occur the very day after His Lordship’s confinement—this is no ordinary matter. I shall report to the senior councilor immediately. I leave those three in your care.” “Understood.”

“Do not hand them over to anyone who comes.” “Understood,” Yazaki Toneri said. Murayama Kihei departed straight for the Harada family’s residence. In the room, Shinpachi and Uno heard this. They did not catch everything, but they had heard nearly all the key points. Shinpachi looked at Uno again. Uno moved quietly as she gently pulled her brother’s shoulder close and spoke in a soothing manner.

“That’s right, don’t cry.” Toranosuke looked up at his sister. He wore an utterly sleepy expression.

Woman Visitor

July 25th, early morning.

Harada Kai Munesuke was writing a letter in his study. He stood nearly six shaku tall, with a dusky complexion and gentle features. His thick eyebrows slanted slightly upward, while his calm eyes turned downward. He had an elongated face with a high forehead marked by three creases that seemed to declare his forty-two years. When silent, Kai appeared forty-five or six. He seldom spoke, usually remaining quiet while letting others hold forth. Even when he did speak, he avoided verbosity and shunned definitive statements. He rarely laughed, and never with audible mirth. At most he might smile through his straight-lined lips and those downward-tilted eyes - yet the tranquil hue of his wrinkled eye corners and the snow-white teeth glimpsed between his lips held remarkable magnetism. In such moments he could look thirty-four or five, perhaps even barely thirty.

Kai was writing a letter. The desk was beneath a north-facing window, and beyond the open window, arrow bamboo grew thickly. The time was five o'clock. Outside was a rather thick fog; the leaves of the arrow bamboo were thoroughly drenched, not stirring even slightly as they hung heavily. When I came to Edo last June, this May marked the conclusion of my official duties. Kai was writing that. When my official duties concluded and I returned home, I had intended to have the honor of meeting you to inform you of this. However, as you are aware, a grave incident has occurred, and it appears I will be unable to return home for some time yet. Therefore, since Satomi Jūzaemon is to serve as a messenger to Kunimoto on this occasion, I am taking this opportunity to inform you of recent developments.

Kai wrote that. From the sitting room one room over from the study where he was writing the letter, loud voices could be heard. One was Itō Shichijūrō. That resonant, unruly voice made it immediately clear: this was Itō Shichijūrō.

“What on earth made you propose something like a duel?” Shichijūrō’s voice was heard. “You dare criticize me?” the other man was heard saying. That was Satomi Jūzaemon’s voice. In that voice, his honest and stubborn disposition was clearly evident. “Huh, so it was that newcomer?” “That newcomer,” Jūza said, “as you know, I’ve been serving as overseer for the moat construction works. Sakamoto shared the duty too—but that fellow came to me and said there was negligence at the Kohinata construction site, so I should take heed.”

“You should have cut him down then.” “So I shouted?” “If it were me, I’d cut him down right then.” Shichijūrō’s voice could be heard saying that. Kai was writing a letter.

The letter Kai was now writing was one to be sent to Shigenba Sagetsu. Sagetsu was the father of Suō Sadamoto—currently serving as senior councilor—and had himself been named Suō Yoshimoto when he too served as senior councilor, though he now lived retired and secluded at his residence in Matsuyama, Shida District. That on July eighteenth the lord had been summoned to the Sakai residence and received the order of confinement; that there followed consecutive day-and-night councils of senior retainers; and that on the night of the nineteenth four men—Sakamoto, Watanabe, Hata, and Miyamoto—had been assassinated; all these matters I believe had already been reported to you through messengers dispatched by your son Lord Suō.

Kai wrote in that manner.

In the sitting room one room over, Satomi Jūzaemon was still talking. That heated voice carried clearly all the way to this study; Jūza was saying: "I shouted. I've served as overseer for over twenty years since Lord Tadamune's reign. I'm not so unskilled as to be lectured by a newcomer like you."

“If it were me, I’d cut him down on the spot.” “Then Sakamoto Hachirōza turned bright red—bright red he turned—and said that being insulted like this meant a man could not uphold his honor. ‘Is that so?’ I said. ‘Is that so? A man can’t uphold his honor? Then I’ll make sure he can uphold it,’ I said. ‘First, let’s decide the place and time.’” “So you took it up with the lord?” Shichijūrō’s voice was heard. “That bastard went whining to the senior retainers, clung to the lord’s sleeve.”

“And that settles it.”

Shichijūrō laughed. Jūza went on. "I wasn't angry—I wanted to make him angry! To push him into a duel! That Hachirōza..." "You should have cut them down immediately," Shichijūrō said. "Not just Sakamoto—Hata, Miyamoto, Watanabe too—if we'd disposed of them sooner and purged those sycophants around our lord, His Lordship's confinement might never have happened." "It's because you're unencumbered that you can say that."

“If you’re going to kill them after His Lordship was confined, isn’t it only natural to cut them down before that?” “It’s because you’re unencumbered that you can speak so lightly.” Jūza said. Then Shichijūrō said. “Don’t spout nonsense! A samurai’s life is inherently light.” “That’s a strange thing to say.” “What’s so strange? When confronted with righteousness, is it not a samurai’s fundamental duty to consider his life lighter than a goose feather?” “You speak nonsense,” Shichijūrō said. “Now you make it sound as if I were clinging to life.”

“This is general doctrine.” “I think not.” Jūza’s voice rose sharply. Kai momentarily halted his brush. Pausing his brush, he listened to Jūza and Shichijūrō’s heated exchange, then permitted himself the faintest of smiles.

"When two are gathered, it begins at once," he murmured. "What a troublesome state our domain is in."

And he returned to his letter. ―Though my family holds an esteemed lineage, I remain merely a senior councilor. With matters requiring contemplation, I make efforts to avoid attending the senior retainers' council whenever possible. From what I hear, these council meetings appear conducted almost entirely at Lord Ichinoseki's discretion—that is, Date Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu. As you know well, Lord Ichinoseki maintains both intimate ties and marital relations with Lord Sakai. Since Lord Sakai wields considerable authority among the shogunate's senior councilors, none seem capable of directly opposing Lord Ichinoseki's pronouncements.

When Kai had written that far, the voices from the sitting room across grew even louder, and Satomi Jūzaemon’s shrill shout could be heard. Itō Shichijūrō’s voice was also raised, but it carried a calm, unperturbed tone. “What an impatient man you are. Why do you shout like that?” said Shichijūrō. Jūza shouted back. “What is your lineage? What standing do you hold in the Date family? By what rank do you presume to speak to me this way?”

“I have no status whatsoever,” Shichijūrō said. “I’m a dependent at Ono’s residence—no secret there. I’m Itō Shinzaemon’s dependent. Everyone knows that.” “Is this dependent daring to speak to me in such a manner?”

“Now, now—don’t get so angry,” Shichijūrō said. “What I meant to say was this.” Kai continued writing. The reason I avoid attending the council of senior retainers is both to steer clear of conflicts among the clan elders and to maintain focus on this critical issue. Take the four killings on July 19th—even now, we don’t know who ordered them. The assassins likely numbered ten or eleven, but only three have been identified: Watanabe Kinbei, Watanabe Shichibei, and the servant Man’emon. They claimed it was “by imperial order”—clearly a false pretense—yet the council seems content to let this matter fade unexamined. Their justification? That those slain were corrupt officials who encouraged His Lordship’s debauchery, thereby causing his confinement. Villains who misled our lord. No law sanctions such sudden killings without trial, based solely on this pretext. Yet at council, Lord Ichinoseki declared:

"Kinbei and his men performed admirably." Thus, the senior retainers fell silent.

Kinbei and his men performed admirably.

No one dared interject any objection to Lord Ichinoseki’s solitary declaration. Sakamoto and the four men had gone unpunished; no accountability was demanded of the assassins. Then one of the senior retainers spoke: "If we pry deeper, who knows what might surface—this is no hour to breed discord over such trifles." Here lay a critical problem. I believe this very case I now present as an example reveals most starkly both the tangled relations among our clan elders and the bitter grudges they nurture—grudges that have reached even to the grave affair of Lord Tsunamune’s confinement.

When Kai had written that far, someone in the next room cleared their throat softly, and a voice announced their presence.

Kai responded with a low grunt. The fusuma door slid open to reveal Horinouchi Sōzaemon, his steward. Kai set down his brush and turned toward the sound. "Lady Yushima requests audience," Sōzaemon announced. Kai studied his steward's face in silence. The steward pressed further.

“It is Lady Okumi.” “What hour is it now?” Kai faintly furrowed his brows. Then the wrinkles on his forehead became distinctly visible.

“It will soon be the sixth hour.” “Hear her purpose,” Kai said. Sōzaemon spoke with a look of bewilderment. “She requests an audience.” “Does she not state her business?”

“She states that unless she can meet you—” Kai looked toward the window, then said. “Then have her wait.” Sōzaemon closed the fusuma door and left, and Kai resumed his writing. The senior retainers’ decade-long struggle for power was precisely as you were well aware. While there was no doubt about their loyalty, their stubbornly unyielding nature—the intensity of their self-interest and strength of their selfishness—stood particularly pronounced. As a result, exclusive factions formed; these repeatedly coalesced and dissolved while rivalries and slander became entangled until matters reached such confusion that one could scarcely discern right from wrong when incidents arose. Furthermore onto this already fraught situation came Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu’s looming presence pressing down with immense weight. This fact—that his influence further complicated discord spreading from senior retainers throughout the entire clan—meant each new incident starkly revealed increasingly severe repercussions. Satomi Jūzaemon’s current role as envoy—to request ballots from collateral houses’ senior retainers for selecting an heir apparent—had again been advocated by Lord Ichinoseki and decided without objection.

I want you to commit this point thoroughly to memory.

Kai continued in that manner.

The reason Lord Ichinoseki’s presence had grown so weighty traced back to the passing of the previous lord (Tadamune). At the time of his passing, it was said that Lord Mito Yorinobu (Tokugawa Yorinobu of Mito), who had come to pay his respects, declared: “Since Tsunamune-dono is young, I entrust the thorough management of clan affairs to Lord Hyōbu.” This had decisively established Lord Ichinoseki’s position. When Lord Furuchu Shizen (the late senior retainer) committed junshi upon the previous lord’s passing, he left a will stating, “I remain deeply concerned about Lord Hyōbu—exercise utmost caution.” Yet a mere two years later, those very concerns had already begun to manifest.

Until now, I have fortunately been able to remain outside the conflicts. I intend to continue standing apart to the best of my ability and observe how matters unfold. Even if an heir apparent is decided, I do not believe that will bring peace to the domain. The concern that unforeseen events may occur is rather thought to lie after that; I shall address this matter upon my return to the domain.

Kai stopped his brush there. He read through from the beginning, wrote the closing salutation, set down his brush, sealed the letter, then took the bell beside the inkstone box and rang it. There was a response from the next room, and Yazaki Shajin slid open the fusuma door. “Bring Lord Satomi here,” Kai said.

As soon as the retainer acknowledged and withdrew, Satomi Jūzaemon arrived immediately. He was forty-six years old but looked well over fifty—a dark-complexioned man with an angular-boned, rugged build and a face that suggested a quick temper. "My apologies for keeping you waiting," said Kai. Jūza said in a breathless tone while remaining seated. “I’ve just reined in that Shichijūrō.” Kai handed over the sealed letter. “Then send this to Matsuyama.” “I gave him a thorough reining in.”

Jūza said as he received the sealed letter. Kai tidied his desk; Jūza spoke again. "That fellow has both courage and a decent head on his shoulders for a youngster, but he's the sort who doesn't know his place as a nuisance and spouts arrogant, insolent things when provoked—though I must say I've always rather liked him."

“That seems to be the case,” Kai said and rose from his desk. “Then over there—” “That youngster must be reined in properly. You are too lenient—you show excessive leniency toward everyone. It would be wisest not to keep company with such undesirables.”

“Then over there—” Kai left for the next room. Jūza finally stood up.

Kai went to the storeroom. There, Shiozawa Tansaburō had prepared a change of clothes and was waiting. Tansaburō was fifteen years old. Together with a boy of the same age named Naruse Kyūma, the two of them had been tasked with attending to Kai’s personal needs, but about ten days earlier they had caught colds and withdrawn to a hut.

“Are you recovered now?” Kai said. “Yes, but...” “Look up.” Tansaburō raised his face. Kai looked at his forehead and eyes, then nodded and said. “I should have entrusted you with the Hata children.” “Yes, but...” “Did you tell them about their parents?”

“No, I have been careful not to let them hear, but the older sister appears to have noticed.” “Is she grieving?” “No, it does not appear that way.” Tansaburō presented the sash. Kai said while fastening his sash. “I intend to send them to Ryōgen-in eventually, but until then, tell your mother to look after them.”

“Yes, but...”

Tansaburō’s face darkened. Kai noticed this and said, “What’s wrong?” “My mother takes pity on them.” Kai gave a noncommittal “Hmm” and averted his eyes. “Though they lost both parents and have grown somewhat accustomed to us, it seems heartless to send them among strangers again. If it pleases you, she says she wants to keep looking after them for good.”

“I’ll go with black for the hakama,” said Kai. Tansaburō took out the hakama from the chest. Kai said. “Who is attending this morning’s meal?” “Lord Hachiya, Lord Itō, and Lord Satomi—the three of them.” “Then serve the Yushima one as well.” Tansaburō answered, “Yes.”

Kai went straight to the inner guest room. Okumi was sitting with tea and sweets before her. She looked five or six years younger than her twenty-eight years. The morning sunlight, already risen quite high, shone strongly onto the plantings in the inner garden, and by its reflection, Okumi's full, rounded face appeared stained green. "It’s time for breakfast now." Kai said while standing, "Let’s eat together." "What has happened?"

Okumi said. Kai looked at her calmly. "What in the world has happened?" Okumi said. "It's already been fifteen days—and you still won't show your face." "I couldn't come out." "A full fifteen days?"

“Let’s eat,” said Kai.

“Please wait—before that, there is something I wish to say.” “Leave it for later.” “It’s not about me. “Your wife has come from O-kuni,” Okumi said. Wrinkles formed distinctly on Kai’s high forehead; he looked at Okumi’s face with a puzzled expression. She nodded.

Kai countered, “What did you say—” “She arrived late last night.” “My wife has…?” “Lord Nakaguro is accompanying her.” The wrinkles on Kai’s forehead deepened. He gave a low “Hmm” and lowered his eyes to his feet. “What could it be—” “She says she has come to Edo to receive treatment from a good doctor for her illness.” “Is Tatsuya the only attendant?” “The only one I am aware of is Lord Nakaguro Tatsuya, but there are two other middle-aged retainers accompanying them.”

Kai raised his face. Okumi looked up at Kai's face with eyes that glared. He had been looking after her for seven or eight years now, but this was the first time she had fixed him with such an oily glare. "I know exactly what's going on," Okumi said. "She came to see you because Master's return was delayed—this illness is a lie. How could she be ill? Her complexion is fine, and despite the long journey, she looks perfectly healthy."

“What are you angry about?” “I’m not angry at all.” Okumi flushed. “Why would I be angry? I’m simply astonished at how young and beautiful your wife is.” “She’s already thirty-seven.” “How old do you think I am?”

“Let’s go eat.” “You don’t even know how old I am, do you? I’m already twenty-eight. You’ve been looking after me for over eight years now, and still you’ve never once—”

Kai began walking toward the sliding door.

“Please wait.” “You’re acting strange.”

“Yes, I am acting strange.” Okumi quickly wiped her eyes. “When I first met your wife, she was so young and beautiful that I lost my temper. Please forgive me.”

“Let’s go over there.” “Who are the guests?” “Itō Shichijūrō, Satomi, and Hachiya—all three are people you know.” “I had the honor of meeting Lord Itō the day before yesterday.” “Where did—” “He went to Yushima with someone he called a friend.” And then she said, “I’ll go fix my face.” Kai opened the sliding door and left.

The Morning Gruel Meeting

Harada Kai often invited people to his morning meals. —I would like to serve you gruel. he would invite people by saying this. This had been a custom for about ten years now and was fairly widely known as "Harada’s Morning Gruel." Of course, gruel was not actually served. Though not as elaborate as a full-course meal, there was a proper arrangement of bowls, plates, and dishes, and alcohol was served almost without exception.

The guests were not predetermined. Harada was of the kakusho lineage eligible to become a senior councilor, and the lord of a residence in Funagoka, Shibata District yielding approximately 4,200 koku. As one of the senior councilors, he had extensive social connections, but Kai was liked by everyone. Kai had no enemies. He himself did not speak much and was more inclined to listen to others. He was always calm, did not display emotions openly, and rarely engaged in violent movements or raised his voice. When sitting across from Kai, people would find themselves in a calm, leisurely mood and feel compelled to lay bare everything in their hearts. It seemed people felt they could safely share any secret with this man. And that this was indeed true was already well known to everyone.

This quality was often manifested at "The Morning Gruel Meeting."

The guests were varied. There were many senior councilors, but those of lower status were not few. Kai treated both equally. He never altered his attitude or manner of speech based on social status. Among the senior councilors, there were those who did not get along or were at odds with each other for various reasons; normally, when they encountered one another, they would either turn their faces away or immediately start quarreling. Yet strangely, even such people attended The Morning Gruel Meeting, and there were almost no instances of voices being raised there.

The guests that morning were three—Satomi Jūzaemon, who was to serve as messenger to Sendai; Hachiya Rokurōzaemon; and Itō Shichijūrō—with Okumi joining them. Hachiya was a 400-koku captain who had been stationed in Edo on garrison duty since the previous year. Itō Shichijūrō was not a retainer of the Date clan. In Ono of Momo District resided Itō Shinzaemon—a lord of a 2,700-koku estate. He too was of the "kakusho" lineage, but Shichijūrō was the younger brother of this Shinzaemon's wife. He was now twenty-seven years old. For many years, through his brother-in-law's connections, he had frequented various households of the Date clan. The Harada residence particularly seemed to suit him—he stayed there often both at the Funagoka estate and when in Edo. Shichijūrō was a man of many talents, skilled in archery, horsemanship, swordsmanship, and spearmanship—there was nothing he couldn't handle. He had studied military science under Kobire Yogorōemon of Aizu Domain and Yamashita Jingorōemon, a shogunal retainer, gaining considerable expertise in that field. Of restless disposition, he never remained long in one place. He wandered freely between Sendai, Edo, Kyoto, and Osaka—ranging as far north as Tsugaru and Nanbu to Echigo in the west.

When Kai took his seat, the drinking had already begun there. Shichijūrō seemed to have started it. Naruse Kyūma and, later, Shiozawa Tansaburō sat down to serve. Satomi Jūzaemon wore a stern expression and sat rigidly upright; Shichijūrō was saying something to Hachiya, but when Okumi came and took her seat, he went "Oh." “Today we have guests,” Kai said. “It’s good to have a female guest once in a while.” “I’ll serve the drinks,” she said.

“Ah, stay seated,” Kai said. “Okumi is a guest today. Shouldn’t Shichijūrō here be the one serving drinks?” “Obligation aside, I’ll gladly pour the drinks,” said Shichijūrō. Okumi acknowledged Jūza and Hachiya with a polite nod. The two men each acknowledged her with a polite nod in return. They all knew Okumi. They had often been treated to meals at Okumi’s house in Yushima, so they also understood the unresolved relationship between Kai and Okumi. However, this was their first time meeting her here.

“Aren’t you angry, Mr. Satomi?” Shichijūrō said. “With the clan in crisis—senior councilors turning pale, meetings and secret councils in utter chaos—yet here we sit arranging food and drink since morning, even graced with a beauty’s presence. I can’t see how Mr. Satomi wouldn’t be furious.” “Then why don’t you get angry yourself,” Jūza said. “I have long known Lord Funagoka well. He isn’t one whose merit lies merely in making noise about meetings and gatherings. What manner of man Lord Funagoka is lies beyond your comprehension. If it displeases you, you may leave.”

“I like you, Mr. Satomi,” Shichijūrō said. “You don’t understand jokes—it’s precisely that inability to grasp humor that I find endearing. Truth be told, Sendai Domain has no shortage of humorless men, but one as unwaveringly earnest and utterly devoid of pretense as you is rare indeed. When I think of someone to share life and death with, it’s a man like you I imagine.”

“Is that also a joke?” Jūza said. Then Okumi took the sake decanter from Naruse Kyūma, stood up, went before Jūza, and sat down. “Forgive my forwardness,” she said, “but please allow me.” “You’re a godsend,” Shichijūrō said.

Jūza glared at that and extended his cup toward Okumi.

Shichijūrō remained unfazed and turned to Kai, beginning to talk about having visited Shin-Yoshiwara. Kai maintained an expression that gave no indication whether he was listening, silently continuing to drink without a word. Shichijūrō said: "At a place called Yamamoto-ya in Kyōmachi—there's a beautiful courtesan named Kaoru. You're acquainted with her, aren't you?" "That's—" Hachiya interjected in surprise, "isn't that the courtesan our lord had been visiting?"

"You know her, don't you, Harada-san?" Shichijūrō said. "She claims to be nineteen, but in truth she's sixteen—seventeen at most. A courtesan with a sorrowful face, quiet and gloomy in demeanor." "So you stopped by Yushima on your way back?" Kai said. "You're dodging the question." Shichijūrō smiled and said, "This is a serious matter. I wanted to see the courtesan who was said to be the lord's beloved. After all, she's the one who made the lord of Ōshū's six hundred thousand koku cast everything aside. I wished to behold her beauty for myself and hear of the lord's devotion firsthand."

Jūza glared at him again, but Shichijūrō continued with an air of feigned ignorance. "But to my astonishment," he said, "the courtesan had absolutely no knowledge of the lord." "There are plenty of customers who come daily—I hear a certain lord from the Chūgoku region has been visiting continuously for two years—but she says there’s no one who could be identified as the Sendai lord."

“If that’s the case,” Jūza said, “it seems not all courtesans are loose-lipped.” “In establishments like that,” Okumi interjected quickly, “they say they never speak of their clients—especially those of high standing.” “Do you think I, of all people, would go to the pleasure quarters without knowing such basic facts? Nonsense—the courtesan truly knows nothing. Right, Harada-san? You should know that.”

Kai went “Hm” and looked at him. “Did you say something?” “You—”

Shichijūrō set down the cup. Kai quietly gazed into his eyes. It was a calm gaze imbued with a warm glow. Shichijūrō averted his eyes. “I can’t match you,” he said. “But let me make this clear: the reason our lord was ordered into confinement by the shogunate is said to be his infatuation with a courtesan named Kaoru and his subsequent dissipation. Yet in reality, he only visited Kyōmachi eight or nine times—merely drinking before returning home each time. The courtesan in question didn’t even know who he was and barely remembered his face.” “Can this really be called dissipation?”

Shichijūrō quickly glanced at Jūza's face. "There are countless daimyo who frequent the pleasure quarters," Shichijūrō said. "I could name them if you like—five or seven right away. Take that lord from Chūgoku I mentioned earlier who's been obsessively visiting the courtesan Kaoru, and Sakakibara." "Okumi, pour him more sake," Kai said. "Understood." Shichijūrō nodded to Okumi. "Let's leave other clans' affairs aside—but remember this: many feudal lords visit brothels. It's hardly rare. Yet only our lord was punished—a young governor of 600,000 koku, barely twenty years old, disciplined for merely sneaking into the quarters eight or nine times! To call this dissipation or self-ruin is absurd. Moreover, by the tenth day, a warning already arrived from Senior Councilor Sakai Uta-no-kami—the tenth day! How did Uta-no-kami learn of it? Is he serving as overseer of Shin-Yoshiwara now?"

“It seems Shichijūrō still hasn’t had enough to drink,” Kai said. “Okumi, why don’t you pour him another cup?”

“Does it hurt, Mr. Harada?” Shichijūrō said.

Kai looked at him with calm eyes. "That hurts, doesn't it?" Shichijūrō laughed with his lips. "But allow me to speak a little longer. The lord did have a drinking habit—which is why he abstained for a time—but once he started again, complaints poured in from all quarters. Last year, I hear even the Mito family voiced concerns. Yet if we ask what actual misconduct occurred—there's hardly anything worth mentioning. At worst, he became undisciplined when drinking—nothing more. He was still young, after all, and there were even those urging him on besides. —Did you say something?"

Shichijūrō looked at Kai. Kai, keeping his gaze averted, shook his head. "No—" "I see," Shichijūrō nodded. "I thought I was being silenced again." "If you think that, then stop," said Satomi Jūzaemon. "Does it sting you too?"

“You talk a bit too much, is what I’m saying.”

“Then perhaps Mr. Satomi would like to make a statement?”

Shichijūrō's face turned red. "You should know," Shichijūrō said to Jūza, "who urged the lord—who had abstained from drinking—to take up alcohol again, who dragged the lord to the pleasure quarters, who must take responsibility for this grave matter. Mr. Satomi—you should know, and you should despise that person." "Who do you think I hate?" "Lord Ōkayama Daigaku of Yoshioka Manor in Kurokawa District—currently the foremost Edo elder."

Shichijūrō's words surprised Jūza and Hachiya. Kai did not so much as twitch an eyebrow, but Jūza and Hachiya nearly turned pale.

There were four Edo elders (referred to as "magistrates" within the Date family). They were Shigenoba Shūri, Ōkayama Daigaku, Furuuchi Higo, and Ōjō Hyōgo. Among them, Ōkayama Daigaku was both the eldest and wielded the strongest political influence. Ōkayama Daigaku had always been a stubbornly self-righteous man, but having further gained the trust of Date Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu—a member of the clan’s inner circle—he now wielded greater power and authority than any of the four elders. “Am I wrong, Mr. Satomi?” Shichijūrō pressed on. “Though it’s not just you—this is something many in our clan know. The fault doesn’t lie with the lord; responsibility rests elsewhere. Those accountable had turned their backs on him, obsessing over expanding their own power. To grow their influence, they even exploited the lord himself! If there truly was misconduct warranting shogunal censure, then the senior councilors who stood idly by should bear responsibility. Yet—the moment a warning came from Uta-no-kami, they convened a council as if they’d been waiting for it and forced the lord into retirement. Lord Mutsu-no-kami Tsunamune succeeded as head of household just last year, in the ninth month of Manji 1 (1658). Not even two full years have passed, and already they’ve deemed him unfit to rule!”

Satomi Jūzaemon's square-set frame began quivering minutely under the violent turbulence of his emotions, and the gentle Hachiya Rokurōzaemon, appearing utterly lost, awkwardly holding his cup, lowered his eyes.

“That might have been acceptable had the retirement petition been approved—but the shogunate crushed it and instead imposed confinement! The pretext being ‘long-standing misconduct reported to the shogunate’—specifically, that eight or nine days of visiting pleasure quarters became known to the Tokugawa house! However procedural this may be, it’s utterly absurd! To compound matters, Watanabe, Sakamoto, Hata, and Miyamoto—four men—were assassinated under the pretense of having encouraged the lord’s dissipation! And this too was done under the name of ‘assassination by alleged order’!” Shichijūrō continued. “Those four might not have been loyal retainers—Sakamoto Hachirōza, for instance... I just heard even you tried to cut him down once, Mr. Satomi. It’s likely true they accompanied him to the pleasure quarters. But there’s no law permitting sudden assassination without proper investigation! Moreover, the killers claimed it was ‘by alleged order’—whose order? With our lord confined and succession unsettled, is there truly someone who can claim to issue such orders? Harada-san—won’t you tell us who these assassins meant when they spoke of ‘alleged orders’?”

“You must know,” Shichijūrō pressed further. “Who is that person, Mr. Harada? Who can claim to speak with ‘imperial authority’ in place of the Date clan’s 600,000-koku lord? Won’t you let me hear it?”

Kai's forehead wrinkled. “I understand,” Kai said with a smile. His slightly downturned eyes narrowed, and between his lips, white, beautiful teeth became visible. It was a perfectly amiable, warm smile. “That’s enough,” Kai said. “I’m well aware that Shichijūrō is skilled in martial arts, versed in military strategy, prone to wandering, holds his liquor well, and is popular with women—but enough of that. Care for a drink?”

Shichijūrō stared at Kai's face. Those eyes were piercingly sharp but gradually took on an admiring hue. He heaved a deep sigh and smiled at Kai. "I'll drink," Shichijūrō said as he took the cup. "But may I ask just one more thing?"

Kai looked at Shichijūrō. Shichijūrō said, "What exactly are you thinking?" "Hmm..." Kai looked at Okumi. "First, this Okumi and another woman, I suppose?" "Another one, you say?" Okumi turned around. She thought Kai meant his wife who had come to Edo and cautioned him with her eyes, believing this shouldn't be mentioned. "Ah, another one," Harada Kai said. "I was on edge thinking Shichijūrō might bring it up. The other day I was invited by someone to Shin-Yoshiwara—purely by chance—and it turned out to be a place called Yamamoto-ya."

“Oh, you went to the pleasure quarters?”

"I was invited by someone." "Didn't you claim you couldn't leave due to official duties?"

“Let’s have one.” Kai offered a sake cup to Okumi. Okumi paid no attention to the cup. “You said official duties kept you away, yet you haven’t visited Yushima in half a month. How did you find time for the pleasure quarters?” “Let’s drop this subject,” said Kai. “This is your fault, Shichijūrō—you’re the one who brought up something odd.”

“I concede to you.” “Shall we have a meal?” “I concede to you, Harada-san. But mark my words—I will draw out your true feelings someday. Someday, without fail.”

“Let’s have a meal, Tansaburō,” Kai said. “That may be so,” Okumi said, “but this matter of your visit to the pleasure quarters isn’t settled yet.” “This morning’s meeting seems to have been filled with substantial discussions,” Kai said.

Everyone laughed. Shichijūrō said with a laugh, “But Harada-san, you deftly dodged everyone.” Satomi Jūzaemon remained silent. Hachiya, Okumi, and the serving boys were released from the blistering conversation and all took on relieved expressions. But Jūza alone wore a dark, oppressive expression, the only one brooding over something. To his straightforward and single-minded nature, Shichijūrō’s words were far too weighty, and he was overwhelmed by both their content and what they implied.

Above all, being told—"You despise Ōkayama Daigaku"—struck him to the core. Jūza had indeed despised Ōkayama Daigaku; the way Daigaku used Hyōbu Munekatsu as his shield to willfully force through his arbitrary demands had become unbearable to witness. He's poisoning the clan.

Jūza had thought so, but it was a matter kept within his heart—something he had never told anyone, nor was it something one could speak of to others. Shichijūrō had casually pointed that out. "This man must not be underestimated," Jūza muttered inwardly. Naruse Kyūma and Shiozawa Tansaburō brought the meal. Hachiya tasted the miso in the small bowl and exclaimed that it was unusual. "This is walnut miso, isn't it?" "That's right," said Kai. "How does it taste?"

“It’s excellent—rich indeed. It’s been ages since I encountered the taste of home.”

“It was served in Yushima too, wasn’t it?” Shichijūrō looked at Okumi. “We’ll make it in Funaoka,” Kai said.

Okumi continued. "What’s made in Funaoka and sent here gets sold at my family’s shop, Kariya."

“It gets sold.” “We’ve started a business,” Kai said. Shichijūrō widened his eyes.

“What do you mean?” “This will cover the expenses of the Yushima establishment.”

“Don’t mock me.” “There’s no time for that. Since your connections reach far and wide, Shichijūrō, I intend to have you take samples around to spread awareness.”

“You’re the kind of person who—” Shichijūrō began, then shook his head.

That afternoon, Kai attended the Senior Councilor meeting.

Fragment (1) ――Lord Satomi stood.

“Who was present?” “Itō Shichijūrō, Lord Jūza, Lord Hachiya Rokurōzaemon, and a woman called Okumi.”

“Is Shichijūrō staying?” “He has been staying for about ten days now.” “What discussions took place?” “Itō made such outspoken remarks, which I have documented here.” “I’ll read it later.”

“As it remains in my quick script, I believe Your Honors may find it difficult to decipher.” “I’ll read it later. Anything else?” “There is nothing else. No one paid heed to Itō’s outspoken remarks.” “Of course, that person was no different—no matter what Itō said, they paid no attention and maintained a thoroughly oblivious demeanor.” “That one is a clever man.” “There is just one thing—according to Itō’s account, he visited Shin-Yoshiwara and called at Yamamoto-ya several days ago.”

“I know that.” “He claimed someone had invited him.” “I gave the order—I had him taken there myself—yet he never showed his hand.” “That concludes my report.” “What of the Hata children and Miyamoto’s brother?” “Lord Satomi has taken in Miyamoto Shinpachi. The Hata siblings remain at Shiozawa Tansaburō’s residence.”

“If they are moved, inform me.”

“That is my intention.” “Don’t let him outmaneuver you—he’s clever.” “That remains my intention.” “I’ve heard about Okumi.” “There is a residence in Yushima.” “Do you think she’s his concubine?” “That remains unclear.” “Unclear, you say?” “That woman is the sister of Kariya Shinsuke, a seafood wholesaler in Nihonbashi Ishi-chō, and for about eight years now, she has maintained a house in Yushima which that person has been visiting.” “Kariya’s daughter?”

“Are you aware of this?” “The Kariya family should have originated from Ishinomaki.” “The current Shinsuke is the second generation.” “The Kariya family originated from Ishinomaki and should have a shop established there as well.” “The shop in Ishinomaki is run by the younger brother Masakichi.” “So she’s Kariya’s daughter?” “No—wait. In that case, have Kariya’s annual sales figures investigated.” “Shall we proceed?” “They must not detect anything.” “I will make arrangements immediately.”

“Do you think the woman called Okumi isn’t a concubine?” “There is no formal pledge yet,” the woman herself has stated. “The woman herself said that?” “Even after eight years,” she was complaining bitterly. “Is that truly the case?” “As for the Yushima residence, that person’s acquaintances frequently visit, but everyone is aware of this and seems to find it suspicious.” “That’s just like him.” “Moreover, the Yushima residence was purchased by the Kariya family, who not only invested considerable funds into expanding the tea arbor and remodeling the garden but have also continuously covered the household expenses, including the employment of four servants.”

“He is that sort of man.” “It appears the entire family remains completely devoted.” “He’s the sort of man who draws people in deep like that.” “That is all.”

“Wait—what business does Okumi have coming here?” “I had forgotten—it appears Her Ladyship, that person’s wife, arrived in Edo last night.”

“Harada’s wife?” “Okumi came to inform us of that.” “Why did his wife come here?” “According to Okumi, she stated it was to receive treatment from an excellent physician in Edo, but Her Ladyship did not appear ill.” “He didn’t know then?” “He did not seem to be aware.”

“I know his wife.” “I see.” “That woman is the sister of the current Genba – a daughter of the Shigenba family. I saw her when she was still a girl at Matsuyama’s residence – a clever girl with beautiful features.”

“I have not yet had the honor of meeting her.” “What sort of entourage?” “It appears her entourage is informal, consisting of a young samurai named Nakaguro Tatsuya and two others.” “Of course, it must be without official notification.” “Shall we verify?” “Let’s observe—there’s no need to rush. But ensure none slip through the net.” “Should we send more people to Yushima?”

“Carry it out as needed, but unless you're exceedingly cautious, they will detect it.”

“Do you have any further orders?” “Has he still shown no indication of going to Shinagawa?” “I cannot say.”

“Be sure to provide an escort to Shinagawa.”

“Yes.” “He may attempt to travel covertly, but I don’t believe he will. However, if signs of such movement appear, implement the three-step protocol.” “Understood.” “Send this.” “This is most improper.” “Keep it. You’re a useful man.”

Evening calm.

The council of clan magistrates unexpectedly became contentious and then continued to convene for four days straight. As Kai was the most senior, he couldn’t absent himself during that period, and of course had no time to go to Yushima. The agenda of the council was the matter of how to dispose of Watanabe Kinbei and two others. In the assassination incident on the night of July 19th, there should have been at least ten assailants, yet only Watanabe Kinbei, Watanabe Shichibee, and the low-ranking Man'emon came forward; these three stated they had "subdued Sakamoto, Hata, Watanabe, and Miyamoto entirely by themselves," insisting no others participated.

This incident seemed likely to be swept under the rug. This was because Date Hyōbu had been the first to speak at the senior council meeting held immediately after the incident, declaring: "Those four men were treacherous villains—Kinbei and his men acted commendably." Mutsu-no-kami was confined; the succession remained undecided; no one could tell what would become of the six hundred thousand koku. Now was the time for the entire domain to unite as one, endure all hardships, and devote themselves to restraint while awaiting the shogunate’s decree. The actions of Kinbei and his men were "traitor purges" carried out for the sake of the domain, devoid of any personal motives; moreover, should this matter be thoroughly investigated, there was no telling how far the repercussions might spread. Here, by acknowledging the loyal devotion of Kinbei and his men, they should bring this matter to a close and ensure the conflict did not spread further. They argued vehemently for that very point.

In other words, they intended to let the assassination incident go uninvestigated.

It was a critical juncture for the domain's survival. The matter of endorsing an heir had become the entire domain's pressing concern, and even if decided, there was no telling how the shogunate would respond. The paramount priority now was "handling all affairs with discretion." The senior retainers concurred with Hyōbu Munekatsu. "Let us endure all hardships and demonstrate our collective restraint as an entire domain." A tacit agreement seemed to have been reached.

Therefore, it was thought that the council of clan magistrates would follow suit. It was unthinkable that anyone would dare raise an objection; yet on the very first day, the newly appointed Tōyama Kageyu brought up something entirely unexpected.

“Even if Watanabe Kinbei and his two men’s actions were indeed traitor purges, we cannot condone their methods’ disregard for the law.” Kageyu continued, “If we turn a blind eye to this, there’s a risk of similar incidents recurring—a second or third time. Moreover, the pretext of acting for ‘the noble sake of the domain’ might be invoked without justification. I believe we must conduct a formal inquiry and deliver clear judgment.” Kai listened in silence.

Kageyu’s argument was opposed by four or five others. Their opposition lacked clear rationale; instead, they wielded the senior retainers' will as a shield, merely listed inoffensive phrases about "the Date clan's survival," "trivial matters before great affairs," and "handling everything with discretion"—all carefully non-committal. They tenaciously clung to those vague objections. Kageyu did not back down either.

Kai did not speak and listened to both sides’ arguments.

Tōyama Kageyu was Okudaira Daigaku’s younger brother. Daigaku was now in Sendai; it was believed that Kageyu’s strong insistence on his own argument stemmed from Daigaku’s will. It must have been Daigaku in Sendai who had issued some command to Kageyu. Otherwise, there was no way he could have adopted such a stubborn attitude so soon after his appointment. Kai had inferred as much, but the others didn’t seem to notice. Why was Kageyu being so obstinate? Why was he alone raising dissenting views? It all seemed utterly incomprehensible.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Hyōbu-shōyū suddenly appeared. Hyōbu Munekatsu was forty years old. With a long-faced, dignified countenance that indeed befitted the youngest son of Masamune, between his brows there was an air of authoritative sharpness and a tenacious, resolute character. He was two years younger than Kai, but appeared older than him. However, his voice was thin, feminine, and carried a youthful timbre.

Hyōbu appeared at the gathering without warning, took the seat of honor, and looked at everyone’s faces. “I hear the deliberations remain unsettled. What exactly is the issue at hand?” said Hyōbu. Everyone looked at Kageyu. Kageyu stated his opinion. Hyōbu listened halfway, then interrupted Kageyu’s words. “Hasn’t this matter already been decided by the senior council?” said Hyōbu. “The clan magistrates need only determine the three men’s punishment—they have no authority to debate what has already been settled by the senior council.”

“With all due respect,” said Kageyu, “is it not proper procedure for such incidents to first undergo inquiry by the clan magistrates and await their decision before moving to the honorable judgment of the senior retainers?” “State your name.” “I am Tōyama Kageyu.” “When did you become a clan magistrate?” “I received the appointment this month.”

Hyōbu laughed through pursed lips. He then said.

“Were you not indeed a relative of Lord Okuyama?” “I am Daigaku’s younger brother.” Kai listened in silence. Hyōbu surveyed the others.

“Does anyone else here hold the same view?” Everyone remained silent. Hyōbu looked at Kai. Kai was looking toward the screen. Hyōbu said, “Even if there are others who share this opinion, there is no need to re-deliberate what has already been decided by the Senior Council. Let us conclude this matter and have you proceed with the disposition.” “My apologies for interrupting,” said Kageyu. “As this is Lord Ichinoseki’s command, we shall naturally comply. However, as clan magistrates, there remains an inquiry we must absolutely conduct.”

“Very well, let us hear it.” “At the time of the assassinations, Kinbei and the three others—” “This wasn’t assassination—it was righteous execution,” Hyōbu sharply interjected.

Kageyu fell silent and glared defiantly at Hyōbu, but immediately nodded and spoke in a voice that suppressed his anger. "It is said that at that time, the three men declared these were acts by imperial order. However, this is no trivial matter—I believe we must absolutely conduct an inquiry to verify whether this claim holds truth."

The gathering suddenly fell deathly silent. Both the six clan magistrates and Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu held their breath in that instant. Kageyu’s demand was grave. The entire household’s attention was now focused more on the mention of an “imperial order” than on Kinbei and his men’s actions. If they probed deeper, there was no telling what might come to light. Everyone thought so. The fact that the four assassinated men had served as Date Mutsu-no-kami’s close aides for years and received his special favor was well known. Among them, Sakamoto Hachirōzaemon and Watanabe Kurōzaemon, despite being newcomers, had acted with such audacity on many occasions that they were even hated by some. Therefore, the fact that four men had been assassinated was not considered something that should be made into much of an issue, given that they were viewed as treacherous retainers who had brought about the grave matter of the lord’s confinement.

But the term "imperial order" was not to be taken lightly. Given that Date Mutsu-no-kami had vacated the position of domain lord and no heir had yet been established, the expression "imperial order" should not be employed. If they dared to invoke that term, there must have been compelling reason to do so. Regarding this, Itō Shichijūrō had also pointed out at the morning gruel meeting, but one could say that the entire Date household harbored the same doubt. There is something behind Kinbei and his men.

But one must not carelessly touch upon that. There’s no telling what might emerge. Thus, no one dared speak of it openly, nor did anyone even consider doing so. But now, Kageyu had confronted it head-on. The momentary tense silence was soon broken by Kai’s quiet cough. Hyōbu and Kageyu turned around.

“Do you have any objections?” Hyōbu said to Kai. Kai said “No” and coughed once more.

Hyōbu looked at Kageyu.

“By all means—that’s what you’re insisting on.” “That’s correct,” said Kageyu. “Though newly appointed, as a clan magistrate I demand their interrogation.” “Very well,” Hyōbu said. “Fine then—have them summoned here immediately for questioning. If necessary, call that underling Man’emon as well.” “The two of them alone are sufficient.” Kai remained silent, listening to Hyōbu’s cold, mocking voice and Kageyu’s voice—unbecoming of his age (he was already thirty-six or thirty-seven)—which was unyieldingly agitated.

Watanabe Kinbei and Watanabe Shichibei were summoned and arrived. Though they shared the same surname, there was no familial relation between them. Kinbei was twenty-five and Shichibei twenty-seven, both serving as retainer captains. The two men sat on the veranda. As they were confined, neither was wearing swords, and both their shaved foreheads and beards had grown out. Therefore, they appeared emaciated overall, but their posture—shoulders squared and sitting upright—and their faces lifted with determination revealed a defiant spirit.

Kageyu asked Kai whether he himself should conduct the interrogation. Kai consulted the opinions of the other five and answered that it was acceptable. Kageyu looked at Hyōbu.

“Hmm, I’ll observe as well,” Hyōbu said. “As a member of the Date clan’s branch family, I shall hear this interrogation.” Kageyu bowed to Hyōbu, offered him a seat, and began the interrogation.

The strong afternoon sunlight slid along the deep eaves and beat down on the edge of the veranda. The enclosed garden surrounded by partitioning walls held five podocarpus trees about three meters tall, their shadows cast like black dye upon the white, dry, glaring bare soil of the courtyard. Kai gazed at the black shadows of the trees.

I must go to Ryōgen-in. He thought so.

The Hata children should have arrived this morning.

I must go to Yushima as well. He had also considered this.

But why on earth did Ritsu show up? He seemed to have no interest in the interrogation. At least his attitude appeared that way. Hyōbu’s eyes were subtly yet constantly observing Kai’s demeanor, but Kai appeared not to notice even that. In the courtyard’s podocarpus trees, evening cicadas began to sing. The metallic cries of evening cicadas reverberated shrilly throughout the council chamber, and Watanabe Kinbei seemed momentarily thrown off at the very start of his testimony.

“What’s the matter—?” Kageyu pressed. “Speak plainly. I won’t tolerate evasive answers.” “I shall answer,” said Kinbei. “I deeply apologize for falsely claiming imperial order. Moreover, this was done under no one’s instruction but solely my own decision—though I had no other course of action.” “—Why?” “We intended to kill those four—since only those four needed killing, we didn’t want to cause any unnecessary casualties beyond that.”

Something swiftly grazed Hyōbu’s face. It appeared to be an expression of relief, yet also one of admiration.

“And then?” Kageyu said.

“Must I still elaborate?” Kinbei countered. “Simply saying you wanted to avoid other casualties isn’t sufficient. State more concrete details.”

“But in reality—”

Kinbei paused briefly. Whether Kageyu was dim-witted or deliberately playing obtuse—either way it was absurd—he gave a look that seemed to convey. "As you well know," Kinbei continued, "there were no casualties beyond those four. The mere words 'Imperial Order' cowed them. Had we not invoked that phrase, they too had retainers—some would have surely cut their way free. Naturally, other casualties would have been inevitable."

“A fine strategy, a fine strategy,” Hyōbu said. It was an extremely hurried way of speaking—as if hastily trying to catch something fleeting before it flew away. Kai gently closed his eyes. “The false invocation of imperial authority must be censured,” he said, “but your thorough preparations in executing this crucial act of traitor eradication are commendable. As stated, had you not declared it an ‘imperial order,’ there would assuredly have been far more unnecessary casualties. Such foresight is admirable. By my own judgment, I shall commend you.”

“So it has been confirmed that you falsely invoked imperial authority,” Kageyu said. “That fact stands acknowledged,” Hyōbu replied. “Rather than dwelling on this transgression, we must recognize the strategic foresight demonstrated. However, another pressing matter now demands attention.” With this declaration, Hyōbu turned his gaze toward Kai. “Though this will ultimately come before the senior council,” Hyōbu continued, “I would first hear the magistrates’ disposition regarding the traitors’ families. Sakamoto leaves no dependents. Kurōzaemon’s concubine may simply be expelled. But Hata Yoemon’s two children and Miyamoto Mataichi’s surviving wife and brother—what measures has the magistracy contemplated? If plans exist, let them be disclosed now.”

“However,” Kageyu said, “shouldn’t that come after concrete evidence has been confirmed—proof that those four individuals were indeed traitors?” “‘Concrete evidence,’ you say?”

“Yes—not general opinions or vague hearsay—but evidence that can actually substantiate this.” “You raise this now?” Hyōbu’s voice rose sharply. For the first time, Kai quietly interjected. “Lord Tōyama—first—” he cut across Kageyu, then turned toward Hyōbu to continue: “Though not yet brought before council deliberation—Hata’s son being a six-year-old child, his daughter reportedly thirteen—I have unilaterally decided to ordain the boy as a monk. With his sister accompanying him, I’ve temporarily sent them to Ryōgen-in.”

“I see—you sent the sister along.” “Having lost both parents so suddenly makes them pitiable, and a six-year-old would likely burden the temple as well. I thought to send them together until he turns eight.” Harada Kai opened a folding fan on his lap but did not fan himself; instead, he left it half-open and kept it resting there. “Regarding the Miyamoto family—confine them to the provincial domain. As for Hata’s daughter, once her brother turns eight, I propose placing them in permanent custody at one of the provincial estates. Of course, this cannot be finalized without council deliberation.”

“Hmm, hmm.” Hyōbu stared fixedly at Kai. “Thus we can largely surmise the clan magistrates’ intentions, but as measures against traitors’ families, this seems somewhat lenient, does it not?” “Is that so?” Kai said. “I think it may be too harsh.”

Hyōbu's eyes flashed. "If necessary, that night, Kinbei and his two men could have slain the parents along with them. They refrained from doing so because they deemed it unnecessary to kill even the family members." Kinbei and Shichibee lowered their eyes. “Understood—” Hyōbu said. “I shall remember that intent. Though it seems I’ve intruded where unwelcome, as one of the branch family, I had no choice. Forgive this.” And soon, Hyōbu rose from his seat.

The six Clan Magistrates remained seated as they offered their greetings. Tōyama Kageyu’s indignation seemed not yet to have subsided; he puffed up his shoulders and chest in sullen silence. Kai stood up together with Hyōbu and walked down the corridor together.

“A rather troublesome matter has arisen,” Kai said as they walked. “Hmm,” Hyōbu responded. Hyōbu appeared preoccupied with other thoughts; Kai maintained an innocent expression and murmured again. “I had meant to visit the residence in Udagawa-chō to make a request.”

Hyōbu turned around. Kai continued. “I have no one else.” “What troubles you so?” Hyōbu stared unblinking at Kai’s face. “Could Lord Funakoshi himself find cause for such distress?”

“May I request your assistance?” “Is this about Kageyu?” “That is part of it, but—” Kai smiled. Then deep wrinkles formed vertically on each of his cheeks, his eyes narrowing softly into a warm, captivating expression that no one could resist. “That is part of it,” Kai said, “but the truth is, my wife has arrived from the provincial domain.” “――――” “Without informing even me, and apparently having come without notifying the domain office either—it has caused me considerable consternation.”

“Well, well.” Hyōbu’s face showed an expression that seemed to say, “Damn it!”

He'd been outmaneuvered.

The impression appeared and vanished in an instant, yet it seemed to reveal the depths of his heart with striking clarity. “I wouldn’t think such a trifling matter would trouble Lord Funakoshi,” Hyōbu said, “but if there’s anything within my power to assist, I shall oblige.” “I can entrust this matter to no one but your lordship. I humbly beg your discretion regarding this unauthorized arrival to the capital.” “Very well.” “Truly, women are such a handful.”

“Indeed,” Hyōbu said sarcastically, “especially for Lord Funakoshi.” “You honor me with your words.” “I’m listening.” “I’m too trusting by nature,” Kai said, “so I often find myself burdened with others’ romantic affairs as well. It’s quite troublesome.” “Quite so, quite so.”

Hyōbu gave a short laugh. Kai, for his part, wore a faint smile.

Flower Arranging

That morning—Uno was summoned by Tanzaburō and informed that they would now be going to Ryōgen-in.

Uno said, “Yes.” “My mother and I—we had intended to care for you much longer, indefinitely,” Tanzaburō said hurriedly. “We even made such an appeal, but it seems that would harm you both. Staying here would do you no good.” “Yes, I understand.” “You must feel so anxious,” Tanzaburō said urgently. “But Ryōgen-in lies within Shiba’s temple grounds—just a stone’s throw from Atagoshita Residence and not far from here either. My mother and I will continue supporting you both however we can—please take heart in this thought and endure bravely when you go there.”

“Yes, I understand perfectly,” Uno said, looking up at Tanzaburō. “This one is perfectly well.” Tanzaburō still seemed to want to say something. Uno murmured softly within her heart.

—She would probably never see this person again.

After being entrusted to the Shiozawa household, Tanzaburō often looked after Toranosuke. Tanzaburō, though an only son, had a nervous yet attentive disposition. He showed Uno such excessive kindness it bordered on annoyance, but when it came to Toranosuke, he devoted himself as if the boy were his own younger brother. As a result, despite his youth, Toranosuke had come to take full advantage of this indulgence.

As Uno was preparing, Toranosuke noticed and shouted.

“Oh—are we going home?” He leaped up. “Be quiet,” Uno said. “We’re not going home yet—today we’re going somewhere else. If you don’t behave properly, you’ll cause trouble for Madam.” “If I’m good…” “Oh, how grown-up you are—they’ll all praise you.” “And—are we going home?” “If you behave properly.” The two or three changes of clothes and undergarments that Tatsu of the Shiozawa household had made for them were bundled into a single package. As for the house—being under investigation—both front and rear had been strictly sealed off, and they still could not take out a single thing. When she finished preparing the bundle, Tatsu came and handed over another small package.

“There’s something written inside this,” Tatsu said. “You don’t know yet, but soon a change will come over your body. When it does, open this and read what’s written.” “Is this a letter?” Tatsu shook her head. “No, it’s not a letter.” Uno stared fixedly at Tatsu. “It’s not a letter,” Tatsu said. “When something unprecedented happens to your body, this explains why it occurs and what you must do. A full set of necessary items is included too—examine them carefully, then make the rest yourself.”

“Yes, Madam.” “This is a mother’s duty,” Tatsu said. “When that time comes—you’ll likely feel ashamed that I taught you such things, but there was no choice. With your own mother gone, I had no alternative but to do this for you.” Starting to say something, Tatsu gently pressed her fingertips to the inner corners of both eyes, then continued in a different tone.

“We’ll depart once preparations are complete.” As the three of them passed through the gate, Uno turned to look back and gazed longingly at the estate. She would probably never return to this residence again. Uno closed her eyes briefly as she thought this. —Father, Mother. Please protect Toranosuke-san. Uno prayed inwardly, then began to walk.

Ryōgen-in was a sub-temple of Zōjō-ji and served as the Date family’s lodging temple. During occasions such as memorial services for the shogunal house at Zōjō-ji, the daimyos and senior retainers participating in them would change their ceremonial attire or rest there. Thus there was a guest hall for the daimyo, and rooms for senior retainers were designated.

Tatsu and the Hata siblings were ushered into a guest room in the same building as the abbot’s quarters, where they would wait for Harada Kai to arrive. It was a windless day of intense lingering summer heat. With nothing to do, Toranosuke kept clinging to his sister and yawning, but when afternoon tea and sweets were served, he finally lost patience and fell asleep.

Afterward, Tatsu said, “Let us view the garden,” and the two of them descended into the garden. The garden was quite spacious and hook-shaped, with a spring-fed pond before the guest hall. White earthen walls enclosed the area—likely sub-temples on both sides—and from the left came the sound of a temple bell and sutra chanting, apparently for a memorial service. “Come here.” Tatsu beckoned. In a corner of the garden stood a well. She pointed at it and said: “This is His Lordship’s well.”

“Oh—this is—” Uno nodded quietly.

―So this was it.

The well was surrounded by a low fence of unpainted wood and had a roof covered in bronze tiles. The fence had a locked entrance, the interior was paved with stone, and the well itself was made of stone. In the Date household, they reserved the water from that well exclusively for the daimyo’s use. For cooking and drinking alike, the daimyo used no water but that from the well. For this purpose, there were assigned foot soldiers who came to draw water without missing a single day. “There’s also a duty priest here entrusted with the key,” Tatsu said, “and it is said he unlocks it each time.”

“The people carrying water must have such hardship,” Uno said. “Shinagawa’s Secondary Residence must be quite far.” “Surely not to the Secondary Residence?” Tatsu gave a pained smile. “The water is transported only for His Lordship of the Main Residence. Since Lord Mutsu-no-kami has been confined, it is now carried to the Sakurada Residence where Lord Kamechiyo resides.” “—Poor thing...” Uno murmured under her breath.

Tatsu didn’t seem to have heard; she turned around and remarked that the main gate of Zōjō-ji was visible. When she turned back, through gaps in the pine treetops, the gate appeared surprisingly near. They had entered through the Onarimon Gate upon arrival and seen it up close once before. Now only the high roof and vermilion-lacquered plaque on its second story were visible, yet compared to viewing it whole earlier, it felt far larger and more oppressive. Near the guest hall stood a building housing rows of senior retainers’ lodging quarters. At roughly its midpoint was a staircase descending from the elevated corridor to the garden, where Tatsu stopped and indicated a room beyond.

“That is our master’s room.” “Lord Harada’s?” “That’s right,” Tatsu turned around. “And this is the fir tree His Lordship himself transplanted from Funacka Manor.” “Oh—”

Uno looked at it. It was her first time seeing such a tree. The trunk’s girth matched the circle formed by clasping both hands’ fingers, its height roughly eight shaku. Every branch stretched upward, leaves resembling those of a kaya tree. “Did Lord Harada transplant it himself?” “His Lordship favors this tree,” Tatsu said. “Being from the northern provinces, it struggles to take root here. The first two attempts withered—this marks the third. Five years have passed since transplantation; we trust it will endure now.”

“It’s a tree from your homeland, isn’t it?” Uno murmured. “That’s right,” Tatsu nodded. “Around Funooka Manor, these trees form a beautiful grove, and there are quite a number in the garden as well.” “Auntie, are you acquainted with Funooka?” “I was raised in Funooka and married into the Shiozawa family.” “Of course, the late Shiozawa was also from there.” Uno looked at the fir trees again. The leaves resembling those of a Japanese nutmeg-yew and the way its branches grew made it seem like a tree from a land of harsh cold, robust in nature, but to Uno, it somehow appeared as a lonely, solitary figure.

Kai arrived as the sun was already beginning to set. His attendants were Murayama Kihee and Shiozawa Tansaburō. Tansaburō had come to summon the siblings, but when they went to the lodging quarters, Kai was relaxing with a fan. When the siblings sat down, Kihee and Tansaburō immediately left. “Come closer,” Kai said. Uno stepped slightly forward, her hand resting on Toranosuke’s shoulder.

“Your name is Uno, then.” Kai smiled. It was a warm, enveloping smile—one that captivated people beyond words. Uno smiled involuntarily. “Is that Toranosuke?” Toranosuke nodded firmly. “You seem clever. How old are you?” Toranosuke silently spread the fingers of one hand, then added a single finger from his other hand. Kai laughed. His white teeth showed, and the corners of his eyes lowered slightly. “What’s wrong, boy? Can’t you say it aloud?”

“I won’t say.” “Toranosuke,” Uno said. Kai said soothingly. Then he looked at Uno with quiet eyes. “I won’t speak of your father and mother now—there are complicated circumstances that would be difficult to understand if explained at this time.” “Yes,” Uno nodded. “And because of that, there is still danger for you two—especially for the boy.” Uno raised her eyes. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m taking every precaution to ensure no mistakes.” “However, the boy cannot remain like this,” Kai said. “If we let Toranosuke continue the Hata family name, danger will inevitably follow. That’s why I want him to take monastic vows.”

Uno silently looked at Kai. "If he takes monastic vows, he'll sever all worldly ties and can perform memorial rites for your parents who met untimely deaths. Don't you think that would be better?" Uno quietly lowered her eyes. "Or would you rather not have him take monastic vows?" "No," Uno said, raising her eyes, "if you say doing so would be better, then I would like to request it be done that way." "Next, regarding you," Kai continued, "you may stay here and look after your brother until he turns eight. After that, I intend to take you to my homeland of Funooka. Remaining in Edo would invite various complications—and we will surely uncover who killed your parents in time."

Uno's eyes flashed sharply. Kai noticed her eyes and, as if to soothe their intense glare, nodded gently and slowly.

“Let’s discuss this matter later,” Kai said. “For now, you two should focus on surviving safely. Everything else can wait until after that. Do you understand?” “Yes, Uncle.”

As she started to say that, Uno suddenly covered her mouth. “There, there. Uncle is fine.” Kai smiled. “I’ll be an uncle to both of you. Toranosuke, stand up and come here.”

Toranosuke looked at his sister. “Uno, you come too. I have something to show you.” Uno took her younger brother’s hand and stood up.

Kai picked up Toranosuke and stood. Toranosuke stiffened as he was held. Kai stepped out onto the high corridor and placed his left hand on Uno’s shoulder. Uno jerked and shuddered. Kai gently pulled Uno closer. Uno softly drew closer, but then she jerked again. “Over there, you see that single tree—the one by the moss-covered stone on its right side.” “Would that be the fir tree?” “It’s a fir tree—do you recognize them?”

“Yes, Ms. Shiozawa’s aunt taught me.” “I see,” Kai nodded. “Then you also know they were transplanted from Funooka?” Uno said, “Yes.” “I like that tree,” Kai said. “In Funooka, there are many of those trees—places where firs form whole groves. Quiet, hushed trees that never speak.” “But trees do speak,” “Don’t you know?” Uno looked at Kai. He met her gaze and continued, “They speak indeed. Trees, stones—these pillars and walls too—even the demon-faced roof tiles. They all find voices when aged.”

Uno's eyes grew sorrowful.

“Among them all, trees speak the most,” Kai continued. “When you go to Funooka someday, I’ll show you just how much the trees there will speak.”

“Yes, Uncle.” “Take good care of this fir tree,” Kai said. “This one seems to be growing well. The others we transplanted before all withered away, but this time it appears to be taking root properly. While you remain here, Uno, tend carefully to this tree.” “Yes, Uncle.” Then Toranosuke said, “I’ll take care of ’em too!” “Will you take care of them too, little one?” “I’ll take care of ’em! I won’t shake the trees!” “How admirable...”

Kai smiled. Then, with his left hand, he gently pulled Uno closer once more. “Uno, this fir tree was separated from its parents and siblings and brought here all alone—completely alone. Do you understand?” Uno nodded “Yes.” “Uprooted alone to an unknown land, with no one around to help—yet it stands tall, unbowed by wind, rain, snow or frost, living resolutely on its own. You understand that, don’t you, Uno?”

“Yes, Uncle—” “Uno understands,” Kai said. He suddenly gazed into the distance as if seeing some far-off place. Uno thought. Uncle is lonely. She received his words this way. Not as something spoken to her, but as if he were voicing what lay within his own heart. “Uncle,” Uno said, “will you take me to Funooka someday?”

“When Toranosuke turns eight.”

“Uno would very much like to be taken to Funooka.” “In two years you’ll go.” “Can I come too?” Toranosuke said. Kai smiled gently. “You’re heavy—this one’s quite a burden.” “Can’t I come too?” “Toranosuke-san,” Uno said.

Kai set Toranosuke down. “Now then, Uncle must be going. I’ll return again. Boy—you stay well-behaved.” Toranosuke remained silent. Kai said to Uno. “Take him over there. I will come again, but should you need anything, do not hesitate to send a messenger—off you go now.”

Uno took her younger brother’s hand and left the spot. She wished she could have stayed there longer. She wished she could stay by Kai’s side forever, talking with him without ever having to leave.

Uno had seen Kai before. At the Sakurada estate grounds, once, she had been walking alone in unchanged clothes. At other times she had been with household retainers or other senior vassals, but she had always recognized immediately that it was Harada Kai. She could not recall who had taught her—indeed, she had no memory of ever being taught. From long ago, whenever she caught sight of him, she had known it was that person. Whether alone or accompanied, Kai somehow stood out. He walked slowly, his tall frame slightly bent forward. His features were warm and gentle, and when he smiled, beautiful white teeth showed.

Uno knew—Uno had known that person from long before. Uno often thought that. It was a tangible reality. She had known him well for a long time and had been especially close with him. Even now, if only they could understand each other, they could become close again as before. Uno was thinking this alone. ——It was just as she had thought.

While walking down the corridor with younger brother, Uno murmured inwardly. But he seemed so lonely—there must have been something lonely and sad that happened to him. The way he spoke made it sound like he was completely alone. When they turned the corner of the raised corridor, Shiozawa Tansaburō was there. He must have been waiting for them; he smiled at Uno and immediately tried to pick up Toranosuke.

“I’ll walk,” Toranosuke refused. “Come now, you won’t be carried much longer.” “I’m walking on my own.” “What’s this—are you cross?” Tansaburō laughed and looked at Uno’s face. Then the two of them took Toranosuke’s hands from either side and returned to the room where the waiting woman was. Along the way, Tansaburō lowered his voice and quickly said to Uno, “Did you ask about that matter?”

Uno did not answer. Tansaburō looked at Uno quizzically.

“Didn’t you ask?” “Yes,” Uno said. “Didn’t you ask who your parents’ enemy was? Whether you’d be allowed to take vengeance?” “I didn’t ask.” “Why?”

Uno did not answer. Tansaburō stared fixedly at Uno’s face, then said as if changing his mood, “Ah, well.” “Since I’m here with you, someday I’ll definitely let you take revenge.” Uno turned around and looked at the fir trees in the distant garden. The afternoon sunlight sliding along the earthen wall illuminated the upper half of those trees.

Prelude to the Wind

After leaving Ryōgen-in, Kai made his way to Yushima.

The house was located in the Yushima-dai area, closer to Ueno. If one crossed Izumibashi Bridge, ascended the slope beside Kanda Myojin Shrine, and proceeded from the riding ground of Hayashi Daigaku-no-kami’s residence (where the Seido would later be built) out to Hongō-dōri Avenue, they could have a palanquin brought right up to the gate. Moreover, though this was almost unknown, there was also a back road leading toward Hirokoji. It was a damp, narrow, perilously winding stone staircase through deep forests of chinquapin, pine, and Japanese oak, and thickets of shrubs and undergrowth covering the hillside slope. Later, when the thicket on the hilltop was cleared and Tenmangu Shrine was erected, and a cut-through was made northward from there, it fell into disuse; but even before that, few people seemed to have traversed it.

When Kai arrived, all the women were out. It was said that Okumi had guided them out to see a play in Kobiki-chō. In March of that year, Morita Kanya’s theater had been built in Kobiki-chō Gochōme, and Okumi had guided Ritsu there. Nakaguro Tatsuya had apparently accompanied them as an attendant, and there were two others who had come from Funooka: Okamoto Jirōbei and Matsubara Jūemon. Kai ordered the bath to be prepared and met with the two men. Ritsu, his wife, along with their attendants, had not left the Yushima residence since arriving in Edo five days prior; fearing Kai’s displeasure over their unauthorized visit to the capital, they had remained confined there.

The two men were deeply apologetic. Kai did not utter any words of reproach. In his usual calm tone, he inquired about personnel matters in Funooka and the state of the farmland. Back in Funooka were his elderly mother and eldest son, Umenosuke Muneshige; the caretaker elder Katakura Hayato was also in good health with no changes. Umenosuke was expected to come of age next year at fifteen, and they were already looking forward to it, they said. “They said Grandfather in Matsuyama would be asked to serve as ceremonial sponsor for his coming-of-age.”

The "Grandfather in Matsuyama" referred to Moniwa Satsuki; Ritsu, Umenosuke's mother, was Satsuki's daughter, making Umenosuke his grandson. Kai listened silently. Matsubara Jūemon went on to describe the state of the farmland, his account suggesting that due to the persistently low temperatures in early summer, reduced yields for both rice and wheat would be unavoidable. “Will it likely end at just reduced yields?” Kai said. He showed no particular signs of distress, but Jūemon understood his master’s true feelings.

“At least twenty percent, and depending on the weather from here on out, it may exceed thirty percent.”

“So this year too, the mansion repairs will be postponed,” Kai said. Both Okamoto and Matsubara seemed eager to learn about the domain’s fate under Mutsu-no-kami’s confinement, tentatively broaching the subject in roundabout ways, but Kai said nothing. The women returned from the theater after night had fallen, but before that, just as they were lighting the room, Sukujirō, a clerk from Ginza’s Hatokudō, came to deliver brushes. Hatokudō was a Chinese goods merchant that traded with the Ming dynasty and handled books, paper, brushes, ink, and inkstones. The proprietor was named Nizaemon, had served the Date family, and had long been on familiar terms with Kai. Kai personally met with the clerk. Sukujirō said, “The tiger-fur brush you ordered has arrived,” and showed it still in its box.

Kai nodded. Then, saying “Wait here while I choose,” he stood and went to his own room. Tansaburō followed him in and immediately tried to light the lamp. “Light the candlestick,” Kai said. Tansaburō took out a candlestick and lit the candle. Kai waved his hand. So Tansaburō withdrew to the next room. Kai sat down before the desk. When he opened the box on the desk, five brushes lay arranged within a frame. He took one of the mottled shafts at the very center and cautiously twisted it. Then the shaft split into two parts at a seven-to-three ratio. In other words, it was fitted craftsmanship—when the lower part of the shaft was shaken, a thin tube-shaped roll of paper came out from within.

Kai pulled the candlestick closer and unraveled the paper that had been rolled into a tube. The paper was high-quality thin stock, with fine characters written in about five lines. As soon as Kai finished reading, he immediately lit it with the flame of the candlestick and turned it to ashes. Then, after restoring the brush to its original state and returning it to the box, he took two others, placed them on the desk, called Tansaburō, and handed him the box. “I requested only two,” Kai said. “Tell them to return the rest.”

When Tansaburō left, Kai rested both elbows on the desk and remained still, supporting his chin. He remained sitting like that until the women returned. Before long, lively voices could be heard, and it became clear that the women had returned, but until his wife Ritsu entered the room, Kai remained leaning against his desk. Ritsu looked at her husband from behind. She was thirty-seven years old but appeared far younger than her age; her forehead was broad between the eyebrows and eyes, and her nose was shapely and high-bridged. Her mouth was slightly large, but with her taut jaw and full cheeks, her overall features possessed a composed youthful freshness and an elegant allure.

Ritsu stood gazing at her husband’s back for a short while, then quietly drew closer, bent forward, and softly embraced him from behind.

“Are you angry?” Ritsu whispered. “Oh dear – you really are angry with me.” “Go wipe your sweat,” Kai said. “You’re angry, aren’t you?” “Won’t you go wipe your sweat?” “If you would only say you aren’t angry…” “I’m not angry.” “You’re angry.”

Kai remained silent. Ritsu gently yet swiftly touched her lips to her husband’s ear, then enveloped him with her entire body. Kai did not move. As he felt the warm, heavy, yet clingingly soft body of his wife—the resilient curves and fullness of her form—steadily pressing against his back, Kai remained motionless and unresisting. “Please say something,” Ritsu pleaded. “Oh, I simply couldn’t stay away any longer. Enduring even a year was hard enough, but now it’s become a year and a half. If only I knew when you’d return—but there’s no knowing that either.”

“It’s hot. Won’t you sit over there?” “You’re angry with me.” “You should know why I couldn’t return.” “I knew—but only through others. You never told me yourself.” “What good would telling do?” Kai said. “Even I here can’t change things. It would only make Mother and you fret.” “Don’t you think rumors make one worry more?”

“Is that why you came here?” Kai said. Ritsu fell silent and abruptly stiffened her body. Kai realized his wife’s form pressed flush against his back had turned rigid.

Ritsu separated from her husband.

“I’m sweating terribly.” “Mm,” Kai said as he turned around.

Ritsu stood nonchalantly while averting her eyes, but Kai noticed that her forehead had turned pale.

—Again. Kai thought to himself.

―It had happened again.

Ritsu, who had been about to leave, whirled around and stared directly into her husband’s eyes. It was a gaze that seemed both to plead and to challenge. Kai nodded with a smile. “Go wipe your sweat,” Kai said. Ritsu said while lowering her eyes, “You’ll be able to stay at leisure tonight, won’t you?” “Seems so.” “It’s been a year and a half.” “Go on.” “You will.” Ritsu looked at her husband again. “You’ll stay over tonight, won’t you?”

Kai smiled. Ritsu's eyes often betrayed her will. Whenever turmoil or change arose within her heart, the moment she tried to conceal it, her eyes—defying her will to hide—would lay bare those very disturbances for all to see. Sixteen years of marriage. Kai knew that fact well through several experiences. "Ms. Okumi, you're such a beautiful woman." Having said that, Ritsu smiled at her husband and then left the room.

Kai summoned Murayama Kihee and ordered him to go to the main residence on an errand. It was to submit a notification stating that he would stay overnight in Yushima tonight because a stomachache had occurred. Kihee left immediately.

Soon, a banquet was held in the sukiya. From Nihonbashi came Gan'ya Shinsuke and his wife Kiwa, summoned. Three male entertainers and five young female performers who sang and danced. All were regulars often invited to this house, making the banquet grow lively.

Gan'ya Shinsuke was forty-two years old. He had a stocky, short, and sturdy build; even in his thick-browed face with large eyes and mouth, there was something too robust for a merchant—a dignified yet intimidating presence. Kai was not much of a talker either, but Shinsuke also seemed to be a man of few words. With a sullen expression that suggested he was angry about something, he drank in silence, gulping it down.

Ritsu sat beside Kai. Okumi and Kiwa, Shinsuke’s wife, were seated serving, and Ritsu was growing irritated. She had no idea why he had started such a lively banquet. She had intended to be alone with her husband. She had wanted to have their meal just the two of them and speak just the two of them. That was something her husband should have understood, and her husband should have arranged for them to be alone. He never particularly cared for these kinds of banquets.

Ritsu tried to catch her husband’s attention and hold his gaze. But Kai seemed not to notice. The shamisen music held no charm, nor the songs or dances—not even the witty banter. —I should just leave. Ritsu thought this. It was nearly half a period later when—as if synchronized with her thought—Kai called to Okumi. “I’ll rest awhile. Prepare the room,” Kai said.

“ ‘Get ready,’ you say?” Okumi looked puzzled. Kai looked at Shinsuke. Then, when Shinsuke nodded with his eyes, Kai turned to Okumi and spoke.

“I’m supposed to have developed a stomachache. Since I had Kihee deliver that report, as a precaution against any informants, I think it’s better to lie down once.”

“There’s no such person here,” Okumi said. “How could you say such a thing? There couldn’t possibly be anyone in this house who would inform on us!” “Seems so.” “Seems so,’ you say?” “Don’t worry,” Kai laughed. “I know there’s no such person—that was a joke. But I’ll rest now, so have them prepare the room over there.”

“Are you really going to lie down?”

“Gan’ya is waiting,” Kai said.

“Okumi,” Shinsuke said. Okumi turned around, looked at her brother’s piercing eyes, then stood and left. Ritsu looked up at her husband as if dazzled. Kai told the geishas to rest and spoke to Shinsuke. “How’s the trade situation?” “It’s not going well.” “Not good?” “It’s not going well,” Shinsuke said. “It’s much the same as if the Chinese ships had stopped coming.” “What’s happened?” “The conflict in Ming has not yet been resolved.” “Is the Ming army still holding out?” “Such seems to be the case,” Shinsuke said. “According to what I heard in May, the Ming emperor fled to Burma last February.” “So it still hasn’t been settled?” “Such seems to be how it is.” “Hasn’t it already become the Qing king’s era?” “What is the situation?” Shinsuke said. “Zheng Chenggong still seems to be causing trouble, and after all, their territory is apparently so vast.” “When Zheng Chenggong came to the shogunate to request reinforcements, that was the year before last.”

“Yeah, that was the year before last,” Kai said. “While I was in Funooka, I heard there was quite an uproar in places like Kyushu over people trying to smuggle themselves out.” “Such rumors did circulate,” Shinsuke said. “Over twenty years have passed since the Shimabara Rebellion, yet ronin only multiply—this cramped island nation teems with people who’ve lost all means to survive.” “A dire situation.” “Matters grow more fraught by the day,” Shinsuke said. “With Chinese trade ships now idled, British merchants around Macao seek to corner our cargo.” “Should they succeed, they’ll monopolize the markets entirely. We’re drafting an accord to boycott British firms, but when coffers run dry, some inevitably renege,” Shinsuke said.

As Okumi returned, Shinsuke stopped talking. Okumi wore a hardened expression. "The preparations are ready."

"Then, Gan'ya," Kai said, looking at Shinsuke. Shinsuke said without smiling, "I have been waiting." "Okumi, call Matsubara and two others to keep Gan'ya company, then prepare the palanquin," Kai said. Okumi again looked suspicious. Kai looked at his wife and stood up. "Let us go, Ritsu." Ritsu stood gracefully. Okumi watched Kai's eyes with a questioning look, her gaze lingering. She seemed to think she might have misheard the word "palanquin." Kai, as if repeating that word once more, looked back at Okumi's eyes and left the room.

In the eight-tatami room at the back of the main house, which appeared to be the sleeping quarters, a screen had been set around, and preparations for bed were complete. The high-set windows facing the back garden had their light-papered shoji open on both sides, and the wind chime hanging from the eaves occasionally tinkled languidly.

“What a narrow bedroom.” Still standing, Ritsu said, “Even in summer, do you sleep in such a narrow bedroom?”

“In town, it’s generally like this.” “Is that so?” Ritsu went to the clothes rack and took down her husband’s nightclothes. “I’ve grown somewhat accustomed now, but when I first arrived, every room felt so cramped it was suffocating. Please do change.”

“Someone’s coming now.” “I’ll attend to it,” Ritsu said. “At the mansion such things aren’t done, but I should like to help with your changing now and then.” “They could manage it at the mansion too.” “Oh? Is that so?”

Ritsu had her husband change clothes and gazed at his face with an entranced look. Finally being alone together after the theater visit—the lingering excitement from the play blending with the pleasant sake-induced haze—seemed to set her blood coursing warmly.

“Hey,” Ritsu said with a smile, fixing her husband with a gentle stare. “Might I inquire about Ms. Okumi?” “I have a request.”

Kai sat down and slid open the window shoji wide. "I mustn't ask about it, you know."

When Ritsu said this, there was a sound from beyond the sliding door, and a young maid entered. Ritsu separated from her husband. The maid bowed and sat down to assist Ritsu with changing. After Ritsu finished changing, the maid withdrew once. Then another maid brought in a large water basin and placed it about three feet away from the pillow side of the bedding. The water basin had been filled with water over a layer of rounded stones, with young willow saplings and reeds arranged within it.

When the maids left, Ritsu sat on the bedding with a uchiwa fan in hand.

“I must go out,” Kai said. Ritsu, holding an uchiwa fan in one hand, extended both hands toward her husband.

“Someone’s waiting.”

“I hear you’re going out.” “Matsuyama is waiting,” Kai said. Ritsu lowered her outstretched hand. “Is Matsuyama your brother?” “It’s Lord Suō,” Kai said. “Lord Wakidani has arrived from the domain. It’s still confidential at the clan residence—he’s with Lord Suō at the Koshikawa construction hut.” “The construction hut, you say?” “You know about the moat construction—Lord Suō oversees it and stays at the Kichijō-ji control hut every third day.”

“Is Lord Wakidani staying in such a hut?” “The two of them are waiting for me,” Kai said. “I can’t say anything more than that. And my departure must not be noticed by anyone except Okumi.” “Then, I—” Ritsu looked at her husband. At that moment, the three-foot opening beside the bed silently slid open, and Okumi entered carrying a set of clothes.

“Stay here and sleep.” Kai said to his wife and stood up to approach Okumi. “Sleep and wait here until I return.” “You have some important official business to discuss, don’t you?” “It’s none of your concern, Ritsu.” “What a fine duty,” Ritsu said. She turned around and saw Okumi helping Kai change clothes. “Ms. Okumi, does this kind of thing happen often?” “It’s routine,” Okumi said. “He rarely stays overnight, but when he does, he almost always goes out incognito.”

“Will I have to wait long?” Ritsu asked her husband. Kai wore a dark blue linen katabira with a black obi tied around it, did not put on hakama trousers, had black tabi socks on his feet, and carried only a short sword at his waist. “I’ll return within the hour,” Kai said. “Okumi, the lantern—” Exiting through the rear gate, Kai wrapped his face in dark blue linen cloth and descended the stone steps, illuminating his path with a small white-paper lantern. The zigzagging steps had thickets overhanging one side, insects clamoring so loudly that some would occasionally dart toward the lantern.

After descending the stone steps completely and heading along that road toward Hirokoji, he came upon a palanquin shop two houses before the corner. At the establishment called "Mataemon," when its proprietor Mataemon spotted Kai, he emerged personally.

“Kichijōji Bridge,” Kai said while extinguishing the lantern. Mataemon silently nodded, called three young laborers, and prepared himself. Mataemon was thirty-five years old. Known as “Immovable Masa,” he had once run wild among men. Several years earlier during the Kanda Myōjin festival, he had gotten into a fight with five samurai and was nearly cut down when Kai, who happened to pass by, intervened and saved him. Since then, Mataemon had come to deeply admire Kai and was prepared to lay down his life for him at any time. Kai too valued Mataemon’s character and had provided funds to establish his palanquin shop.

“Would you not consider employing me even as a servant in your residence?” Mataemon pleaded. “I want to always remain by your side and serve your needs.” However, Kai had set him up running a palanquin shop. Of course, this wasn’t for his own convenience; he had never even considered that Mataemon might someday prove useful. He had wanted to establish him in proper work, have him take a wife, and let him lead an ordinary life. Yet Mataemon did not marry. Nowadays, he hardly drank anymore, no longer associated with bands of chivalrous ruffians, and worked with almost exasperating earnestness.

Since last year, his young men had increased to fifteen in number, and he had even opened a branch shop in Kurumazaka. And then, he began gradually repaying the money Kai had provided when starting the shop. "This isn't repayment—the master's kindness can never be repaid. I ask that you keep this money in trust."

Mataemon refused thus. "I can’t trust myself," he said. "I’m earning an honest living now, but given the chance, I might slip back into my old ways." "I can’t shake this feeling I’ll relapse someday—that’s why I want you to keep it for when that happens." That’s how Mataemon put it. He must have thought Kai would refuse or get angry. Kai simply said, "I see," and accepted the money without argument.

In March of this year, the shogunate ordered the Date family to undertake the construction of the Koishikawa Moat, and since then, Kai began occasionally using Mataemon’s palanquin. This was for secret meetings to avoid prying eyes; though Kai said nothing, Mataemon keenly discerned their purpose and always accompanied him. Mataemon served as escort for the palanquin that night as well. Clad in a short work coat and straw sandals, with a wooden sword at his waist and holding a marked lantern, he ran ahead of the palanquin.

Seventeen or eighteen chō to the construction hut. After crossing Ochanomizu, they soon emerged before Kichijōji. The temple was already scheduled to relocate to Komagome, and most of the trees in its precincts had been cut down, but the bridge there was still called Kichijōji Bridge. Kai alighted from the palanquin in front of the temple.

“Shall I wait?” asked Mataemon. “Mm,” Kai whispered. “Let’s hide the palanquin. You come to the gate.”

Mataemon waved to the young men. Kai started walking while sharply surveying both sides of the dark path. After walking about one chō, there was a fence surrounding a hut, and a tall lantern bearing the Date family’s crest came into view. That was the front gate. Kai turned north before the fence and began singing *Mochizuki* in a low voice. Mataemon walked diagonally ahead of Kai, illuminating his footing with the lantern. “...detain travelers coming and going, and hereby sustain my life,” Kai continued singing. In a voice so low it resembled the murmuring of a drunken man, he sang: “…Should travelers pass through this day as well…”

As he began to sing this, a low, rusted voice from within the fence was heard adding in response. "I humbly wish to request lodging," Kai coughed. Mataemon turned back, saw Kai's hand signal, and extinguished the lantern. Then a lantern became visible inside the fence. "Wait here."

To the right was a stone storage area; Mataemon hid there, and Kai walked on further.

The lantern that had been moving inside the fence came to a halt, and there the small servants' gate opened. When Kai passed through the gate, a middle-aged samurai stood ready to guide him in silence, holding a lantern. This was Konno Shirōbei, steward of the Moniwa family. Entering the courtyard of the temporary hut and stepping onto the veranda, they found Moniwa Suō waiting. Suō Sadamoto was three years younger than Kai and slightly shorter in stature, yet well-muscled with a robust build. His thick eyebrows, large upturned eyes, and tightly pursed lips seemed to reveal a strong-willed character.

“Was everything all right on the way?” “I believe so.” “Please—we’ve been waiting,” Suō said. “He’s been drinking since five in the evening yet shows no sign of intoxication. Was he always that formidable?” “So they say. Though I’ve never shared a drink with him myself.” Kai removed his head covering and took off his tabi socks. Suō guided him to the inner chamber. Date Aki sat drinking sake. Attending him was Chiba Saburōbei, Aki’s personal aide. When Chiba noticed Kai, he subtly adjusted his seating position.

Date Aki Munekatsu sat cross-legged in his unlined white silk kimono, holding a fan in his right hand and a sake cup in his left as he drank. When Kai took his seat, he gestured with the cup-bearing hand toward himself.

After celebrating the safe journey, Kai sat down in the prepared seat. "It’s been a while. Let’s have a drink," said Date Aki. Kai declined. "I have someone waiting, so I must hurry back." "I never imagined things would become this constrained," Date Aki said. "Must we always meet in such a manner?" "This has been happening since March," said Suō. "At first, we didn’t notice, but matters resembling secret discussions were leaking out completely. When we began paying attention, it seemed spies had been stationed everywhere."

“Let us hear the report,” Date Aki said, looking at Kai. “At Nakada Post Station in Shimousa, we met a secret messenger from Lord Matsuyama. He desired to relay a matter of grave importance for the domain house, urging us to enter Edo covertly and come here first. Thus we arrived last night—but he insisted the matter could not be discussed unless you were present.” “It was not something I could properly report through solitary channels—moreover, we have uncovered new confidential information that even Lord Funooka does not yet know.”

“Let us hear the report.”

Date Aki placed his cup on the tray with those words. “This occurred five days ago,” said Suō. “Are you aware of Lord Kuse? He is one of the shogunate’s inner aides—styled Yamato-no-kami Hiroyuki—who has facilitated various arrangements for us since Lord Tsunamune’s succession.” “I have heard of this.” “Since the mound construction began, we have frequently sought your mediation,” said Suō. “Five days prior, a messenger came from Lord Kuse ordering us to arrive secretly that night. Unfortunately, on that day, the newly built embankment had collapsed, leaving us unable to spare hands due to reinforcement work. Thus, we went after dawn.”

“Is Lord Kuse’s residence nearby?” “It lies in Nishinomaru-shita,” said Suō. “Though the hour was unseasonable, he insisted on immediate conference and had us conducted straight to his bedchamber.”

“...To the bedchamber?” “It was for a secret discussion,” Suō said. Kai quietly fanned away mosquitoes with his folding fan. Perhaps because of the sake and food tray, there were an extraordinary number of mosquitoes. Aki and Suō did not use folding fans. The two men were so absorbed in the gravity of their discussion that they appeared not to notice the swarm of mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly around them.

Suō’s account was indeed grave. It revealed that Sakai Uta-no-kami (Tadakiyo), a senior councilor, and Date Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu had colluded to embezzle Sendai’s 600,000-koku domain and were pushing forward with their scheme at that very moment. “Impossible,” Date Aki said. “There’s no way such a scheme could ever succeed.”

“However, that first step has already become a fact.”

“The first [point]?” “Our lord’s confinement.” Date Aki glared sharply at Suō. “You claim this confinement constitutes part of their scheme?” “The second matter concerns succession,” Suō said. “As you know, deliberations are now to be held regarding the heir. Depending on their outcome, they plan to split the 600,000 koku domain—300,000 for Lord Ichinoseki, 100,000 for Lord Shiraishi (Katakura Kojūrō), with residual allocations—through collusive discussions held multiple times.”

“So it was Lord Kuse who stated this.” “Moreover, the matter of partitioning the domain may have already been communicated to those individuals. As for Lord Shiraishi and others being allocated 100,000 koku—though that seems unlikely—he instructed us to remain particularly vigilant.” Date Aki’s body froze. Kai sat with sunken eyes, wielding his fan in near-emotionless silence. “Split the six hundred thousand koku into two,” Aki said.

“It would mean splitting the 600,000 koku into two,” Suō said. Date Aki quietly raised his head. His white-streaked hair glinted in the candlelight, and his face—which until now had shown no sign of intoxication—flushed a deep crimson. “I won’t permit it.” Date Aki spoke in a low voice, “Even should such a plot exist, I will not permit it. But what lies at its root? What first set this scheme in motion?”

"I do not know, but there are matters that come to mind." "Let us hear it." "One of them is the marriage alliance between the Sakai family and Lord Ichinoseki."

Date Aki paused briefly in thought but soon nodded. He recalled that last year, an engagement had been arranged between Hyōbu Munekatsu’s eldest son, Hachijūrō, and Lord Uta-no-kami’s daughter. Though she was called Lord Uta-no-kami’s daughter, that was not the case in reality. Lord Uta-no-kami’s wife was the daughter of Ayanokōji Kinnori, and her younger sister had been adopted as Lord Uta-no-kami’s foster daughter and betrothed to Hachijūrō.

Furthermore, Hachijūrō had undergone his genpuku coming-of-age ceremony this year and taken the name Tōichi Masamuneoki, but he was still only twelve years old. “If they were to form a marital alliance,” Suō said, “I believe their scheme began with the desire to elevate Lord Ichinoseki to the ranks of feudal lords.” “However,” Aki countered, “is Lord Ichinoseki not already a 10,000-koku direct retainer daimyo as matters stand?” “Were you unaware,” Suō pressed, “that this too was accomplished through Lord Umayabashi’s exertions?” Aki gave no reply. “This is my assessment,” Suō continued.

The relationship between Hyōbu and Lord Uta-no-kami was longstanding. Hyōbu Munekatsu was the tenth son of Masamune, and his mother was a concubine of the Tada clan. After his father Masamune died when he was sixteen, he had become dependent on his older brother Tadamune, but in the first year of Shōhō (1644), at age twenty-four, he was persuaded by his brother to come to Edo, where he soon became a direct retainer daimyo with a fief of ten thousand koku. The status of direct retainer daimyo was equivalent to that of hereditary vassals; the following year, he was appointed Junior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade and Junior Assistant Minister of Military Affairs, and in the same fourth year, he married the younger sister of Tachibana (Sakon Shōgen) Tadanori.

Tachibana Tadanori’s wife, Nabehime, was the eldest daughter of Hyōbu’s brother Tadamune, making this a doubly binding marital connection; it was said that all these arrangements had been made through Lord Uta-no-kami’s goodwill and counsel. “This is what I think,” Suō said. “If Lord Umayabashi were to truly elevate Lord Ichinoseki to the status of a direct retainer daimyo, the fief would have to be granted by the shogunate. Yet those ten thousand koku were divided from the Date domain’s lands—so while he may bear the name of a direct retainer, in truth, he would remain part of the Sendai clan.”

Aki nodded with an “Mm.” “By that same logic,” Suō said, “I believe their current scheme is to grant Lord Ichinoseki the three hundred thousand koku obtained by splitting Sendai’s domain.” “After all,” he continued, “this lord stands unrivaled among his contemporaries as a man of influence—resolute and open-minded by nature, one who never abandons his objectives until they are achieved.” “But there must be others,” Date Aki countered. “As shogunal advisors—there is Lord Hoshina Masayuki and Chamberlain Matsudaira Nobutsuna of Kawagoe.”

“Lord Hoshina is in poor health,” Suō said, “and I trust you have not forgotten that Lord Kawagoe is said to be an expert at dismantling outer lords—would you not agree?” Aki did not answer. If word spread of the Date clan’s six hundred thousand koku being split apart, Nobutsuna would likely welcome it. It wasn’t just Nobutsuna—the shogunate itself would welcome this. Aki thought this and let out an involuntary low groan.

About an hour later, Kai left the hut.

Konno Shirōbei accompanied him as far as the gate. The sky had clouded over without them noticing; not a single star could be seen. When they passed through the gate, the world beyond was utter darkness.

Masaemon had been waiting in his original place and, when Kai approached, said, “Is that you?” “Enough with ‘you’,” Kai said. “Was there anything unusual?” “There was nothing.”

“Let’s go back,” Kai said. “It’s completely clouded over—the path’s dangerous. I’ll light the lantern.” “The path is manageable.” “Shall I not light it?” “Let’s wait a while longer.” The two walked with caution. What required vigilance wasn’t the journey out but the return, Kai reflected. There must be watchers around Suō too—no risk of our talk being overheard, but every chance of being trailed.

Reaching the moat's edge and turning, when they came to where the palanquin had been left waiting, they paused there for a short while to survey their surroundings. Only after confirming that no one was following them did Kai finally enter the palanquin.

Lord Uta-no-kami...

Inside the palanquin, he closed his eyes.

This was tricky.

This was gravely complicated, Kai thought. It had been clear that Hyōbu and Lord Uta-no-kami were implicated in Mutsu-no-kami’s confinement. Hyōbu had been the one to report Mutsu-no-kami’s dissolute conduct to Lord Uta-no-kami. When Mutsu-no-kami first began visiting Shin-Yoshiwara, Lord Uta-no-kami’s reprimand had followed within barely ten days. Hyōbu alone maintained close access to the Sakai residence.

Itō Shichijūrō said, "How did Lord Sakai learn of something that lasted merely eight or nine days? Is Lord Sakai running surveillance in Shin-Yoshiwara himself?" It was precisely because Shichijūrō stood outside the inner circles that he had likely pierced through Hyōbu's collusion. His words clearly suggested someone was conspiring with Lord Uta-no-kami. But that matter was already settled. Mutsu-no-kami's confinement could no longer be reversed. However, the conspiracy to divide the six hundred thousand koku domain posed grave consequences. Since Genna 5 when Fukushima Masanori had been stripped of his domain, over ten daimyos—beginning with the Gamō, Katō, and Tanaka clans—had suffered attainder or land reductions. Of course, as this served to solidify the shogunate's foundation and authority, they would show no restraint toward even the Date house given sufficient pretext.

Kai let out a sigh.

“Did you say something?” Masaemon called from in front of the palanquin. “No, it’s nothing,” Kai said. “Just pick up the pace a little.”

Fragment (II)

“I have just arrived.”

“I was waiting.” “In Sendai, I took some time off. The castle town was fully autumn there, but I was astonished by how fiercely the summer heat lingers here.” “Was the courier in time?” “He was.” “Let’s hear the details.” “Upon receiving your messenger, we sent them straight from Ichinoseki to Sendai. Satomi Jūzaemon had already arrived from Edo, but since Lord Okuyama had gone to Yoshoka’s residence, the meeting remained postponed until his return.”

“So Daigaku had gone to the residence?” “That is what I heard.” “At such a critical time—for a senior councilor to leave the castle town unattended—Okuyama Daigaku is that sort of man.” “Understood.” “He had been an arrogant man since old times, but ever since I took him under my wing, he began acting like a regent. But fine—that’s precisely where his usefulness lies.” “Understood.” “Let’s hear the report.” “The meeting was held on July 30th in the Ōhiroshoin hall within the castle. Senior Councilor Lord Kouchina Shouzen was absent.”

“Kouchina has gone to Mount Kōya.” —“He attended the memorial service for Lord Yoshiyama,” came the reply, referring to the late Tadamune. “He’s at Mount Kōya for Lord Yoshiyama’s rites and won’t return before September.” —“After Lord Danjō [Date Munetoshi] left for Edo, Lord Awa [Date Munekatsu] assumed the senior seat. First arose the matter of the elders’ sworn oath.” In this crisis facing our house, unity between clan members and senior retainers must be paramount. “Thus they shall pledge by sacred writ: henceforth all matters require mutual consultation before action—none may petition our lord alone. Moreover, whatever grievances may lie between them, for ten years hence they shall endure one another and devote themselves wholly to public duties.”

After Lord Yamato Ishikawa had made this announcement and Lord Awa along with all present expressed their consent, Lord Okuyama spoke up from his seat, saying, “No,” in opposition. “Did he say it?” “He said it.”

“What did he say?”

“If it benefits my lord, I would step forward alone to propose it—I could never swear to some roundabout oath demanding prior consultation.”

“Just as I thought.” “Understood.” “What did he say next?” “Furthermore, regarding the stipulation that we must mutually endure for the next ten years—he said that if there exists a grudge one cannot endure, then endurance is impossible.” “I see. So if there exists a grudge one cannot endure, then endure one shall not—is that it?” “He stated it clearly.” “Just as I thought.” “Understood.” “Daigaku is growing arrogant just as I thought—there was a senior councilor meeting the other day, and at that time, Tōyama Kangeyu alone raised an objection.”

“Do you mean Tōyama?” “He’s Daigaku’s younger brother.” “Is that so?” “I was the one who appointed Kangeyu as a senior councilor—I was the one who suggested Daigaku do it.” “Daigaku jumped at it—thought making his brother a councilor would cement his own position. Then tried to let the brother earn some glory first.” “Then, the one who raised the objection was…” “Daigaku’s scheme.” “From Sendai?” “The orders came from Sendai. I knew Daigaku would make his move—stacked the kindling and waited for the fire to catch.”

“Is the fire about to ignite?”

“Let’s hear the rest.” Lord Yamato Ishikawa placated Lord Okuyama’s remarks, and Lord Awa expressed a firm stance. Consequently, it was resolved that Lord Okuyama alone would submit a separate written oath. “What of the bidding matter?” Once more, an objection arose from Lord Okuyama. “What did he say?”

“Lord Tsunamune has an undisputed heir in Lord Kamechiyo,” he reported. “Therefore, there should be no debate about succession—let alone this outrageous bidding matter. He declared he would never participate in such absurdity.” “Did everyone stay silent?” “The room turned ice-cold—we thought the meeting might collapse. Then Lord Awa spoke: ‘The bidding was decided through council with Edo’s senior retainers. I’ll honor their resolution. If none object, proceed with bids. As Lord Yoshioka arrives soon in Edo, present any dissent at his residence.’”

“What did Daigaku do?” “He placed his bid.”

“What?!” “I will state my opinion after arriving in Edo, but if all of you proceed with the bidding, I too shall at least formally participate,” he had said. “So it concluded without incident, then.” “That is correct.”

“What’s your prediction of the outcome?”

“I don’t know.” “What’s the general sentiment?” “It seems the assembled lords are considering Lord Kamechiyo, but…” “I see. So that’s how it is.”

“However, this is merely my own speculation, sir.” “Lord Kamechiyo... Hmm. Yes, that’s probably about right.” “I’d generally assumed it would come to that.” “Understood.”

“But the shogunate won’t accept that approach. To propose a suckling infant as heir to a major domain like Date’s—those old-fashioned fools.” “I see.” “The difference between those in the provinces and Edo—here there are indeed those who use their heads. The bids weren’t all uniform.” “Was there a bid that aligned with your lordship’s intentions?” “There were various cases—some cast theirs for Lord Ukyō (Date Muneyoshi) and Lord Shikibu (Munetomo of the same clan). Both are Lord Tsunamune’s elder brothers, but there were also those who placed their bids with me.”

“Who might that be?” “Who could it be? Hah. Those who try such transparent schemes usually reveal themselves.” “Anyone who thinks I’d fall for those tricks… Very well—you may withdraw and rest.” “Understood.”

“Wait—Wakuya will be arriving.” “I believe Lord Wakuya has already arrived, but…” “He has not arrived yet, I tell you.” “He departed for Edo without waiting for the bidding.”

“Wakuya has not arrived yet.” “How peculiar—I had been certain he would have arrived by now.” “Could they have intercepted him en route?” “I noticed nothing unusual during my journey.” “No—that’s impossible. The man’s naught but obstinacy incarnate—utterly incapable of covert scheming. He must have taken the coastal road.”

“He took the Hama Kaidō.”

“Alright, withdraw and rest.”

“Understood!” “Who’s there? Hayato? Enter.” “Pardon me.”

“Ōtsuki Saikyū has just arrived from the domain. The situation in Sendai seems largely as anticipated.” “When Daigaku arrives, there’ll be quite a stir!”

“I have something to report.” “What is it?”

“—Lord Funooka met with Lord Itakura.” “…………” “—With Itō Shichijūrō’s assistance, Lord Funooka visited Hamayashiki and afterward called at the lord’s lower residence.” “So Kai met with Lord Itakura?” “—Under the pretext of presenting handmade walnut miso—which I believe was genuine—I came to report this as a precaution.” “Understood. I’ll remember this.” “—That concludes my report.”

“Alright, you may withdraw.”

The World's Rice

Omiya, upon emerging from Hanakawado onto Nakamachi Street, kept her hood pulled low as she swiftly glanced around in both directions. Her kimono and obi were dark and plain; with her face hidden under a hood and her hands—clutching a small bundle and adorned with prayer beads—she appeared as a young widow.

Around ten in the morning—Nakamachi Street was bustling with people visiting Sensō-ji Temple. Omiya, glancing left and right to see if she recognized anyone, turned toward Ōhashi Bridge—but then froze when she spotted a young samurai in travel-stained clothes approaching from the opposite direction.

The samurai was extremely young. Because he wore a sedge hat, his age was unclear, but from his facial features and gaunt physique, one could discern he was still a boy. The young samurai was covered in dust. From his shoulders down, he was covered in dust; his straw-sandaled feet were caked with mud, and dried mud splatters clung thick to the hem of his hakama.

“Excuse me, you there,” Omiya called out.

The samurai was startled. He startled so violently that even an observer would have been taken aback, his face visibly paling. He stood rigidly still, then tried to flee. Omiya pursued him while removing her hood. "Wait, please," Omiya said. "You're Shin-san of the Miyamotos, aren't you? It's me." The samurai turned around. "I'm Omiya! Don't you remember? The one from Watanabe's Hamayashiki—"

“Hamayashiki, you say?” “I’m from Watanabe Kurōzaemon’s household,” Omiya said. “You came many times to the main residence on your brother’s errands—don’t you remember me? The one who served you tea and attended to your meals?” “Ah—it’s you.”

He was Miyamoto Shinpachi. He seemed to finally feel relieved. With eyes that revealed his sixteen years—filled with familiarity and nostalgia—he looked at Omiya and gave an awkward nod. "I apologize for not recognizing you earlier; there's been so much on my mind, and besides..."

“It’s because my appearance has changed, isn’t it?” Omiya chuckled softly. “In this outfit, it’s only natural you didn’t recognize me. Have you been away somewhere? You look like you’ve just returned from a journey.” “No—I,”

Shinpachi quickly glanced around his surroundings. He swallowed hard and looked down. Then, with his face hidden beneath the sedge hat, he became invisible. "I've run away." Omiya scanned the area too. "So you've run away?" "Yes, but I can't speak here—they're after me." Shinpachi said, "I escaped while being taken to Sendai. If caught, I'll be killed. I must go now."

“Wait—where are you going?” “I—I’m headed to...” “Do you have someone to turn to?” “I’m not certain,” Shinpachi answered vaguely, “but I believe it should be all right.”

“Let’s walk.” Omiya started walking. Shinpachi followed. She said, “Since my husband met the same fate as your brother, I understand the situation well enough. So I must ask—if you wander into dangerous places, you’ll be walking straight into a trap yourself.” “I’ve thought about that.” “So is it truly safe?” “I don’t know. But someone once helped me, and everyone says he’s an admirable person.”

“So it’s someone from the clan, then.” “Yes, Senior Councilor Harada-san,” Shinpachi said. “That won’t do—you mustn’t,” Omiya said. “I’ve heard Lord Harada’s reputation too—by all accounts he’s quite admirable—but my husband called him a fraud. That man’s true depths are unknowable. He puts on an innocent face while scheming who knows what evils in his heart.”

“I don’t think so. My late brother respected him too, and on the night my brother was killed, we were sheltered by Harada-san.” “Let’s leave that talk for later—come to my place,” Omiya said. “It’s over there, behind Zaimoku-chō—a dirty, cramped little house, but it’s just my brother and me, so don’t stand on ceremony. There’s room enough for you to stay.” “But I—”

"But there’s no proof that going to see Lord Harada will be safe, is there?" Shinpachi remained silent.

“We’re in exactly the same circumstances, aren’t we?” Omiya said. “Come along—at your age, you don’t understand how the world works. It’s dangerous to act on your own judgment. If I’ll do, I’ll help you. Come, stay with me.”

Shinpachi finally nodded, though indecisively. Omiya hesitated slightly. Until she had persuaded Shinpachi, she had been determined to bring him home somehow, but the moment he agreed, thoughts of her brother surfaced in her mind.

That drunkard...

Omiya thought.

He’ll surely get angry—he might even get violent.

However, Omiya immediately made up her mind. It wasn't like she depended on her brother—she was the one putting food in his mouth. Even when she had served as a concubine in the Watanabe household, she had sent monthly allowances, and now while engaging in that shameful work they called "visiting courtesan," she was feeding her brother and keeping him supplied with drink. There was absolutely nothing to fear.

Omiya looked at Shinpachi. "I should tell you this first," Omiya said. "My brother has a bad habit when he drinks—he might say awful things. But that’s just the alcohol talking. When he’s sober, he’s gentle and kindhearted. Please don’t take anything he says to heart." "But is that really all right?" "It’s fine," Omiya nodded with a laugh. "After years as a masterless samurai with no connections for advancement, relying on his little sister’s support must weigh on him. That’s why he can’t help but drink—and when he does, he takes it out on everyone."

“Are you from a samurai family?”

“Yes, that’s right. Oh, it’s back here—watch your step on the mud gutter planks.” When one entered the narrow alley between the rows of houses facing Ōkawabata in Zaimoku-chō, there was a small two-unit house, and at the end of the alley lay the great river immediately. Omiya went to the two-unit house closer to Ōkawabata, greeted them upon returning, and expressed thanks for their caretaking during her absence. The response from inside the house was a young woman’s voice. “He’s a dependent.”

Omiya whispered to Shinpachi. Then she opened the door to her house. The building didn't appear particularly aged, but likely constructed cheaply—the ill-fitted door creaked shrilly as it moved. Omiya stepped in first, unlatched the rear entry from within, and brought water for washing feet. Beyond the three-tatami entryway lay two six-mat rooms. Opposite the entrance ran a three-shaku corridor; opening its door exposed a plank fence where the neighboring house's eaves pressed down heavily from above.

As Shinpachi entered, Omiya opened the back door, slid open the shoji screens as well, and deftly tidied the cluttered room.

“He went out last night and hasn’t come back,” Omiya said. “He must be passed out drunk somewhere again.”

Omiya talked without rest. She was buoyant. Her supple gestures, her smooth and richly modulated speech, and the occasional sidelong glances she cast toward Shinpachi all appeared almost coquettishly delighted. Omiya kept talking.

Her brother was Kakizaki Rokurōbei, aged twenty-seven. Her father died five years ago; her mother seven years ago. Her father was named Hachirōbei and served as a samurai commander for the Toda family of Ōgaki with a stipend of about six hundred koku. In his youth, he had participated in the Shimabara Rebellion and achieved considerable distinction, but after his lord Toda Ujikane passed away, discord arose within the household, and he voluntarily withdrew to become a ronin. By that time, their mother had already passed away, and the family of three came to Edo—but shortly after arriving there, their father also died. “My mother’s grave lies in Ōgaki’s outskirts,” she said, “and Father’s remains still rest in that house.” “When I have travel funds and time someday,” she continued, “I intend to take his remains and bury them beside Mother’s grave.” Omiya spoke these words.

Her brother Rokurōbei was highly skilled in swordsmanship and had been renowned even in Ōgaki; after coming to Edo, he went to various dojos for matches but never lost once. Dojos often requested him to become an instructor, but Rokurōbei would not consent. "My swordsmanship is not a means of livelihood." Rokurōbei said this. It was swordsmanship cultivated to serve one’s lord when called to arms—not something practiced to earn a living. Rokurōbei persistently insisted on this.

“At first I didn’t believe a thing my brother said,” Omiya said. “But three years ago… We were in Fukagawa then. I saw him fight five samurai—they all drew their swords, but he beat every one without even unsheathing his own. That’s when I understood how truly strong he was. After that, I decided I’d bear any hardship for this brother of mine.”

Shinpachi wasn’t listening. He knew that Omiya was not Watanabe Kurōzaemon’s wife, but his concubine. He had visited Watanabe around five times on his brother’s errands and had been treated to tea and meals, but during those occasions, she had given the impression of being a servant. “The reason I went to serve Master Watanabe was because I thought it would be until a good position could be found for my brother,” Omiya said. Then she abruptly changed the subject. She seemed to have realized she shouldn’t speak any further. Omiya said with feigned politeness, “Pardon my intrusion,” and while changing clothes in the adjacent six-tatami room, she continued...

“Where did you escape to?” “It’s a place called Katakura,” Shinpachi said. “In Katakura of Hitachi Province. I escaped when my escorts dropped their vigilance.” “Is that place far?” “It took three days from Edo—we left on July 29th.” “Today is already August 7th.” “We took a detour,” Shinpachi said. “I thought we’d be caught if we stayed on the main road. Near Katakura, there’s a river called the Tomoe—we followed it downstream to Kasumigaura, which is a lake, then took a boat across to Edosaki, and from there…”

“Even if you tell me that, it doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.” Omiya gave a wry smile. After changing clothes, she hung and folded the garments she had removed, and while preparing tea, fired off one question after another. What a slovenly person. Shinpachi responded to the questions in a reluctant tone while thinking this. If she wants to talk, she should sit down properly—yet here she was starting conversations before she’d even finished changing, chatting while boiling water, volunteering life stories nobody asked for.

Shinpachi thought. She doesn't seem to have been raised in a samurai household - she's just like a commoner. He thought he should have gone to see Harada after all. Though he thought this, he at least gave a reply.

Omiya’s brother Rokurōbei returned after nightfall. He was said to be twenty-seven, but to Shinpachi’s eyes, he appeared around thirty-four or thirty-five. He had a lean, muscular frame and a face with prominent cheekbones; his eyes—likely from intoxication—were sharp and bloodshot. He appeared quite the dandy, wearing a chestnut-striped kimono layered with a yellow hemp haori and white tabi socks, but upon returning home, he immediately shed these garments and changed into everyday clothes while sharply reprimanding Omiya.

No matter what was said to her, Omiya did not talk back. With kitten-like obedience, she deftly attended to her brother.

Shinpachi had stiffened. Rokurōbei was completely ignoring Shinpachi. He neither looked at Shinpachi nor spoke a word to him. “Is the sake ready?”

The moment he sat down, Rokurōbei said. "I can have it ready right away," Omiya replied. While tidying up her brother’s discarded clothes, she glanced at Shinpachi and began, "What about you—" Then Rokurōbei cut her off without even listening. "Shut up! Hurry up with the sake." "Yes," Omiya fell silent. Rokurōbei drank in silence, and when he finally finished, he had the bedding prepared and went to sleep. Until then, no meal had been served to Shinpachi. Omiya was completely occupied with attending to her brother and had no opportunity to speak to Shinpachi. Rokurōbei’s drinking took about an hour, but during that time, he never once released his sister, issuing her one task after another.

What a rude man. Shinpachi thought this. Feeling self-conscious about being a burden yet sitting rigidly upright, he grew furious at Rokurōbei’s discourteous manner. Should I just leave? He had even considered that.

After Rokurōbei had gone to sleep, Omiya prepared a meal in the six-tatami room here. As if fearing her brother might hear, she moved on tiptoe and prepared the meal almost without making a sound.

"I'm sorry it's so late," Omiya whispered. "You must be hungry." Shinpachi shook his head. Omiya whispered in an even lower voice.

“When he’s drunk, he’s difficult—sometimes he’s in a good mood, usually even, but when he isn’t, it’s like a thunder god. Please don’t take offense.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if I excused myself?” “We’ll talk in the morning,” Omiya said. “Once he sobers up, he’ll seem like a different person. If we speak then, he’ll understand—I’m sure he’ll help us. Now, please eat.”

Shinpachi had no appetite. He had indeed been hungry since eating breakfast early, but between being too hungry and Rokurōbei’s disagreeable attitude, his appetite had completely vanished. That night, the two slept in the same room. Though the futons were placed at opposite ends, Shinpachi slept fitfully. “Please forgive this,” Omiya whispered from her bedding. “My brother’s nerves are frayed—he can’t sleep with others in the room. I know it’s inconvenient, but please endure it.”

Shinpachi kept his eyes closed and silently nodded. It was his first time sleeping in the same room as a woman, and with a vague sense of guilt, he couldn't bring himself to look toward Omiya. "Good night," Omiya whispered.

It was five days later that anyone spoke with Rokurōbē. Until then he would start drinking immediately upon waking go out once drunk return home only to drink again and pass out drunk. Shinpachi remained ignored and he gave no opportunity for his sister to speak.

On the fifth morning, he said to his sister, “What manner of person is this one?”

That was after breakfast. Unusually, Rokurōbei did not drink sake. After eating tea-soaked rice with a look of distaste, he sipped his tea and spoke to his sister. Omiya talked about Shinpachi. “Keep it brief,” Rokurōbei said. “Yes,” Omiya said. She had likely intended to keep it brief herself, but her explanation became tediously long. “Make it just the main points,” Rokurōbei said again. After Omiya finished speaking, he gazed absently at the wall and said nothing for some time. Then he suddenly looked at his sister.

“Aren’t you going out?” “Yes, it’s fine,” Omiya said. “He went out on some business to Mount Hiei and won’t be back until the end of the month.”

“Bring me tea,” said Rokurōbei. When Omiya poured the tea, he did not drink it and looked at Shinpachi with tired eyes. “You were being escorted back to the domain, but what was supposed to happen once you arrived there?” “It was supposed to be permanent custody,” Shinpachi answered. “The master here was also cut down,” said Rokurōbei. “Your brother and two others were slain—charged with encouraging Mutsu-no-kami’s debauchery. No inquiry was held; they were assassinated. And the killers claimed it was by imperial order.”

“I don’t know.” “Omiya heard it herself,” Rokurōbei said. Shinpachi looked at Rokurōbei with a set face. “I don’t believe it,” Shinpachi said. “If they truly said that, it’s a false claim. I don’t believe in something like acts by imperial order.”

“Why?” “I... I know.” “What?” “I can’t say,” Shinpachi replied, lowering his eyes. Rokurōbei stared fixedly at Shinpachi. Then he said in a low voice: “Is that why you fled back to Edo?” “What do you mean?” “To avenge your brother,” said Rokurōbei. Shinpachi stiffened his body and silently turned his face away.

“Who’s your opponent?”

Shinpachi did not answer. “Shall I say it?” Rokurōbei said. “Lord Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu—am I wrong?” Shinpachi twitched. Lord Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu. He had never imagined that Rokurōbei could possibly know, so when the name was spoken, he felt as though his very heart had been laid bare. “I’d heard about internal strife within the Date clan, and Omiya’s account gave me a rough idea—but what’s your plan?”

“I... I think so too.” “Tell me,” Rokurōbei said. “Do you have any concrete evidence?” “It was like that from the beginning,” Shinpachi said. “Watanabe-san, my brother, and the others were instructed by Lord Ichinoseki to accompany the lord to Shin-Yoshiwara and make it spread as rumors.” “Did your brother say that?” “Brother said it.”

“What’s the reason?” Rokurōbei asked. “I heard it was to correct the clan’s lineage.” “Correct the lineage?”

“Yes,” Shinpachi nodded firmly.

Tsunamune, who had been confined, was the sixth son of the late Tadamune. The eldest son, Torachiyo, died at seven years old, and the second son, Mitsumune, died at nineteen. The eldest son, the second son, and Nabe-hime—who was married to Toshishige Tachibana (Sakon Shōgen)—were all born to Furi-hime, the legal wife. Furi-hime was the daughter of Ikeda Terumasa and had married Tadamune as the adopted daughter of Tokugawa Hidetada.

In addition to these, there were the third son Kamechiyo; the fourth son (died young) Gorokichi; the fifth son Tatsunosuke; and the sixth son Minosukemaru (Tsunamune). All of these children were born to concubines. In the second year of Shōhō, when Mitsumune died at nineteen, Furi-hime, the legal wife, insisted that her youngest son, Minosukemaru (Tsunamune), be made heir.

It was because Minosukemaru’s birth mother was the daughter of Kushige Sa-chūjō Tadayuki, the Middle Captain of the Left. She was called Kaihime, and her elder sister, Hōshunmon-in, was the birth mother of Emperor Go-Sai. Because he was born from a mother of such noble lineage, the legal wife apparently advocated for him to become the heir. And, surpassing his two elder brothers, he became Tadamune’s heir.

The third son inherited the Tamura family and now went by the name Ukyō-no-suke Muneyoshi, lord of a 15,000-koku mansion in Iwagasaki, Kurihara District. The fifth son had also established a branch family, going by the name Shikibu Munemoto, and was lord of a 12,000-koku mansion in Terai, Tome District. “So in essence,” Rokurōbei said, “though there were two elder brothers above, the youngest inherited the position—you’re saying that was unjust?” “To state it plainly, yes,” Shinpachi said. “My brother also affirmed it exactly so.”

“That’s Hyōbu’s argument.”

“Brother said so.” “Let’s hear the rest,” said Rokurōbei. “I had also thought that might be the case, but on the day the lord was confined, my brother stated he’d been plotted against.” “Plotted against?” “Yes—in a terribly agitated state, he kept muttering ‘plotted against’ over and over, asking ‘What should I do?’ like a man tormented.”

“Did the assassins come the following night?”

“It was the following night.”

Rokurōbei took a sip of tea.

“This is Hyōbu’s doing,” Rokurōbei said. “Hyōbu incited four men, then disposed of them to erase all evidence of his instigation.” “Do you think so too?” “I inferred this from Omiya’s account,” Rokurōbei continued. “According to her, Lord Watanabe was to have his stipend increased and be entrusted with greater responsibilities—Ichinoseki had explicitly promised as much during a drunken lapse, or so it’s said.” “I will avenge my brother.”

“Calm down.” “I can’t stay calm,” Shinpachi said. “I have no relatives to rely on—and even if I did, these circumstances make it impossible. And... and I—”

“Is it about money?” “Yes, I only have two or three coins left.”

“Don’t worry,” Rokurōbei said. “That’s right—there’s no need to fret over money,” Omiya added. “You shut up,” Rokurōbei snapped. “It’s not just you nursing hatred for Hyōbu. My sister’s master was murdered too—I won’t sit idle either. And the other two must have surviving kin.” “Yes,” Omiya replied. “At the Hata residence—a girl called Uno and a young boy named Toranosuke.”

“You’re not the only one with a vendetta—is that not so?”

Shinpachi lowered his head. Hyōbu—I'll wring you dry. Rokurōbei thought. I'll wring you dry to the marrow of your bones.

He set down the tea bowl and said, “Bring out the clothes.” Omiya immediately stood up and left.

“Wait for the time—I’m here with you,” Rokurōbei said. “Someday without fail, I’ll have you take revenge.”

Crickets chirped. "That's enough," Omiya said. "Take your clothes off over there." "Yes," Shinpachi replied. He wore Rokurōbei's unlined kimono. In the ten-odd days since arriving at this house, Omiya had made him new underclothes, while the outer garments were all Rokurōbei's hand-me-downs.

“What are you doing?” Omiya said from the kitchen.

Shinpachi said “Now” while undoing his obi with hesitation. Omiya poked her face out from the kitchen entrance. “What are you doing? Want me to help you undress?” “I’m all right.” Shinpachi stood wearing only his loincloth. The kitchen was terribly narrow. A basin sat there, half-filled with hot water. Omiya handed him a towel as they swapped places. “Take off your loincloth.” Omiya said, “The spare one hasn’t dried yet today, right? If you get that wet, there will be nothing to fasten.”

“Yeah, but like this...” “What’s the problem? It’s not like we’re in public or anyone’s watching. I always do the same thing myself.” Shinpachi nodded but remained standing with both hands hanging at his sides. “What’s wrong, Shin?” “Yeah, now.” “Oh my, you’re embarrassed!” “Please go over there.” “You’re embarrassed, aren’t you?”

Shinpachi remained silent. Omiya, her face flushed, looked at him with amusement, then spoke in a deliberately firm tone. “Don’t be ridiculous, Shin! What’s this? For a man to get embarrassed over something like that—it’s so unbecoming! Make up your mind already!” Shinpachi took off his loincloth. Omiya struck his back with the flat of her hand and, giggling, headed off toward the six-mat room. Shinpachi stepped into the basin. The basin wasn’t small, but with one side against the wall and the other facing the stove, there was little room to wash his body. He raised one knee, soaked the hand towel in lukewarm water, and slowly wiped his body. Then Omiya peeked in.

“You’re right—this place isn’t really suited for a man to use a basin bath,” Omiya said. Shinpachi jolted and shrank back. Omiya came to his side. “I’ll wash you.”

“I’m fine,” Shinpachi said. “Let me wash you.” “Please don’t—I can manage.” Shinpachi hunched his shoulders. When Omiya swiftly grabbed the hand towel, water splattered against the wall.

“Look, see? The water’s splashing,” Omiya said. “That’s why I told you I’d wash you. Now hold still.” Shinpachi stiffened. “My, you’ve got such a sturdy build. When you’re naked, no one would think you’re sixteen. These parts are all firm with muscle, aren’t they?” Omiya grasped his shoulder with one hand, held a rolled-up washcloth in the other, and scrubbed his shoulders and back. Shinpachi’s pale skin reddened under her vigorous rubbing. Though still a boy’s supple, thin skin, the pulsing of fresh, vibrant strength—that of a growing youth—could be felt beneath its surface.

“Oh, what are you doing?” Omiya said. “If you keep squirming like that, I can’t wash you properly.” “It tickles.”

“Don’t talk like a child. Stiffen up properly. Look how much grime’s coming off.”

Omiya’s face turned red, and her breathing grew rough from the effort. Every time Omiya stood or crouched, her body odor and the scent of perfume enveloped Shinpachi, and her rough breath warmly brushed against the nape of his neck, his shoulders, and his back. Shinpachi felt suffocated and grew increasingly stiff. “Now your hands,” Omiya grabbed his right arm and said, “Stretch them out more.” “I’ll do it myself now.” “Stretch out properly. If you keep making me do all the work, I’ll smack you.”

Shinpachi raised his right hand and placed his left where his right had been. Omiya's eyes darted. She moved to his side, lifted Shinpachi's arm, and washed his underarm. Shinpachi said "Ah" while blocking Omiya's hand with his left and shook his right free. The water he splashed sprayed out, striking Omiya's face. At that moment, her eyes darted nimbly again. "Goodness, how awful! You're so rough!" "But you're tickling me!" Shinpachi turned red.

“Look how much water you’ve splashed!” “I’m sorry.” At that moment, a voice came from the doorway.

“Is that someone from home?” Omiya said.

The voice came from the doorway. Omiya answered “Yes,” wrung out the hand towel she was holding to wipe the damp spots, let down the hem of her kimono she’d tucked up, and went out while removing her tasuki sash.

At the doorway stood an unfamiliar samurai.

“Is this Mr. Kakizaki’s residence?”

“Yes, this is Kakizaki’s residence.” Omiya kneeled and looked up at the man. He was a shabby-looking ronin around thirty years old, with an emaciated frame and sharp, sunken eyes.

“I am Nonaka Matagorō,” the samurai said, “is Mr. Kakizaki at home?” “He is not at home at the moment,” Omiya replied. “Haa,” the ronin said. Disappointment showed strongly on his face; he averted his eyes from Omiya and let out a sigh.

What kind of man was he? Omiya thought. Visitors rarely came to her brother’s place. He seemed to have acquaintances, but he never brought them to this house. He probably limited his interactions with others to outside; that ronin named Nonaka was a face Omiya had never seen before. “May I ask what your business is?” Omiya inquired. “This is a problem.” The ronin repeated, “This is a problem.” He spoke in a manner that truly conveyed his being at a loss.

“Do you know when he will return?” “He left yesterday and hasn’t returned yet, but I think he’ll likely come back today.”

Shinpachi also heard that exchange. When he realized the voice at the entrance belonged to a samurai, suspecting it might be the Date family’s pursuers, he flared up in anger and, without properly drying his wet body, nimbly put on his kimono. After he finished putting on his kimono and began watching from the six-tatami room, the samurai soon left, and Omiya returned. “Who was that?” “Oh, he’s already left?” “Who was that just now?” “Don’t worry, it’s fine. He probably just came to my brother for something—looking all down-and-out, someone I’ve never seen before.”

Shinpachi sat down. "I should wash off my sweat too," Omiya said. "Shin-san, sorry to trouble you, but could you light the mosquito repellent? You know where it is, right?" "I understand." Shinpachi stood up. As he burned the dried mugwort in the brazier, he could hear Omiya adjusting the bathwater temperature in the kitchen.

Then she came to the six-tatami room, removed her kimono, and returned to the kitchen naked. “Shin-san,” Omiya called from the kitchen, “I’m sorry to trouble you, but there’s a bran bag over there—could you fetch it for me?”

Shinpachi said “Haa,” but choked on the smoke and coughed. “Where is it?” “It should be hanging beside the mirror stand.” A bran bag tied with string was hanging on the mirror stand. While rubbing his eyes—stinging from the smoke and tearing up—he held it out toward the shōji screen. “Come over here, lazybones,” Omiya said. “You can’t reach from there—come in here.” Shinpachi entered the kitchen and, averting his eyes, handed over the bran bag. Omiya chuckled.

“Where are you looking, Shin-san?” “The smoke got in my eyes.” “Hey,” Omiya called out to stop him, “You’re so heartless—leaving just like that?” “What is it?” “Didn’t I wash your back for you? You could at least do mine.” Shinpachi stood still, his gaze fixed in the distance. “Hey, just my back then.”

Shinpachi remained silent. "Don't just stand there like some backward-facing stone Jizo statue—look over here and say something, Shin-san. You're embarrassed to see me naked, aren't you? That's it—you've gotten all flustered!"

Shinpachi clenched his fist.

“If that weren’t the case, there’s no reason you couldn’t at least wash my back, Shin-san. After all, we promised to become siblings.” “The mosquito repellent will die out,” Shinpachi said. “Fine then—have it your way. I won’t ask again.” “My apologies.”

Shinpachi left for the six-tatami room.

From behind came Omiya’s muffled laugh. He never did look toward Omiya. Yet even without looking, his senses perceived her plump, white, naked body there in the kitchen’s fading light with a vivid rawness that surpassed what his eyes could ever grasp.

――I had fallen into depravity. Shinpachi thought to himself. Until then, he had never experienced such emotions. He had felt a vague longing toward the opposite sex. Among friends his age were those who affected adult airs and spoke with startling bluntness. Some even boasted about sleeping with prostitutes, but Shinpachi could neither comprehend nor muster interest in such matters.

The women he had known closely were only his mother and one older sister. Both his mother and sister had passed away, but among the female guests who visited his mother and sister’s home, there had been one he liked—whenever she came, he would often go to their guest room only to be scolded. That had likely been nothing more than a vague interest—a simple curiosity about women—but those women had given him a kind of heart-fluttering sensation different from what he felt toward his mother and sister.

In Omiya’s case, it was entirely divorced from such experiences. He now felt that he was becoming more tainted with each passing day. I’m corrupting more each day—sinking deeper into corruption with no end.

Shinpachi thought this. His life with Omiya had lasted barely half a month, yet it kept him in ceaseless turmoil—a whirl of confusion and shame. When near her, emotions and sensations previously unknown to him awakened within his being, striving with fierce intensity to dominate him. Worse still, he felt himself growing powerless to resist them—a realization that left him feeling soiled and defiled. ——I must leave this house.

I must leave. He had resolved to do so countless times. However, he could not leave—he was unable to leave that house.

――I don’t have any money, and I’d probably be caught by Sendai Domain’s pursuers.

Indeed, that was exactly the case. That was by no means an 'excuse'. Could it be an excuse? Indeed, wasn't this just an 'excuse'? Shinpachi felt ashamed of himself and considered himself unclean.

Omiya was buoyant. As she prepared the evening meal, she spoke to Shinpachi in a coquettish voice and hummed as if something pleasant had happened—when the two sat down to eat, Rokurōbei returned home. He was drunk. And, as usual, he ordered sake and began drinking in the back six-tatami room.

Soon after Rokurōbei began drinking, the neighbor Okume came to the doorway and started talking with Omiya about something. Okume was the mistress of an old man running a shipping agency in Nihonbashi, and according to Omiya’s account, she had feelings for Rokurōbei. “She’s been like that for ages.” “She’s been like that for ages,” Omiya had once said to Shinpachi. “But Brother won’t have it. She’s been pleading so patiently, but he doesn’t even glance her way—it’s almost pitiful to watch.”

Even now, her tedious pleading seemed to be begging to bring some sake accompaniments and be allowed to pour drinks for him. But before long, Rokurōbei called out sharply, “Miya,” and—likely having been admonished—Okume quietly left. Even Shinpachi, who was here, could tell that Okume was disheartened from her feeble, sorrowful manner of greeting. “Oh, a guest came today, sir/madam.”

As she served, Omiya's words reached him. "Noguchi—no, wait—what was it again? It wasn't Noguchi after all." "You've got a wretched memory." "I had it right until just now!"

Shinpachi coughed from where he was and said, “It was Nonaka Matagorō you mentioned, wasn’t it?” “Oh, really?” “It was Nonaka Matagorō you mentioned.” “Understood,” said Rokurōbei. “If it’s Nonaka, I know him. Make it rice.” “Oh, are we done already?”

“Let’s have a meal,” Rokurōbei said. “I must leave immediately.”

“Again tonight?” “Let’s have tea over rice.”

After finishing his meal quickly and changing clothes once more, Rokurōbei left. "If Mr. Nonaka comes by, what should I tell him?" "He likely won’t come—but if he does, tell him I went to the temple." "To the temple?" "They’ll understand when told."

And he left.

That midnight, Shinpachi was plagued by nightmares. He had entered a crevice in the cliff and couldn't escape no matter how hard he tried; the cliffs pressed in from both sides until he felt suffocated enough to think he might be crushed at any moment. He could almost hear his bones creaking and groaning. Though it likely lasted mere moments, the agony forced a groan from his throat as he awoke. Then came the overpowering scent of sweet perfume - he realized someone was embracing him from above. Still half-asleep and trapped in the nightmare's remnants, he thrashed his body and flailed his hands to escape the embrace. But only stifled moans emerged; his limbs refused to move, hands completely immobilized as if bound by sleep paralysis.

“Stay still,” came a panting whisper near his ear. “You’ll stay still for me, won’t you, Shin-san? You understand—you’ll stay still.”

Shinpachi shook his head. A thick, viscous heat pressed against his lips, touched his earlobe, then sucked at his lips with painful intensity. Shinpachi finally awoke and, nearly overwhelmed by terror, grabbed that arm and twisted his body. The other person entangled him with hands and legs, pressed down, pinned him, and tightened their grip. A slimy, fiery heat clung to his cheeks and neck, bit into his shoulder, and enveloped him in ragged panting.

“I don’t want this,” Shinpachi brushed her hand away. “Please stop—I don’t want this!” Shinpachi sprang up. The other person said, “It hurts.” The oil lamp had gone out, leaving the room pitch black.

“How cruel you are,” Omiya said in the darkness. Shinpachi remained seated and shrank backward. Then his back hit the wall. “How cruel you are, Shin-san. That’s going too far,” Omiya said.

Shinpachi stood up and groped open the sliding door. He thought of going outside. “Shin-san, what are you doing?” Omiya made a movement as if standing. “What do you think you’re doing, Shin-san?” “Wait—” Shinpachi stammered.

His voice was trembling miserably. He moved toward the three-tatami area.

“Wait, wait!” Omiya chased after him. “Forgive me—I was wrong! I’ll apologize properly, so please forgive me! Look, Shin-san—I won’t do anything at all, I promise! Please forgive me!” “Don’t come here.” Shinpachi said, his voice still trembling, “Please don’t come over here.” “Fine! I won’t come! I’ll behave! So you come back here!” “I’m staying here.” “I won’t do anything ever again, please—I’m begging you, Shin-san.”

“Don’t come over here.” “I’m not going anywhere—see? I’m right here.” “Please don’t mind me and go to sleep. I’ll stay like this for a while.” “No—I already said I wouldn’t do it again, see? I’m apologizing! Please come back to bed—please, Shin-san!” “I’ll stay like this for a while.”

Shinpachi sat in that three-tatami area. Omiya kept pleading. Shinpachi no longer responded. Omiya returned and lit the oil lamp, saying, “Well then, I’ll go to sleep.” Shinpachi remained silent. Omiya swore she truly wouldn’t do anything anymore and said, “Once I’m asleep and you think it’s safe, you should go to bed too.”

Shinpachi sat with his back against the wall. Omiya slipped into her bedding. —He had known it would come to this. The thought echoed through him.

Under the floorboards late at night when everything had quieted down, crickets were chirping incessantly. Shinpachi quietly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Without Shinpachi noticing, Omiya had been shortening the distance between their bedding each night. Eventually he noticed, but he couldn’t say anything. He thought he wasn’t in a position to complain about such things. Omiya would turn over and sometimes place her hands or legs on Shinpachi’s bedding, but he would only shift his body away quietly—never pushing her back or waking her to object. And so it had come to this. Shinpachi wiped his lips, face, and neck with his sleepwear sleeve as vomiting seized him.

“Forgive me, Shin-san,” Omiya whispered in the six-tatami room. “I thought of you as a brother—and while thinking of you that way, my feelings grew beyond that. It’s agonizing.” “I’ll never do anything you dislike again, so please don’t resent me.” Omiya’s stifled sobs were audible. Shinpachi listened intently to the crickets’ chirping.

Sparks

Kakizaki Rokurōbei left his residence, went straight to Tabatamachi, turned right at the Second District, and entered Saifukuji Temple. He did not emerge again. The following morning, two ronin entered through the low gate set in the temple’s earthen wall, and around ten o'clock, three more ronin entered.

And shortly before two in the afternoon—Kakizaki Rokurōbei came out of the gate accompanied by a ronin. This companion was a man different from the five who had arrived later—one who had likely stayed at the temple—and he was Nonaka Matagorō.

When they came out onto Tabatamachi Street, there the two parted. Nonaka lowered his head and said, “Well then.” Rokurōbei did not even nod. He walked away without glancing at Nonaka and boarded a palanquin at the corner of Katamachi.

“Take me to Udagawachō,” he said from inside the palanquin. When the palanquin reached Shiba Udagawachō, he alighted there, crossed Udagawa Bridge to the south, and visited the gate of Date Hyōbu’s residence. When he gave his name—apparently expected—the guard guided him to the side entrance, where he was handed over to a young samurai. The young samurai guided him to the reception room, said “Wait here for a while,” and left. He was kept waiting for a long time. Tea and sweets were served twice, and when nearly two hours had passed, a middle-aged samurai appeared and announced himself as Tadano Naizen, the steward. Rokurōbei silently nodded in acknowledgment.

“Let me hear the nature of your business,” said Naizen. Rokurōbei remained silent. Naizen repeated the same thing once more. “I have requested an audience with Lord Hyōbu-shōyū,” answered Rokurōbei. “I am aware of that,” said Naizen. “I am aware of that, but as steward, it is my duty to first inquire about the nature of your business.” Rokurōbei looked at the man, then spoke coldly.

“To put it plainly, it concerns Lord Ichinoseki’s head.”

Naizen fell silent, then after a moment said in a quiet voice, “That is a grave matter indeed.”

Rokurōbei remained silent. “However, with just that alone being too abrupt, I find it difficult to convey your request. Could you provide a few more details?” “If this doesn’t work, I’ll simply leave,” said Rokurōbei. Naizen remained silent for a while, but likely seeing that Rokurōbei would not consent, he said “Wait a moment” and stood up to leave. Once again, he was kept waiting. And after about a quarter of an hour, a small-statured, robustly built samurai in his mid-forties emerged and announced, “I am Niitsuma Hayato, the chief retainer.”

Rokurōbei gazed rudely at the man. Niitsuma Hayato also stared back at Rokurōbei with calm eyes. In response to him announcing himself, Rokurōbei gave a nod but said nothing. Hayato spoke again. “Let me hear your business.” “You’re a stubborn lot,” Rokurōbei said. “How many times must I repeat myself?”

“I will hear your business.” “So you’re saying you won’t let me meet with the lord?” “Let me hear your business.”

Rokurōbei remained silent. Then he said, "I requested to meet with His Lordship directly regarding a grave matter and came here because of his reply that he would see me." "That reply was sent by me." "Are you saying His Lordship doesn't know?"

"If we had to seek the lord's approval for every such matter, there'd be no need for chief retainers or stewards - wouldn't you agree?" "This concerns extraordinary circumstances." "Then explain precisely how they're extraordinary."

“I’ll tell it when I meet the lord,” said Rokurōbei. “Otherwise, I’ll simply leave.” Hayato looked sharply at him. “Very well,” Hayato nodded. “Then we have no choice.”

Rokurōbei stood up, taking his sword with his left hand without a flicker of his brow.

When Hayato called out, a young samurai came out to guide them. Rokurōbei quietly began walking down the corridor toward the entrance, following the young samurai. At that moment, likely having heard what was happening, steward Tadano Naizen came hurrying after him with shuffling steps. “Wait,” called Naizen.

Rokurōbei continued walking in silence. Naizen caught up and said, "His Lordship will meet you," but Rokurōbei did not stop. "Please wait—His Lordship has commanded to meet you, Kakizaki-dono." "I don't want to," Rokurōbei said as he walked. "I detest haggling." "This is our failing. As my lord was unaware, please—please wait a moment." Rokurōbei stopped. "Your failing?"

“It was unavoidable in the line of duty, so I beg you to kindly return with this understanding.”

“You’re a troublesome lot.” Rokurōbei sneered, then nodded.

“Please come this way.”

Naizen escorted him back to the reception room. There was another commotion there. When told to leave his sword there, Rokurōbei refused. Taking custody of swords was not such an unreasonable request. Even if it was a minor daimyo of just over ten thousand koku, there was proper etiquette for appearing before him. As for the short sword, that was one matter, but it was customary to leave the long sword when appearing. However, Rokurōbei refused. "I am a ronin who receives stipends from no one." "I came to warn Lord Hyōbu, so I won’t meet unless we’re equals," he said.

Niitsuma Hayato was no longer there. Troubled, Naizen went to consult those in the inner chambers, then returned and acquiesced: "Very well—as you are."

He was ushered to the small study hall. This time they did not keep him waiting. Naizen attended at Rokurōbei's side while Hyōbu appeared on the upper level accompanied by a single page. Rokurōbei gave a shallow bow.

“...I’ll hear it,” said Hyōbu. Rokurōbei stared boldly into Hyōbu’s eyes and said, “I request that everyone withdraw.” Hyōbu silently met his gaze, then spoke.

"Is it truly that grave?" "It is for your sake, my lord."

Tadano Naizen tried to say something. Hyōbu stopped him and, with a faint smile, said, “Everyone withdraw.” The page placed the long sword he was holding on the sword rack and left. Naizen hesitated slightly but nevertheless withdrew to the entrance side.

“I’ll hear it,” said Hyōbu. “I believe Lord Hayato has already informed you, but there are those watching for your lordship’s seal.” “What sort of people are they?” “You should already know.” “Then why did you come?” said Hyōbu. “If you think I already know, there’d be no need for you to be here.” “Your words are precisely correct.” “Then what did you come here for?” “I thought it might be of use to your lordship.”

Hyōbu fell silent. "As for who watches your lordship, I believe you already know that yourself." Rokurōbei said slowly, "However, their motives for observing your lordship and the fact that they might act beyond merely targeting your life—"

Rokurōbei cut off his words. Hyōbu had laughed. When Rokurōbei stopped speaking, Hyōbu said, "Pay it no mind." "I'm listening. Continue."

“It seems you do not believe what I am saying,” said Rokurōbei. Then Hyōbu said, “I prefer straightforwardness—that’s all there is to it.” “I am speaking plainly,” [Kakizaki] replied. “Very well—continue.” Rokurōbei inwardly clicked his tongue. He’s a formidable one indeed. Hyōbu’s laughter held no particular meaning—it was meant to interrupt the flow of the speaker’s words. To avoid being swept up in the momentum of the account, he had deliberately cut off its progression.

“They”—Rokurōbei said—“know whose hands killed their fathers, masters, and elder brothers, and what lay behind it.” “Including you?”

“I do as well.” “This isn’t some delusion of yours, is it?” “That is something your lordship should already know.”

“Let me hear the rest,” said Hyōbu.

Rokurōbei said bluntly. That a certain person had ordered Watanabe and three others to make Mutsu-no-kami indulge in debauchery—resulting in his lordship's confinement—and that to erase all evidence of having orchestrated this debauchery, [the same person] had those four assassinated. "All these deeds were executed under 'a certain person's' designs," he stated without reserve, "and the bereaved families of the slain all know this truth." When Hyōbu had heard him out, he smiled and said, "Are you implying this 'certain person' refers to me?"

Rokurōbei did not answer. Hyōbu said with a smile, "Then you must certainly understand why that certain person did such things—the reason behind it all." "The reasoning has dual facets—overt and covert," said Rokurōbei. "First: to rectify how Lord Mutsu-no-kami succeeded over his two elder brothers and correct this irregularity. Second: the plan for that person himself to replace Lord Mutsu-no-kami and become master of 600,000 koku."

“And are you saying this ‘certain person’ is me?” “I intend to be of service.” “Are you claiming I mean to make myself master of six hundred thousand koku?” “With all due respect,” said Rokurōbei, “I would not have come without securing conclusive evidence. I know of the succession ballot—and that Lord Ichinoseki’s name appeared among the candidates.” Hyōbu’s face tensed. Rokurōbei observed this keenly before continuing.

“I intend to be of service.” “State your terms,” said Hyōbu. Rokurōbei answered composedly, “Five hundred gold pieces upfront, followed by three hundred monthly thereafter. Extraordinary expenses shall be billed separately.” Hyōbu appeared to develop an interest in Rokurōbei. More than mere interest—one might say a shared facet of their natures drew Hyōbu powerfully. Hyōbu spoke. “I have tasted the bitterness of being an heirless retainer.”

“I am aware of it.” “I know the taste of cold rice,” said Hyōbu. “I’m no pampered daimyo’s son ignorant of money’s worth—even when I want something, I was raised to hold back if the price isn’t right.” “I maintain five capable men,” said Rokurōbei. “They are men of proper lineage with mastery beyond ordinary measure in military strategy and martial arts, yet through ill fortune find themselves in dire straits, forced to sell their lives to survive.”

“Do those men also know the circumstances?” “I am not one to let sentiment lead me into speaking needlessly.” “Seems so,” Hyōbu nodded. “I’ll have Hayato handle the gold.” “No—I will receive it directly from your lordship himself.” “Why?” “This contract remains solely between your lordship and myself—I want no one else interfering in our affairs. Any tasks you command must come directly from your lordship’s own mouth, and all payments shall reach my hands from your lordship’s own.”

“Do you mean to say you distrust my retainers?” “I detest bowing my head to others.” “I’ll remember this.” Hyōbu smiled. “How should I summon you?” “I will inform the chamberlain.” “What proof do you have of your usefulness?” “Are you acquainted with a man called Miyamoto Shinpachi?” “I am aware of him.”

“He was supposed to be confined to his home province.” “I heard he escaped during transport.” “I have him secured.” “Shinpachi?” “I have secured Miyamoto Shinpachi.” Hyōbu took out a piece of kaishi paper and wiped his lips. While wiping his lips with kaishi paper, he said, “Where to?” Rokurōbei remained silent. “Where have you put him?” said Hyōbu. Rokurōbei remained silent, staring fixedly at Hyōbu’s eyes. Hyōbu discarded the kaishi paper. And nodding, he said:

“Very well, I shall dispatch the payment.”

And he turned around and said, “This.”

It was close to eight in the evening when Rokurōbei left Hyōbu’s residence.

It was a night heavy with impending rain, sweltering and humid, the sky choked with low clouds that left the road in darkness. Rokurōbei emerged onto the main thoroughfare and turned toward Udagawa Bridge when he abruptly stopped. Don't come.

"Don’t follow," Rokurōbei thought. He had come to a halt without turning around, yet could unmistakably sense someone trailing him from behind. The pursuer had likely been waiting at the corner of the plastered wall surrounding Hyōbu’s residence. There he had let Rokurōbei pass before following at a measured interval. All of this registered with crystalline clarity. Was this meant to be a killing strike or merely a test of skill? Now the stalker hid himself.

Which one was it? Rokurōbei looked to both sides of the road. He feigned uncertainty about which direction to take when hailing a street palanquin. He slowly crossed Udagawa Bridge. When he turned left down the road, there stood the middle residence of the Date main family. Since both sides were lined with samurai residences for some distance, though still early in the evening, few lights shone and scarcely any people passed by.

Rokurōbei entered that road. The pursuer followed him. The plastered earthen wall of the Date residence stretched along the road, and the light from the warrior windows in the gate guardhouse cast a faint glow on the surface below. When he reached that spot, Now, Rokurōbei thought. His intuition had been correct. The opponent who had been closing the distance until then stealthily advanced along the gravel road and charged from behind with a low, clipped battle cry. It was a precise and superb thrust. At the instant his opponent's sword tip was about to strike his torso, Rokurōbei twisted his body like a swallow wheeling in flight. The blade grazed Rokurōbei's side—piercing through his kimono—but as he twisted, the sword in his hand flashed brightly. His opponent dashed past like a ricocheting ball and swiftly turned to face him.

The opponent was still young. He wore a dark kimono with the hakama's crotch panel hitched up and a tasuki sash across his chest. He apparently hadn't had time to wipe his sweat; he wore no mask, and his feet were bare without tabi. “What’ll you do?” Rokurōbei said. “Still mean to fight?”

The opponent closed the distance. He remained silent, teeth visible between clenched lips. “Were you ordered to kill me?” Rokurōbei said. “You’re not up to the task.” At that moment, the opponent launched his slash. From straight ahead to the right flank, he leapt forward, sinking his body into a crouch shaped like the character “ku”. This strike too was precise, its timing and blade work both executed with superb precision. When the sword that seemed headed straight for his face was redirected toward his right flank, Rokurōbei swiftly rose onto his tiptoes and, swinging his blade to the right, leapt sideways. The opponent dropped violently to his knees, and his sword struck the ground. The sword struck a stone on the road, and sparks flew. The sound of steel meeting stone and the sparks that flew from it seemed to signal that the match had ended.

Rokurōbei thrust his sword toward the opponent’s face.

The opponent remained on one knee, heaving breaths through his shoulders. Rokurōbei watched from above, taking in the sight for a while. On the shoji of the warrior window in the gatehouse—where light shone—a human shadow appeared. Someone must have heard the commotion, but there was no sign of anyone opening the shoji, and the shadow vanished almost immediately. “Who gave the order?” Rokurōbei demanded. “Was it Hyōbu-shōyū?” “Kill me,” the opponent said.

“Was it Hyōbu-shōyū’s order?” Rokurōbei said. “There’s nothing to say. Kill me.” “I’ll make you talk.” Rokurōbei thrust the tip of his blade against the opponent’s forehead. “If you don’t talk,” he said, “I’ll bind you like this and drag you out where people will see. Even if you refuse to name that man, the Sendai domain’s six hundred thousand koku will be exposed.” “Kill me,” the opponent said. “You can kill me, but you can’t bind me alive. You can’t stop me from dying by my own hand.”

“I see—”

As soon as he spoke, Rokurōbei kicked upward at the opponent's chest. He seemed intent on delivering a finishing strike, but at that moment, a figure emerged from the shadows ahead.

“That’s enough. Stop there,” the man said. Rokurōbei leaped to the side. The pursuer twisted his torso sideways, gasping as he kept one hand planted on the road. The man approached this way. “Who are you?” Rokurōbei said. “Don’t concern yourself with that,” the man said. “What you want to know is the person who ordered that man to kill you—one called Niizuma Hayato.”

“Niizuma Hayato—” “He’s a loyal retainer of the Ichinoseki family,” the man said. “And that poor fellow over there is Watanabe Shichibei—a master of assassination.” "Who is that person?" "Is that all you have to ask?"

“Who is that person?” Rokurōbei said. The man chuckled, turned around, and said as he walked away, “I am Itō Shichijūrō.” The sound of chuckling lingered in the air. Rokurōbei stood blankly watching him depart.

Fallen willow leaves

In the living room of the Yushima house, Harada Kai sat facing his desk, writing a memorandum. At his side, Itō Shichijūrō was animatedly talking while drinking sake. Past four in the afternoon. The late August sun was already sinking, and outside the open window beyond the wall lay a darkened pine forest with deep crimson evening clouds hanging high above it. Shichijūrō sat cross-legged in his everyday clothes before the sake and food tray, talking with a cup in one hand, when he suddenly fell silent and looked up at the sky veiled in evening clouds.

From the direction of the sitting room came the lively sounds of songs and shamisen. There, a separate banquet was being held for Kai’s wife. As Ritsu would be returning to Funooka tomorrow, Okumi had taken on the role of host and was holding a small drinking banquet.

“That’s strange—is it already that season?” Shichijūrō murmured. “Those must be geese.”

Shichijūrō raised the hand holding his cup toward the sky. Kai continued writing. *Same day, August 15.* Kai began a new entry. A messenger arrived from the senior councilors; they proceeded to the Sakai residence. Lord Ichinoseki; Lord Wakidani; Lord Danjō; Suō; Daijō; Lord Katakura; and myself—seven in total. Lord Tachibana and Okuyama Daigaku did not attend.

The senior councilors were Lord Sakai (Utau), Lord Inaba (Mino), and Lord Abe (Bungo). Also among the attendants was Lord Kuze (Yamato). Lord Sakai conducted an inquiry, with Suō handling the responses; the questions and answers were roughly as follows. Sakai: Mutsu-no-kami was ordered into confinement due to misconduct, and recently, when instructed to present a succession plan, you apparently petitioned for Kamechiyo to inherit the family headship. Is there any discrepancy here?

Suō: There is no discrepancy in our petition for Kamechiyo to inherit the family headship. Sakai: —How old is Kamechiyo? Suō: —Born in March of last year (Manji 2), making him two years this year. Sakai: —Do you believe such an infant can administer a 600,000-koku domain? Suō: —Regarding this matter, the Date clan members and family elders thoroughly deliberated before deciding through ballot. Sakai: —No infant can govern Sendai's 600,000-koku domain. Therefore, being of Lord Masamune's bloodline, you should newly petition for someone aged fifteen years or more.

Lord Sakai’s words were precisely the clan’s critical matter. Lord Wakidani trembled and held his breath. Lord Sakai’s words aligned perfectly with what Moniwa Suō had stated the previous night at the construction hut near Kichijōji Bridge. Starting with Lord Wakidani, everyone felt their very souls wither.

Suō repeated his request, and Lord Sakai shook his head.

Lord Sakai calmly repeated—using Lord Kamechiyo's youth as a shield—that they should petition for someone older. Then Suō said: Suō: —There may be provisions for appointing a regent to administer the 600,000-koku domain. The heir to the family headship must be none other than a biological child of Mutsu-no-kami. Kamechiyo is the legitimate successor of the late Masamune. If Kamechiyo cannot inherit the headship, we would rather have the Date family dissolved.

Sakai: —"Abolish Sendai." Suō: —If someone illegitimate were to be appointed as family head, we would rather have our 600,000-koku domain abolished. Suō’s words had a quality that pierced straight to the core. Even Lord Wakidani seemed not to have anticipated that Suō would speak so boldly in that manner. Even Lord Sakai fell silent for about five beats' time. At that moment, Lord Kuze spoke.

That Lord Kuze attended the meeting as a senior shogunal advisor was standard protocol for a major domain’s succession issue, but the fact that it was specifically Lord Kuze must be regarded as demonstrating his extraordinary favor toward Suō.

Lord Kuze spoke. Kuze: —What Lord Moniwa has stated accords with reason as retainers of the Date house. Then Senior Councilor Lord Abe swiftly interjected. Abe: —I too recognize validity in Lord Moniwa's arguments... You should withdraw temporarily and await further instruction.

Lord Abe was the senior councilor of highest precedence. The lord’s statement was salvation. A deep sigh from Lord Wakidani could be heard, and his entire body, which had stiffened, seemed to relax. After waiting approximately half an hour, we were summoned again, whereupon Lord Abe issued the announcement that "We will deliberate," and we withdrew.

Kai wrote up to that point and, without looking toward Shichijūrō, asked, “What about the geese?” “The geese have just flown over now,” Shichijūrō said. “It’s too early for them to arrive, but those were definitely geese. An ill omen.” “Is Shichijūrō observing omens?” “It’s not superstition. There’s an old farmers’ tradition that says, ‘A year when geese arrive early brings a poor harvest.’” “So what happened?”

“So, in other words—” Shichijūrō looked at Kai, then said “Ah, I see,” and poured himself a drink. Then he said.

“And that’s the end of it.” “Who is that man?” “I don’t know.” Shichijūrō drank by his own hand again. “You don’t know?” said Kai. “I don’t know,” Shichijūrō said, then continued, “I visited Udagawa Bridge past noon, drank some sake, and ended up dozing off. This napping is a specialty of mine, you see. When I lie around like that, I can overhear all sorts of things.” “Are you going to do it here too?”

"That’s precisely how I was able to inform you about the spy’s presence here."

Kai laughed. Shichijūrō added with slight embarrassment. “Though you already knew that, didn’t you?” “Perhaps.” “I can’t compete with you.” Kai resumed writing. Shichijūrō continued. “While lying about napping—a specialty of mine—I heard Watanabe Shichibei’s voice. Since he mentioned ‘senior councilor,’ his mark must’ve been Niitsuma Hayato. Simpleton that he is—gets all fired up when asked a favor. ‘Very well,’ he must’ve said. ‘I’ll finish them off without fail,’ he declared with gusto. So I roused myself, took my leave, and trailed them.”

Kai was writing.

――August 23rd.

A brush was delivered from Hatakodō. There was a secret letter from Suō stating, "I was summoned by Lord Kuze, who said we should rest assured regarding the succession; no joy surpasses this."

――August 25th.

That is to say, on the morning of the day before yesterday, a messenger arrived from the senior councilors, and [they] proceeded to the Sakai residence.

Lord Ichinoseki, Lord Tachibana, Lord Ōta (Settunokami Suketsugu). Daijō, Katakura, Suō, and myself—seven people in total. Lord Wakidani; Okuyama Daigaku did not attend. The attendees were: Shogunal Advisor; Lord Hoshina (Masayuki); Lord Sakai; Lord Abe; Lord Inaba; Grand Inspector; Lord Kanematsu (Shimōsa)—the above.

The pronouncements were: —

First: Kamechiyo is hereby permitted to succeed as head of the Date family.

First: Both individuals—Date Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu and Tamura Ukyō Muneyoshi—shall serve as guardians for Kamechiyo. First: Hyōbu and Ukyō shall each receive an increase in stipend and be granted thirty thousand koku, inclusive of their original holdings. The above was as stated. ――August 27th.

Namely today, notification was issued from the shogunate to the feudal lords regarding Lord Kamechiyo’s succession and both guardianship appointments.

How immense must have been the joy of Lord Wakidani, Suō, and the entire household. Suō, wishing to particularly express gratitude for Lord Kuze’s mediation, delivered a ten-*ken* felt carpet gifted from the Mito (Yorifusa) family, accompanied by sake and side dishes. “Haven’t you finished yet?” Shichijūrō said. “There’s old man Wakidani’s meeting today too, isn’t there? I heard old man Wakidani’s meeting starts at five o’clock. Isn’t that the case?”

“Is Shichijūrō also attending?” “That old man is the one I can’t handle.” “Seems that way.”

Kai wrote again. ―Tomorrow morning, Lord Wakidani will return to his domain. And he set down the brush.

“It was typical of Shichijūrō to visit places like Ichinoseki without hesitation yet find Lord Wakidani difficult to handle.” “Even Benkei had his weak spot,” said Shichijūrō. Kai put away the memorandum and swept the desk with one hand. Through the open window, yellowed willow leaves came scattering in. The willow tree was by the back gate, and there didn’t seem to be much wind, yet its dead leaves kept scattering through the window.

“I suppose Satomi is there,” Kai said.

Shichijūrō drank from his self-poured cup. "He's here, of course." "You slipped away to discuss this matter?" "They started bickering—got too loud. Have a drink with me."

“Let’s leave that for later.” “You’re not just a drinker.” “I like sake.”

“You’re not just a drinker—you drink often and may seem like a sake lover, but you’re not a drinker.” “Don’t get so worked up.” “You’re not a womanizer either,” Shichijūrō said. “Women often fall for you—mysteriously often—and you yourself may act sweet toward them, but you’re certainly no womanizer.” “Don’t get so worked up,” Kai said. “I like both sake and women.”

“Itō Shichijūrō cannot be deceived.” “Who can say?”

“Then shall I say it?” “Let’s go where there’s sake and women I like. Besides Satomi, who else is here?” “Gotō Magobei and Mayama Gyōbu.” “Mayama and Gotō?” “They’re the magistrates for the moat construction,” Shichijūrō said. “Satomi Jūzaemon said you wanted to commend them.” “I did say that.” “It seems Satomi was terribly apologetic because it clashed with Her Ladyship’s separate banquet.” “Lord Wakidani’s at five then.”

“The venue is Mr. Matsuyama’s.”

“Five o’clock… That’s fine.”

Kai rang the bell on the desk. When Okumi arrived, he said, "Change."

Shichijūrō held only his cup and said while standing, “When the time comes, I will say so.” The guests were four men: Satomi Jūzaemon, Itō Shichijūrō, Gotō Magobei, and Mayama Gyōbu. Gotō and Mayama served as magistrates for the Koishikawa moat construction, remaining almost entirely stationed at their on-site hut. Since Satomi Jūzaemon frequently praised their diligence, he had proposed commending them once—but Satomi, unaware that tonight’s invitation was actually for a separate banquet honoring Ritsu, had brought these two along.

As a result, Ritsu—the guest of honor—naturally assumed the role of host and had to attend to the guests alongside Okumi. There were seven performers in total, men and women alike, and with musical instruments, songs, and dances—all perfectly suited to Ritsu's preferences—the banquet had grown into a lively affair.

Kai sat in his seat, greeted the guests, drank about three cups, then excused himself by saying, “There is Lord Wakidani’s separate banquet,” and left the gathering. Then Ritsu came chasing after him. “You will come back, won’t you?” Ritsu asked. “That’s my intention.” “You will come back,” Ritsu said firmly. “We haven’t had a single proper talk yet, and I can’t bear you leaving like this.” “I intend to come back.”

“There’s something I must discuss.” “I’ll hear it after we return to Funooka.” “Then it might be too late.” “I have a general idea,” Kai said. Ritsu looked at her husband as if startled. “So you do understand.” “You think I don’t know?”

“There’s no way you could know.” “Then that’s fine,” Kai said.

“Please wait!” “There’s no time left.”

“Let me ask just one thing,” Ritsu said, her face stiffening and eyes glittering. “Do you truly understand?” “I am your husband.” “Is that true?” “It’s not just this time—the last time as well, and the time before that,” Kai said.

Ritsu turned pale. She tried to say something, but her lips only quivered, and no words came out.

“The palanquin has arrived,” Okumi’s voice came from beyond the sliding door. Ritsu responded, “Have them wait,” then turned to her husband and demanded: “What do you mean by ‘this time,’ ‘the last time,’ and ‘the time before that’?” Her voice quivered with anger. “Tell me properly—what exactly are you implying?” “We’ll discuss it after returning to Funooka.”

“No, I will hear it now.” “There’s no time.”

Kai tried to leave. Ritsu moved around in front of him and grabbed her husband’s arms with both hands. “Please tell me what you’re thinking—I know you won’t return tonight, and it’s too cruel to send me back to Funooka like this.” “This is just my nature.” “That’s right—you are that sort of person,” Ritsu said trembling. “You’re cold, heartless, cruel—for fifteen years and more as husband and wife, you’ve never once shown your true self. You always shut yourself away inside your own world, never letting anyone draw near—even when people are suffering or in anguish, you just silently watch. You’re that kind of cruel, utterly unmanly person.”

“Your perception seems accurate,” Kai nodded. “However, I can no longer change this nature of mine. We’ll discuss that matter after returning to Funooka.”

“What do you mean to say after we return to Funooka?” “Let me state plainly,” Kai said. “It isn’t only you who has lived as my wife these fifteen years and more—I too have been your husband through all that time.” “That requires no explanation.”

“Then that’s fine.”

“So what are you saying?” “Then I’m saying that’s fine.” Kai said this and quietly shook off the hand that had been grasping him. Ritsu stepped back.

“There’s one thing I beg of you,” Ritsu pleaded in a low voice. “Please dismiss Nakaguro Tatsumiya.” “What for?” “I can’t tell you the reason.” Kai averted his gaze. “Can I dismiss someone who has served since their parent’s generation without reason?” “That’s precisely why I’m making this single request.” “I can’t do that.” “Is there truly no way?” Kai went to the sliding door, opened it, and left. From behind, Ritsu called out “You—” in a pleading voice.

Kai turned around and said. “Convey my regards to Mother.” “You—”

Kai went out to the entrance. At the entrance, Matsubara Jūemon, Okamoto Jirōbee, and Nakaguro Tatsumiya were waiting in attendance. As if she had been waiting for Kai to emerge, Okumi came out from the direction of the cedar door holding a sword to see him off. There was no sign of Ritsu coming. "I don't think I'll return tonight," Kai said to the three. "Jūemon, it seems my wife's chronic condition has flared up. Take good care of her on the way." "Understood."

“Tatsumiya—” Kai looked at him.

Nakaguro Tatsumiya's refined face, his hands pressed to the floor as he looked up, tensed sharply. "You will remain in Edo," Kai said. Tatsumiya met his gaze without flinching. "Though this contradicts your command, I most humbly beg leave to return home—my mother has fallen ill." "No—you stay here," Kai replied. "When Lord Shibata Kura-no-suke arrives at New Year's, I too shall return to the domain. Until then, you remain in Edo."

Tatsumiya tried to say something but remained silent and bowed his head.

Kai received the sword from Okumi and descended to the entrance. By the palanquin waited Yazaki Toneri and Naruse Kyuma. There were two palanquins—when he glanced at the rear one，Itō Shichijurō flashed a grin. "I've reconsidered," said Shichijurō. "I'll meet Wakidani's old man instead—better than Satomi's stubborn fossil."

"That's going to be difficult." "What do you mean?" "Lord Wakidani maintains strict protocol, and Matsuyama (Moniwa Suō) adheres rigidly to formalities. Were I being invited as Shichijūrō specifically, that would be different—but otherwise, merely obtaining an audience would prove challenging."

Kai boarded the palanquin. The two palanquins were lifted up together. "It's nothing—I'm fine," Shichijūrō said from the rear palanquin. "The old man prioritizes formality and ceremony—I dislike that aspect—but he's an easy target to appease." "That's splendid." "You don't believe me?" "That's not true." "Very well—just wait and see," Shichijūrō said. "I'll wrap this up neatly for you to see, so just wait and see."

Kai did not respond.

Moniwa Suō’s residence was within Hamayashiki. Kai arrived slightly late for the appointed time. In the guest room, the banquet had already begun.

Chrysanthemum

That night, eight guests had gathered at the Moniwa residence. The guest of honor was Date Aki, followed by the current senior councilor, Okuyama Daigaku, Daijō Hyōgo, and Furuuchi Shuzen. Also present was Katakura Kojūrō, who represented the dignity of a principal family. In addition were Harada Kai, Tomizuka Kuranosuke, and Endō Matashichirō; these three were senior councilors referred to as "Chakusa" (seated elders).

The drinking seemed to have started earlier than the scheduled time. Kai had only been slightly late, but the gathering had already grown lively, and Okuyama Daigaku was already drunk, holding forth with some animated performance. Kai greeted Furuuchi Shuzen. Shuzen Shigeyasu was fifty-two years old—a gentle man with a thin, pale face and low voice who seemed to have already entered old age. His late father, Shuzen Shigehiro, had committed junshi for Tadamune. This time, he had been dispatched to Mount Kōya for Tadamune’s memorial service and returned three days prior.

After the greetings were concluded, Shuzen said in a hushed voice. “It seems everything has settled peacefully—you must have been greatly relieved.”

Kai smiled ambiguously. "I heard the outline from Lord Suō," said Shuzen. "I also heard about Lord Kuze. Lord Suō stated he had resolved himself that this might mean the Date clan's destruction." "Lord Suō was masterful," Kai said. "That single statement he made to Lord Sakai—'If Lord Kamechiyo is not permitted to inherit the family headship, I would rather have our six hundred thousand koku domain abolished'—is what saved the clan."

"I heard about that from Lord Daijō—that single statement certainly had its effect," Shuzen nodded, then continued in a lowered voice, "However, as Lord Suō stated, he could make that declaration only because Lord Kuze was present at the gathering. Moreover, behind Lord Kuze's attendance lay Lord Itakura's strenuous efforts." Kai nodded while averting his eyes. "Lord Suō mentioned that someone must have appealed to Lord Itakura about our plight. From Lord Kuze's manner of speaking, he said it indeed seemed as though someone had gone to petition Lord Itakura."

“That may be the case,” Kai said while averting his eyes. “I cannot say for certain, but as this matter seems to have become widely known among the feudal lords, I believe Lord Itakura was kind enough to exert himself based solely on his own considerations.” “Mr. Harada, what about you?”

“Excuse me,” Kai interrupted Shuzen, “I shall go pay my respects to Lord Wakidani.”

Kai stood up and went to greet Aki. And then, this time, he returned to his seat.

His seat was at the center of three senior councilors, slightly separated from Furuuchi Shuzen. From his own seat, Shuzen occasionally cast nonchalant glances toward Kai. "Lord Iwanuma (Shuzen) must know," Okuyama Daigaku declared. "When the late Lord Shuzen performed junshi, he voiced his apprehension: 'While His Lordship of Ichinoseki's keen intellect strengthens our clan, its very excess breeds unease. He is too astute by half—his wisdom verges on cunning. This overabundance of acuity troubles me deeply.' Was this not precisely his warning, Lord Iwanuma?"

"That was the intended meaning," Shuzen said, his voice and tone both feeble as he continued, "though I recall phrasing it less forcefully—that while His Lordship's acuity is reassuring, I cannot help feeling concern for the clan's sake." "It amounts to the same thing," Daigaku declared, drinking from his cup. Okuyama Daigaku was forty-six at the time, younger than Shuzen. As lord of Yoshioka in Kurokawa District—a 6,000-koku estate occupying Sendai Domain's most fertile lands—he enjoyed considerable wealth. His nature was imperious; he took pride in what he called impulsive forthrightness, never once compromising what he deemed righteous.

“It’s the same thing,” Daigaku said. “The late Lord Shuzen had already discerned where the root of the calamity lay—I have seen the evidence of that.” He looked at Aki and said, “When I first arrived in Edo and went to pay my respects at Udagawa Bridge, Lord Ichinoseki himself brought up the matter of the bidding. He mentioned that some had submitted bids for Ukyō-dono and Shikibu-dono, and—strangely enough—even for yours truly here.”

“Indeed, that does appear to be so,” Tomizuka Kuranosuke said. “I too have heard that two or three individuals submitted bids to Lord Ichinoseki.” “My gall boiled over,” Daigaku said, wholly disregarding Tomizuka’s words as he continued addressing Aki. “So I inquired—I could not refrain from asking—‘What manner of person submitted bids to Lord Ichinoseki?’” “And then,” Katakura Kojūrō asked, “what did Lord Ichinoseki say in reply?”

“Lord Ichinoseki gave a bitter smile and said, ‘Now that the matter is settled, there should be no need for unnecessary inquiries.’” “So I said, ‘If such talk is unnecessary after the matter is settled, then you shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place—but now that I’ve heard it, I must know those names.’” Daigaku’s manner of speaking was intense and defiant. Everyone remained silent and listened. Daigaku continued. “As a senior councilor, I stated that I needed to know those names. Then Lord Ichinoseki nodded plausibly and said, ‘Very well—I shall name only those who submitted bids to me: Lord Danjō (Yasutoshi).’”

“An exchange of bids, I presume?” Tomizuka said, “Lord Danjō to Lord Ichinoseki, and Lord Ichinoseki—” At that moment, Aki coughed. He interrupted Tomizuka with a deliberate cough, then asked: “When will Lord Yoshioka (Daigaku) return to your province?”

“Me? I—” Daigaku looked at the cup he held. Aki said quietly, “I will soon take up duty as the Edo guard, but since my leave from the province has not been lifted, I must temporarily return home. Would you not return together with this old man?” “Thank you kindly, but as there are matters I must attend to, I intend to return within four or five days,” Daigaku replied. He was sullen. What he spoke of held grave significance—for the future of the Date clan, it was imperative to clarify matters here and establish countermeasures without fail. Daigaku thought so. Moreover, this opponent had taken on the role of guardian and had already shown tendencies to interfere in domain administration; henceforth, this interference would likely intensify further. Tamura Ukyō, the co-guardian, was a man of mere gentleness. Whether Suō, Shuzen, or certainly Daijō—none could restrain Ichinoseki. This was what Daigaku thought.

They cannot suppress Ichinoseki—Suō, Shuzen, and Hyōgo will likely end up being manipulated by him instead. Daigaku had been thinking. “Lord Funooka,” Aki said, “it has been too long. Let us share a drink.” Kai acknowledged with a silent nod. The serving boy received the cup from Aki, stood up, and came before Kai. When Kai took the cup, the young retainer in attendance poured the sake. Kai looked into his cup, then turned his gaze to Aki.

“This is something I baked,” Aki said. “A diversion I made in Wakidani. Having heard Lord Funooka enjoys sake, I thought to present it and brought it here—though you may find it unworthy, please take it home.” Kai said, “I humbly accept,” drank the sake, then immediately wrapped the cup in tissue paper and placed it inside his robe. Okuyama Daigaku began speaking again. After some time, Kai got up to wash his hands, but upon returning, he began drinking incessantly and soon collapsed drunk. Until Kai collapsed from drunkenness, Okuyama Daigaku continued raising objections.

Daigaku disliked everyone, and his relationship with Moniwa Suō was especially poor. As a senior councilor, Moniwa Suō held the highest seat. The fact that Suō, a full seven years his junior, occupied a superior position must have been a source of irritation. Yet he found no rapport with Daijō Hyōgo or Furuuchi Shuzen either, though they shared the same gathering. Aki's presence proved fortunate. Even Daigaku appeared to lack the nerve to oppose Date Aki directly—while his fervor remained undiminished, its vitriol grew markedly subdued compared to his usual manner.

When Kai collapsed from drunkenness, Suō himself stood up, summoned three young retainers, and had them take him to his sleeping quarters. It was less an escort and more like being dragged along—such was the state of his drunkenness. Then just before dawn, sensing someone enter his sleeping quarters, Kai lifted his head to see Moniwa Suō. “Let us go—” Suō said.

Kai got up. He had removed his hakama but remained dressed, and Suō too was still in his everyday attire.

“It’s a little before four o’clock,” Suō said.

While heading out into the corridor, Kai whispered, "There's a spy among our attendants. This isn't good." "It was unavoidable."

“Using cups is far too reckless,” Kai said. “I dislike such methods—the brush handles were bad enough, but writing messages in rouge on cups amounts to playing with danger.” “You should understand this was unavoidable,” Suō said. “Hidden messages or covert messengers would only let them catch the scent. Doing it openly before others actually blinds their eyes—the safest method there is.”

“I do not approve,” Kai said. “I am not suited for such things.”

“Here,” Suō said as he came to a halt.

The room spanned eight tatami mats with a shoin window, unmistakably Suō's habitual sitting chamber. When the two men entered, a young woman who had been positioned behind Aki rose, offered them a formal nod, and departed in silence. Aki wore a white sleeping robe fastened with a white corded belt. The departing woman's attire mirrored his—her unbound hair gathered at her nape, the vivid hue of her obi sash, and the graceful arc of bare feet deftly managing her hem's drape all etched themselves sharply in Kai's perception. As Aki emerged from his bedchamber and settled himself—the woman having apparently been tending to his hair moments before—Suō drew the candlestick nearer.

"That was an impressive drunken feat," Aki said. Showing complete disinterest in the woman who had just left, he addressed Kai as soon as they sat down. Kai remained silent and lowered his head. "I truly believed I'd passed out drunk," he continued. "Though I did drink heavily, I thought to myself—'This must be what genuine collapse feels like.'"

“A bit lower,” Suō cautioned. “Country folk do have loud voices.” Aki smiled wryly and readjusted his position on the mat. Until then, he had kept his right knee raised with his elbow resting on it, through the torn hem of his sleeping garment exposing his sun-darkened, hairy shin—but as he settled properly, he brought both hands together on his knees. “Now then—” Aki lowered his voice, “it seems we’ve weathered the immediate storm. The peril of our six hundred thousand koku being carved apart may have receded for now—but this isn’t over.”

Kai was looking at the alcove. In Suō’s prized celadon vase stood a single white chrysanthemum. In the dark alcove beyond the candlestick’s reach, that solitary bloom appeared quietly luminous—as though listening intently to their conversation. The chrysanthemums are blooming already. Kai noted inwardly. “While Lord Iwagasaki—Tamura Ukyō of Kurihara District’s fifteen thousand koku—remains manageable,” Aki said, “installing Ichi-no-seki as regent was doubtlessly Lord Sakai’s scheme. Ukyō’s upright mildness makes him no match for Ichi-no-seki. This conspiracy to split our six hundred thousand koku has merely weathered its first storm—it remains far from vanquished.” He leaned forward, voice hardening. “With Sakai still maneuvering externally and Ichi-no-seki now wielding regency powers at our clan’s core, our true trials begin here. Worse yet—most senior retainers’ allegiances stay ambiguous. Those we can truly trust grow fewer by the day. This scarcity of reliable allies forms our greatest obstacle.”

Aki looked alternately at the two men. “The scarcity of retainers we can trust within our household poses greater difficulty than the enemy’s formidable power—this collusion between internal and external forces being secondary. We must first thoroughly verify this reality; whatever actions we take hereafter, we must never lose sight of this truth.” “Beyond that,” Suō added, “Lord Wakuya and our faction, as well as myself and Funooka, must persist in maintaining our conventionally distant relations.”

“Rather, we must present ourselves as being at odds.”

“Let us maintain an appearance of discord.” Aki nodded and said, “Then let us begin our discussion.” The discussion among the three took a little over an hour. Kai offered no opinions, listened to the two men’s discussion, and merely approved the agreed-upon terms. When that had ended and he returned to his original sleeping quarters, the lattice window was faintly lit by dawn. As Suō, who had escorted him to his sleeping quarters, was about to leave, Kai stopped him. “Won’t you sit for a moment?”

“They’ll notice us.” “One thing,” Kai said. “You do realize they’re watching Matsuyama and me especially.” Suō nodded. “Merely pretending discord as before won’t suffice for executing our plans. We must adopt a clearer form of mutual estrangement.” “Such as?” “I can’t speak of it here,” Kai said. “If we coordinate methods beforehand, they’ll recognize it as staged estrangement immediately. Let Matsuyama devise his own approach—I have mine.”

“Is there really a need to go that far?” “I don’t care either way,” Kai said. “As I’ve stated repeatedly, I dislike these matters. Whether it be Lord Ichi-no-seki’s conspiracy or this current plan to counter it, I have no interest—if anything, they’re a nuisance. I wish to remain uninvolved and left alone.” “Is that your true intention?” Suō countered. “I can speak my true intentions to Matsuyama.”

“Then why did you go to Lord Itakura?” Suō said. “If you dislike such methods, why did you voluntarily meet him and request assistance with the succession issue?” “Don’t misunderstand,” Kai said with a wry smile. “That was merely an invitation to tea. Given that Shichijūrō had prior connections with Lord Itakura through his acquaintance, when a new gathering was established, a message was sent for me to come.” “Like ‘sneak in secretly’?” “As if I would sneak! My visit to Lord Itakura has long been known to Lord Ichi-no-seki. It’s nearly absurd for Matsuyama to make such remarks now.”

“Understood. Let’s leave it at that.” Suō said, “Then does Funooka wish to withdraw from this matter?”

“If withdrawal is permissible.” “Then will you withdraw if permitted?” Suō pressed closer. Kai quietly looked at Suō.

“If Lord Wakuya and I were to say it’s acceptable to withdraw, would Funooka withdraw?” “That would be better.” “That’s certain?” Suō twisted his lips. “There’s no mistake in those words.” “There’s no mistake.” “Harada... Was that who you truly were?” Suō’s voice trembled, “No—I can’t believe this. Such a thing is impossible. I know you.” “From the time you were called Koshirō—though I never spoke it aloud—I had sincerely respected and relied on you. Yet now, when our clan faces this crisis—”

“Ah,” Kai quietly interjected, “let us refrain from such exaggeration. Anyone in their youth would naturally rely on an elder kinsman—all the more so given Matsuyama and I share multiple marital ties and are but three years apart, while you yourself had no brothers. Thus, those boyhood sentiments linger even now. While I appreciate your respect and reliance, I must ask you to spare me this inflated perception.”

“What exactly have I exaggerated?”

“All of it.” Kai said this, stared fixedly into Suō’s eyes, then shrugged his shoulders. “I shall take my leave.” “Are you leaving like this?” Suō said. Kai stood up. “This is how it will be. There’s nothing more to discuss.” “No—the discussion hasn’t concluded yet!”

“Kyūma, are you there?” Kai called. Suō’s complexion changed instantly. He realized someone had been in the adjacent room and stared at Kai with an expression like one doused with cold water, mouth agape. Kai called again. “Kyūma, enter.” This time came a reply. A voice answered from beyond the intervening room, and Naruse Kyūma appeared at once. “The hakama—” Kai said. The youth promptly brought the pleated trousers from the next chamber and assisted Kai in donning them.

“Did you sleep?” Kai asked.

Kyūma answered, “Yes.” “Because I was dozing off, I didn’t hear you call.”

“You didn’t hear me?” “It was your second call that finally roused me.” “I see,” said Kai, looking at Suō. Suō lowered his eyes. “Tell the footman to ready the palanquin.”

When Kyūma left, Suō raised his eyes. Kai said as he took up his sword.

“The chrysanthemum in the alcove was magnificent.”

Fragment (3)

“Lord Wakuya has departed.”

“I see.”

Lord Funooka’s wife was with him.

“Have they already returned?” ——It seems there was some sort of dispute. “Between husband and wife?” ——They had stated so. “They’re supposed to be on good terms.” ——It was said that your wife had addressed Lord Funooka, declaring, “You are a cold and heartless man.” “That’s the first time I’ve heard such an assessment.” ——Yes. “Until now, Harada has been called a deeply compassionate, warm-hearted man. Hasn’t it been said that he alone has no enemies and is held in everyone’s goodwill?”

——Such is my understanding. “Moreover, did that wife say ‘cold and heartless’?” ——It was said she had stated, “I have lived with you for over fifteen years.” “Surely it isn’t jealousy.” ——At the Yushima residence, he is with a woman named Kumi. “That’s not true. She isn’t the sort of woman who would feel jealousy over some concubine. I knew her when she was a girl—she was generous and open-hearted, never the type to harbor such envy.”

——Yes. “Perhaps there’s meaning to this ‘cold and heartless’ remark. If after fifteen years together, my wife says Harada Kai is a cold man—very well, I’ll remember that.”

――Regarding the separate banquet. “Who attended?” ――The four family elders, three senior retainers, and Lord Katakura were present. “Did Daigaku also attend?” ――Lord Okuyama was alone, vehemently arguing in a loud voice, it seems. “What did they say?” ――They couldn’t get close enough and apparently couldn’t make out the content, but he reported that only Lord Okuyama’s raised voice was heard. “What did Harada do?”

——They say he drank himself into a stupor and was moved to his quarters midway.

“You planned this together.” ——It appears he truly was drunk, but he claimed to have stayed awake and kept watch. “Did nothing happen?”

——Nothing occurred until dawnbreak, but when he began dozing off, Lord Murayama’s voice was reportedly heard. “This was prearranged.” ——Is that truly so? “Wakuya conspired too.” ——No—it’s stated only Lord Murayama participated. Lord Wakuya’s voice wasn’t detected. “What did Suō say?” ——He quarreled with Lord Funooka, who was instructed to withdraw.

“To withdraw, you say?” ――Lord Funooka had stated that he dislikes such matters and has no desire to involve himself, adding that his invitation to Lord Itakura’s new tea room opening was merely for the kettle-lighting ceremony and held no other significance. “Harada with Suō?” ――It has been confirmed without doubt. “That sly fox.” ——Yes. “Even if Suō is deceived, I won’t be. But very well—I’ll keep watching.” ――That is all.

“Tell Hayato to come too.”

――Would you like me to summon him? “What about Saifukuji Temple?” ――It ended in failure. “Let’s hear it.” ――All six appear devoted to Kakizaki Rokurōbei and rejected our offer. “Are you saying they refuse the stipend?”

――We have entrusted our lives to Kakizaki. “They swore to obey Kakizaki’s commands in all matters of advancement, retreat, life, and death—no condition could make them betray him,” they reported. “What are the names of the six?” ――Nonaka Matagorō, a *rōnin* from Gamō. Likewise, Shimada Ichizō, a *rōnin*. Higo *rōnin* Ishikawa Hyōgo no Suke. Washū *rōnin* Sunayama Tadayuki. Chūgoku *rōnin* Fujisawa Kuranosuke. Likewise, Chūgoku *rōnin* Oda Naiki. That concludes the list. “You reported they were all in dire straits.”

——Nonaka, Oda, and Sunayama have families, while the others are all single; however, each and every one of them is said to be in dire straits. “And yet they still refuse the stipend?” ——They appear to be utterly devoted to Kakizaki. “That approach suited those six, I suppose.” ——Such were your instructions. “Failed with Shichibei’s sword, failed with Hayato’s persuasion—and what’s more, Itō Shichijūrō witnessed it all with Shichibei. This is my defeat.”

“Shall we press them?” “Let’s use them.” “As you command, but—” “No—let’s try using him. He seems useful. Moreover, if he commands such loyalty from six men, there should be plenty of ways to employ them going forward.”

――Understood. “If they request compensation, give it to them—I’ve given the order.”

In the glow of a solitary lamp

After Date Aki and his wife Ritsu returned to the domain together, Kai came down with a mild cold and secluded himself for four or five days. On September 2nd, the shogunate’s provincial inspectors—officials dispatched to oversee various domains, with two sent annually to Sendai for six-month terms—arrived at the Date family’s Sakurada main residence bearing the shogun’s black-sealed document. The provincial inspectors were two men: Tsuda Heizaemon, a shogunal envoy, and Tsuge Hyōemon, likewise a shogunal envoy. The black seal bore Shogun Ietsuna’s kaō—a stylized signature—and carried greater authority than the vermilion seal. Kamechiyo, held in Kakumori’s arms, met the two men in the Omote Hiroshoin and received the black-sealed document. This marked the shogunate’s official recognition of Kamechiyo as head of the Date family, prompting collective relief across the domain and a grand celebratory banquet.

Kai did not attend the reception for the black-sealed document, nor did he attend the celebratory banquet. Shibata Kura no Suke was expected to depart for Edo by December at the earliest or January at the latest, and once that happened, Kai would be able to return to Funooka. He informed Moniwa Sagetsu of Matsuyama of this matter by letter and also wrote two more letters with the same meaning. One was addressed to Yogobei, who served as a mountain warden in Funooka, and the other to an inn at the hot springs in Aone—both were correspondents whom Kai, during his stay in the domain, could not do without for his peace of mind.

The night of September 5th. Nakaguro Tatsumiya attempted suicide. After being left behind in Edo, Tatsumiya had shut himself away in a room, speaking to no one and tormented by profound anguish.

He had lost his father at seven, and now with only his mother in Funooka, he was twenty-two and still unmarried. A hereditary retainer since his late father's time, his residence stood within the estate grounds, and until four years prior, he had served continuously at Kai's side. Tatsumiya was fair-skinned, with thick eyebrows and an oblong face of refined handsomeness. A man of few words, fastidious and strong-willed by nature, he kept largely to himself rather than mingling with his peers. Around ten o'clock on the night of the fifth, as Kai was drafting a memorandum, a clamor of voices arose from the samurai quarters. Kai set down his brush and listened for a time, but sensing this disturbance surpassed ordinary commotion, he rang the bell on his desk.

Immediately, Shiozawa Tansaburō came.

"Bring me tea," Kai said. "What's all the commotion?" Tansaburō answered, "I will go and see," then left. Just then, as if trading places, Horuchi Sōzaemon entered.

“What happened?” asked Kai. “Nakaguro Tatsumiya is attempting to commit seppuku.” “Tatsumiya?” Kai raised his eyebrows. Deep wrinkles formed on his forehead. Sōzaemon said.

“Yazaki found him and stopped him, but he insists he must cut his belly—‘a warrior’s compassion’—and won’t listen to our pleas to desist.” Kai set down his brush. “Bring him here,” Kai said. “Use force if you must, but bring him here.”

Sōzaemon left. Tansaburō brought the tea utensils. Kai pulled them closer before his knees and, with quiet movements, brewed the tea himself. When Tansaburō withdrew and Sōzaemon accompanied him in, Nakaguro Tatsumiya entered.

He was wearing a lined kimono in casual attire without an obi, hair disheveled, his face pale and rigid.

“Horuchi, withdraw,” Kai said. “Tell Tansaburō to retreat to the quarters as well. Ensure no one enters unless summoned.” Sōzaemon acknowledged and left. Kai quietly sipped his tea.

It was a bitterly cold night. A single bell cricket somewhere in the walls, and then about two ground crickets beneath the floorboards chirped faintly with intermittent voices, as though lamenting something to each other.

“What happened?” Kai said. Tatsumiya remained silent, both hands on his knees trembling minutely. “For what reason are you trying to die?” “I cannot say,” Tatsumiya said. Kai again slowly sipped his tea. Then he lowered the hand holding the tea bowl onto his knees and spoke in a low, quiet voice. “Do you know my wife told them to grant you leave?” Tatsumiya bowed his head. “Why would she order that? Do you understand her reason?”

“Yes.” Tatsumiya’s voice was low. “Is that why you tried to kill yourself?” Tatsumiya remained silent. “Was it for that reason you tried to die?” “――Yes.” Tears spilled from the eyes of Tatsumiya, who had bowed his head. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.

“Tatsumiya, how do you regard me?” “As my only lord through three lifetimes.” “Then why would you seek death when I forbid it?”

“Please forgive me.” Tatsumiya collapsed forward, pressing both hands against the tatami as he began to sob. Through his tears, he said, “To die without stating my reasons and betraying your trust would be the utmost disloyalty—yet I simply cannot go on living. There are circumstances… circumstances that make it impossible for me to live.” “I know the reason,” Kai said. Tatsumiya flinched and looked up with tear-filled eyes. “I know the reason,” said Kai.

Tatsumiya's face, which had looked up at Kai, stiffened from doubt and fear.

“That’s why I can well understand your desire to kill yourself,” said Kai. “Another man might choose a different path, but you’ve resolved to die by your own hand—you must believe suicide is the best solution. I know your nature, and I fully grasp the desperation driving these thoughts. If it were possible, I’d let you end your life—but you must continue living.”

Kai set down the tea bowl. “In any circumstance, living proves no easier than dying—particularly now, when death might seem preferable to you. But Tatsumiya, I cannot permit you to die. You must not simply live; you must shoulder a duty more grueling than death itself—a task steeped in hardship.” Tatsumiya returned both hands to his knees. “If you truly regard me as your lord through three lifetimes, you should honor this request—does this demand overreach?”

“Is this something I am capable of?” “That depends entirely on your resolve.” “I am already as good as dead.” “Will you listen?” “Yes,” Tatsumiya answered.

“Then move closer,” said Kai. Tatsumiya wiped his tears and moved forward on his knees.

The discussion lasted over half an hour. Kai spoke frankly. Tatsumiya was initially astonished. Kai said there was no one else he could rely on but him, and Tatsumiya pleaded. "I cannot do that." "Rather, please let me commit suicide now," he said. Kai was patient. He spoke of the complex problems concerning the domain's future and the delicate difficulties of his own position, and requested his assistance. "For a samurai, there is no mistake that 'death in loyalty' is one's true aspiration." "However, for the sake of a samurai’s 'Way,' there are times when one must endure bearing the stigma of disloyalty and insubordination." "I too am resolved to this, so you must assist me." Kai repeated those words.

Tatsumiya finally consented. “Hate me,” Kai said. “My request is lawless. But you must understand—it must be done.” “Yes,” Tatsumiya said, bowing his head. “Beyond you, others too must shoulder similar duties. To be born a samurai in these times—to have a master like me—is misfortune itself. Hate me. Loathe me. But fulfill your role.”

Tatsumiya said “Yes” and bowed his head even lower. After a brief silence pierced through, the sound of crickets could be heard intermittently. Kai said quietly, “Then withdraw and rest.”

Tatsumiya left quietly.

On the day Kai recovered from his cold and returned to duty, an incident occurred at the Koishikawa construction site, prompting a request for the councilors to conduct an inspection. It had been raining since morning, but as Kai held senior rank, he set out with the other five. At the construction site, Chief Overseer Moniwa Suō awaited them and personally guided the six around. The matter involved a completed section of embankment—approximately fifty ken (ninety meters)—that had collapsed, necessitating reconstruction from scratch. This not only risked missing the mandated deadline but also dealt a severe blow to the domain due to the ballooning costs.

The canal construction was a tremendous burden for the Date family. From Sujikai Bridge on the Kanda River, proceeding westward upstream past Ochanomizu Moat, Kichijōji Bridge, and Koishikawa Bridge, reaching between Ushigome Gomon and Dobashi. They dredged and deepened the existing canal structure to make it navigable for boats—this section spanning 660 ken (1,188 meters) in length. Width: thirty ken (54 meters). Depth: two and a half ken (4.5 meters). It was a large-scale project that involved using the excavated soil to build embankments on both banks. The calculation was one hundred laborers per ten thousand koku of rice yield, so for six hundred twenty thousand koku, that meant six thousand two hundred people. The shogunate provided stipend rice only for the number of workers, with all remaining expenses borne entirely by the Date family. As a result, an additional levy was imposed on all domain retainers, but due to the difficult construction, they had to continually increase the laborers’ wages. With the embankment already having collapsed three times previously, the construction budget was stretched to its limit.

Then yet another section of the embankment—over fifty *ken* (ninety meters)—collapsed. As Moniwa Suō, the construction overseer guiding them around—along with Gotō Magoemon, Mayama Gyōbu, inspectors Satomi Jūzaemon and Kitami Hikoemon—not a single one spoke a word, and the six councilors could only sigh. After completing their inspection, they discussed matters for about an hour at the hut near Kichijōji Bridge.—When concluding their meeting and preparing to leave, Mayama Gyōbu and Satomi Jūzaemon stood outside arguing loudly with five men who appeared to be labor bosses.

Seeing Kai stop, Satomi Jūzaemon approached. “The laborers have come demanding a wage increase,” said Jūza. “With winter approaching and the work requiring entering water, no one will labor at the current wages. They make these lawless demands—asking for one bu of gold per day.” “Four days for one koban?” said Kai. “A bitter pill, but we’ll have to swallow it.” “One bu per day?” “They’re shrewd,” said Kai. “The shogunate delights in our mounting expenses—the laborers know this full well.” “No sense raging at an inevitable defeat.”

And then Kai said, “Come eat morning porridge on your day off,” and left the place. The rain fell continuously for three days. And on the afternoon after the rain stopped, Kai went to the Shinagawa lower residence to attend upon Mutsu-no-kami. Due to Mutsu-no-kami being in the midst of drinking, Ōmachi Bizen (Sadayori), the house elder of the lower residence, attempted to refuse Kai’s request for an audience. The shogunate had ordered him into confinement, he argued, so having the current senior councilor meet with him might be deemed unlawful.

Kai nodded calmly and said in an utterly casual tone, “Since Lord Kamechiyo has been granted succession rights and even received the shogun’s vermilion seal, Lord Munekatsu should now be considered ‘retired.’ Even without renewed official notice, we may consider the confinement lifted.” Then Bizen changed the subject. “Lord Mutsu-no-kami is currently drinking,” he said. “Lately, he has developed a tendency to become violent when intoxicated. Perhaps you could meet him when he is not drunk.” Kai asked without objection, “Does he drink often?” “Almost every day and night,” Bizen replied. “That must be quite trying for you. Does he become violent every time?” “Not necessarily every time,” Bizen said. “But if something displeases him or he meets someone he doesn’t usually see, he becomes agitated and violent.”

“With my duty rotation approaching its end, it seems I will be returning to the domain,” said Kai. “Given these circumstances, there may not be another suitable opportunity, so I shall request an audience today to take my formal leave.” “If you insist,” Bizen replied. “Please convey my request,” Kai said. Bizen reluctantly stood and left, but almost immediately afterward, a young samurai entered the room. Having likely expected Ōmachi Bizen’s presence, the young man started upon seeing Harada Kai instead. He gave a brief bow with his eyes and turned to withdraw.

“Wait, Zendayū,” Kai called out. “Aren’t you Imamura Zendayū?” The young samurai said “Yes” and knelt down there.

That was the inspector named Imamura Zendayū. Kai stared fixedly at his face with a look as if beholding something rare; Zendayū averted his gaze. "Have you been transferred to a new post?" Kai said. Zendayū lowered his hands and answered in a trembling voice, "That is not the case." "Then have you come as a messenger?"

“Yes,” Zendayū stammered. “Are you saying you came as a messenger?” Kai demanded.

Zendayū did not answer. At that moment, Ōmachi Bizen returned and, upon seeing this scene, turned pale. Kai looked at Bizen. “Please, proceed to his presence—” Bizen said. There was an unmistakable note in Bizen’s “Please proceed to his presence—” that sought to hastily patch over the situation.

Kai stood up. He neither glanced toward Imamura Zendayū nor showed any sign of acknowledging his presence. Bizen shot a sharp look at Zendayū before rising to guide Kai. When they stepped into the corridor, Bizen appeared to want to speak but seemed unable to form words immediately. He means to explain Zendayū's presence here. Kai discerned.

That alone was sufficient.

Kai thought to himself. At this lower residence, aside from Ōmachi Bizen, there were seven samurai and otherwise only low-ranking men; the rest consisted of thirteen female attendants and forty-seven lower-ranking female servants—a life surrounded almost entirely by women.

Ōmachi Bizen had been appointed house elder of Shinagawa immediately after Mutsu-no-kami's relocation there, with Hyōbu Munekatsu being the one who selected him. Moreover, Kai understood perfectly well that Imamura Zendayū's recent assignment as an inspector stationed at the main residence had likewise been Hyōbu's doing.

Like water gradually seeping into land from low ground, Hyōbu expanded his reach inch by inch, moment by moment, through an invisible force. Now to Kai, it seemed he could see this with his very eyes. At the checkpoint gate waited an old woman called Fujii. Kai halted. He would likely be transferred to the old woman there. If so, Munekatsu must be in the inner quarters. The division between front and inner quarters was exceedingly strict—even Kai wavered slightly.

“Please proceed without reservation,” Bizen said. “You are being summoned, so please do.”

The old woman also bowed courteously and said, “This way.” Kai passed through the checkpoint gate and entered the inner quarters. Mutsu-no-kami was in the sukiya-style room.

By his side was Mitsuzawa Hatsume, and five female attendants were seated serving. Hatsume was twenty-one years old, the same age as Mutsu-no-kami, but having given birth to Kamechiyo the previous year, she appeared considerably older than her years. It later became clear that she must have been pregnant at the time—her round face with its gentle demeanor had good color to it, and her body looked healthily sturdy. “Ah, you’ve come. Come this way.” Mutsu-no-kami beckoned with his hand, “I’m a retired man now—no need for formal bows. Come closer. You’ve come all this way. Kai here can hold his liquor well. Let’s start with a cup.”

Mutsu-no-kami said hurriedly. He looked genuinely delighted, as though he couldn’t contain his joy. Kai received the cup. Mutsu-no-kami said.

“Refill your cup. I’ll drink too. You’ve come all this way—let’s talk while we drink. It’s been too long.” Tsunasada talked on alone and drank heavily. Kai listened silently and continued refilling the cup as instructed. Seeing how delighted Tsunasada appeared, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the sake or interrupt the conversation, and before he knew it, over an hour had passed. Gradually, Tsunasada grew increasingly agitated, his round, well-fleshed face stiffening and turning pale.

"I am a pitiful man," Tsunasada said. "You know just how pitiful I am, don't you, Kai? My father hated me." "With all due respect,"

Kai tried to stop him. He thought that above all else, he had to prevent the conversation from touching upon the late lord. But Tsunasada shook his head and said: "No—I'll speak! Even if I don't, everyone knows it—Father hated me! Until I met Hatsu, he wouldn't even choose me a wife! Does such a thing exist? An heir to six hundred thousand koku with no betrothed until twenty? Do you think this happens elsewhere, Kai?"

Kai looked at his cup. "You know full well the circumstances under which I married this Hatsu, Kai. Hatsu was promised to be my wife. Her aunt Kii declared she would only consent if made principal wife, and Father gave his approval. Was that not the case?"

Kai quietly raised his eyes. It was exactly as Tsunasada had said. Kai knew that it was neither an exaggeration nor a mistake. Hatsu’s father had been a ronin from Mino named Mitsuzawa Gonza, and her mother was of the Kuchiki clan. She had been born in Tottori but gone to Edo, where she was raised by her aunt Kii from age thirteen. Kii had originally served in the Ōoku of Edo Castle but came to the Date household as an attendant when Princess Furi—daughter of Ikeda Terumasa and adopted foster daughter of Shogun Hidetada—was married to Tadamune. Hatsu had been raised under Kii’s care, and when Tsunasada sought to take her as his wife, Kii had declared plainly: “Only if she becomes principal wife.” Tsunasada relayed this to his father; Tadamune consented, and they performed the wedding rites. Yet they merely exchanged nuptial cups without formal ceremony—in the end, Hatsu remained a concubine.

“That’s not all,” Tsunasada continued. “Father refused to settle the succession until his deathbed—Suō [Moniwa Sadamoto] had to visit his sickbed time and again, remonstrating desperately before he finally relented. You know this too, Kai. Father hated me—if not hatred, then cold disdain.” “And that’s what drove me into this wretched state—do you understand, Kai?”

“With all due respect,” Kai said, “I cannot entertain any further inquiries regarding Lord Kansen-den [Tadamune]. Should you persist in speaking of this matter, I shall take my leave.” “No—I won’t let you leave! You shouldn’t even *be able* to leave!” Tsunasada said. “The only ones I can open my heart to are Suō and you, Kai! Since being confined, I haven’t been able to meet either Suō or you—can’t summon you, can’t even send letters. Now that I’ve finally met you after so long, you can’t just plug your ears and walk away! You can’t do that to me, Kai!”

Tsunasada's voice trembled, and his eyes, fixed on Kai, glistened with moisture. Kai averted his eyes. “So you still insist on leaving?” Tsunasada said. “If even *you* turn away from me, I have nothing more to say. Leave if you must.” “Lord Harada,” said Hatsu. Kai nodded. “I apologize for offending your sensibilities,” Kai said. “As long as you refrain from speaking of Lord Kansen-den, I would be delighted to hear what you have to say.”

“Even if it’s a fact?” “No matter what facts there may be.” “You’re afraid,” Tsunasada said. “You know the facts—why I was confined, what schemes lay behind it, whose hand crafted those schemes. Kai must know all this well.”

“My Lady,” Kai looked at Hatsu.

Meaning "Should we dismiss the attendants?"—Hatsu smiled with lonely grace and said what meant "It’s all the same in the end." “Of course—ask if you must!” Tsunasada’s voice rose sharply. “I had been restraining myself—hadn’t touched sake for ages. But why did I start drinking again? Who created the opportunity? You don’t know, Kai—you were Funooka back then.” "I have also heard."

“About the Hamayashiki?” “Satomi Jūza was stationed at the far end from your seat.” “Could you tell from afar?” Tsunasada said sharply. “The Hamayashiki was celebrating its completion—a banquet was held. When I set down my third cup, Daigaku urged me to drink more—‘You’ve settled the succession and are now master of 600,000 koku,’ he pressed. ‘There’s no one left to restrain you—drink your fill!’ Did Jūza know that?” “He did say as much.”

"I am a weak man—particularly when it comes to alcohol—and I know this well myself. That's why I had been restraining myself," Tsunasada said. "That's why I'd kept away all this time! But Daigaku told me to drink—'Now that the succession is settled and you're master of the Date clan, there's no one left to hold back for!' So I drank."

Tsunasada reached out to Hatsu. Hatsu took a large cup and handed it over, and the serving woman filled it to the brim. Tsunasada downed it in one gulp and said. "I drank. Daigaku praised me—'Splendid!' I kept downing large cups. Daigaku praised me all the more, and not one soul tried to stop me. Does Jūza know this?" "After that," Kai said, "Jūza must have reprimanded Lord Ōyama."

“If it were you, Kai—what would you do?” Tsunasada said. “Would even you reprimand Daigaku?” Kai remained silent. “Jūza doesn’t understand—perhaps no one does. However, if you hear that Ichinoseki was present at that gathering, seated next to Daigaku, then at the very least, you, Kai, should grasp the circumstances.” Tsunasada had more sake poured and drank, then waved his hand at the maids. “Why aren’t you pouring for Funooka?” he said, planting one hand on his knee and squaring his shoulders.

“Daigaku is nothing but a hot-tempered simpleton,” Tsunasada said. “That man’s a paper kite—ika-nobori—dancing on others’ strings, not his own will. Don’t you hear him now? Shrieking slander that Moniwa Suō pushed drink at Hamayashiki?”

“I have not yet heard of it.”

“Then you’ll hear it soon enough—even my ears, confined here, have caught wind of it. You should hear it too, so listen well: he’s now fixated on slandering Suō, never once realizing he’s just an ika-nobori (paper kite) jerked about by their strings.”

And then Tsunasada laughed. It was a dry, rasping laugh—one that mocked himself. "Of course, the paper kites aren't just Daigaku alone—there are plenty more, *plenty* more, Kai!" Tsunasada said. "My confinement proves it—I was reprimanded by the shogunate. Why? Why did the shogunate reprimand me? What did I do to deserve being ordered into confinement? What did I do? True, I visited the pleasure quarters—barely over ten days, and only after inspecting the construction barracks... And it wasn't even my own wish! My aunt in Kyoto (my mother's elder sister, Lady Hōshunmon-in)—" "When summer greetings came from my aunt—the mother of Emperor Go-Sai—someone had four men accompany me out, saying 'Your diligence will wear down this body; you should divert yourself a little.' They forced me to go out and made them guide me to the pleasure quarters. You know who that was, Kai—Ichinoseki! It’s Ichinoseki pulling the strings! Everything up to now has been the scheme of Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu!"

Tsunasada's face turned deathly pale, his bloodshot eyes beginning to gleam with unnatural intensity. He seemed to have forgotten the sake cup in his hand, striking his knee with it as he shouted. "And not one soul restrains me! Even those who know full well these are all Hyōbu's schemes stand idle—hands bound, silent witnesses who lift not a finger!" "I must beg to differ." "You too, Kai!" Tsunasada roared. "You're among them—Harada Kai!"

“Lord Harada,” said Hatsu. Kai nodded to Hatsu as if to say, “It’s alright.” “I must beg to differ,” Kai said quietly. “I do not fully grasp the meaning of your words.” “What don’t you understand?” “Everything you have said,” Kai replied. “Now that the young lord has succeeded to the headship and the Date clan stands secure, for what purpose do you utter such things? Should any disturbance arise from these drunken words of yours—what would you do? After all pains taken to secure the clan’s stability, what would you do if some calamity were to befall it?”

“Silence, Kai! Sendai’s six hundred thousand koku are mine!” Tsunasada shouted. “If I must live out my days in obscurity, ensnared in Hyōbu’s conspiracies—better to let it all crumble than endure this!”

Kai looked at Tsunasada with sorrowful eyes. “I’ll destroy it!” Tsunasada shouted. “What six hundred thousand koku? I’ll tear it all down splendidly! If you think I’m some wooden puppet who’ll stay silent in the face of this outrage, you’re mistaken! I’ll destroy it for sure!” “Yes, I understand,” Hatsu said. “Lord Harada also fully comprehends Your Lordship’s feelings. Please desist now—let us have Konami dance to restore your spirits.”

“Silence! What do you know, Kai?” Tsunasada shouted “At him!” and hurled the cup he held at Kai. Kai made no move to evade it—the vessel struck his chest before clattering onto the meal tray. “This wretch conspires too!” Tsunasada bellowed. “Kai’s allied with Lord Hyōbu! I’ll mete justice myself—bring my blade!” “Lord Harada!” Hatsu screamed.

Tsunasada stood up, took the sword from the stand behind him, and drew it. “Lord Harada, please hurry!” Hatsu cried out. Kai did not move. Nodding to Hatsu as if to say “It’s alright,” he remained seated with a sake cup in one hand. Tsunasada came down from the upper platform holding the drawn sword. His eyes were slanted upward in rage, and his steps faltered from extreme drunkenness. “My Lord!” cried Fujii, the elderly maidservant. And then she chased after Tsunasada and clung to his arm. Tsunasada shook her off.

“Kai, don’t move!” “My Lord!” Fujii clung to him once more.

Tsunasada violently shoved her away. Fujii staggered to her knees and screamed, "Lord Harada, please escape!"

Hatsu was crying. From his seat on the upper platform, Kai saw her covering her face with both hands. Because Kai did not move, Tsunasada struck. He likely hadn’t intended to kill. Kai twisted his upper body and casually grabbed Tsunasada’s right hand. Tsunasada writhed. “Please calm yourself,” said Kai. Tsunasada shouted, “You dare resist me?” “Please calm yourself.” Tsunasada said, “Damn you!” and raised his foot. As he tried to kick, Kai narrowly avoided it, twisted his arm back, seized the sword, and shoved him away.

Tsunasada fell backward. “Lady Fujii,” said Kai, extending the sword. The elderly woman received it with both sleeves folded and swiftly went to the upper platform. Tsunasada remained sitting on his rear, gasping laboriously with “haa, haa” breaths, placed both hands before him, and lowered his head. “I’m still twenty-one,” Tsunasada said. “I’m still twenty-one, Kai! Do you understand? Can you fathom it? I’ve barely been in this world for less than two years at this age—and now I must spend all my days ahead living in the shadows. Do you understand this feeling?”

Kai remained silent.

Tsunasada raised his face and looked at Kai. Tsunasada's eyes were wet. Kai stared fixedly at Tsunasada’s wet eyes. “Forgive me. I was wrong,” Tsunasada said. “Will you come again?”

“I will return to Funooka in January.”

“Don’t come again.” “When my official duties conclude, I shall attend upon you.” “I’ll be waiting!” Tsunasada averted his face and, stretching one hand behind him, said, “Hatsu, give me your hand.” Tsunasada, supported by Hatsu, retreated to the inner chambers. The sukiya room had already grown dark; maids holding hand candles led the way ahead of them, leaving the elderly woman behind as the other maids followed protectively from the rear. Kai watched them leave. The candlelight dimly and precariously reflected the figure of Tsunasada, supported by Hatsu, as he staggered beyond the upper sliding doors and disappeared. Kai watched silently. When Tsunasada’s figure disappeared from view, he quietly closed his eyes and sat in silence for some time. It appeared as though he were trying to etch the image of Tsunasada as he was now into his memory.

Suddenly, a sob was heard. Fujii, the elderly maidservant, began to cry. She said in a low, whisper-like voice, “Don’t you find it heartrending?” Kai did not answer. “When His Lordship indulges in drink, it always turns out like that. Is there truly nothing that can be done?” “Well—” Kai raised his eyes, “I shall take my leave now.” “Lord Harada,” Fujii said in a trembling voice, “don’t you find this current state of affairs pitiable? Is there truly nothing that can be done?”

“In regard to what?” “It’s about having His Lordship return to the main residence. Forcing him into retirement like this is too heartrending. Is there truly no way to lift his punishment?” “I am merely a councilor,” Kai said calmly. “I am not familiar with such matters, nor am I in a position to comment.”

“Oh, Lord Harada...” “I shall take my leave now.” And he stood up.

After boarding the palanquin, Kai took out folded paper from his breast pocket and pressed it to his eyes. The palanquin passed through the lower residence gate and moved through streets steeped in twilight for four or five blocks. Throughout this journey, he kept the paper pressed against his eyes, sitting motionless with bated breath.

At the end of that month, a letter arrived from Katakura Hayato, the senior retainer managing Funooka during his absence.

The autumn harvest they had worried about had turned out better than expected, and the tax rice had begun to be collected. Though temperatures were lower than usual, the skies had remained clear throughout, and the dace in the Shiraishi River had grown fat. A few days earlier, Yogobei had come down from the mountains and reported that judging by the movements of wild animals, this winter would likely bring heavy snow. The farmers were also saying among themselves that the wheat crop would yield a more bountiful harvest than usual.

As the shogunate's provincial inspector was coming, I went to Sendai.

The provincial inspector arrived on the 11th. On that day, the clan members, senior retainers, even town magistrates came out in hemp ceremonial robes to welcome them at Kawaramachi, and I too joined this reception. Those who guided them to their lodgings were Lord Shibata (Kura no Suke) and Lord Tomizuka (Kura no Jō).

The following 12th. At the provincial inspector’s summons, the Date clan’s main lineage, branch households, and extended relatives went to the lodgings, where the inspector presented the shogun’s vermilion-sealed documents; however, none of the senior councilors attended this event.

The 22nd. At Oku Castle’s Second Citadel, there was a reception for both inspectors, and I attended to assist with the hospitality. The guest of honor was Lord Wakuya [Date Aki]. There was musical entertainment by Nakazato Dōsaku—a physician accompanying the inspectors—and Togyoku Genrei. After the banquet, we guided both inspectors to the main keep, concluding the reception.

Lord Wakuya returned to his territory on the 23rd, and after seeing him off, I returned to Funooka.

There were no other changes during your absence; beginning with your wife and young Lord Koshirō being in good health, all matters were proceeding peacefully. Katakura Hayato’s letter concluded thus. That month had been eventful—it was decided that Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu and Ukyō-no-suke Muneyoshi would receive stipend increases as guardians of Kamechiyo. Hyōbu’s stipend was increased from just over 10,000 koku to 30,000 koku, and in addition to his main residence at Udagawa Bridge, he received a middle residence in Iikura Kawarakechō and a lower residence in Azabu Shinbori. His son Higashi Ichinokami relocated to the middle residence in Suwarichō.

Tamura Ukyō had originally held 15,000 koku in Iwagasaki, Kurihara District, but after being transferred to Iwanuma in Natori District, his stipend similarly increased to 30,000 koku, and he received a residence in Atagoshita. Ukyō was Tsunasada’s half-brother and three years his senior. After the stipend increases for both guardians were decided, a proposal regarding the appointment of senior retainers came from Hyōbu and Ukyō. The main proponent was Hyōbu, and Ukyō seemed to have been swayed by it. Shibata Kura no Suke and Tomizuka Kura no Jō were nominated as candidates, and Hyōbu attached the condition of "an increase of 3,000 koku each."

Thereupon, a council was held between the three senior retainers and four councilors, and after consulting with Tachibana Hida-no-kami, it was decided to appoint both men as senior retainers. Shibata Kura no Suke consented. He had been the lord of a 3,000-koku estate in Yonezawa, Tome District, but now became a 6,000-koku senior retainer while changing his name to Geki Asaoki. From Tomizuka Kura no Jō came refusal - he would accept the appointment but decline the stipend increase. He had stated that his current holding exceeding 2,000 koku sufficiently met all needs, and that any increase should be deferred until after the young lord's coming of age. Nevertheless, he ultimately accepted the augmented stipend, and both men assumed office as senior retainers.

And then October arrived.

Frost Columns

At nine o'clock on a clear morning, Omiya emerged from Jōmyō-in Temple's back gate. She appeared to observe Sensō-ji Temple's main hall roof and five-storied pagoda towering against the winter sky as she swiftly scanned both sides of the road, making her way past Denbō-in Temple toward Kasen Tea House. She wore a dark komon-patterned kimono layered with a navy hifu overgarment and had on a matching navy chirimen crepe hood. Her hands cradling a small bundle were adorned with crystal prayer beads; with her right hand tucked into her sleeve pressing down on the bundle, her figure appeared exactly as before - like a young widow visiting the temple for memorial rites.

“Please partake of our auspicious tea! Please enjoy our auspicious tea!” The tea shops lining the street were already filled with voices persistently calling to customers, and a fair number of pilgrims had emerged. Omiya entered the fifth tea shop from the end, greeting with “Auntie, good morning.” At the rear of the shop with its row of benches hung a noren curtain dyed with “O-Kichi,” from behind which a plump woman of about fifty peeked out.

“Oh, you’re back! You’re early this morning.” “There’s supposed to be a memorial service.” “Well then, come over here. No one else has come yet.”

Omiya entered the back. In the back, on one side of the dirt-floored area where a tea kettle, shelves for utensils, a water jar, and other items were placed, there was a small room of about three tatami mats, and steam was rising from the tea kettle.

“I’ll get the fire going now.” “I’ll be going back right away.” Omiya sat on the raised threshold of the small room and unwrapped the bundle she had been carrying. “Well, never mind. If you return at this hour, the neighbors will talk, won’t they? I’ll make some tea now.”

The woman took embers from the hearth with a fire shovel, placed them into the fire pot in the small room, and added charcoal. Omiya took some money out from the bundle, wrapped it in paper, and handed it to the woman.

“Auntie, this is the usual.” “Oh my, thank you kindly.” The woman immediately took it, tucked it into her sleeve, and returned to the tea kettle with the fire shovel. “You’d better keep your hood on—it’s bitterly cold this morning.” “It’s already November, after all.” “It’s November already, truly. So then, Omiya-san, how many months has it been since you came to Jōmyō-in Temple?”

“Since August.” “Four months, huh,” the woman said while pouring tea. “I hadn’t realized it, but you’re the first to stay four months here.” “Oh, really?” “Speaking of that priest—here, your tea.”

The woman came over, placed the tray bearing a tea bowl, urged Omiya while taking one herself. “When it comes to that priest, there hasn’t been a single person who lasted even a month with him.” “Oh, I wonder...” Omiya sipped her tea.

“Oh, I wonder...’ Don’t you have any idea what I’m talking about?” “No, there’s nothing like that at all.” “Hmm, so it’s working out then,” the woman said. “Up till now, either the priest didn’t take a liking to them, or if he did, the women would run away. Truth be told, not a single one lasted even a month.” “But why would they run away?” “They say he has perverse tastes, you know.”

“I don’t want to hear that, Auntie,” Omiya glared. “That’s not it.” “I don’t want to hear this, Auntie!” “They say he’s terribly strong on top of having peculiar tastes,” the woman said. She set down her tea bowl, pulled the tobacco tray closer, and took a puff. “I once had a courtesan entertain him, but even she—someone who worked the pleasure quarter—couldn’t endure his stamina and ran off.” “Is that so?”

“You can think of why, can’t you?” “I don’t know,” Omiya said. “I think I’m a kind, thoughtful person.” “That’s why I’m saying you’re well-matched,” the woman said. The woman licked her lips and stated something crude in an unvarnished tone. Omiya showed no particular shame, her cheeks reddening as she answered everything with seeming interest. The woman laughed with a parched voice and made her eyes glitter fiercely.

“You’re quite something, you are.” “Oh, why do you say that?” “You were trained well by that samurai master of yours before, weren’t you?” “That’s harsh, Auntie.” Before long, the hired tea-fetching woman entered from the front. “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Well, look who decided to show up,” the woman said in a harsh voice. Omiya used that as her cue to stand up. “I’ll be going now.” “Oh, never mind.” “But I can’t afford to do that.”

Omiya picked up the bundle. The tea-fetching woman was making excuses, saying, “My mother’s condition has been poor.” Omiya bid farewell to the woman and left the tea shop. When she returned to the house in Zaimokuchō and called out to her neighbor, Okume hurriedly emerged, whispering “Wait” while beckoning with her hand. Omiya stepped into the doma. “It seems that person followed you.”

“That person...” “It’s Shinpachi.” Omiya started. “Don’t come up yet,” Okume said. Omiya shook her head and whispered, “They say he followed me?” “I think so,” Okume said. “Last night when you went out, he left right after you.”

“And then—” “He came back close to midnight,” Okume said. “There’s no way he’d go out carousing, and even after returning, he was acting strangely.” “In what way?” “He wouldn’t sleep at all—kept pacing around the house and muttering something to himself. It was really strange.” “So—he’s here now?” “He must be here—if he kept at it like that, he might not have slept until morning. The quiet now probably means he’s asleep.”

“Thank you. I’ll go check.” “Miya-chan,” Okume whispered, “you’ve gotten involved with him, haven’t you?” “Oh, Okume-san!”

"So you finally got him—how detestable." "It's not like that at all. He's still sixteen—practically a child." "Hiding it's pointless—these walls are paper-thin," Okume glared. "My husband barely visits anymore, your brother won't spare me a glance, and there are nights I lie awake till dawn. It's cruel to make me endure this, Miya-chan." "You're being absurd." "Farmers parched by drought might see rain in swirling dust," Omiya retorted coldly, "but such baseless conjectures ill suit you."

“Come on inside,” Okume said. “I don’t mean to anger you—but isn’t it odd? For someone as skilled as you, there’s still such an innocent side.” “So I’m ‘skilled,’ you say?” “Come on inside.” Omiya’s lip twitched to one side. Okume said gently, “Otherwise, your precious child might hear even worse things.”

“I’ll come later,” Omiya said, lowering her eyes. “Don’t be angry, Okume-san—I’m not myself this morning.” Okume remained silent. Omiya repeated that she would return later, took her leave of Okume, and went into her own house.

Shinpachi was sprawled out sleeping. In the six-mat room here, still wearing his clothes, wrapped in a single quilt, he lay curled up asleep. Since the shutters were closed, the room was dark, and in the sliver of light from the opened sliding door, Shinpachi’s face looked miserably haggard. His face had always seemed delicate, but lately his complexion had grown noticeably sallow, his cheeks hollowed, his lips dry and perpetually chapped. As Okume had said, he might have stayed up all night waiting. Even though he was now asleep, his sunken eyes were slightly open, and deep wrinkles creased his forehead.

Omiya shuddered. After the insatiable, greasily decadent time with the priest of Jōmyōin, Shinpachi’s haggard appearance instead strongly provoked Omiya. Trembling, she quickly stripped down to a single undergarment, closed the sliding door, and slid into the quilt where Shinpachi lay curled up. Shinpachi groaned and stretched his body. Omiya clung to him. Shinpachi was still not fully awake; he groaned and shook his head unsteadily, but when Omiya’s legs tangled around him,

"Ah," he said as his eyes opened. "You're awake, Shin-san." Omiya's breath came rough. Shinpachi thrust her away, violently shook off the limbs that clung to him once more, and upon rising wiped his lips with his hand.

“Disgusting. Enough of this.”

Omiya sat up. Unaware that her hem was hitched up to reveal her thighs, Omiya stared up at Shinpachi with startled eyes, her gaze vacant. "I was being deceived." He wiped his lips again with the back of his hand and continued in a trembling voice, "But I won't be deceived anymore. I've heard everything. You're a lewd, disgusting person." "'Disgusting,' you say?" "Disgusting." "What's so disgusting?"

“You don’t even realize it yourself?” “Don’t raise your voice—the neighbors will hear,” Omiya said. “Sit down for a moment, Shin-san. There’s something I must tell you.” “Enough,” Shinpachi shook his head. “Sit down—please. I’ve neither deceived you nor given you cause to call me ‘disgusting.’” “Th-then,” Shinpachi stammered, “what exactly is this Jōmyōin?”

“What about Jōmyōin?” Omiya asked back.

Shinpachi faltered.

Omiya’s counterquestion—“What about Jōmyōin?”—was utterly composed, devoid of any shame or guilt. “I did tell you about Jōmyōin,” Omiya said. “No—that’s a lie.”

“What’s not true?” “You said you went into retreat—that because you’d entrusted your father’s ashes there, you went into seclusion from time to time to perform memorial services.” “Oh, Shin-san.”

“I believed that.” “Oh, please listen.” “But it was a lie. I went to Jōmyōin last night and heard everything from the temple attendant.” “Why did you do such a thing?” “Because Father’s remains were in the storeroom,” Shinpachi said. “The urn with his secular and posthumous names was left out in the open. Was it unreasonable for me to realize your seclusion was a lie?” “Oh, please listen.”

“Enough.” “Please listen, Shin-san,” Omiya said, “I did say that—I certainly said those things—but I never meant to lie and deceive you.” “So you’re saying this isn’t a lie?” “I never had even a speck of such intention—really! If I’d meant to deceive you, I wouldn’t have left the ashes in such a place. Even I have enough sense for that.”

“Then what exactly *is* this?”

“I thought Shin-san would figure it out.” “‘Figure it out,’ huh?” Shinpachi shook his fist. “You mean those ‘regular visits’ you claimed—selling yourself to that temple’s head priest?” “It was beyond you after all, Shin-san,” Omiya said. She straightened her disheveled hem and hung her head weakly as she continued, “I told you from the start, didn’t I? That I’d resolved to endure hardships for my brother’s sake. He may be a selfish drunkard, but he’s still worth the trouble. And on top of that, I’ve even gained someone like you, Shin-san.”

“That’s also a lie,” Shinpachi said. “Oh my, what part of that is a lie?” “I once heard Mr. Kakizaki tell you, ‘You don’t need to earn money anymore—I’ll provide it.’ He stated it clearly, and I know you’ve been receiving his funds.” “You’re such a child.” “Do you still think you can deceive me?” “Oh, do listen,” Omiya said, sitting up straight. “You’re right, Shin-san—my brother has started giving me monthly funds. I don’t know what kind of money it is, but at least it’s enough to live on. But Shin-san, the world isn’t something that can be settled with just that.”

Shinpachi remained silent. Omiya continued. “I don’t know what kind of money my brother’s funds are—whether they’ll last forever or are just temporary. If something happens to my brother, I’ll have to start earning again, won’t I?” “Then, if that’s necessary,” Shinpachi said, “I can do laborer’s work without resorting to such shameful things.” “With that body of yours—” Omiya shook her head. “Listen,” she said, “the same person who arranged for me to serve Mr. Watanabe also arranged matters with Jōmyōin. I’ve been relying on them heavily, and even if we set aside future concerns, I can’t just say goodbye now that things are convenient for me.”

“I will earn my own way.” “The world isn’t that simple, you know.” “I’m leaving this house too,” Shinpachi said. “I won’t forget the hospitality I’ve received. But my coming here was a mistake. I should have left much sooner—I knew that myself, yet…” “Shin-san, are you truly serious about that?” Omiya said.

Shinpachi pressed his face with his arm, leaned against the wall, and began to cry. Omiya said “Shin-san,” sprang up, and clung to Shinpachi. Shinpachi’s crying seemed to ignite a new fire within her body. Omiya embraced Shinpachi like a madwoman, rubbed her cheek against his, and said in a trembling voice: “You won’t go—you can’t go! Lord Date’s pursuers are watching outside. You must avenge your brother, mustn’t you? My brother won’t release you, and neither will I.”

Omiya’s words were jumbled. Shinpachi sniveled, but he no longer attempted to pull away from Omiya. “Don’t abandon me, Shin-san,” Omiya said. “You’re the first person for me—my body might be soiled, but my heart is pure. I fell for you with a maiden’s untouched heart. You understand, don’t you? You understand, Shin-san.”

Omiya began to cry.

“Don’t abandon me—if you abandon me, Shin-san, I won’t be able to go on living. I’m begging you—you understand, don’t you? You understand, Shin-san.” Omiya hugged him. “You understand, don’t you? You do.” She pulled Shinpachi close. Shinpachi resisted his indecision. But Omiya pulled him close with all her strength and clung to him almost ferociously. They staggered, entangled, and collapsed onto the bedding there. What am I becoming? Shinpachi tried to restrain himself. You call yourself the son of a samurai? Have some shame. But he was engulfed.

A weight as light as cotton, warm and flexible, enveloped him, pressed down on him, constricted him, and paralyzed him. He fell, soared up, and was torn apart in pleasure. I will escape—I’ll show them.

Shinpachi screamed within his daze. I have to escape. But he fell. He couldn’t hold himself back. The repetition of those monotonous motions bound him up and tore him apart. I have to escape—quickly, quickly, I have to get out.

And then he completely lost sight of himself, melted away, and was sucked into the ground. Shinpachi had noticed that his body was slipping beyond his control. The habit he had first experienced about a month prior and had been repeating ever since not only bound his body but also began to restrict even his freedom to think. “But I will escape,” Shinpachi muttered under his breath.

Listening to Omiya’s tranquil breathing after her rapture, he thought he would escape. He believed he still had enough strength to surely break free from this place. After an indeterminate time had passed, Shinpachi abruptly opened his eyes. There stood a figure. In his numbness-laden slumber, he awoke and saw the person standing there. The man was watching Shinpachi.

“Miya, wake up,” the man said. Shinpachi fully opened his eyes. However, he couldn’t move. That person was Kakizaki Rokurōbei. Rokurōbei set his foot on Omiya’s shoulder—she was deep in sleep—and shook her with a cold expression. Omiya let out a groggy voice. Shinpachi shuddered, closed his eyes, and turned over as he was assaulted by a nauseating feeling.

Omiya’s groggy voice was ignorance and baseness incarnate. In the irredeemable shame of being seen in such a state, Shinpachi cursed Omiya.

“Shinpachi, get up and come here,” Rokurōbei’s voice called from the six-mat room in the back. “I’ve got something to tell you too.” Rokurōbei’s return to that house was a rare occurrence of late. There were often times before when he didn’t return home, but from around early October, it became rare for him to come back at all, and even when he did return, he would leave again immediately after taking care of his business. Because of this, Omiya had let her guard down; however, upon hearing Rokurōbei’s words, she became utterly bewildered.

He told his sister to prepare immediately for entering service at a mansion. "I don't want to," Omiya said. "I can't endure strict samurai duties anymore." "No arguments—I'm ordering you." "Why must I?" "That's not your concern. Get ready." "What will become of Shin-san?" "Miyamoto stays here." "Alone?" "Nonaka Matagorō and his family will come." "So Shin-san will live with them?" "That's right." "Do you object?" Rokurōbei said.

Omiya quickly gave up. Resisting her brother was impossible. Omiya did not want to part with Shinpachi; now that things had come to this between them, separation was all the more painful. However, she likely couldn't defy her brother's will—this drunkard with a vile nature—Omiya thought to herself. If she were to resist, he would beat her until she was crippled and still have his way in the end, Omiya thought. Rokurōbei pressed his sister with "Prepare immediately," then turned to Shinpachi and asked about the bereaved family of Hata Yoemon.

Shinpachi talked about Uno and Toranosuke. “Were you close?” Rokurōbei asked. Shinpachi answered that it was so. Rokurōbei pressed further, “Do both siblings trust you enough to believe what you say?” “What do you mean by that?” “In every sense,” Rokurōbei said. “I don’t know,” Shinpachi replied, lowering his eyes. “We interacted as family would, and that night we fled together and were saved by Mr. Harada.”

“I’ve already heard that.” “So I believe they trust me, but how much they will depends on the situation and circumstances.” “Very well,” Rokurōbei nodded.

Shinpachi looked at Rokurōbei with anxious eyes. "Did something happen to those two?" "We’ll rescue them," Rokurōbei said. "If we don’t save those siblings, who knows what they’ll do to them—right?"

“Is that so?”

“Don’t you think so?” Rokurōbei looked at him suspiciously. “Yes,” Shinpachi said clearly, “those siblings are under Lord Harada’s protection. No matter what happens, I believe Lord Harada will surely protect them.” Rokurōbei watched Shinpachi closely. “You said that when you escaped during your escort and returned to Edo, you intended to rely on Lord Harada, didn’t you?” “—That’s right.” “Is he truly that trustworthy a man?”

“I think so.” Shinpachi swallowed his saliva.

Rokurōbei watched Shinpachi's expression with even more suspicious eyes. "So when you say you think that," he pressed, "it's not based on your own direct knowledge?" "I don't know directly," Shinpachi replied. "Mr. Harada holds the hereditary councilor position of chakuza—from a family line that produces senior retainers. His status differs from my house." "Then how can you claim he's trustworthy?" Rokurōbei demanded. Shinpachi hesitated. The ronin spoke with a sneer.

“The clan’s reputation?”

Shinpachi said, “Yes.” “You fool.”

A sneer and sharp-edged anger surfaced on Rokurōbei’s face. “You fool,” Rokurōbei said. “I know Harada Kai’s reputation too—he’s beloved and trusted by all, few bear resentment toward him, and not a soul seems to hate or oppose him. Isn’t that right?” Shinpachi nodded. “A cunning schemer,” Rokurōbei spat venomously. “That’s what such men are called. If humans are loved by some, they’re loathed by others—praise and censure always walk hand in hand. For one to be adored by everyone without a whisper of ill repute? That itself is proof he’s deceitful and cunning.”

“But Mr. Harada—” “Shut up! What do *you* know?” Rokurōbei said, his expression darkening with even fiercer anger. “You just prattled about *chakuza* titles and councilor lineages, about being low-ranking and status differences—what *is* status? What does it *matter*? I don’t care if Harada’s some *chakuza* or a 4,180-koku lord in Funooka, Shibata District—as Date retainers, you’re equals! Why grovel like this?”

“I don’t belittle myself.” “If it’s not self-deprecation, then servility,” Rokurōbei said. “Those who take large stipends and hold high status are nothing but upstarts skilled in deceit and schemes—and what’s more, they’ve plundered it all from others.” Rokurōbei twisted his lips. He now seemed to have forgotten even to restrain himself, so consumed was he by hatred and hostility.

He could not endure families living in peace, those with power and fame, or the wealthy and popular. Those were conditions they had obtained unjustly. They had merely plundered them from many others through craftiness and schemes. Those statuses, wealth, and power might have been Rokurōbei’s, or at the very least, they should have belonged to many others. That very fact ceaselessly drove Rokurōbei into hostility and hatred.

“Raise your head higher,” Rokurōbei said. “This world is nothing but battle—either you crush your opponent or get crushed yourself. Believe in yourself. Strengthen yourself. Trusting others swayed by public opinion? That alone makes you defeated already. Get a grip.” “Then,” Shinpachi said anxiously, “is Mr. Harada someone we can’t trust?” “That depends on verifying the facts. Until the facts are verified, you can’t trust anyone,” Rokurōbei said.

“So after all,” Shinpachi looked at Rokurōbei, “you’re still going to rescue the Hata siblings?” “Absolutely.” “When will it be?”

“I’ll decide that,” Rokurōbei said.

Omiya came out and said, “The preparations are ready.” She adjusted her hair and makeup, changed her clothes, and held a bundle. Rokurōbei frowned and scrutinized his sister’s appearance. Omiya fidgeted and asked, “Is this too flashy?” Rokurōbei looked at Shinpachi. “The Nonaka family will be coming later—a husband and wife with one child. Since the wife seems frail, you must not treat them as guests like you have before.” “Then I’ll return in two or three days,” he said as he stood up.

Omiya stared at Shinpachi. “Well then, Shin-san.”

“Miya, quit dawdling,” Rokurōbei said. Miya stared at Shinpachi with tearful eyes and faltered, “I’ll be going now. Since you’re not well, please take care of yourself.” Shinpachi said, “Yeah.” He did not look at Omiya. “I’ll come when I return from my duties. It’ll be difficult, but endure it for now. Soon enough, I’ll…”

“Miya,” Rokurōbei said. “Well then, farewell, Shin-san.” Omiya pressed her fingers against the inner corners of her eyes as she stood up holding the bundle. Shinpachi turned his face away, remained silent, and nodded weakly.

As dusk approached, Nonaka Matagorō arrived with his wife and child. When they had visited before, Shinpachi had only heard their voices, so this was his first time meeting them. Matagorō was thirty-two years old and, by his own account, a ronin formerly of the Gamō clan. His wife was named Sawa, and their nine-year-old daughter was called Oichi. Their life as ronin must have been long—both husband and wife were thin, their complexions sallow, their clothing threadbare, and their belongings amounted to just three bundles. Matagorō and Sawa both greeted Shinpachi with proper etiquette, saying "Please take care of us," and as soon as the greetings concluded, Matagorō had his wife lie down.

Shinpachi took the inner six-mat room, while they took the six-mat room adjoining the kitchen. "You mustn't carry yourself like a guest." Rokurōbei said. Shinpachi had never thought of himself as a guest before now, nor could he recall ever being treated as one. Yet seeing how thoroughly life had worn down the Nonaka family, he resolved to do everything possible for them—though when it came to determining what exactly that entailed, he found himself utterly at a loss.

“If there’s anything you need, please tell me,” Shinpachi repeated. Matagorō did nothing but express his gratitude, apologize for the trouble, say there was nothing they needed to ask for, and request that he please not worry. Oichi was also a quiet child; except when doing some task, she would sit by her mother’s side and remain silent and still. It was later learned that during those times, the girl was either reading or practicing calligraphy. Her father Matagorō taught her classical reading, and her mother taught her calligraphy and how to use a needle. However, except during classical reading sessions, both the voice of whoever was teaching and whoever was answering remained low, almost whispering, so much so that if one wasn’t careful, it might seem as though no one was there at all.

After putting his wife to bed, Matagorō took Oichi shopping, and upon returning, began cooking in the kitchen—Shinpachi first noticed this through the sounds. He had never prepared meals before, nor had he ever considered needing to do so. With Omiya gone, he now had to handle his own cooking. He should have realized this naturally, but only when he learned of Matagorō's actions did he finally become aware of it.

“No need to worry,” Matagorō said with a faint smile as he rinsed the rice. “With my wife being frail, I’ve somehow grown adept at this over time. Since the effort’s the same either way, I’ll prepare yours along with ours. Please just stay seated.” Shinpachi couldn’t press the matter further. Listening to the coughing of the sleeping wife, Oichi’s repeated “Yes, yes” from the kitchen, and the crackling of burning firewood in the hearth, Shinpachi absently thought of Omiya.

The day after moving in, Matagorō stayed home the entire day, tidying their own room and taking the daughter out shopping.

Shinpachi felt somehow ill at ease. Given his age, he should naturally have been responsible for preparing meals—he certainly had the will to do so—but Matagorō kept taking care of everything first, and he had no idea how to intervene. So he decided to eat dinner out and, after Matagorō went shopping, left the house without saying a word. When he left, at the neighboring house Okume had just returned and, while opening the lattice door, smiled toward Shinpachi.

“Oh, going out?” Shinpachi nodded. “Yeah.” “Seems like you’ve got guests at your place.” “They moved in,” Shinpachi answered quietly. “So they’re living with you now?” “Yes.” Okume hummed thoughtfully, then added as if struck by inspiration, “Why don’t you come inside?” “Miya-chan dropped by yesterday—said she’s entering service at some mansion. Must be lonely for you, huh?”

Shinpachi flushed red. Noticing his reaction, Okume pressed further: “Do come inside.” “Miya-chan really did ask me to watch over you—neighbors should help each other out! I might not be as skilled as her in every way, but I can certainly take care of you.” “I have some things to take care of.” “Oh, come on, why not step in for a bit?”

Okume tilted her head with a coquettish smile and stared fixedly into Shinpachi's eyes. Shinpachi flushed deeper red and fled down the alleyway. As he emerged onto the main street, he came face-to-face with Nonaka Matagorō returning home. Carrying shopping parcels with his daughter in tow, Matagorō quickened his pace upon spotting Shinpachi while shaking his head disapprovingly. "You mustn't go outside," Matagorō said. "Kakizaki-san warned you about this, didn't he? Do you have urgent business?"

“Yes, just a bit.” Shinpachi stammered.

"If there's something you need done, please tell me. I'll handle it." Shinpachi shook his head vaguely and murmured that it wasn't particularly urgent. "Then let us return," said Matagorō as he began walking. "Henceforth, please refrain from going out without notice." The following day—the third since their relocation—Matagorō left home around eight in the morning, returning at dusk when darkness was settling. Though his garments weren't costly, Nonaka's appearance in his crisply arranged haori and hakama exuded neatness and martial dignity. While Kakizaki dressed lavishly and possessed handsome features, he lacked Matagorō's air of disciplined propriety, showing not the slightest trace of that solemn valor.

Mr. Nonaka was a man of steadfast principles—Shinpachi thought to himself.

When dinner was finished, Matagorō said, “Let’s go out for a bit.” Shinpachi looked at him. “It’s Kakizaki-san’s place,” Matagorō said.

Shinpachi changed clothes. The kimono, obi, and hakama were all newly made for him by Omiya. Matagorō reminded his daughter about locking the doors, checking the fire sources, and caring for her mother. “We might not return tonight.” With that, he left together with Shinpachi. As they passed in front of the neighboring house, Okume sliding open the shoji and looking their way caught the edge of Shinpachi’s vision. Had he been alone, she might have called out to stop him—Shinpachi thought as he left the alley, recalling his secret affair with Omiya.

The two walked for nearly half a moment. Shinpachi only knew they had passed through Asakusa Gate, but beyond that point, he couldn't discern which towns they'd turned through or how.

I wonder if we're coming toward Surugadai.

While he was thinking such things, Matagorō stopped before a new house on a backstreet and said, "Here we are." A sign reading "Sugaryū Kakizaki Dojo" hung from the gatepost. Shinpachi stood dumbfounded. —Kakizaki's dojo. To let his sister do such degrading work while maintaining this splendid dojo himself—what sort of man was he? Shinpachi thought.

Matagorō did not use the front entrance but went around to the side and entered through the residential entrance. The dojo had no lights lit, and there was no sign of anyone present.

Rokurōbei was drinking sake in the living room. Three young women in gaudy attire were serving. They were beautiful seventeen- or eighteen-year-olds whose hairstyles, clothing, movements, gestures, and speech all coquettishly resembled those from the pleasure quarters. "Further back, further back," Rokurōbei said, waving his hand. Shinpachi entered and had just started to sit down when he waved his hand and spoke. Matagorō stood up, signaled Shinpachi with a glance, and left the room.

They proceeded along the dark corridor and turned a corner. On the right side stood a shoji illuminated by lamplight. “Ishikawa Uji,” Matagorō called out, and a voice responded from within. Matagorō slid open the shoji and stepped inside. A middle-aged samurai lay sprawled there alone.

A wintry wind blew. Uno was eating breakfast. The room was still dark. The light from the covered lamp illuminated Toranosuke’s face from above his head. Uno ate quietly, occasionally glancing that way as if to avoid making any sound with her teeth. Fatigue showed on Uno's face. She had not slept for two full days. Toranosuke had shown signs of a cold about seven days prior, but the day before yesterday, the doctor had diagnosed it as measles.

“Keep him from drafts until the rash fully appears.” The doctor had stressed this. Uno herself had survived measles at nine. She remembered the torment of being confined day after day in an airless room during summer’s peak heat. Now winter’s chill made sealed rooms bearable, and Toranosuke proved obedient—he followed his sister’s every instruction without complaint. Since arriving at Ryōgen-in, the temple caretaker Yakichi and his wife Okiwa had handled everything. Three meals daily, mending clothes, laundry—all the petty chores fell to them. While Harada’s commission surely motivated their care, their childlessness and vague knowledge of the siblings’ plight seemed to nurture genuine sympathy.

As Uno was finishing her meal, Yakichi called out from the corridor.

“A messenger from Lord Harada has arrived.” Uno said, “Yes.”

Yesterday she had written to Kai about Toranosuke in a letter. Though measles wasn't necessarily a life-threatening illness, she had sent a brief notice out of caution. Even so, it's still so early... Thinking this, Uno set down her chopsticks and stood up.

Toranosuke was sleeping soundly. Uno, being careful with the opening and closing of the fusuma and shoji, made her way toward the high corridor. Due to the overcast sky and the early hour, the surroundings were still dimly lit, and a rather strong wind was blowing. As the piercingly cold wind stung her, Uno pulled her collar together and glanced at the garden beyond. When she stepped out onto the high corridor, it seemed she had developed a habit of always doing so. The fir tree stood quietly. Perhaps the wind didn’t reach that spot—despite how fiercely it was blowing, Kai’s fir tree stood with its branches spread wide, utterly still, not swaying in the slightest.

A voice called out, "Miss Uno, over here."

At the steps leading down to the garden, Miyamoto Shinpachi was looking this way. Not only had his appearance changed, but his face also seemed somehow different—she couldn’t immediately recognize him as the same person. Uno quietly approached. “It has been a while,” Uno said. She spoke these words with a polite bow, gazing at Shinpachi with nostalgic warmth. His face had paled and stiffened; his dry lips trembled as if drained of color by the cold.

“The one who said it was from Lord Harada… was you.” “Yes,” Shinpachi licked his lips. “Of course, it’s me.” “I had also thought you had gone to Sendai.” “I did go once, but...” “I did hear you were to be entrusted to Kunimoto, but...” “Yes, that’s correct.” Shinpachi quickly glanced behind him. “So,” Uno said. Shinpachi licked his lips again and, trembling, said hurriedly, “I was being sent to Sendai when Mr. Harada saved me, and I’ve been in hiding ever since.”

“Oh, Lord Harada…” “So… I came here this morning—” He stammered. He seemed to be trying to speak quickly, but his tongue wouldn’t move properly. He quickly glanced around again. “The thing is—I need to take you with me. You and Toranosuke-san.” “Where to?” “I don’t know,” Shinpachi said. “You know Horinouchi Sōzaemon, Lord Harada’s senior retainer? He’s waiting near Seishō-ji. As for where we go after that, I wasn’t told.”

"But what happened?" Uno asked. "Has something occurred that requires us to leave here so suddenly?" "Because it’s become dangerous," Shinpachi said urgently, his words tumbling out. "I’m in the same peril—you and Toranosuke-san are both at risk. There’s no time for details now—Lord Hyōbu’s faction means to seize us." "Why?" Uno pressed. "Hadn’t our formal judgment already been settled?"

“It’s a conspiracy—yes,” Shinpachi said, “a conspiracy by Lord Hyōbu’s faction. Mr. Harada will explain the details later. They say it’s a matter of utmost urgency, so please hurry.” “But that’s a problem,” Uno said, looking at Shinpachi. “Didn’t you hear from Lord Harada? My brother has been lying down with measles since the day before yesterday.” “However, since the palanquin has been prepared,” Shinpachi said, “if it’s just measles, wouldn’t it be safe to go by palanquin?”

"Did Lord Harada say that?" "Of course he did," Shinpachi said. Uno pressed further. "You are aware of the measles, aren't you?" "Do you suspect something?" "No, I'm not doubting anything. It's just that the doctor said we mustn't expose him to the wind until the rash has fully appeared. And my brother has only just started developing it." "That may be so," Shinpachi said irritably, "but there's a palanquin. If you wrap him up well in something and carry him yourself, I don't think he'll catch much wind."

“Do you really think so?” “If they abduct you, it will undoubtedly be life-threatening, so please make your preparations as quickly as possible.” Uno nodded and said, “Yes.” She hesitated. Shinpachi kept darting his gaze left, right, and behind him with the eyes of a hunted man as he urged her on. To Uno, this seemed like proof that danger was imminent. Finally resolved, she went inside. Shinpachi bit his lip and trembled violently.

A swift wind skimmed over the high roof of the temple lodging and blew down， buffeting his hakama and sleeves. Shinpachi shrank back. I finally did it—I've finally gone through with it. His whisper trembled， And I deceived Uno-san—no—that's not it.

He shook his head. He muttered under his breath—how could something this absurd happen? Why had he thought such a thing—that he had deceived her or something. I'm not deceiving anyone—I will rescue the Hata siblings. That's right. Mr. Kakizaki knows about the Ichinoseki conspiracy; he'll let us take our revenge. And I'll rescue Uno-san and her brother—it's too dangerous to leave them here. Isn't that right? he thought.

"That’s right—I will rescue them both," Shinpachi muttered under his breath.

However, when Uno soon emerged, he began trembling so violently that his heels barely touched the ground, his eyes taking on a look as if terror had seized him. Behind Uno, Yakichi carried Toranosuke—wrapped thoroughly in a kimono—and followed along with a bundle in hand. "I'll call for the palanquin now." Shinpachi ran toward the gate.

It was right after Uno and the others’ palanquin had passed through the gate that Shiozawa Tansaburō arrived at Ryōgen-in. He came to visit Toranosuke.

Last night, he had heard from Kai that Toranosuke was bedridden with measles and been told to visit him the next day. At that time, he had also been given some money to bring a gift for the visit. Of course, he hadn't intended to come at such an hour, but upon waking, an urgent need arose to see Uno immediately and learn about Toranosuke's condition.

They must be struggling terribly.

Uno was still only thirteen years old. However mature she might act, caring for her sick brother must have left her utterly helpless. To Tansaburō, Uno's face appeared lost and tinged with sorrow. The visit gift could wait. That was what he thought.

“It’s too early,” his mother said, telling him to go after eating breakfast. “The temple gates wouldn’t be open yet.” “No—I’ll go ask them to open the back gate.” Amid this exchange, he hurriedly prepared himself and left home.

When he arrived at Ryōgen-in, he went around from the side to the back and visited the temple servant’s hut. Yakichi was splitting firewood. As Tansaburō approached, Yakichi, still holding the hatchet, looked this way with a puzzled expression. “I came to visit Hata-san,” Tansaburō said, “as I heard Toranosuke is ill.” Yakichi gave a vague “Huh” in reply and rubbed his nose with the back of his left hand. The wind blew fiercely, and his half-gray hair fluttered into his face.

“Well,” Yakichi said, “the young Hata siblings had someone come to pick them up and have just departed.” “They came? From where?” “Well, that would be from the mansion, sir.” “Which mansion are you referring to?” “That would naturally be Lord Harada.” Tansaburō grew uneasy, but he thought that Yakichi must have misunderstood something. But Yakichi said he was not mistaken. “Though I don’t know the details, people from the Harada family certainly came to fetch them, and Uno left in a great hurry with Toranosuke.” “The ones who came to fetch them had the palanquin waiting and put the siblings into that palanquin,” Yakichi said.

Tansaburō’s face turned pale. “That can’t be,” he said. “There’s no way anyone from the mansion came to fetch them—those are impostors!” “What do you mean?”

“Which way did the palanquin go?” Tansaburō shouted.

Probably having heard the voices, Okiwa peeked out from the kitchen entrance. Yakichi waved one hand as if to say “Don’t come out!” while answering Tansaburō: “The palanquin went toward Onaridō.” “We saw them off to the gate,” he added firmly. “It certainly headed toward the main residence.” “I’ll chase after them,” Tansaburō said urgently. “Inform the middle residence—no, wait.” He bit his lip. He didn’t know who the kidnappers were—he couldn’t risk informing someone indiscreet. Having realized this decisively，he shook his head.

“No need for that.” “I’ll come with you,” Yakichi said.

Tansaburō was already running. When exiting Onarimon Gate there lay a horse ground ahead with samurai residences stretching beyond. Through battering headwinds Tansaburō ran desperately. Yet no palanquin came into view. The road ran straight east - any departing litter should have remained visible. "It might have taken the cut-through," Tansaburō thought. Or perhaps Shiba Street? He halted. Then came shouts from behind. "This way!" came urgent cries.

“Lord Shiozawa, this way!” When he looked back, Yakichi was pointing toward the cut-through path. Tansaburō ran back. “I just saw it turn toward Atagoshita,” Yakichi said.

“How many people are with them?” “There seemed to be two.” Tansaburō ran desperately. The scattered people on the street, when they saw Tansaburō running past, hurriedly moved aside or watched him go with uneasy eyes. Every time a gust came, dust swirled up on the road.—A short way past Seishō-ji, Tansaburō caught up to the palanquin. Behind the palanquin was one samurai wearing a black haori and hood, while in front was one young samurai who still appeared boyish.

To the left was a temple; immediately beyond, Atago Mountain could be seen. To the right were samurai residences, where comrades could be seen sweeping in front of the gates. Tansaburō overtook the palanquin and, screaming, stood blocking its path. “Stop the palanquin!”

He gasped and widened his eyes. The other man also gasped. The palanquin stopped. "Miyamoto, isn't it?" Tansaburō said. Shinpachi turned pale instantly—his eyes widening and mouth falling open—but no sound emerged. Tansaburō looked ahead. The samurai who had been behind the palanquin advanced toward them. It was Kakizaki Rokurōbei. "What's wrong? What are you doing with Uno-san? What's the meaning of this?" Tansaburō demanded of Shinpachi.

“Who are you?” Rokurōbei said as he approached. Tansaburō looked into the man’s eyes and sensed danger. Within the hood, those eyes bore an eerie, murderous gleam. “Uno-san!” Tansaburō shouted. From inside the palanquin came a voice answering, “Yes.” “You’ve been deceived—please come out of the palanquin.” “Hand over the palanquin,” Rokurōbei said. “Brat, if you interfere, you’ll be in danger.” “Miyamoto, who is this person?”

“I’m saving the Hata siblings,” Rokurōbei said. “Their lives are being watched—I’m taking them somewhere safe.” “Who are you?” “No need for names,” Rokurōbei said. “Now hand over the palanquin.”

“I won’t let you!” Tansaburō jumped back and drew his sword. Shinpachi was trembling violently. A gust of wind swept up dust. Tansaburō saw that one side was lined with samurai residences where comrades stood at the gates. The two comrades who had been sweeping in front of the gate were gazing this way as if trying to discern what was happening. Yakichi was also standing about five or six ken away. Rokurōbei placed his hand on his sword hilt and shouted “Shinpachi! Hand over the palanquin!” as he advanced toward Tansaburō.

Tansaburō held his sword in the seigan stance and screamed at the top of his lungs, “I beg you, lend me your aid! Please!” The sparse passersby stopped, and one of the two comrades who had been watching from afar dashed into the estate gate. Noticing this out of the corner of his eye, Tansaburō kept shouting.

“I am a retainer of Date Mutsu-no-kami! Please lend me your aid—this is an abduction!” “Shut up, brat!” Rokurōbei pressed forward. Tansaburō continued to shout while moving to the side. Over there, Yakichi was also shouting the same thing. The palanquin started running. Tansaburō dodged Rokurōbei while screaming and pushed his way past the front of the palanquin. But Rokurōbei immediately cornered Tansaburō. It was at the base of Atago Mountain, where the high stone steps of Otokozaka could be seen to the left. Tansaburō leaped over a six-foot stone bridge spanning a ditch and, entering the temple grounds, shouted, “Mr. Yakichi!”

“I’m fine here! Go after the palanquin!”

Yakichi’s reply was heard, and Rokurōbei pressed forward. Tansaburō snapped. Rokurōbei’s advancing body appeared terribly large and overwhelmingly powerful. "I'm going to be cut down," Tansaburō thought. Rokurōbei glared at him while advancing step by forceful step, and when the distance closed to about two ken, he placed his hand on his sword hilt. Tansaburō could not move. "I’m going to be cut down," he thought once more.

But at that moment, five samurai came rushing toward them. The earlier comrades must have informed them—those from the samurai residence had likely come to lend their aid. “Which of you is with the Date family?” called one of them. “It’s me,” Tansaburō said. “They’ve abducted someone crucial under my protection. That palanquin heading yonder holds them—I beg your assistance.” “Understood,” replied one samurai. Two of the five men gave chase to the palanquin while three advanced here. They shouted.

“We are retainers of Matsudaira Oki-no-kami! We’ll assist you!” Rokurōbei turned around. He removed his hand from his sword hilt and coldly observed the three men. Seeing his cold gaze and calm, flawless stance, the three Matsudaira retainers swiftly spread out to either side. Rokurōbei acknowledged that the matter had failed.

He looked at each of the three Matsudaira men one by one, then turned his gaze to Tansaburō.

“Brat—” Rokurōbei said, “you pulled it off.” Tansaburō was still holding his sword in the seigan stance. Rokurōbei adjusted his hood, tucked both hands into his sleeves, and slowly began walking toward the street. Slowly, step by step, he walked with testing strides, keeping his hands hidden in his sleeves. Tansaburō and the Matsudaira retainers alike held their breath and could only watch him depart.

When Rokurōbei emerged onto the street, the other two Matsudaira retainers and Yakichi returned with Uno and Toranosuke in tow. Yakichi was holding Toranosuke. Without so much as a glance toward them, Rokurōbei turned into Yakushi Alley.

Tansaburō sheathed his sword, expressed his gratitude to the Matsudaira retainers, and ran toward Uno. “Miss Uno, are you hurt?” “Yes,” Uno said, looking up at him. “I’m worried my brother caught a draft—his rash hasn’t fully healed yet.” “Let’s hurry back.” “What does Lord Miyamoto mean to do with me?” “I don’t know, but you’ll understand in time.”

Tansaburō once again expressed his gratitude to the Matsudaira retainers. And the four of them returned to Ryōgen-in through the wind.

Fragment (IV)

A secret petition has arrived from Lord Okuyama (Daigaku) of Sendai. “This is the second one. What’s their claim now?” It’s an impeachment of Lord Moniwa (Suō). “What does it state?” Lord Tsunasada’s misconduct was instigated by Lord Moniwa; the delayed progress of the Koishikawa moat construction has resulted in massive wasteful expenditures that have strained the domain’s finances, and even now, while imposing additional levies to burden all retainers, there remains no visible end to the construction—all of which falls under Lord Moniwa’s responsibility as overseer.

"They've brought up specific points for the first time." "There are three other articles listed too, though none carry weight." "What do they demand?"

“They are calling for his resignation.” “Resignation, you say?” “It states: ‘We cannot perform official duties alongside malicious individuals like Lord Moniwa. If you punish Lord Moniwa and entrust me with full authority over the domain’s governance, that would suffice. Otherwise, we have no choice but to resign.’” “Have they sent one to Iwanuma (Tamura Ukyō) as well?” “It states that an identical petition has been submitted.” “Then he will likely come to consult.” “Lord Iwanuma, you mean?”

“He’s weak-willed—he could never suppress it. He’ll surely come to consult.” “What would you have us do?” “What would Hayato do?” “To dismiss Lord Moniwa—this strikes me as a golden opportunity.” “That’s shortsighted. Suō oversees the moat construction project—do you think someone handling shogunate affairs can be removed so easily?” “This was a mistake.” “Even if we could remove him, as things stand it wouldn’t be worth the effort. We must provoke Daigaku further.”

“Understood.” “We’ll suppress this secret petition too. When Iwanuma comes pleading, we’ll settle it decisively—as one entrusted with guardianship, can he not distinguish public duty from private interests? There’s no need to even glance at Daigaku’s petition.” “Will Lord Okuyama not resign?” “Not a chance. He’s deluding himself with ambitions of expelling Suō to become chief elder. Had resignation truly been his intent, he would have resigned before sending this secret petition.” “Then he will undoubtedly be enraged.”

“What are the other three articles?” ――We humbly request your lordship’s favor. “A sob story?” ――In the first year of Manji [1658], when proposals for your lordship’s stipend increase arose, Lord Moniwa advocated for 3,000 koku, but I insisted on 7,000 koku. When the stipend increase was finalized that December, it followed my proposal—solely because I believed your lordship to be a lord I could trust. For this current matter, I humbly wish to receive your special favor. Such is the meaning I have written here.

“Enough. The fool dares to make such claims.” “Shall I present the remaining two articles?” “Enough. File that petition away.” “Understood.”

“Has there been any word from Suō?” “There is nothing to report.” “There should be discussions regarding tribute items to the Shogunate as part of Lord Kamechiyo’s succession ceremony.” “There has been no word yet from Lord Moniwa.” “Is that all?”

“Hino Nakaemon has arrived.” “I’ll see him.” “By your summons, I have come in attendance. I am Hino Nakaemon.”

“Hayato, withdraw.” —Understood.

“Clear everyone out.” “Understood.” “Nakaemon, come closer.”

—Pardon me. “You were recently appointed to Lord Kamechiyo’s guardian role, were you not?” “As Your Lordship decreed, I received this appointment alongside Ōmatsuzawa Jinzaemon and Hashimoto Zen’emon.” “Do you comprehend the weight of this responsibility?” “I do.” “No—you cannot truly grasp it. There’s no possible way.” —Understood. “It was I who placed you among Hashimoto and Ōmatsuzawa as guardians—because I saw that unshakable resolve of yours.”

“I am a man of no talent.”

“What I want is unwavering loyalty.” “—I humbly accept.” “Can you die for Lord Kamechiyo?” “There is no need for concern.” “Listen well—Lord Kamechiyo’s safety is not assured. There’s no telling what may befall him at any moment.” “This is beyond anything I could have imagined.” “I said you couldn’t have known.” “—Please tell me the details.” “At the Shinagawa lower residence, Ōmachi Bizen is stationed as senior retainer. I serve as guardian and am responsible for the lower residence as well, but according to reports from Bizen, Lord Tsunasada is dissatisfied with his retirement and wishes to return to public life as Mutsu-no-kami once more.”

“Is that his true intention?” “When I—Funooka (Harada Kai)—attended upon him on one occasion, he reportedly drew his sword and raged, insisting he would return to public life once more and that his forced retirement had been a conspiracy.” “I am aware of His Lordship’s drunken episodes.” “Not a few people sympathize with Lord Tsunasada and remain devoted to him. Out of misguided loyalty, it’s impossible to predict what schemes might arise. In fact, two or three suspicious incidents have already occurred.”

“I find that difficult to believe.” “I’m not telling you to believe it—there’s no need for you to believe. All you need do is fulfill your guardian role with the resolve to discard yourself.” “I am prepared with that resolve.” “Good. I summoned you to hear that resolve. My judgment wasn’t mistaken. Withdraw.” “May I ask one thing?” “What?” “Is it true there are those devoted to Lord Tsunasada plotting to restore him?”

“You needn’t believe it.” “Then does Your Lordship mean to say something has already transpired around Lord Kamechiyo?” “I don’t demand belief. What I require is your understanding that this guardianship bears singular weight—that you alone, distinct from your two colleagues, must answer for the young lord’s protection.” “Understood.” “Never lose sight of what I depend upon you for.” “I shall not betray your trust.”

“You may withdraw. We’ll meet again.”

“Hayato? What is it?”

"That person has come and reported that Miyamoto Shinpachi is in Edo."

“Shinpachi, huh? Right, understood.” “He appeared at Ryōgen-in yesterday at dawn and tried to kidnap the Hata siblings under our custody.” “Shinpachi should be under Kakizaki’s protection.” “Is that so?” “Kakizaki told me himself—that Shinpachi sees me as an enemy and that he’s keeping him restrained.” “Then it was Rokurōbei who ordered the kidnapping?” “Did they succeed?” “No—a man called Shiozawa showed up just as they were about to take them, and it’s said he snatched them back.”

“What happened to Shinpachi?” “It is reported that he fled as he was.” “Kakizaki, you’ve made a fatal blunder.” “Was their intention to acquire the Hata siblings?” “He’s not one to be discouraged—he’ll undoubtedly seize another opportunity, and it seems the Hata siblings are also eyeing my head.” “Shall I summon Rokurōbei?” “Let him do as he pleases. I’ll soon have a role to command him for. Whatever I’ve paid him, I’ll surely take it all back.”

“It is nine o’clock. Will you be departing for Lord Sakai Tadakiyo of Utsunomiya?” “Is there any word from Suō?” “Not yet.” “Then let us depart for Utsunomiya. If Suō arrives, tell him to proceed with consultations without concerning himself with me.”

“Understood.”

Shell-Matching Game

That day—the Harada household's morning gruel gathering had guests more unusual than ever before.

From the province had come Shibata Geki, Furuuchi Shima (Yoshinari), and Katakura Kojūrō. Shibata Geki had recently been appointed provincial elder. Furuuchi Shima was the son of Shigen Yasuyasu, the former provincial elder; thirty years old, he had served as a councilor. However, when his father was dispatched to Mount Kōya to perform memorial services for the late lord Tadamune and returned to the province after fulfilling his duty, Shima had come up to Edo as his replacement. Katakura Kojūrō (Kagenaga) was the lord of Shiroishi Castle in Katta District with a fief of over 17,000 koku, held the house rank of "Ikkaku," and served as magistrate overseeing the Koishikawa moat construction. In addition, the attendees were senior lady Toba, Satomi Jūzaemon, and Itō Shichijūrō.

The elderly woman Toba was the daughter of the rōnin Sakakita Rōzaemon. At seventeen, she had become an attendant to the late Tadamune's wife and now served as Kamechiyo's guardian at this main residence. Though forty years old with no particular beauty of complexion, her expressive eyes and graceful bearing still revealed moments of voluptuous charm alongside keen intelligence. Itō Shichijūrō was meant to return to his domain within days—the conversation had begun with that topic—yet he sat silent, drinking only sake as though forgetting his customary loquacity.

Satomi Jūzaemon seemed concerned about this and kept glancing toward Shichijūrō. Even though they always start quarreling right away. Kai found it amusing. At the head seat, Shima and Kojūrō were talking. It concerned the gold mine located in Rikuzen. The territory newly granted to Hyōbu Munekatsu included the Date family’s gold mine. The gold produced from that mine was a matter of whether it belonged to Hyōbu or to the Date main domain. "That is a difficult problem," said Katakura Kojūrō.

“That is indeed a difficult problem,” Shima nodded.

“If we don’t settle its ownership quickly, I believe it will soon become a source of conflict,” said Shima. Shibata Geki remained silent. When the conversation between Shima and Kojūrō paused, Jūzaemon, showing signs of losing patience, called out to Shichijūrō. “Lord Itō, is something the matter?”

"Yeah," Shichijūrō turned around. "You seem terribly gloomy," said Jūzaemon. "Is something troubling you?" "It seems Shichijūrō had his pride wounded," said Kai. "At Lord Wakidani's farewell banquet the other day—wasn't that so, Shichijūrō?" "During the farewell banquet—what do you mean by that?" "It would be better left unsaid," Kai smiled. Shibata Geki grimaced. While Katakura and Shima were discussing the crucial matter of gold mine ownership, Kai had begun speaking of trivialities, clearly trying to divert the conversation. Indeed, since Kai appeared determined to avoid the topic, Geki made no attempt to conceal his displeasure. Both Shichijūrō and Jūzaemon perceived through Kai's tone that he wished to change the subject.

“Let’s have him tell us,” Shichijūrō said, looking at Kai. “What did I do at the Moniwa residence?”

"Shichijūrō insisted on meeting Lord Wakidani, you see," Kai said to Toba. "He wasn't invited - Matsuyama [Moniwa Suō] has the temperament you're well aware of, and Lord Wakidani is one who does not disrupt protocol." "When was this?" Toba asked. As she asked this, she stared intently at Kai with eyes filled with emotion. "It was when a farewell banquet was held at Matsuyama's residence because Lord Wakidani was returning to his domain."

“And what came of it?” “I tried to stop him, but Shichijūrō made a quip—‘the old man,’ meaning Lord Wakidani—‘the old man may be particular about formalities and etiquette, but he’s surprisingly easy to sway when properly approached.’” “How very like Lord Itō.” Toba smiled, pressing her cheek with one hand as she fixed her gaze on Kai’s eyes. “He likely had some scheme to win favor—seemed quite self-assured about it too—but naturally the Moniwa house never let him past the antechamber. They kept him waiting there until his grand designs came to nothing.”

“Lord Harada, how cruel of you! Why didn’t you mediate for him?” “If you do such a thing, Shichijūrō will get angry.” “He gets angry, does he?” “He would get angry indeed,” said Kai. “He had such strong self-respect—if I were to meddle unnecessarily, it would injure his pride.” “Lord Itō is quite difficult, isn’t he?” “I got terribly drunk and ended up staying over, so I don’t know when he left, but I’m quite certain he had his pride broken that night—don’t you think so, Shichijūrō?”

"I don’t believe I ever had any horns to begin with; therefore, breaking nonexistent horns should be impossible." "What are your thoughts, Lord Satomi?" Kai said. Jūza was perplexed and mumbled something unintelligibly. "We’re in the middle of discussing something," Shibata Geki said.

He seemed to be suppressing his emotions with effort, but in the eyes and vocal inflections of this fifty-two-year-old man, anger showed through unmistakably. The assembly fell utterly silent.

“Lord Funooka, what are your thoughts on the current gold mine?” Kai responded with a perplexed look, “Well...” “Within the territory newly annexed to Ichinoseki lies a gold mine. Do you consider it proper, Lord Funooka, that the gold produced there should belong to the main domain or to Ichinoseki?” “You must excuse me,” Kai said calmly, “but at this Morning Gruel Meeting, we have agreed that all political discussions are strictly prohibited.” “I demand answers,” Geki retorted. “There are other irregularities. In Ichinoseki, they redirect domain ships to Kesennuma and ship their own tax rice to Edo under the guise of official storehouse rice. This is confirmed fact. On these matters too, I require Edo’s senior officials’ counsel.”

“As I am still only a Councilor,” “Nonsense,” Geki said sharply. “Funooka comes from a family of seated retainers, and with Ichinoseki’s backing, isn’t it said that you will soon be appointed senior retainer?” “Well, well,” Kai said with a bitter smile. “I don’t know where such rumors originate, but this is the first I’ve heard of it—I must say, it’s quite unexpected.” “I do not find it unexpected,” said Geki. “It’s not just me—Lord Wakidani doesn’t seem to find it unexpected either. But let us set that aside for now. I want you to answer my question.”

“Very well, I shall explain,” Kai said with a nod. “While I am not privy to the details, when Lord Masamune received the gold mine within your domain from the Toyotomi, a written guarantee had been affixed stating that regardless of how much gold it produced, he would manage it himself without it being confiscated by the shogunate.” “I wasn’t asking about that.” “Since then—within your esteemed domain,” Kai continued, “a position called Kanayama Honbanmochi was established, and this individual managed the mine, remitting annual tribute payments to the domain.”

“So what?” “If the main domain were to present a portion of its gold production to the shogunate, then that mine would belong to the main domain. If not—since mines are attached to the land—they would naturally belong to whoever holds that territory.” “So that is your position, Lord Funooka.” Geki barely stifled a roar. That he had restrained himself from shouting became evident through his face—flushed crimson with rage—and lips trembling so violently they seemed to part.

"I see," said Geki. "Now I understand the reason for Lord Funooka's partiality toward Lord Ichinoseki." "Well, I must say," Kai said with a polite nod, "as I was earnestly requested to state my opinion, I simply expressed what came to mind—but it appears my words have not found favor with Lord Yoneya." "I’m a stubborn country bumpkin," Geki said. "I don’t have a flexible mind, nor do I know how to flatter people. But I can at least discern righteousness from injustice, right from wrong—I do have eyes discerning enough for that. You’d do well to remember it."

“This is troubling,” Kai said to Katakura Kojūrō. “It seems I’ve completely upset Lord Yoneya’s mood. Lord Shiraishi, won’t you mediate for us?” “I’m leaving,” said Geki as he rose from his seat.

Kojūrō and Toba tried to calm him, but Furuuchi Shima also stood up. "Then I shall join you," she said, preparing to leave. Kai patiently offered apologies and had Horiuchi Sōzaemon send the two on their way. The gathering had completely lost its warmth, and after that, the conversation failed to regain momentum. Eventually, Kojūrō turned his cup upside down and said to Kyūma, the attendant, "Serve the meal." At this, both the elderly Toba and Satomi Jūzaemon also requested their meals. Then, for the first time, Itō Shichijūrō raised his face and spoke to Jūza.

“It’s still too early for the meal. Mr. Satomi isn’t ready yet.” “No—let’s have the meal.” “Very well, let’s proceed with one.” Shichijūrō raised his sake cup. “My spirits had been weighed down all day, but witnessing Lord Funooka being put in his place has thoroughly settled my indignation.” “Lord Itō,” Toba said, glaring at him from across.

“What is it?” “You would do well to mind your tongue.” “You should restrain those eyes. The way you glare lacks propriety. Old Shibata didn’t notice, but I’ve been trembling in my boots this whole time.” “My goodness, whatever made you so nervous?” “There—those eyes!” said Itō Shichijūrō. “With those very eyes, you’ve been ceaselessly gazing at someone’s face.” “Oh, Lord Itō…”

“With an entranced, melting gaze—wouldn’t you agree, Harada-san?”

Toba calmly picked up her chopsticks. Jūza said disgustedly, “What a foolish man he is.” Itō Shichijūrō laughed, “To someone like Old Satomi, it might seem foolish—but had Lord Yoneya noticed, it would’ve been quite amusing.” "I should have told you," Kai said. "Then we would have known who would have been judged." “Well, that’s fine.” Shichijūrō grinned and urged Jūza, “Return the cup.” And while having Shiozawa Tansaburō pour the sake, he said to Jūza.

“In any case, this means Mr. Harada is no longer invulnerable. After all, he was a man who was gentle, humble, steadfast in camaraderie—never once hated or disparaged by anyone, never shown such weaknesses before.”

Shichijūrō nodded to himself with a grunt of “Mm,” then took a firm gulp from his cup and continued.

"Now then, an enemy has appeared here—one who shoots his challenge arrow straight to our faces with a clang! The seat of invulnerability has crumbled. This shows even Mr. Harada is merely human after all. Things will grow interesting." “Lord Funooka,” Jūza said, ignoring Shichijūrō to address Kai directly, “when you stated your views to Lord Yoneya earlier—were those your true convictions?”

“There, the second volley,” Shichijūrō said. “Keep quiet,” Jūza said. “Let us end this discussion,” said Kai. “Political talk has no place at the Morning Gruel Meeting. Lord Yoneya pressed me so insistently that I had no choice but to share my immediate thoughts—but I hold no official position in such matters, and complex affairs are beyond my understanding.” “However, if the ownership of the gold mine becomes an issue, as Councilor you would have to take charge of handling it.”

“That depends on the opinions of the main family and branch families.” “Are you suggesting this does not fall under the Councilor’s duties?” “Let me reiterate,” Kai said calmly. “Regarding such weighty matters, the main family and branch families’ opinions must take precedence. Whether senior retainers make the judgment or councilors take their turn in rotation—that should be determined based on those opinions.” “Then if we assume the Councilor will handle this matter, I would ask to hear your considerations.”

“Let us end this discussion.”

“May I inquire?” “You likely cannot say,” Kai replied with a smile. “No issue has even arisen yet—to ask what we would do if one did leaves no path for response. Let us conclude this discussion.”

Kojūrō remained silent and continued his meal. Jūza hardened his face and stared at Kai’s profile with eyes brimming with dissatisfaction and suspicion. Harada-dono was not this kind of person, Jūza seemed to think. Shichijūrō gazed at Kai and Jūza with feigned nonchalance while secretly stealing glances at Kojūrō—who kept eating with practiced indifference—and Toba’s expression, which flickered with concern as she moved her chopsticks while furtively observing Kai’s demeanor.

“What a shame to end it here,” muttered Shichijūrō. “I’d have liked to see it stirred up a bit more. Tansaburō—sake! The Harada family’s Morning Gruel Meeting used to be a lukewarm, soggy affair, but now it’s not something to discard lightly. Mr. Harada—how about lifting the ban on political talk from now on?”

“I’ll have the meal as well,” said Jūza. In response, Shichijūrō tried to speak again, but Horinouchi Sōzaemon approached and informed Kai, “Hatokudō has arrived.” Kai nodded, instructed them to keep him waiting, and overturned his cup. To the guests, this seemed to signal the meeting’s end. “Pay me no mind,” said Shichijūrō. “I’ll remain awhile longer—the rest of you should carry on without restraint. Tansaburō, order more sake.”

Kai ordered tea.

Shichijūrō settled in and began drinking, but before long, Katakura Kojūrō rose, followed by Toba, and then Satomi Jūzaemon also stood. After the three had left, Kai rose from his seat, and Shichijūrō said with a grin. “That was splendid, Harada-san.”

Kai turned and looked at Shichijūrō with calm eyes. Shichijūrō laughed again. "I like you." "After putting me through all that?" Kai said. Shichijūrō shrugged. "You're joking. You must know I only played clumsy accompaniment to make your poetry shine—whether I humbled you or not." "I can't comprehend it—not at all." "Don't underestimate me," Shichijūrō said. "At least I can hear and see, and I've got reasonably accurate intuition."

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Kai said slowly. “I’ll remember that.”

“As I always say—there are aspects where I can’t match you. I lose to you, Harada-san. But even I am Itō Shichijūrō, so don’t lump me in with those other deaf and blind fools.” Kai said, “I’ll remember that.” When Kai entered the parlor, Sōzaemon brought over the Hatokudō box and handed it to him. “I was surprised by Lord Yoneya’s words,” Sōzaemon said. Kai nodded with a “Mm,” opened the box, and took out a brush with a mottled shaft and tiger-fur bristles.

“That rumor—it’s the first I’ve heard of it myself—where could it have come from?” “The rumor is—” “It’s that you’re being recommended by Lord Ichinoseki to become a senior retainer.” Kai quietly removed the brush shaft, took out a small rolled piece of thin paper from inside it, and while carefully spreading it out on the desk, said as though it were a matter of course. “Of course—Lord Wakuya.” Sōzaemon looked unconvinced. Kai read the secret letter and, immediately burning it in the fire bucket, suddenly sighed deeply.

“Lord Yoneya likely stopped by Wakuya before heading to Edo—I believe that’s when Lord Wakuya spoke about it.” “Then, if that is the case...” “It seems seeds have been sown,” Kai said. Sōzaemon finally seemed to understand and looked at his master’s back with a pained expression. Kai leaned on the desk with his elbow. “So the hardships are finally beginning, then,” Sōzaemon said. “It’s nothing significant—nothing significant at all. You needn’t trouble yourself over it.”

“I find serving at your side unbearable,” Sōzaemon said. “Could you summon Hayato and assign me to duties in my home province instead?”

“You wouldn’t do that.” “I cannot bear being by your side any longer.” “You can’t do that,” Kai said. “Even if I were to say so, you wouldn’t return to your home province. In your home province, troubles will arise in due time—you’d only burden Hayato further. Serve here in Edo, Sōzaemon. You’re indispensable here.”

“I was merely—” Sōzaemon began to say before lowering his head without finishing. “We go to Yushima,” stated Harada Kai. “Kihee as palanquin-bearer, and Kyūma.” “Do you mean Naruse?”

“Yeah, it’s Kyūma,” Kai said. “We’ll probably stay over. Make sure to send word.” Sōzaemon answered with a barely audible “Yes,” as if fading away.

Uncertain even of the irises

When they arrived at the house in Yushima, Kai had the bedroom prepared and lay down.

“I’ll wake when they light the lamps,” Kai told Okumi. “Have Kariya and our regular performers summoned.” “There’s something I must tell you,” Okumi said.

Kai said, "Later," and closed his eyes. Okumi sat by the pillow and whispered in a low voice.

“Senior Councillor Lord Sakai has arrived.” Kai opened his eyes. “Lord Sakai came… here?”

Okumi nodded. "When?" Kai asked. "Yesterday," Okumi said. Kai closed his eyes. "Tell me." "He stopped his palanquin in front of the house and said, 'I'm feeling unwell—let me rest here.'" "Did he announce himself as Lord Sakai?" "Afterward, his attendants informed me privately." "You showed him into the guest room?" Okumi answered, "Yes." Kai's brow furrowed. He quietly shifted the bedding down from his chest and repeated, "Tell me."

Okumi spoke. Lord Sakai had brought five attendants. He was returning from visiting Kan’ei-ji Temple, they said. Upon being shown into the guest room, he requested hot water and took medicine from his pocket. He did not appear unwell, and before long began demanding sake. Okumi bristled—what an impertinent man. Though clearly a person of high station, making such a request must mean he regarded them as mere townsfolk. She refused.

Though he may be a masterless samurai, I have a master of a samurai household. Because the master is away now, I cannot offer sake hospitality.

Then the man laughed and asked, “What’s this ronin’s name?” “Yasoshima Kazue,” I replied. “Is that truly his name?” “That is what I have been told.”

“Well, fine. Let’s have some sake.”

The man laughed again. At that moment, one of the attendants called Okumi aside and explained that the man was Lord Sakai, Senior Councillor, while he himself was Matsudaira Naiki, an attendant; assuring her they meant no harm to her master, he requested she prepare sake and offered a purse containing coins.

Okumi returned the money and prepared a meal with sake and accompanying dishes. Lord Sakai drank cheerfully for about an hour. “That Yasoshima fellow seems to have been born under an exceedingly lucky star.”

Lord Sakai teased Okumi in that manner. Okumi did not engage with him, but Lord Sakai continued. “Wait,” Kai said. “Tell me more about what he said there.” “It’s rather difficult for me to say it in my own words.” “You may omit the parts that are difficult to express.”

Okumi thought for a moment and continued, as if carefully recalling.

The reason it was difficult to say was that she had apparently been praised. "To have such a beautiful woman and such a quiet safehouse—he must be an exceedingly fortunate man. I too would like to share in such fortune. I absolutely must meet this Yasoshima soon. Tell him to come visit my residence. If he does not come to the residence, I will return to this house again. Be sure to convey that exactly," he told her. Kai remained silent for a while, then nodded and said, "I understand."

“Did he come knowing you are Lord Harada of the Date clan?” “Who can say?” “That’s how it seemed to me,” Okumi said. “I thought he knew you were Lord Harada and came here with some purpose.”

“Who can say?” Kai said. “Can’t you think of anything that might explain it?” “I have no connection with Lord Sakai,” said Kai. At that moment, wrinkles formed again between his brows. “Of course I have no recollection of being visited here either, and there’s nothing for you to worry about at all.” “Is that so?”

“Let me sleep a little.”

“But what should we do if he comes again?”

Kai did not answer. Okumi watched his sleeping face for a time, then quietly rose and left. What nonsense.

Kai kept his eyes closed as he thought.

What kind of trap? Okumi’s intuition was correct. Judging from his tone, Lord Sakai had visited this house knowing it was Harada Kai’s safehouse. And he had said, "Come visit my residence," adding, "If you don’t come, I’ll visit again myself."

What was he planning? Even as a Senior Councillor, why would Lord Sakai Tadakiyo—whose influence grew more formidable by the day—take such interest in a mere secondary retainer like himself? He understood the connection between Assistant Director of the Ministry of War Munekatsu and Lord Tadakiyo. He knew what Hyōbu plotted within the Date clan now—knew Lord Tadakiyo’s support underpinned it all. But when it came to why Lord Tadakiyo himself would extend his hand toward Kai... that remained beyond his comprehension.

When Kai was awakened, daylight had faded completely, and lamps illuminated the room. He had fallen asleep without realizing it. The sleep appeared to have restored his vigor. Lord Sakai's appearance at this residence no longer felt like a significant burden now, and the mental fatigue accumulated over recent days seemed to have diminished. After bathing, shaving his beard, and changing clothes, he entered the parlor to find candlesticks arranged in rows, with Kariya Shinsuke and the entertainers already assembled around trays bearing sake and delicacies. As Kai lifted his cup, Shinsuke commenced speaking.

In Funooka, an unusual shift in the climate had brought unseasonably warm weather akin to May, and as a result, the Kōjiya had spoiled more than a dozen barrels of walnut miso. "Does 'spoiled' mean it rotted?" Kai asked. "Well, since it's miso, it likely hasn't rotted. But mixing walnuts altered the flavor, making it unsellable." "More than a dozen barrels... Those are large ones." "Of course they are." "That's a loss," Kai said with a bitter smile.

“Then Kōjiya will probably stop making it.” “Is that so?” “He was reluctant from the start.” Kai said with a bitter smile. He had the walnut miso made because he wanted it to become one of the local specialties. And he consulted with Kōjiya Matazaemon. The Kōjiya had been engaged in brewing in Funooka since ancient times and had also handled the financial affairs of the Harada family. When consulted, Matazaemon had stated that incorporating walnuts into miso would make it difficult to preserve and that the flavor would not appeal to general tastes. “Even if it sells, there won’t be much profit,” he had expressed reservations. Kai had not expected significant profits; rather, he had thought that if it could be established as a local specialty and its sales channels successfully expanded, even with a low profit margin, it might contribute to a stable annual income in the future.

"If there's a loss, the Harada family will compensate; if there's profit, let's distribute it in such-and-such a ratio." It was with such terms that Kai had finally persuaded Matazaemon. For about a year after that, Kai had Kariya Shinsuke handle the sales while also having his acquaintances sample the flavor. And it had gradually become clear that while it was quite prized as a luxury item, it was not something that would sell in large quantities.

"If we rely solely on annual tributes, warrior household finances will become unsustainable. We must devise alternative revenue streams—this was my initial attempt when considering that necessity," Kai said self-deprecatingly. "As expected, amateur commercial strategies appear ill-fated." "What would you say to that?" "—What are you laughing at?" "My apologies." Kariya Shinsuke bowed his head. "You expressed yourself with such solemnity that I found it inadvertently comical."

“Seriously?” “You may scold me for this,” Shinsuke said. “Whether the walnut miso was devised for your economic purposes—others may not know, but this Shinsuke knows full well.” “Walnut miso, huh?” Kai said with a bitter smile, averting his eyes. “Let’s drop that subject.” Shinsuke silently bowed his head. “How is the business doing?” Kai asked. “It’s going fairly well for now.” “Has it improved somewhat?” “We won’t know unless we wait a bit longer.” “The truth is, since the Chinese ships have remained anchored as usual, I tried acquiring two ships myself.” “Did you buy shares?” “No,” Shinsuke mumbled evasively.

Kai looked at Shinsuke. Shinsuke, as if avoiding those eyes, signaled to the entertainers, “Begin.” The musical instruments began playing loudly, and a young man and a female performer stood up to begin dancing the Saruwaka. Kai had Okumi pour him drinks and drank slowly, seemingly without a care. Naruse Kyūma was sitting behind Kai, occasionally glancing to the right out of the corner of his eye. By those sliding doors, two maidservants were waiting in attendance. One was Oura, and the other was Miyaji. Both were seventeen years old, but every time Kyūma’s gaze shifted, a subtle shift would flicker across Oura’s expression. The two maidservants were not simply sitting still there, as they had to carry down and bring in the food and drink on the trays. But when seated, between Kyūma and Oura there seemed to be some unspoken communication passing through their glances and slight expressions.

After about half an hour had passed, Kai set down his cup, lay down there, and said, “Kyūma, rub my feet.” But Kyūma did not answer. There was the sound of musical instruments, and Kai’s voice was low, but Kyūma was so distracted by Oura that he did not hear it at all. Kai turned to look at him and said once again, “Rub my feet.” Kyūma started, and upon noticing Kai’s eyes fixed on him, he recoiled as if struck and planted his hands behind him.

“What are you panicking about?” Kai asked calmly. “Didn’t you hear what I said?” Kyūma prostrated himself with a “Yes.” Noticing Kyūma’s unusual demeanor, the musicians stopped playing and the dancers halted their performance. Kai waved toward them and said, “It’s nothing. Continue,” then fixed his steady gaze on Kyūma. The entertainers resumed their act. “Kyūma,” Kai said quietly. “You’ve always been diligent in your duties. What troubles you today? If this continues, you’ll fail your crucial responsibilities.”

Kyūma remained prostrated, holding his breath. Kai’s words held a double meaning—Kyūma seemed to have sensed this. Okumi spoke from beside him, “Please show him some mercy. He must be exhausted. I’ll give him a massage.” “No, I’m all right,” Kyūma said, raising his face. “I’m not tired. I was careless and failed to hear your order. Should I massage your waist?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kai said languidly. “This isn’t something worth getting so worked up over. Step back and rest.”

“I am not tired.” “Step back and rest,” Kai said.

Kyūma looked at Kai. Kai propped himself up on his elbow, resting his head in his hand with his eyes closed in a languid daze. —Kyūma quietly withdrew from his seat, then stood up and left.

Kai appeared to be dozing where he lay. As this was routine, the entertainers alternated performing their acts and drinking when urged by Shinsuke. Then around eight o'clock, Kai stood up casually, glanced at Shinsuke's face, then left to enter the bedroom. The bedding remained exactly as laid out earlier. Okumi, who had followed Kai in, asked, "Are you going out?"

Kai shook his head. “Matsuyama is coming.” “Is it Lord Moniwa?” “Yeah, leave the gate open.” Okumi was about to leave when she asked where to take the guest. “Your bedroom will do,” Kai said. When Okumi went out, Kai lay down in the bedding as he was. In the hall, the sounds of musical instruments and singing voices continued noisily, rising and falling, and at times, Shinsuke’s rustic local songs could also be heard.

Suō arrived a little past ten o'clock. In Okumi's cramped bedroom, they set up a folding screen around them, dimmed the lamp, and sat down with a charcoal brazier between them.

“I’ve caught a cold.” Suō removed his hood as he said this, covering his mouth with his sleeve to cough. His complexion looked pallid, and whether from the dim lamplight or illness, his cheeks appeared deeply sunken. “This cough refuses to subside. I can’t sleep properly at night—it’s wearing me down.” “I could have come to you instead.” “There’s no suitable location,” Suō replied. “I cannot leave the Koishikawa hut, yet even there we’ve lost all secure meeting places.” “Every corner seems to have eyes and ears planted now.”

Kai nodded and said, “Let’s hear it.” “There has been a secret petition from Yoshioka (Okuyama Daigaku) to both regents,” Suō said. Kai nodded vigorously. “That seems to be the case.” “Do you know?” “It came to my ears just the other day.” “Do you know the contents as well?” “First, let’s hear it.” “It’s my impeachment,” Suō said. “They’ve listed various unfounded charges and written that I should be punished as soon as possible, that the governance of the domain should be entrusted to me alone, and that otherwise, I will resign.”

“This is the second or third time,” Kai said. Suō looked at Kai with bloodshot eyes, his gaze filled with suspicion. Kai spoke again.

“It seems they’ve sent such petitions to Ichinoseki several times before.” “Do they carry the same intent?” “That’s how it is.” “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Suō said. “If Funooka had known, why didn’t he tell me?” “What would telling you achieve?” Kai said calmly. “The moat construction has been plagued by problems, and even Yoshioka seems to be strongly pursuing this point. Matsuyama is devoting all his energy to completing the project. On top of that, how could Matsuyama have informed me about the secret petitions?”

"The moat construction and that are separate matters. If Yoshioka is impeaching me, must I not take countermeasures against it?" "To what end?" "What do you mean 'to what end'?" Suō’s sunken cheek twitched involuntarily. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and coughed, composed his breath, then said sharply in a low voice. "Okuyama Daigaku and Ichinoseki share a special relationship. When the proposal to increase Ichinoseki’s stipend arose in the past, Yoshioka alone insisted and succeeded in raising the amount. Ichinoseki regards this as a favor, and Yoshioka now plans to use that as leverage to ally with them. His demand to entrust governance to himself alone means that, if granted, Ichinoseki will conduct politics entirely as they wish."

Wrinkles formed on Kai’s forehead—three distinct, deep horizontal lines. With one hand, he quietly stroked the edge of the charcoal brazier. “Ichinoseki will exploit this petition again,” Suō continued. “They’ll twist unfounded articles to fabricate charges against me and drive me from my seat as senior retainer. Do you still believe we need no countermeasures?” “Matsuyama is tired.” “I must remain as chief senior retainer—to stem the forces seeking to undermine the domain, I cannot abandon this post as its primary bulwark.”

“Matsuyama is tired,” Kai said again.

Suō covered his mouth with his sleeve and coughed, as if to suppress his agitation. Kai quietly raised his eyes. “It may indeed be a fact that Yoshioka is attempting to ally with Ichinoseki; however, Ichinoseki knows full well that this is not his true intent.” “Not his true intent?” “I believe Yoshioka’s true intent is rather to control Ichinoseki.” Suō again had a suspicious look in his eyes. Kai said slowly.

“At the July councilor meeting, Tōyama Kageyu alone raised an objection and had Watanabe Kinbei and three others interrogated.” “I’ve heard about that.” “Tōyama Kageyu is Yoshioka’s younger brother, and it was Ichinoseki who recommended him for councilor. Despite that, Kageyu defied Ichinoseki.” “Defied them?” “Watanabe Kinbei and his men are under Ichinoseki’s influence. That assassination on the night of July nineteenth was orchestrated by Ichinoseki.”

Suō nodded. Kai calmly continued. "The fact that Kageyu insisted on interrogating the three was naturally under Yoshioka's direction—and as for why Yoshioka did such a thing, I believe it was to make his presence known to Ichinoseki."

“As an opponent?” “In terms of both alignment and defiance.” “Meaning?” “Yoshioka is earnest,” Kai said. “Okuyama Daigaku earnestly considers the domain’s welfare; he believes himself to be its very pillar.” “That is Funooka’s view.” “Just hear me out.” Kai continued stroking the brazier’s edge, his tone unwaveringly calm. “In this current matter—setting Ichinoseki aside—everyone acts earnestly for the domain’s welfare. Watanabe Kinbei and his three assassins carried out those killings believing wholeheartedly in their duty, unaware of Ichinoseki’s strings. Yoshioka too—he’s convinced sole governance would let him secure the domain’s stability. He sees no other path.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“That he seeks to join hands with Ichinoseki stems not from personal ambition for power, but as a stratagem to become chief senior retainer.” “That is Funooka’s overimagination.” “Listen a little longer,” Kai said. “Daigaku is precisely that kind of person—and Ichinoseki knows this well. The difficulty lies in Ichinoseki’s very awareness of it.”

Suō stared fixedly at Kai.

“To put it concisely?” Suō asked. “During the council regarding the assassination,” Kai said, “I realized something: Ichinoseki intends to sow discord within the clan. As you know, those of Sendai are obstinate and clannish—even when acting for the domain’s welfare, they insist on their own way. When Lord Tsunasada retired, during the heir selection, at the oath-taking of senior retainers—never once did their opinions align.”

Suō nodded. “Even now, regarding the ceremonial gifts to the shogunate for Lord Kamechiyo’s succession,” Kai continued, “the senior retainers remain divided in their opinions, and no resolution has yet been reached. This isn’t done out of obstruction—each sincerely believes they act for the sake of the Date clan, convinced of their own loyal devotion. And should their views be rejected, they declare they’re ready to commit seppuku on the spot. Okuyama Daigaku is a prime example of this.”

“Then what becomes of the secret petition?” “I don’t know,” Kai shook his head. “But we may infer this—Ichinoseki will provoke Yoshioka’s anger and stir conflict with Matsuyama.” “Give me your frank opinion,” Suō said. “What should I do? Must I silently endure these distorted, baseless charges?” “However they twist facts or force connections, they cannot punish a man with groundless accusations. Were we to dispute it openly, truth would prevail—but this plays directly into Ichinoseki’s hands. Should strife erupt among senior retainers, Ichinoseki as regent would petition the shogunate’s councillors for judgment—do you not agree?”

Suō lowered his eyes. "Some time ago at Matsuyama's residence," Kai continued, "the three of us—you, Lord Wakutani, and I—spoke. Ichinoseki harbors the ambition to split Date's six hundred thousand koku and claim half for himself. With Sakai Uta-no-kami as his backer—should internal conflict arise within the clan, it will undoubtedly be brought before the senior councillors through Uta-no-kami's intervention." "That does seem certain." "Matsuyama should resign," Kai said. "He should do so as soon as the moat construction is completed."

“Then Yoshioka will take his place.” “A fire that burns itself out will extinguish.”

Suō pondered for a moment, then nodded and said, “However, there is a condition.” “In exchange for my resignation, will Funooka become senior retainer?”

"That rumor is already circulating," Kai said with a wry smile. "So the rumor's out there?" "Today, Yoneya brought up that matter with me—it nearly cost me my dignity."

“What do you mean?” Suō coughed again, covering his mouth with his sleeve. After waiting for it to subside, Kai said. "I was told that with Ichinoseki’s backing, I would soon be promoted to senior retainer." Suō said, “Oh?” “I said it was the first I’d heard of it and that it was entirely unexpected. Then Yoneya replied that he wasn’t surprised at all and that Lord Wakutani didn’t seem to find it unexpected either.” Kai looked at Suō with calm eyes. Suō nodded quietly.

“—Lord Wakutani?” “There can be no one else,” Kai agreed with a nod. “Yoneya is a tight-lipped and upright man—not one to be taken in by rumors or backbiting. But if told by Lord Wakutani himself, he would believe it without question.”

Suō said, “Uh-huh.” “Lord Wakutani has masterfully chosen his people; Lord Shibata appeared to have believed in him completely.” “I see,” Suō said in a low voice. “So enemies have emerged for Funooka as well.” “Shichijūrō called it the first arrow.” “Was he there too?” “I invited them to the Morning Gruel Meeting,” Kai said with a smile. “The attendees were Furuuchi Shima, Shiraishi—that is Katakura Kojūrō—the elderly Lady Toba, Satomi Jūza, and Shichijūrō.”

“That’s... that’s...” "The effect was decisive. After Yoneya and Furuuchi withdrew, Satomi Jūza immediately began grilling them—Shichijūrō hailed it as the second volley." “Then it would reach Ichinoseki’s ears without delay?” “It likely already has,” Kai replied. “Their network of observers leaves nothing unnoticed.” Suō fixed Kai with eyes that pierced like blades. They mirrored a warrior’s gaze—one locked in his own mortal clash yet still tracking a comrade’s faltering steps toward collapse.

“In that case,” Suō said, “the matter of senior retainer will likely arise regardless. But Funooka will of course accept it, won’t you?” “Only after formally declining first.” “It’s painful—” Suō said, “knowingly sending a friend I depend on into the enemy’s camp—it’s painful.”

“I may be of no use. As I’ve said repeatedly, I’m not suited for such affairs. What little I can accomplish will be negligible.” Suō shook his head. “Understood.”

"I know Funooka well," Suō said. "If possible, I never wanted to involve you in such matters. But you must understand—it became unavoidable." “I ended up complaining—let’s change the subject,” Kai said, producing a kaishi. “I heard Lord Umabashi (Sakai Tadakiyo) came here yesterday.” “Lord Utayō?” Suō asked in return. "He used the pretext of feeling unwell and wanting to rest to retreat to the sitting room and order sake."

“Lord Utayō…?” Suō’s eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.” “Did he know this was Funooka’s safehouse?” “I believe so,” Kai nodded. “Omi did as instructed and gave the name Yasoshima Kazue, but the lord laughed and told me to come visit his residence.” “That’s a trap.” “He also said that if I don’t come to his residence, he’ll come here again himself.” “That must be a trap.” “I don’t know.” Kai wiped his face with a kaishi. “It’s clear the lord backs Ichinoseki, but I don’t understand why he’d take notice of someone like this Harada.”

“That’s probably Ichinoseki’s—” Suō began, then abruptly fell silent.

Outside the sliding door was a corridor. Omi's bedroom lay at the end of the middle corridor, separated from Kai's sleeping quarters by one room, when suddenly Omi's voice rang out in that passageway alongside hurried footsteps. "What are you doing?" Omi shouted. "I was eavesdropping," came Kyūma's voice. "I caught him because he was eavesdropping there." "No! That's a lie!" cried a young girl's voice. "I wasn't eavesdropping—I was tying my tabi strings!" "Quiet now, quiet," Omi's voice could be heard saying. The voices grew softer and faded down the corridor.

“No, that’s a lie!” a young girl’s voice shouted. “I wasn’t eavesdropping—I crouched down to tie my tabi strings!” “Be quiet! Quiet!” Omi’s voice could be heard saying. The voices grew lower and faded away down the corridor. “Well done,” Kai said. Suō looked at Kai. Kai tossed a rolled paper into the dustbin and said, “Well planned. They probably intended to lure us out from here. They didn’t know who the guest in this room was.”

“Then, what just happened—” “The maid Oura and Kyūma are in a relationship.”

Suō let out a low breath.

The two of them once again confirmed the details of their earlier discussion, and eventually Suō stood up. Kai looked at Suō’s preparations and said, “Then you must be cold. Wait a moment.”

“I’ll have them bring out a neck wrap now.” Kai called Omi and had her bring a woolen neck wrap. Suō wrapped it over his hood and asked while putting on his cloak. “When will you depart for Funooka?” “Since Yonetani has arrived, I could depart anytime, but due to Lord Sakai’s matter, I think I’ll stay a while longer.” “Will you end up staying through the New Year?” Kai said, “Well.” Omi made a motion as if she wanted to ask Kai something. It must be about Kyūma and Oura; Kai maintained a face as if he hadn’t noticed.

“When you return to the domain, you’ll meet Lord Waketani, won’t you?” “What will happen?” Kai shook his head. “What Lord Waketani conveyed through Yonetani must be taken as a declaration that I’ve already aligned myself with Ichinoseki. If that’s the case, then Lord Waketani will likely refuse to meet me.” “Still, you can’t very well avoid paying him a visit.” “Who knows?” Kai said. “When I return to the domain, I’ll call at the Matsuyama residence. From Matsuyama, Waketani lies close by—there may yet be some opportunity.”

“That might be best.” Suō nodded and said, “I will resign as senior retainer once the Moat Construction is completed. After that, I will seclude myself in the Matsuyama residence, so I should be able to serve in any role.” “If that necessity arises,” Kai said.

Suō looked at Kai. Kai waved his hand at Omi. Omi slid open the sliding door, checked the corridor to confirm no one was there, and nodded. The two men exited through the lattice door to the rear. In the darkness were two retainers of the Moniwa family and Murayama Kihee. There was no wind, but the cold was intense, and the ground appeared to have frozen already; as the retainers walked, the frozen earth creaked beneath their feet.

“Then we part here,” Kai said.

Suō's retainer held a lantern wrapped in a raincoat. In the dim glow leaking from the raincoat, Suō stared fixedly at Kai. Kai said while avoiding those eyes, “Don’t let your cold worsen.” “Yeah, let’s leave it at that.” “It’s dark,” Kai said. Suō said quietly, “It’s dark—just like the position we’re in now. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring or where the pitfalls lie in this darkness. A single light would suffice here, but we don’t even have that one light.”

“Matsuyama is exhausted,” Kai said. “Let us part. Take care of yourself.”

Snow.

On December 25th—the Date clan presented Motochika's tachi sword, five hundred bundles of cotton, and five hundred silver coins to the Shogunate as ceremonial gifts for Kamechiyo's formal succession.

This envoy was Harada Kai. The ones who selected Kai as envoy were the guardians Date Hyōbu and Tamura Ukyō; the two appeared at the Shiroshoin Hall of Chiyoda Castle alongside chief envoy Kai and presented the registry to Senior Councillor Sakai Tadakiyo. After fulfilling his duties and returning to his residence, there was a celebratory banquet hosted by the clan members, relatives, and senior retainers, but Kai excused himself early, returned home once, and then went to his Yushima residence near evening. Since Shibata Geki had come up to Edo, his term as Edo guard had already ended, and his regular attendance duties had been discharged.

In the Harada household, household management was strained. The Edo guard duty normally rotated annually, but this time the term had been extended to nearly two years, causing expenses to pile up severely and making any further stay difficult. Even when selected as envoy, house elder Horiuchi Sōzaemon had told him to decline. This was because gratitude had to be shown to both guardians, and there was no way to cover such expenses. Kai laughed, said there was no need for that, and declared he would carry out this duty even if it meant taking out a loan.

Horiuchi Sōzaemon remained silent. He had realized Kai was trying to naturally cultivate closer relations with Hyōbu. Sōzaemon also thought it would be troubling should he spend New Year in Edo. "I also urged you to return to the domain at the earliest," he said. Kai replied, "I would like that as well." "I intend to do so whenever possible." "What does that mean?" asked Sōzaemon. There, for the first time, Kai spoke of Lord Sakai’s appearance at Yushima. Sōzaemon lowered his head. It was as if he saw his master Kai becoming gradually enveloped in some black, sinister force - so much so that he could not bring himself to raise his eyes.

That day，Yazaki Toneri，Nakaguro Tatsumiya，and Shiozawa Tansaburō served as attendants on the journey to Yushima.

“Who is the guest?” Omi asked immediately upon seeing Kai. Kai smiled and said, “There are no guests.” “Oh, how wonderful!” Omi’s eyes sparkled. “Then we can finally have a proper talk after so long—it’s been ages since you’ve been here without guests.”

“It’s too soon to celebrate,” Kai said. Omi narrowed her eyes. “Oh, why is that?”

“A guest might come,” Kai said.

“Might come?’ you say?” “It’s Lord Sakai—the guest who came when we were away before.” Omi said, “Oh!”

That night, they had a rare evening meal undisturbed by others. Kai had Toneri, Tatsumiya, Tansaburō, and the others set out the meal trays, and Omi sat beside him. He cheerfully drank sake and said with delight that when he returned to Funooka, he would hunt deer. “Two years ago at Jinjiro—that’s the mountain’s name—there was a deer I shot and missed. A fellow called Kubijiro. I’ve been chasing him for years now. Even back then, after pursuing him five days and nights, I let him escape at Ejiri,” Kai said. “Wasn’t Yogobei with you?” asked Yazaki Toneri. “Yogo never kills deer,” said Nakaguro Tatsumiya. “He hunts other animals—if you let him hunt bears, he’s a master—but he never touches deer.”

Kai asked Tatsumiya, "Didn't you see any deer last year?" "I don't know." "Didn't you hear any talk of them either?" "I did not hear anything about that," Tatsumiya answered. "The deer cross over from beyond the Abukuma River at Kosaka Rapids," Kai said. "Some time ago—in Meireki 2, was it?—I shot down one weighing twenty-two kan [82.5 kilograms]. That one too had crossed at Kosaka Rapids and was entering Shōkaku-ji Mountain when I took it." "Those antlers were magnificent." "Magnificent they were."

“Magnificent they were.” “Such magnificent antlers are truly rare,” said Toneri.

Shiozawa Tansaburō listened silently, then suddenly said, “I too would like to accompany such hunts.” “Not allowed,” Toneri said. “He always hunts alone—the only attendant permitted is Yogobei,” he added. “But I still don’t know Funooka,” Tansaburō persisted. “At least let me accompany you back to the domain.” Kai nodded. “I’ll take you along someday.” “Might I join you this year?”

“This year won’t do. You must look after the siblings at Ryōgen-in.”

Tansaburō lowered his eyes. As if reminded by this, Kai asked about Toranosuke’s condition. “It still doesn’t seem clear,” Tansaburō answered. “Is he resting?” “He isn’t completely bedridden, but he still hasn’t gotten out of bed.” “Has he gotten over the measles?” “Yes.” “Then has some complication arisen?” “I’m not entirely sure, but it seems his bowels are upset—the diarrhea hasn’t stopped,” Tansaburō said. Kai’s brow furrowed. “I’ll go check on him one of these days,” he muttered under his breath.

In the middle of that night, Omi came to Kai’s bedroom. She wore a white sleeping robe, tightened a gaudy-colored sash around it, had let down her hair, and had applied makeup. Omi entered Kai’s futon. "Behave yourself and sleep now," Kai said. Omi drew close to Kai, stiffened her body, and trembled violently. Kai wrapped his arm around Omi's shoulder. Omi used his arm as a pillow and pressed herself even closer against Kai's chest. Omi’s body was burning hot, and her trembling showed no sign of subsiding. When she tried to speak, her teeth clattered.

"Now, sleep," Kai said. With the arm wrapped around her, he gently tapped Omi's shoulder. As he did so, she began crying quietly, suppressing her sobs. Kai stopped tapping. "Hate me." He whispered to Omi, "This is who I am. Your misfortune was meeting me eight years ago." Omi shook her head violently through her tears. Kai quietly stroked her shoulder.

“It’s not your fault—it’s mine,” Omi said. “You didn’t feel anything at all, but I selfishly convinced myself you cared for me.” “I care for you, Omi.” “It wasn’t just me—my brother convinced himself of that too.” “I do care for you, Omi.” Omi sobbed.

Eight years earlier—when Ganya became responsible for the Harada family's rice distribution—Shinsuke invited Kai to his house in Nihonbashi Ishimachi. At that time, Omi, who had come out to serve, was instantly captivated by Kai at first glance, and Shinsuke became convinced his sister had won Kai's favor. "Why not acquire a retreat for your recuperation?" Shinsuke recommended this to Kai and procured the house in Yushima with his own funds. Then saying, "Please allow her to attend you," he assigned Omi.

“I love you, but I want to remain as we are—I must remain as we are,” Kai said. “Because taking things further would only make you more unhappy and sorrowful.” “I wouldn’t refuse any misfortune.” “You don’t understand.” “What don’t I understand?” Kai fell silent for a moment. Then, deflecting her question, he said, “It’s a matter of a man’s heart.” “Please tell me the truth,” Omi said through choked sobs. “Is there something that will bring me greater misfortune?”

“That’s enough. Let’s sleep.” “Please—I beg you—tell me.”

“Let’s sleep now,” Kai said, stroking Omi’s shoulder. “If you make a fuss, I’ll kick you out.”

Kai stayed in Yushima for two days.

He had decided to depart for Funooka on the 29th and sent a messenger to order Sōzaemon to make preparations. Then on the morning of the 28th—still around nine o'clock—Sakai Tadakiyo arrived on horseback with five attendants. That day, Kai had intended to return to the main residence and had already finished his meal and changed clothes early. However, upon hearing the news, he immediately surmised it must be Lord Sakai, removed his haori, and went out personally to greet him. As it was a town residence without a formal entrance platform, Kai sat with Omi in the four-tatami entrance area to receive them. Lord Sakai was thirty-seven years old at the time. He was not particularly tall but had a somewhat stout, robust build. His angular face—wider at the bottom—was well-fleshed, with thick eyebrows as if drawn in bold strokes. Around his tightly pursed lips lingered an air of strong self-awareness and unyielding temperament.

The two had met twice before. Once when Tsunasada was issued a confinement order, and once just three days prior, when he attended the castle for the presentation of offerings at Kamechiyo's succession ceremony. This was when Kai, as the official envoy, had directly exchanged words in the Shiroshoin of the castle. Lord Sakai entered through the entrance and handed his hat and whip to an attendant boy while looking straight at Kai with his large eyes. Kai placed his hands on his knees and quietly bowed his head before looking up at Lord Sakai with a gaze that remained direct yet exceedingly calm.

“Are you the master?” Lord Sakai said. “I hear you go by Yasoshima Kazue.” Kai silently bowed his head in acknowledgment. “The other day I visited while you were away and received hospitality. Today, while taking a horse for trial, I suddenly thought to call.” “You honor us,” Kai replied with a courteous nod. With a word urging him to proceed inside, Lord Sakai inclined his head. After the attendant boy removed his traveling sandals, Lord Sakai stepped up and briskly moved through to the inner rooms. In the tatami room lay floor cushions and a charcoal brazier. Lord Sakai unbuckled his sword from his waist and settled cross-legged upon the cushions.

The other attendants remained at the entrance, but the boy immediately came and sat behind Lord Sakai, presenting the sword. Kai stepped back and bowed respectfully. “Come closer,” Lord Sakai said. Kai remained still and declined, stating that their differing statuses made it appropriate to maintain this distance. “Do you know me?” Lord Sakai said. Kai calmly replied that he had heard from the female servants and that any citizen of Edo would know of Lord Sakai’s identity.

Lord Sakai smiled with his lips. "I too feel I've seen that aspect," he said, fixing Kai with a sharp-eyed stare. "Indeed, I believe we've met somewhere before." Lord Sakai was clearly savoring that moment. His eyes gleamed with such anticipation that one might say he had come solely to savor that very instant. A deep vertical wrinkle formed on Kai's left cheek. Kai smiled faintly with his lips and, with utter casualness, stated it was an honor. "To be told such by Lord Sakai of Umabashi," he said, "now the most formidable among the Senior Councillors—this is an honor to last a lifetime."

At that moment, a tray of sake and food was carried in. The tray was for Lord Sakai alone. Omi herself placed the tray before Lord Sakai and sat down to serve. Lord Sakai took the cup, drank from it, and offered it to Kai, saying, “Here, take this.” As Omi moved to pass it, “Come take it,” Lord Sakai said. Kai said to Omi, “Please receive it,” and remained stationary there as well. “I permit it—come take it,” Lord Sakai said. Kai remained silent.

“What’s wrong?” Lord Sakai said. “Did your legs go numb?”

Kai said, “Omi.” “Your hospitality doesn’t seem to please me—you’d better offer a proper apology to mend my mood!”

“Come closer—closer!” Lord Sakai shouted. Kai raised his head and looked at him. With an almost smiling, quiet expression, he slowly said: “Pardon my discourtesy, but this is my residence. Even if you are a Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade Major General and lord of over a hundred thousand koku, so long as I receive no stipend from you, we stand as equals. In my own home, I shall conduct myself as I please.” “So you refuse my cup?”

"I humbly submit that having Omi receive it would be presumptuous." "Is that truly your position?" Lord Sakai said.

Kai nodded and smiled. Lord Sakai's face turned red. At that moment, Omi said she would take the cup herself and extended both hands. Lord Sakai gave the cup to Omi. Omi raised the cup to her forehead, touched her lips to it, and wrapped it in tissue paper. Then, when Lord Sakai took the next cup, she picked up the sake decanter and served.

“It seems I am an unwelcome guest,” Lord Sakai said. Kai performed a deep bow. “That would be a misunderstanding on your part. As a ronin, I cannot provide hospitality worthy of esteemed lords, but should you grace us with your visit, it would be my greatest honor to gladly offer my reception.” “I’ll remember this,” Lord Sakai said. Then he set down the cup and stood up. “We’ll meet again. It was a pleasure.”

And Lord Sakai briskly departed. The attendant boy continued holding up the sword and followed, while Kai and Omi went to see him off.

After seeing off Sakai Tadakiyo, Kai also immediately began preparing to depart. "Why did you persist in being so obstinate?" Omi asked suspiciously.

“Stubborn?” “It’s about the sake cup,” Omi said. “You never stand on ceremony normally—why refuse that one?”

“There’s no particular reason,” Kai said. “It was just troublesome to come forward.” “Was that all it took for you to make Lord Sakai angry?”

“The lord won’t get angry.” “He was furious—his face flushed bright red. I truly thought he was going to hurl that cup.” “Impressive,” Kai smiled. “The lord didn’t get angry—but he might’ve thrown that cup. I thought about throwing it myself.” “That’s why I hurried to take it.” “Good timing.” Kai nodded and said, “Thanks to that, the lord had a narrow escape.”

“The lord had a narrow escape, you say?”

“Is the palanquin not ready yet?” Kai said in a loud voice. Then, immediately from the next room, Tansaburō’s voice responded, “It is ready.” “What’s this all about? Why did Lord Sakai have to make such a narrow escape?”

“Did you forget about the attendant and Tansaburō?” Kai said. “If I were humiliated, those two wouldn’t stay silent—they’d certainly strike at the Lord. Though mind you, I’m not waiting around for that.” “What a dreadful thing,” Omi shuddered. “Were you truly considering such a dreadful act?” “If it could be settled in exchange for my life,” Kai laughed without making a sound. Omi shuddered again and, sighing, said, “Then it’s good that I took the cup.”

Kai stood up while putting on his hood. Omi suddenly seemed reluctant to part, adjusting Kai’s haori sleeves and hakama hems while tearfully praying for his safe journey, pleading about the hardship of his absence, and begging for a promise to meet again. Kai patiently responded while calling out to Tansaburō and headed out to the entrance. Omi, who had followed behind holding the sword in her sleeve, handed it to Kai at the entrance, then suddenly covered her face with both hands and began to cry.

At the entrance, retainers who had made preparations stood ready.

“Lord Yazaki,” Omi said tearfully, “I humbly entreat you.” The retainers silently bowed their heads. Kai exited the entrance and boarded the palanquin, still holding his sword in his right hand. Omi frantically wiped her tears and kept her eyes fixed on Kai’s retreating figure, as though trying to hold him back with her gaze. Tansaburō took his place beside it, and the palanquin departed.

“Let’s stop by Ryōgen-in,” Kai said.

For the entire ride, Kai sat with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. At times he frowned, bit his lip while furrowing his brow. The meeting with Lord Sakai had left his mood oppressive.

What was the reason? Why would he visit me twice? During our conversation I tried to probe for answers, but until the end, I couldn't grasp a single thread. Had he consulted with Ichinoseki? I didn't know. I couldn't imagine Hyōbu having such need, nor could I picture Lord Sakai visiting Yushima for that purpose. The sake cup matter was absurd. Had I accepted it directly, he would have surely declared something like "This seals our lord-vassal bond." On my side I maintained my identity as Yasoshima Kazue the ronin, while Lord Sakai seemed determined to make me acknowledge myself as Harada Kai. Of course it was mere harassment, but had I taken that cup, he likely would have proclaimed "This seals our lord-vassal bond."

"That's right—I shouldn't have done that," Kai muttered under his breath. "I should have accepted that cup. If Lord Sakai had said such a thing, I might have been able to discern his intentions for visiting from that exchange."

Kai's forehead creased deeply. But there was no need to rush things, he thought. Lord Sakai had been angry—indeed, he had appeared somewhat enraged. This likely wouldn't end here—the man seemed self-willed and quick-tempered. He would surely try something again—without fail. Kai kept his eyes closed and smiled. "My condolences, Lord Sakai," he muttered again under his breath. "You bear the shackles of Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade and Major Captain, along with Senior Councillor of the shogunate." "Those fetters would only hamper your efforts to restrain this Kai."

And he smiled.

When they arrived at Ryōgen-in, they encountered Shibata Geki at the entrance. They were with Date Shikibu (Munetomo), both wearing hemp kamishimo formal attire. It seemed they were about to depart, as the head priest and monks had emerged, while retainers waited below the reception platform. Geki left with a silent nod of acknowledgment, but when Shikibu called out to him, Kai humbly remarked on the long time since their last meeting.

Shikibu Munetomo was the fifth son of the late Tadamune, a half-brother to Tsunasada, and the same age of twenty-one. He ruled Terike in Tome District with a stipend of 12,000 koku. Unlike Tsunasada, he had a slender build, sharp facial features, nervous, restless eyes, and a feminine, persistent manner of speaking as distinguishing characteristics. "I hear you'll be made senior retainer soon," Lord Shikibu said. Kai smiled and replied, "Well, what can one say?" "Atagoshita (Nakayashiki) has been abuzz with talk," Lord Shikibu inquired in an ingratiating tone, "when might your appointment take place?"

“What brings you here today?” Kai diverted the conversation. Lord Shikibu did not answer this, instead saying, “It seems your appointment as senior retainer is confidential,” and bared his white teeth. Kai smiled calmly and said. “There’s no such thing. I still know nothing about it.” “So you ‘don’t know,’ do you?”

Lord Shikibu gave an ironic look and nodded with a mocking “Ah, I see.” However, as if suddenly thinking of it there, he asked, “It’s said you’ll be returning to your domain—when might that be?” “I think I can probably return tomorrow,” Kai answered. “When I return, I will likely meet with Wakuya.” “Well, what can one say?” Lord Shikibu said, “If you meet with Wakuya, there’s a message I’d like you to convey.” “Regarding the Yachi border, they’ve been making ambiguous claims. Terike’s people allege that our subjects are plowing fields into Wakuya’s territory, disregarding the border,” Lord Shikibu said. “But my investigation found no such evidence. Rather, it appears Wakuya’s side has been crossing the boundary themselves. Therefore, please convey this message: they must strictly instruct their own domain’s people to cease such acts.”

“If I happen to meet them, I will convey that message,” Kai replied. After seeing Date Shikibu off, he went to the head priest’s quarters and spoke with him for a time. A messenger from Lady Tsunasada at the Shinagawa lower residence had come with a request to carve a Buddhist statue from an heirloom piece of fragrant wood. “This fragrant wood—might it not be something Lord Masamune received from Toyotomi Hideyoshi?” “If that were true, I would question whether carving it into a Buddhist statue would be advisable,” the head priest said.

Kai listened without comment and offered no opinion. Then, saying “As I will be returning to the domain, I leave the Hata siblings in your care,” he took his leave of the abbot’s quarters and went to his temple lodgings. Probably because Tansaburō had informed them in advance, both Uno and Toranosuke had changed clothes and were waiting. Toranosuke sat atop the futon, neatly aligning his small knees, and offered a formal greeting alongside his sister. “What’s wrong, boy? Still not better?” Kai sat down as he said this.

"My throat hurts." Toranosuke raised his chin and pointed at his own throat as he spoke. His voice was terribly hoarse, and his raised chin looked gaunt and sharp. Kai smiled with his eyes and nodded. Though he smiled, a flash of acute pain surfaced in his expression—then vanished instantly. "I see. Your throat hurts? Mine does too," Kai said. "Do you cry when it hurts, boy?" "...I don't cry."

Toranosuke glanced sideways at his older sister. Kai smiled. From between his lips showed white, beautiful teeth, and a vertical wrinkle formed on his left cheek. “That’s impressive. I don’t cry either, but when it hurts too much, I sometimes want to. Even so, it’s unseemly for a man to cry, so I endure and don’t. Is that how you are too, boy?” Toranosuke glanced sideways at his sister again. Then, moving his fingers on his lap, he nodded firmly. If he had a mother, he’d be at an age to cling to her and cry. Kai thought. The measles had taken a poor course, lingering on and sapping the strength from his body. To endure such suffering without crying must be agonizing.

“Now lie down,” Kai said. “Staying up won’t do you good—let’s talk while you rest.” “Then I’ll take my leave and rest,” Uno said. Toranosuke lay down and looked up at Kai. “Are you going back, Uncle?” “No—I won’t leave yet. Let’s talk a little longer,” Kai replied. “Do you know about bears?” Toranosuke glanced at his sister. “Do you know?” “You must know,” Uno said. “We saw them once in an otogizōshi storybook.”

“Yeah—I saw it! The Island Crossing one!” “I wonder...” “It’s *Island Crossing*, boy! I know!” Toranosuke declared eagerly. “Then what about deer?” asked Kai. “I know about deer too! The storybook pictures had deer, and bears and deer, and maybe rabbits too, right?” Toranosuke said, looking at his sister. Uno smiled and nodded, adjusting the edge of her brother’s futon cover. “In my country, all those animals exist,” Kai said. “There are large bears, cubs, deer with magnificent antlers, and rabbits.”

“Even bear cubs?”

“Bear cubs too,” Kai nodded. He was about to say, “They walk with their mother,” but stopped himself. Then he said, “You should visit someday, boy.” “In my country there are mountains and rivers. In the mountains live wild beasts, in the rivers swim fish—you can catch them in the rivers,” he continued. Kai told stories of deer. He spoke of how deer cross the Abukuma River; how they scale steep rocky slopes swift as wind; how they lower their heads to gore foes with sharp antlers, tossing them aside; how they startle at sounds faint as a dropped needle and leap away.

Toranosuke seemed to tire quickly.

After finishing the story about deer, Kai talked about mountains and rivers—the snow of Mount Zao, the hot springs of Aone, the scenery of fields, rivers, sea, and islands visible from Aone’s inn. There were two rivers: one called Shiraishi River, the other Abukuma River. Both teemed with fish, and when autumn deepened, salmon would sometimes swim upstream. “When you’re older, let’s go see them,” Kai said. “We’ll climb mountains, catch fish in the rivers, see bears and deer and rabbits. Would you like a bear cub?”

“It’s snowing.” “When winter comes, the snow comes from Mount Zaō.” “Look, it’s snowing,” said Toranosuke. His eyes, grown weary from listening and now dazed, were turned toward the garden. The eyes soon closed weakly, but Uno stood up quietly and opened one shoji panel.

“Oh, it’s snowing!” said Uno. Kai turned toward the direction. In the cloudy, hushed dimness of the garden, fine snowflakes danced. Kai looked at Toranosuke. He was asleep. “Close it—the boy will catch cold,” Kai said. Uno replied “Yes,” stepped out into the corridor, and shut the panel behind her. Kai kept gazing fixedly at Toranosuke’s sleeping face. You’ll enter the Buddhist order, he thought inwardly. You’ll become a monk. I understand that sorrow of losing both parents so young, boy. When I was younger than you—five years old—I lost my father. I still had Mother, our lands, many retainers. Yet even now I remember keenly how that fatherless loneliness felt.

I only lost my father, but you and Uno lost both parents. You have no home and no relatives to rely on. I know how desolate and sorrowful you must feel, even as young as you are, Kai thought to himself—but this was not the end. If you went on living in this world, you would have to experience even greater sufferings, deeper sorrows, and despair more bitter still. There are joys in living. The joy of a desirable dwelling, the joy of wearing fine clothes, the joy of eating and drinking, the joy of being loved and respected by others. —and the joy of having one’s talents recognized, the joy in what one has accomplished—Kai continued. In living, there are indeed many joys. But all “joys” are short—they vanish in an instant. They satisfy us momentarily but vanish astonishingly quickly and without fail leave behind suffering and regret.

People, in place of "fleeting" and unreliable joys, shoulder ceaseless efforts, suffering, and sorrow. While enduring these burdens, they eventually come to realize that all is "futile." You should enter the priesthood, boy.

Kai thought to himself. Discard the troubles of life and human relationships and devote yourself to faith. I don’t believe the Buddhist priesthood offers only peace, but if you can devote yourself to faith, perhaps... probably... Kai's inner murmur stopped there. If you could enter the Buddhist priesthood and devote yourself to faith, there would be salvation—that was what he had meant to say. He had tried to comfort the sleeping boy in his heart. Though no one was there to hear him, he still couldn’t bring himself to say it outright. He frowned and stood up, turning his face away.

Kai opened the shoji and stepped out into the corridor. There stood Uno. She seemed to have been standing there all along, both sleeves folded across her chest, motionless as she watched a single spot in the garden where snow swirled thickly. "What are you looking at?" Kai asked. "The snow is piling up on that fir tree," said Uno. She spoke without turning toward him. Kai nodded silently.

The fir tree was cloaked in snow. The snow fell in fine, dense flakes, descending almost straight from the mouse-gray sky. Having endured a prolonged dry spell, the ground now lay blanketed white; the garden's trees and stone lanterns too had turned pale, while shadows beneath the boundary's earthen wall took on a chill bluish cast from the snow's reflection, remaining dark yet tinged with cold. "I return to Funooka tomorrow," Kai said. Uno whirled toward him, fixing him with wide-open eyes that lifted directly to meet his gaze. Those wide eyes brimmed instantly with tears.

“Uncle”

Uno said this and impulsively threw both arms around Kai. Kai placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder. Uno’s hands tightened with force, and her supple body pressed snugly against him. Kai felt the softness of Uno’s body against his own skin. Uno’s chest, abdomen, and thighs pressed snugly and directly against him through their garments. Kai faltered for just an instant. That contact lasted only an instant. The warmth and elastic roundness of that part of her—which, though Uno herself was likely entirely unconscious of it, had boldly or perhaps innocently pressed against Kai’s thigh—was more than enough to unsettle a forty-two-year-old Kai. That momentary contact deeply unsettled him. It seeped into the very core of his heart, spread throughout his entire body, and gripped him firmly. At that moment, he felt as though he and Uno were bound tightly together by an invisible bond.

“Uncle, I don’t want you to die,” Uno said. It was not the voice of a thirteen-year-old girl but rather that of a mature young woman. “Please stay alive, Uncle—I don’t want you to die.” Uno pressed her cheek firmly against Kai. Kai nonchalantly withdrew from the contact and gently stroked Uno’s back. Uno held her breath. She seemed to hold back tears. Kai nodded and said. “Yeah, I’m alive.”

Uno remained still. As though trying to immerse herself completely in Kai’s warmth and his voice. Then, after a moment, she quietly raised her face.

“When will you be leaving next year?” Uno said this and finally stepped back from Kai.

“I’m not certain,” Kai replied. “I was supposed to return this spring, but various matters have delayed me until now. So under normal circumstances, I should depart for the capital next spring, but…” “Then it will be the year after next.” “That will probably be the case,” Kai sighed, “but I may have to come out again next year—how things will turn out… What will happen—I can’t say anything for certain here and now.”

Uno looked toward the fir tree again, then asked in a calm voice. “Is there anything that Uno can do to be of service?” “There probably isn’t,” Kai said with a smile. “I want to make sure such a thing doesn’t happen.” “Is Uno still such a child?” “That’s not what I mean. You have your brother Toranosuke. Your role is to watch over him properly—and that’s by no means an easy task，especially after what happened the other day.”

Uno nodded. “Now, it’s cold—go inside. I must be going.” Uno looked up at Kai. “I will remember today’s conversation well—about Mount Zaō, Aone Hot Springs, Shiraishigawa River, and Abukuma River… Uno will be able to see them all someday, won’t she?” “That’s right,” Kai nodded. “Uno will be able to see them all—once a little more time has passed.” “When Toranosuke turns eight, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right—when Toranosuke turns eight.”

Kai called, “Tansaburō.” An immediate reply came, and Shiozawa Tansaburō emerged from the adjoining room to kneel in the corridor. “The palanquin,” Kai said. Tansaburō withdrew toward the entrance. “Let me see the boy once more.” Kai slid open the shoji. Uno followed him into the room and closed the screen. He settled at Toranosuke’s bedside. The boy’s cheeks burned crimson, his breaths shallow and erratic. Perhaps caught in fitful sleep—his eyelids and cheeks twitched without cease, lips trembling as if straining to form unvoiced words.

“Has the diarrhea stopped?” Kai asked in a low voice.

“No,” Uno answered. “I’ll tell them to change the doctor.” “Master Gen’an has been treating us well.” “I’ll try changing the doctor,” Kai said. “I’ll have Sōzaemon informed. Tansaburō will continue coming here as usual, but if you need anything, don’t wait—send a messenger to the estate immediately.” Uno nodded and said, “Yes.” Kai turned around and looked at Uno. “You’ll be all right, won’t you?” “Yes, I will be all right.”

Kai stood up quietly, looked once more at Toranosuke's sleeping face, then said, "There's no need to see me off. Stay right there," and went out into the corridor.

“Please take care,” Uno said. Kai left without looking back.

After leaving Ryōgen-in, Kai immediately visited Date Hyōbu’s residence, then proceeded from Tamura Ukyō to Moniwa Suō’s vacant house, Katakura Kojūrō, and Shibata Geki, offering farewells at each stop. He returned to his Sakurada residence late in the afternoon, where the household remained bustling. That night, a private banquet was held for his inner circle, with food and drink served even to the lowest servants. Itō Shichijūrō—unlike Kai, who was returning home—announced plans to travel westward to Kamigata. He drank copiously and spat barbs between cups. His stated purpose was to seek out Kumazawa Banzan’s teachings—though not for Confucian scholarship, he declared with theatrical flourish, but to master the flute. Kai shook his head. “If Shichijūrō blows any harder, we’ll all be swept away,” he remarked, drawing raucous laughter from the company.

The following morning—he went to the palace to request leave from the young lord to return to his domain, then returned to exchange a brief farewell cup with the retainers remaining in Edo, and departed for Funooka.

The snow was still falling.