Pathway to Japanese Literature

Prologue

July 18, 1660 (Manji 3). A notification came from the shogunate's senior councillors, summoning Date Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu of the Date Mutsu-no-kami clan along with senior retainers Ōjō Hyōgo, Moniwa Suō, Katakura Kojiūrō, and Harada Kai. Six individuals related to the Date clan, including Tachibana Hida-no-kami, presented themselves at the residence of Senior Councillor Sakai Uta-no-kami. At Sakai's residence sat Senior Councillors Abe Bungo-no-kami and Inaba Mino-no-kami alongside him, where they issued this pronouncement: "Date Mutsu-no-kami—your longstanding improprieties have reached the shogun's august ears and are deemed inexcusable. You are hereby ordered into immediate confinement. Matters of succession shall be newly decreed."

Such was the essence of the reprimand, but— “However, the moat dredging construction shall continue.” This stipulation had been added.

This stipulation was added.

The term "moat dredging" referred to the repair work on the Koishikawa Moat that the Date clan had been overseeing under the shogunate’s orders since March of that year.

After the pronouncement, Ōta Settsu-no-kami was appointed as the shogunal envoy, and together with Tachibana Hida-no-kami and Date Hyōbu, the three went to the Date clan’s upper residence and conveyed the message to Mutsu-no-kami Tsunamune.

Tsunamune immediately moved to the lower residence in Shinagawa.

On the night of the following July 19th.

To the residence of Sakamoto Hachirōzaemon within the Date clan’s Hamayashiki, there came two visitors. Sakamoto was a man who had been promoted from ronin status, with a stipend of six hundred koku, and served as an inspector.

Sakamoto met with the two. The two, feigning a need for confidential discussion, seized an opening to attack Sakamoto. Sakamoto had no time to draw his sword and died instantly on the spot. The two told Sakamoto’s household members, “This is an official execution (claim),” and left.

The same night, the same hour. Similarly, within the Hamayashiki, two visitors arrived at the residence of Watanabe Kurōzaemon. Watanabe too had been promoted from ronin status, was a master spearman of the Hitta-ryū school, and possessed exceptional skill in swordsmanship. His stipend was 240 koku, and he taught spearmanship to the clan’s warriors.

Watanabe refused to meet. The visitors went by the names Watanabe Kinnbei and Watanabe Shichibei—both minor officials—but he had no close ties to either of them, nor could he imagine any legitimate reason for such a late-night visit.

“No, we have urgent business,” the two said to the intermediary. “As we are renewing the official gate placards on this occasion, we humbly request your seal imprint. Since the new placards will take effect from tomorrow morning, we must absolutely receive your seal tonight.”

The previous day, the daimyo had been ordered into confinement by the shogunate and moved to the lower residence in Shinagawa. Since it was indeed possible that the gate placards were being renewed, Watanabe decided to meet with the two men.

Having donned hakama trousers over his everyday clothes, fastened only his wakizashi short sword at his side, and carrying a small deerskin pouch containing his seal, Watanabe Kurōzaemon proceeded to the guest room. The two visitors had placed something resembling a ledger before their knees and were sitting. Watanabe looked at them but found nothing unusual about their demeanor.

“You’ve gone to some trouble,” Watanabe said as he sat down. “We apologize for visiting so late at night,” said Watanabe Kinnbei. Then, together with Shichibei, they placed both hands on the floor and bowed deeply. Watanabe placed the bag on his lap. The right hands of the two men, who had bowed low, grasped their respective swords. Watanabe loosened the string at the mouth of the bag and tried to take out the seal. At that moment, Kinnbei kneeled on one knee, swiftly re-gripped his sword, and slashed at Watanabe in a sudden draw. The sword struck Watanabe’s right shoulder.

“What are you doing?!” Watanabe stood while reaching for the wakizashi at his waist. His hand was tangled with the seal pouch. The string at the bag’s opening had become entangled around his fingers—as Watanabe rose, Shichibei thrust from the left. Watanabe snatched his wakizashi in one motion and swept it sideways. Shichibei’s sword stabbed Watanabe in the side, and Watanabe’s blade slashed Shichibei’s shoulder. “For what reason?!” Watanabe shouted. At that moment, from the right, Kinnbei charged in. And then—as Watanabe’s body collapsed from the stab wound to his side—he sliced deeply into his flank. Watanabe staggered against the sliding door and tumbled into the next room along with it. Kinnbei chased after him and delivered another slash from the neck down to the chest. Watanabe groaned, “Ugh...” Shichibei stood in the center of the guest room, pressing his wounded shoulder.

At that moment, three young samurai and a young woman came running. The samurai came running from the left side of the corridor—the woman from the inner quarters—and stopped dead in their tracks before the guest room. “Do not make a commotion. This is an official execution.”

Kinnbei said. After confirming Watanabe Kurōzaemon’s death, he emerged into the guest room. “An inquest will follow. Until then, do not touch the corpse. Leave everything as it stands. Wait in silence.”

The woman let out a scream. Kinnbei 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 Kinnbei, went to Watanabe’s corpse, and clung to it. And she began to cry out loud. “Who is that?” Kinnbei asked.

The three young samurai did not answer right away. However, finally, one of them spoke. “She is a concubine called Miyā.”

Kinnbei looked at Shichibei while wiping his sword. “I’m fine—it’s just a scratch,” Shichibei said. 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 storehouse officer (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. It was vague, but not entirely baseless. He called his wife and asked. “Have the children gone to sleep?”

“Yes, they are asleep.” “Wake them up immediately,” Hata said. “Wake both of them and take them to Miyamoto—you’re to take them there yourself.” “At this hour?” “I’ll explain later. Hurry.”

The wife stood up and left. She woke the children. Neither had actually been asleep. Toranosuke jumped up and joyfully said, “What are we doing? Are we playing again?” “Hush now.” Uno said so. Uno was thirteen years old, but her build was large, her face appeared mature, and her demeanor was precocious. From her mother’s demeanor, she intuited that something unusual had occurred. By the time she finished changing clothes, her expression had grown even more mature.

“Aren’t we going to play?” Toranosuke asked his mother. While fastening his obi, she said, “Hush now.” He 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 noises echoed from the guest room. “What’s that? Mother?” Toranosuke said. The wife glanced fearfully at her daughter’s face. Uno spoke in a calm voice meant to soothe her.

“Let us go, Mother.”

The wife started walking. Outside was dark. Pitch dark—so dark that they couldn’t even see their 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. “Uh... Ah, to Lord Miyamoto.” “We just need to keep going.” “Can you go on ahead?” The mother seemed to want to return home. Uno understood this all too well. Uno said.

“Yes, it’s all right, Mother.” “Then go on ahead.” The mother passed Toranosuke’s hand, which she had been holding, to Uno. She glanced furtively at her daughter as if wanting to say something, but pushed Toranosuke aside and spoke.

“Go on ahead.”

She began returning home.

Uno grasped 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 now understood.

Miyamoto Mataichi was a 300-koku holder without official post who served as a close aide to Lord Tsunamune while remaining unassigned to any position. The residence was located near the servants' tenement. When the siblings reached the cleaning well, someone came running from the opposite direction. Because he was barefoot, there was no sound of footsteps; when Uno noticed this and tried to avoid him, she was violently collided with and staggered.

"Sister!" Toranosuke shouted, clinging to his sister.

The other person also seemed startled; while dodging to the side, he said in a hoarse voice. “Who’s there?—”

Uno knew that voice. That was the voice of Shinpachi, Miyamoto Mataichi’s sixteen-year-old younger brother. Uno pulled Toranosuke close and said. “It’s me and my brother.” “Miss Uno?” Shinpachi panted as he drew closer to Uno. “Miss Uno, I was on my way to your house.” “Me too.” “What? You too—” Shinpachi drew a ragged breath. The fact that Uno had come out with her brother seemed to have made him grasp the situation. Shinpachi said despairingly.

“Then it’s no good—we need to get outside.” “Outside? You mean…”

“It seems something terrible is about to happen—my brother told them to inform Mr. Hata and then go to Mr. Watanabe’s place at Hamayashiki.” “I have my brother with me.” “Let’s get out through the back gate.” Uno pulled her brother close.

“Come on, Toranosuke—you need to let me carry you.” “No! I’ll walk by myself!” Toranosuke rejected his sister’s hand.

Shinpachi urged them on and started running with them, but their path was immediately blocked by five people. They had come from the direction of the stables. There were two servants holding lanterns along with three samurai. They suddenly emerged from the direction of the stables and surrounded the three of them.

Shinpachi shielded the Hata siblings behind him. Toranosuke clung to his sister.

“What are you doing in such a place?” said one of the samurai.

The servants thrust their lanterns forward from both sides. The samurai who had called out was around thirty years old—a stocky, compact man. His voice remained low and composed. “I—we—” Shinpachi faltered. Then the samurai addressed Uno directly. “You would be Lord Hata’s children.” “Y-yes,” Shinpachi stammered in reply, “and I am Shinpachi of Miyamoto.” The samurai’s gaze shifted between Uno and Shinpachi. “I am Murayama Kihee of the Harada household,” he said to Shinpachi, “but what business brings you here at this hour?”

“I don’t know.” Shinpachi said trembling, “I was told by my brother that two guests had come. My brother told me to go inform Mr. Hata—to inform Mr. Hata and then go to Hamayashiki.” “At this hour?” said Murayama Kihee. “You think you can leave through the main gate at this hour?” “We intended to exit through the back gate. “Because there’s someone at the back gate that my brother knows.”

“Just what is this—” another samurai said, “what does this mean? What happened? Why are you going to Hamayashiki?” “I don’t know,” Shinpachi stammered again, his voice trembling on the edge of tears. “Guests came to my brother’s place—I don’t know the details—but something terrible seemed about to happen. From how my brother was acting, I could tell something out of the ordinary was going to occur.”

“Yazaki—” Murayama Kihee looked at the other samurai. The young samurai named Yazaki nodded and broke into a jog as he hurried off. Murayama Kihee said to Shinpachi.

“Please come this way.” “What are we going to do?” “I’ve just sent someone to check on the situation. You should wait over there until we know how things stand.” Murayama Kihee approached Toranosuke. “Come on, little one—let’s go to Uncle’s place.”

Toranosuke looked at his sister. Kihee crouched down and said, “Let me carry you.” “I’ll walk,” said Toranosuke. Murayama Kihee led the three to his hut. It was a single row house attached to the residence of Chief Retainer Harada Kai.

The three entered the room. Shinpachi was extremely agitated. His complexion was deathly pale, his lips white and parched, and his entire body trembled 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 now, okay?” “Let’s go home.” “Don’t say such things. Mother will be here to fetch us soon.” “Will Mother come?” “Yes, she will come.” Murayama Kihee was at the doorway. Toranosuke said. “Mother… will she really come to get us?” “That’s right, so be good and wait quietly.”

“Aren’t you going to cry?”

Uno listened intently.

Murayama Kihee, who had been at the doorway, left through it. The samurai called Yazaki seemed to have returned; as the hut was cramped, fragments of the two men's conversation outside reached even Uno's ears. Miyamoto Shinpachi tried to stand. Whether he too had heard it or meant to go listen, he began rising only to look at Uno's face.

Uno softly shook her head. Shinpachi remained seated as he was. “They say both were killed,” Murayama Kihee said outside the doorway. “Both of them.”

Yazaki Toneri said. He was far younger than Kihee, just twenty-one years old. “Miyamoto Mataichi and Hata Yoemon were both killed. At the Hata residence, his wife was also slain, I hear.”

“They even killed the wife.” “They say they were killed for getting in the way.”

“Who did the killing?” “I don’t know,” said Yazaki Toneri. “Three came to Lord Hata’s residence, two to Miyamoto’s. Both groups had faces unknown to the households, and they say none gave their names.” “Without so much as declaring their grievance?” “No, they claimed it was an official execution.” “An official execution, you say—” Murayama Kihee pressed back. “Indeed, both households are said to have stated as much.” “That’s absurd!” Kihee said. “The lord was confined just yesterday. The only authority now is the young lord—a two-year-old child, Lord Kamechiyo. There’s no way he could have ordered such a thing.”

“That is what they reported.” “This isn’t right,” said Murayama Kihee. “For this to happen the very day after his confinement—someone fraudulently claiming official orders—it defies all reason. I’ll report directly to the chief retainer. You guard those three.” “Understood.”

“Do not hand them over, no matter who comes.” “Understood,” said Yazaki Toneri.

Murayama Kihee departed toward the Harada residence. In the room, Shinpachi and Uno heard this. They hadn't caught every word but had grasped nearly all the key points. Shinpachi looked at Uno again. With quiet movements, Uno gently pulled her brother close and spoke soothingly.

“That’s right, don’t cry.”

Toranosuke looked up at his sister. He looked thoroughly sleepy.

Female guest

July 25th, early morning.

Harada Kai Musuke was writing a letter in his study. He stood nearly six feet tall, with a dusky complexion and gentle features. His thick eyebrows were slightly upturned, but his eyes, which held a quiet color, were downturned. Long-faced, with a high forehead on which three lines of wrinkles ran—those wrinkles seemed to declare his age as forty-two.

When silent, Kai appeared forty-five or forty-six. He did not speak much; most of the time he remained silent, letting others do the talking. When he did speak, he was not verbose, and he rarely made definitive statements. He rarely laughed, and even then, never with raised voice or boisterousness. He would smile with his straight, rather large lips and those downturned gentle eyes of his, but the serene hue of his eyes—their corners crinkling with wrinkles—and the pure white teeth glimpsed between his lips exerted an intense allure. At such times, he appeared as young as thirty-four or thirty-five—or even around thirty.

Kai was writing a letter. The desk stood beneath a north-facing window, beyond which arrow bamboo grew thickly outside the open window. The time was five o'clock. Outside hung a thick fog; the arrow bamboo leaves were drenched and motionless, hanging heavy under the weight of moisture.

Since I came to Edo last June, this May marked the end of my official duty rotation.

Kai had written that. When my official duty rotation ended and I returned to the domain, I had intended to meet and inform you. However, as you are aware, a grave upheaval has occurred, and it appears I will be unable to return home for some time. Therefore, since Satomi Jūza is now going as a messenger to Kunimoto, I shall take this opportunity to inform you of recent developments.

Kai wrote that.

From the sitting room one room over from where he was writing his letter in the study, loud voices could be heard. One of them was Itō Shichijūrō. That clear, brazen voice made it immediately apparent this was Itō Shichijūrō.

“Really, why on earth did you go and propose a duel?” came Shichijūrō’s voice. “That upstart dared to lecture me,” came the other man’s voice. That was Satomi Jūzaemon’s voice. That voice bore the clear imprint of an honest yet stubborn disposition.

“Oh? That newcomer, was it?” “That newcomer,” Jūza said, “as you know, I serve as overseer of the moat dredging—Sakamoto shared the role—but he came to me saying there was negligence at the Konobu construction huts and that I should address it.” “You should’ve cut him down then.” “Then I shouted.” “If it were me, I’d have cut him down right then.” Shichijūrō’s voice saying that could be heard. Kai was writing a letter.

The letter Kai was now writing was one to be sent to Shigekata Satsuki. Satsuki—whose personal name was Suō Yoshimoto—was the father of Suō Sadamoto (currently serving as chief retainer) and had himself formerly held the position of chief retainer, but now lived retired and secluded in his residence at Matsuyama in Shida District of his home province. Regarding the events of July 18—the summons to the Sakai residence where His Lordship’s confinement was decreed—followed by days and nights of senior council meetings, and the assassination of four men on the night of the 19th: Sakamoto, Watanabe, Hata, and Miyamoto—I believe these matters had already been reported to you by messenger from your son Lord Suō.

Kai wrote as such.

In the sitting room one room over, Satomi Jūzaemon was still talking. That heated voice carried clearly all the way to this study—Jūza had been saying such things. “I shouted—I’ve served as inspector since Lord Tadamune’s reign, over twenty years now! I’m not so unseasoned that I’ll take criticism from a newcomer like you!” “If This great one were there—he would cut them down on the spot!” “Then Sakamoto Hachirōzaemon turned bright red—absolutely crimson—and declared, ‘To be insulted thus makes it impossible for a man to uphold his honor!’ ‘Is that so?’ I said. ‘Is that so? If your honor cannot be upheld, then let us arrange for it to be upheld!’ I said. ‘First, we shall decide the location and time.’”

“So you appealed to His Lordship?” Shichijūrō’s voice saying that could be heard. “That bastard—he went sniveling to the senior councilors and clung to His Lordship’s sleeve!” “And that’s the end of it there.”

Shichijūrō laughed. Jūza further said.

“I wasn’t angry—I wanted to make him angry! To drive him toward a duel! But that Hachirōzaemon bastard…” “You should’ve cut them down on the spot,” Shichijūrō said. “Not just Sakamoto—Hata, Miyamoto, Watanabe too—had they been eliminated sooner, and those sycophants close to His Lordship purged, His Lordship’s confinement would never have come to pass.” “You can say that because you’re unencumbered by station.”

“If you’re going to cut them down after His Lordship’s been confined, isn’t it only natural to do so beforehand?” “You can say that so easily because you’re unburdened by responsibilities.”

Jūza said. Then Shichijūrō said. “Don’t talk nonsense! A samurai’s life has always weighed less than a feather.”

“You’re talking nonsense.” “What’s absurd? When confronting righteousness, shouldn’t valuing one’s life lighter than a goose feather be a samurai’s fundamental duty?” “You’re talking nonsense,” Jūza said. “That makes it sound like I clung to my life!” “This concerns general principles.” “That can hardly be true!” Jūza’s voice rose sharply.

Kai momentarily stopped his brush. He stopped his brush, listened to Jūza and Shichijūrō’s raised voices, and smiled faintly. “Put two together and they’ll start right up,” he muttered. “What a pitiful state our domain is in.”

And he returned to the letter. Though I hail from a distinguished lineage, I remain merely a magistrate—and with matters demanding contemplation—I make a point to avoid attending the council of senior retainers whenever possible. From what I gather, the council appears almost wholly subject to Lord Ichinoseki’s will. As you know well, Lord Ichinoseki shares both intimacy and marital ties with Lord Sakai—who wields considerable influence among the shogunate’s senior councillors—making it seem none dare oppose Lord Ichinoseki’s pronouncements openly.

When Kai had written that far, the voices from the sitting room across grew even louder, and Satomi Jūzaemon’s piercing shouts could be heard. Itō Shichijūrō's voice was equally loud, yet maintained a composed and unshaken tone.

“You’re an impatient man—what are you bellowing about?” Shichijūrō said. Jūza shouted back: “What are you? What standing do you hold in the Date clan? By what rank do you dare speak to me this way?” “This great one has no standing of any kind,” Shichijūrō said. “This great one is a dependent at Ono’s residence—no secret there. This great one is Itō Shinzaemon’s dependent. Everyone knows that.” “How dare a dependent address me with such insolence!”

“Now, now—don’t get so angry. This great one merely wanted to say this.”

Kai was continuing to write. The reason I avoid attending the council of senior retainers is twofold: I wish to steer clear of being entangled in the clan elders’ factional strife, and I desire to keep a firm eye on this pivotal issue.

For instance, even in the case of the four assassinations on the night of July 19th, it remained unclear who had issued the orders. The assassins appeared to number ten or eleven; however, only three names were known: Watanabe Kinnbei, Watanabe Shichibee, and Man'emon, a low-ranking servant. They had reportedly declared, "This is an official execution"—a clear falsehood—but it seemed the Council of Senior Retainers would ultimately let the matter be swept under the rug. The reason given was that the four who had been assassinated were traitorous retainers who encouraged His Lordship toward debauchery, thereby leading to the grave matter of his confinement. The traitorous elements who misled His Lordship. For that reason alone, there existed no law permitting sudden attacks and assassinations without even a single interrogation. However, at the council meeting, Lord Ichinoseki had stated as follows.

Kinnbei and his men performed admirably.

Thereupon, the senior retainers fell silent.

“Kinnbei and his men performed admirably.” To Lord Ichinoseki’s single utterance, there was no one who dared interpose an objection. Sakamoto and the four had survived assassination attempts, and no questions were raised regarding the assassins’ responsibility. Then one of the clan elders said: “If we investigate, who knows what might come to light—this is no time to stir up conflict over such matters.” Herein lay a crucial problem. It was precisely in this case I had now presented as an example that I believed resided the clearest manifestation of both the intricate relationships among our clan elders and the deep-rooted grievances they had fostered—matters that ultimately extended 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 saying, “I beg to report,” was heard.

Kai said, “Hmm.”

It was Horiuchi Sōzaemon, the household steward, who slid open the door. Kai stopped his brush and turned around. “Yushima has arrived,” Sōzaemon said. Kai silently looked at Sōzaemon’s face. Sōzaemon said: “It is Lady Okumi.” “What hour is it now?”

Kai furrowed his brows ever so slightly. Then, the wrinkles on his forehead became clearly visible. “It will soon be six o’clock.” “Hear what she has to say,” Kai said. Sōzaemon said in a perplexed manner.

“She says she wishes to have an audience with you.” “Won’t she state her business?” “She says she must have an audience [with you].”

Kai looked toward the window, then said. “Then have her wait.”

Sōzaemon closed the sliding door and left, and Kai resumed his writing. The senior retainers' power struggles spanning over ten years stand precisely as you know them to be. There can be no doubt about our countrymen's loyalty—yet their obstinate nature, fierce self-interest, and sheer selfishness remain unmatched. Thus were born exclusive factions that coalesced and dispersed repeatedly; rancor and slander grew so tangled that when incidents occurred, one could scarcely distinguish right from wrong. Then came Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu—his presence looming large and heavy over all. This indeed compounded discord throughout our house; whenever matters arose, their pernicious effects surfaced plain. Now Satomi Jūzaemon serves as envoy to collect ballots from clan elders and senior retainers across our domain for selecting an heir—a measure again proposed by Lord Ichinoseki and settled without dissent.

I wish for you to commit this passage firmly to memory.

Kai continued. "Lord Ichinoseki’s influence grew so formidable precisely following the demise of the previous lord (Tadamune). When His Late Lordship passed, it is said Lord Mito Yorifusa—who came to pay condolences—stated: 'As Lord Tsunamune remains youthful, we must entrust household governance entirely to Lord Hyōbu.' This declaration may well have cemented Lord Ichinoseki’s authority decisively. When Lord Furuchu Shizen (the late Chief Retainer) performed junshi for His Late Lordship, he left this final counsel: 'My gravest concern lies with Lord Hyōbu—you must maintain utmost vigilance.' Yet within mere two years of his death, those very apprehensions appear to have taken root."

Thus far, I have fortunately been able to remain outside these conflicts. I intend to continue standing as far outside them as possible and watch how matters unfold. Even if an heir is decided, I do not believe that will bring peace to the domain. The concern of unforeseen events occurring lies rather beyond that point; however, regarding this matter, I shall report upon returning to the country.

Kai stopped his brush there. He read through it 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 an answer from the next room, and Yasaki Shaonin slid open the sliding door.

“Send Lord Satomi here,” Kai said. When the attendant acknowledged and withdrew, Satomi Jūzaemon came immediately. He was forty-six years old but looked over fifty—a dark-complexioned man with a bony, rugged build and a face that suggested a quick temper. “I’m sorry for keeping you waiting,” Kai said. Jūza said while sitting, in a breathless tone.

“I just disciplined that Shichijūrō.”

Kai handed over the sealed letter.

“Then have this delivered to Matsuyama.” “I gave the scoundrel another thorough disciplining.” Jūza said as he accepted the sealed letter. Kai tidied his desk; Jūza pressed on. “That whelp’s got more spine than most his age and isn’t half-witted, but he’s the sort who forgets his place as a parasite—give him an inch and he’ll spew insolent drivel. Though truth be told, I’ve always had a soft spot for the rogue.”

“Seems so,” Kai said, and rose from his desk. “Then over there—” “That youngster must be reined in; you are too lenient—you are far too lenient with everyone. It would be best not to associate with such undesirables.”

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

Kai went to the storage room. There, Shiozawa Tanzaburō had prepared a change of clothes and was waiting. Tanzaburō was fifteen years old. Along with a boy of the same age named Naruse Kyūma, the two of them were in charge of attending to Kai’s personal needs; having caught a cold about ten days prior, they had withdrawn to a hut. “Are you done already?” Kai said. “Yes...” “Look up.” Tanzaburō raised his face. Kai looked at his forehead and eyes, then nodded and said.

“I was supposed to have entrusted the Hata children.” “Yes...”

“Did you let them hear about their parents?” “No, we have been ensuring they do not hear, but the elder sister appears to have noticed.” “Does she seem sad?” “No, she does not appear that way.” Tanzaburō handed over the obi. Kai said as he fastened his obi. “I intend to send them to Ryōgen-in eventually, but until then, tell my mother to look after them.” “Yes...”

Tanzaburō looked troubled. Kai noticed this and said, “What’s wrong?” “Your mother pities them...” Kai averted his eyes with a “Hmm.” “Having lost both parents and grown somewhat accustomed to our care, it would be too pitiable to send them among strangers again. If it pleases you, she says she wishes to look after them herself all along.” “The hakama shall be black,” Kai said.

Tanzaburō took out the hakama from the chest of drawers. Kai said, “Who will be attending this morning’s meal?”

“Lord Hachiya, Lord Itō, and Lord Satomi—those three.” “Then bring out the Yushima one as well.” Tanzaburō answered, “Yes.” Kai went straight to the inner guest room. Okumi sat before the tea and sweets. She looked five or six years younger than her stated age of twenty-eight. The morning sun, already quite high, shone strongly upon the plantings in the inner garden, and by its reflection, Okumi’s full, oval face appeared tinged with green.

“It’s time for the morning meal now.” Kai said while standing, “Let’s eat together.” “What have you done?” Okumi said. Kai calmly looked at her. “What in the world have you done?” Okumi said. “It’s already been fifteen days, and you haven’t even shown your face.” “I couldn’t get away.” “A full fifteen days?” “Let’s eat,” Kai said. “Please wait—before that, there is something I must tell you.”

“Leave it for later.” “It’s not about me. Your wife has come from the province,” Okumi said. Distinct wrinkles formed on Kai’s high forehead; he looked at Okumi with a puzzled expression. She nodded. Kai asked again, “What did you say—” “She arrived late last night.” “My wife has—” “Nakaguro-sama is in attendance.”

Kai's forehead wrinkles deepened. He gave a low "Hmm" and lowered his eyes to his feet. "What could it be—" "She states that she has come to consult a skilled doctor in Edo for treatment of her illness." "Is Tatsumi the only attendant?"

“The only one I’m acquainted with is Nakaguro Tatsumi-sama, though there are two other middle-aged retainers in attendance as well.” Kai raised his face. Okumi looked up at Kai with eyes that blazed like polished steel. He had cared for her these seven or eight years, yet never before had she fixed him with such a piercing glare. “I see through it all,” Okumi said, “your wife came because you delayed returning this morning—this ‘illness’ is a sham, laughably transparent! Her cheeks glow with health, and she appears downright vigorous despite the arduous journey.”

“What are you angry about?” “I’m not angry at all.” Okumi turned red. “Do I look angry? I’m just astonished—your wife is so young and beautiful.” “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. I’ve been in your care for over eight years, and yet this morning was the first time I’ve ever…”

Kai started walking toward the sliding door. “Please wait.” “You’re not acting like yourself.” “Yes, I’m not myself.” Okumi quickly wiped her eyes. “When I first had the honor of meeting your wife, she appeared so astonishingly young and beautiful that I lost my composure. Please forgive me.”

“Let’s go over there.” “Who are the guests?” “Itō Shichijūrō, Satomi, and Hachiya—the three of them. They’re all people you know.”

“I had the honor of meeting Lord Itō the day before yesterday.” “Where did you—” “He went to Yushima, accompanied by someone he called a friend.” Then she added, “I’ll just go freshen up.” Kai opened the sliding door and left.

Morning Gruel Meeting

Harada Kai often invited people to his morning meals. "I would like to offer you some gruel." he would invite people with these words. This had been his custom for about ten years now, and it was fairly widely known as "Harada's Morning Gruel." Of course, it wasn’t that they actually served gruel. Though not as elaborate as a full-course meal, they laid out bowls, plates, and dishes in proper order, and almost without exception, alcohol was served.

The guests were not fixed.

Harada belonged to what was called "lineage"—a family that produced Chief Retainers—and served as estate lord of a roughly 4,200-koku domain in Funooka, Shibata District. In short, as one of the senior retainers, his associations were broad, but Kai was liked by everyone.

Kai had no enemies.

He himself did not speak much, preferring instead to listen to others. He was always calm, never showed his emotions, and rarely made violent movements or raised his voice. When sitting across from Kai, people would find themselves in a calm, relaxed mood, feeling compelled to lay bare every corner of their hearts. No matter what secrets they shared, it seemed they felt safe confiding in this man. And that this was indeed true was already well known to all.

This was often manifested in the "Morning Gruel Meetings."

The guests were diverse. There were many senior retainers, but also no shortage of those from lower ranks. Kai interacted fairly with both. He never altered his demeanor or speech based on social standing. Among the senior retainers were those who—due to various circumstances—were on bad terms or mutually antagonistic; people who would typically either avert their faces upon meeting or immediately fall into arguments. Yet even such individuals strangely attended the "Morning Gruel Meetings," and instances of voices being raised there were nearly nonexistent.

That morning’s guests were three—Satomi Jūzaemon, who was to serve as envoy to Sendai; Hachiya Rokusaemon; and Itō Shichijūrō—with Okumi joining them. Hachiya was a 400-koku captain of foot soldiers who had been stationed in the Edo garrison since last year. Itō Shichijūrō was not a Date retainer.

In Ono, Momo District, there was an estate lord named Itō Shinzaemon with a stipend of 2,700 koku. He too was of "lineage," but Shichijūrō was the younger brother of that Shinzaemon’s wife. He was now twenty-seven years old. For quite some time now, through his brother-in-law’s connections, he had been visiting various households within the Date domain. Evidently finding the Harada household particularly comfortable, he frequently stayed with them both at the Funooka estate and during his time in Edo. Shichijūrō was versatile and multi-talented—archery, horsemanship, swordsmanship, spearmanship—he could do it all. He had also studied military science under Kobitsu Yogorōemon of the Aizu domain and Yamashita Jingorōemon, a shogunate retainer, and had developed considerable insight in that field as well. He was of a free-spirited disposition and never stayed in one place for long. He would freely roam from Sendai and Edo to Kyoto and Osaka, and even as far north as Tsugaru, Nanbu, and Echigo.

By the time Kai took his seat, the drinking had already begun there. Shichijūrō seemed to have been the one who started it. Naruse Kyūma took his seat as an attendant, and later, Shiozawa Tanzaburō joined him in serving. Satomi Jūzaemon wore a stern expression and sat rigidly straight, while Shichijūrō was saying something to Hachiya; but when Okumi came and took her seat, he went, “Oh.” “You’re a guest today,” Kai said. “Having a female guest occasionally isn’t unwelcome.” “I’ll serve the drinks,” Okumi said. “No, stay seated,” Kai said. “Okumi is a guest today. Doesn’t Shichijūrō have an obligation to pour drinks?” “Obligations aside, I’ll gladly pour the drinks,” Shichijūrō said.

Okumi bowed politely to Jūza and Hachiya. The two men each returned polite bows. They all knew Okumi. Since they had often been treated to meals at Okumi’s Yushima home, they had also come to understand the unresolved relationship between Kai and Okumi. However, this was their first time encountering her here. "Aren’t you angry, Mr. Satomi?" Shichijūrō said. "With the clan in crisis—senior retainers turning pale as they’re swamped with councils and secret meetings—yet here we are laying out morning feasts with wine from daybreak, even graced by a beauty’s presence. I can’t see how old Satomi wouldn’t be furious about this."

“Then why don’t you get angry yourself?” Jūza said. “I’ve known Lord Funooka since olden days. Making a racket with councils and assemblies isn’t true capability. What sort of man Lord Funooka is lies beyond the comprehension of someone like you. If it irks you, you’re free to leave.” “I do like you, Mr. Satomi,” Shichijūrō said. “You don’t grasp jokes—that’s precisely what I like about you. Truth be told, while humorless men abound in Sendai domain, few match your pure unadulterated literalness. Were I to bind my fate to another’s, it would have to be a man like you.”

“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, but please allow me.” “I beg you—be my savior,” Shichijūrō said. Jūza glared at him and held his cup out toward Okumi. Shichijūrō showed no sign of being fazed and began telling Kai about having visited Shin-Yoshiwara. Kai wore an ambiguous expression that neither confirmed nor denied his attention as he continued drinking in silence. Shichijūrō said.

“At Yamamoto-ya in Kyōmachi—there’s a courtesan called Kaoru. You know her, don’t you?” “That’s—” Hachiya blurted out, “isn’t that the woman His Lordship visited?” “You’d know her well, Mr. Harada,” Shichijūrō pressed. “Claims nineteen years but reeks of sixteen—seventeen at most. All mournful looks and sepulchral airs.” “So your Yushima detour followed this visit?” Kai said.

“You’re evading me, aren’t you?” Shichijūrō smiled and said, “This is serious talk. I wanted to see His Lordship’s beloved—after all, she’s the courtesan who cost the lord of Ōshū’s 600,000-koku domain his position. I wished to behold such beauty and hear firsthand how fervently His Lordship pursued her.” Jūza glared at him again, but Shichijūrō continued with an unaffected air. “But to my astonishment, the courtesan had no knowledge whatsoever of His Lordship.” “There are plenty of customers who visit daily, and I hear a certain lord from the Chūgoku region has been frequenting her for two whole years now. But they say none of them seem to match the Sendai Lord.”

“If that’s the case,” Jūza said, “it seems not all prostitutes are loose-lipped.”

“In establishments like that,” Okumi hastily interjected, “they say they never speak of their patrons’ affairs. Especially not those of distinguished status.” “Do you think I would go to the pleasure district without knowing even that much? Preposterous. The courtesan truly knows nothing. Isn’t that right, Harada-san? You must be aware of this.” Kai went “Hmm” and looked at him.

“Did you say something?” “You—”

Shichijūrō set down his cup. Kai quietly gazed into his eyes. It was a calm gaze filled with warm light. Shichijūrō averted his eyes.

“I can’t match you,” he said, “but let me make this clear: The shogunate ordered His Lordship’s confinement on grounds that he became infatuated with a courtesan named Kaoru and ruined himself through debauchery. Yet in reality, His Lordship frequented Kyōmachi for merely eight or nine days—and even then, only drank before returning home. The courtesan in question didn’t even know who he was and barely remembered his face.” “Can this truly be called debauchery?”

Shichijūrō quickly glanced at Jūza’s face. “There’s no shortage of daimyō who indulge in the pleasure quarters,” Shichijūrō said. “Shall I name them? Five or seven come readily to mind—the lord from Chūgoku I mentioned earlier, fixated on that courtesan Kaoru, then Sakakibara.”

“Okumi, pour him a drink,” Kai said. “Very well, understood.” Shichijūrō nodded to Okumi. “Let us cease discussing other households. Just do not forget that among daimyō, many frequent the pleasure districts—it is hardly uncommon. Yet despite this, only His Lordship was reprimanded. A young lord of a 600,000-koku domain, barely twenty years old, merely visited Shin-Yoshiwara incognito for eight or nine days—and this is called debauchery? Ruin? Absurd. Moreover, as early as the tenth day, a notice arrived from Senior Councillor Sakai Uta-no-kami—on the tenth day! How did Uta-no-kami learn of it? Is he moonlighting as an inspector of Shin-Yoshiwara?”

“It appears Shichijūrō remains underprovisioned with sake,” Kai said. “Okumi—won’t you perform the pouring?”

“Does it sting, Harada-san?” Shichijūrō said.

Kai looked at him with calm eyes. "It stings, doesn't it?" Shichijūrō smirked with his lips. "But allow me to continue. His Lordship did have a drinking habit - he'd abstained for that very reason, and once he started again, complaints poured in from all quarters. Last year, even the Mito house admonished him. Yet when you ask what misconduct he committed, there's scarcely anything worth enumerating. At worst, he grew careless when drinking - hardly surprising for one so young, especially with enablers at his side. Did you say something?"

Shichijūrō looked at Kai. Kai shook his head "No" while looking away. "I see," Shichijūrō nodded. "I thought I'd been silenced again." "If you think that, then stop," Satomi Jūzaemon said.

“Does it sting you too?” “You’re speaking out of turn.”

“Then would Mr. Satomi like to speak?”

Shichijūrō’s face reddened. "You should know," Shichijūrō said to Jūza, "who urged drink upon His Lordship when he’d sworn abstinence. Who escorted His Lordship to the pleasure quarter. Who must answer for this disaster. Mr. Satomi—you know, and you should despise that man." "Who do you claim I despise?"

“Lord Ōyama 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 changed color.

At that time, there were four Edo elders (referred to as "administrators" within the Date clan). They were Shigenoba Shuri, Ōyama Daigaku, Furuuchi Higo, and Daijō Hyōgo. Among them, Ōyama Daigaku was both the eldest and wielded the strongest influence. Ōyama Daigaku had always been a stubborn and self-righteous man, but having further gained the trust of Date Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu, a member of the domain’s cadet branch, he now wielded greater power and authority than anyone among the four chief retainers. “Am I wrong, Mr. Satomi?” Shichijūrō pressed on. “Though it’s not just you—many in the clan know this. The fault lies not with His Lordship, but elsewhere. Those responsible neglected His Lordship’s affairs, obsessing over expanding their own power; they even exploited His Lordship to further their ambitions. Had His Lordship truly committed misconduct warranting shogunal censure, the senior retainers who stood idly by should bear responsibility. Yet—the moment a reprimand came from Uta-no-kami, they convened a council of senior retainers as if they’d been waiting for it and forced His Lordship into retirement! Lord Mutsu-no-kami Tsunamune had only just inherited the household in the ninth month of Manji 1—not yet two full years ago—and already they’ve forced him into retirement!”

Satomi Jūzaemon’s square-set frame began to tremble finely under the violent agitation of his emotions, while the mild-mannered Hachiya Rokurōzaemon, as though at a loss, awkwardly lowered his eyes to the cup he held. “Even that might have been tolerable had the retirement petition been accepted—but the shogunate crushed it and instead resorted to *confinement*. Preposterous! On what grounds? That His Lordship’s ‘misconduct’—eight or nine days of discreet visits to the pleasure district—somehow reached the shogun’s ears! A farcical formality! Worse still, Watanabe, Sakamoto, Hata, and Miyamoto were assassinated under the pretense of having ‘encouraged His Lordship’s debauchery’—all justified as *official executions*. Those four may not have been loyal retainers—Sakamoto Hachirōzaemon, I’ve just heard, even tried to cut down Mr. Satomi here! Likely they did accompany His Lordship to the pleasure district. But to assassinate them without trial? And for their killers to claim ‘official orders’? *Whose* authority? With His Lordship confined and succession unsettled—who dares invoke ‘official orders’? Harada-san—who do these assassins mean by ‘authority’? Tell us!” Shichijūrō pressed on.

“You must know,” Shichijūrō pressed further, “who that person is, Harada-san. Who can invoke official orders in place of the Date clan’s 600,000-koku lord? Won’t you tell us?”

Kai's forehead wrinkled.

“Got it,” Kai said with a smile. His eyes—slightly downturned at the outer corners—narrowed, revealing white, immaculate teeth between parted lips. It was a smile of genuine warmth and composure. “That’s enough,” Kai continued. “I’m well aware that Shichijūrō here excels at martial arts, possesses deep knowledge of military strategy, harbors wanderlust, holds his liquor admirably, and enjoys popularity with women—but enough of that. Won’t you drink?”

Shichijūrō stared at Kai’s face. Those eyes were piercingly sharp, but gradually took on a hue of admiration. He let out a deep sigh and smiled toward Kai.

“Of course I’ll drink,” Shichijūrō said, taking the cup. “But may I ask just one more thing?”

Kai looked at Shichijūrō. Shichijūrō spoke.

“What on earth are you thinking?”

“That’s right—” Kai looked at Okumi, “I suppose it’s about this Okumi here and the other woman, hmm?” “Another woman, you say?” Okumi turned around. She thought Kai meant his wife who had come up to Edo—something that shouldn’t be mentioned—and warned him with her eyes. “Ah, another one,” Kai said. “I was sweating bullets thinking Shichijūrō might bring it up. The other day, someone dragged me to Shin-Yoshiwara—completely by chance—and it turned out to be this place called Yamamoto-ya.”

“Oh my, you went to the pleasure district?”

“I was invited by someone.” “Didn’t you say you couldn’t come due to official duties?”

“Let’s have a cup.” Kai offered the cup to Okumi. Okumi did not so much as glance at it. “You claimed you couldn’t attend due to official duties—yet you hadn’t visited Yushima in half a month—but found time for the pleasure district?” “Let’s end this talk,” Kai said. “Your fault, Shichijūrō—you stirred strange inquiries.” “I yield to you.” “Shall we dine?” “I yield to you, Harada-san—but know this: I shall draw out your true heart someday. Without fail.”

“Let’s have a meal, Tanzaburō,” said Kai. “That may be so,” Okumi said, “but this matter of your visit to the pleasure district 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 skillfully dodged everyone.” Satomi Jūzaemon remained silent. Hachiya, Okumi, and the serving boys—released from those searing topics—all took on expressions of relief. But Jūza alone wore a dark, oppressive expression, lost in solitary thought. For his straightforward and earnest nature, Shichijūrō’s words carried far too grave a weight—he found himself overwhelmed by both their explicit content and what they implied.

Above all—the accusation *You hate Ōyama Daigaku*—struck at Jūza’s very core. He had long despised Ōyama; the way Daigaku forced through his selfish schemes under Hyōbu Munekatsu’s patronage was beyond endurance. *That bastard’s poisoning our house.*

Jūza had thought so, but it was something kept within his heart—he had never spoken of it to anyone, nor was it something one speaks of. Shichijūrō had bluntly hit upon it. "One cannot let their guard down around this man," Jūza muttered inwardly.

Naruse Kyūma and Shiozawa Tanzaburō brought the meal. Hachiya savored the miso in the small bowl and exclaimed that this was unusual.

“This is walnut miso, isn’t it?” “Yes,” Kai said. “How does it taste?” “It’s truly splendid—exquisite indeed. To encounter the flavors of my homeland after all this time...” “It was served in Yushima too,” Shichijūrō remarked, glancing at Okumi. “We make it in Funooka,” Kai stated.

Okumi continued. "We make it in Funooka and send it here, then sell it through my family's shop—Ganya." "That's right—we sell it." "I've started a business," said Kai. Shichijūrō's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" "We're sustaining the Yushima household through this." "Don't mock me." "There's no time for mockery. You've got wide connections, Shichijūrō—I intend to have you circulate samples across them."

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

That afternoon, Kai attended the magistrate council meeting.

Fragment (1)

――Lord Satomi stood up. “The attendees were—”

—Itō Shichijūrō, Lord Jūza, Lord Hachiya Rokurōzaemon, and a woman called Kumi.

“Is Shichijūrō staying here?”

He had been staying here for about ten days.

“What kind of discussions were there?”

“Itō made such inflammatory remarks—I have recorded them here.” “I’ll read it later.” “As it was written hastily, I fear your deciphering may prove difficult.” “I’ll read it later. Anything else?”

There was nothing more. No one engaged with Itō’s inflammatory remarks. Of course, his lordship was no different—no matter what Itō said, he neither responded nor acknowledged it, maintaining an utterly oblivious countenance. “He’s a shrewd man.” “One additional matter—according to Itō’s own account, he visited Shin-Yoshiwara several days prior and called at Yamamoto-ya.” “I am aware.” “His lordship stated he had been invited by another party.”

“I gave the order—I ordered them to bring him along—but he never slipped up.”

――That is all there is. “How are the Hata children and Miyamoto’s younger brother faring?”

――Miyamoto Shinpachi has been taken into Lord Satomi’s custody，and the Hata siblings are residing at Shiozawa Tanzaburō’s household.

“If they’re moved, notify me.” “That is my intention.”

“Don’t let him outmaneuver you—he’s clever.” “That is my intention.” “I’ve heard about Kumi.” “There is a house in Yushima.” “Do you think she’s his concubine?” “That has not been made clear.” “How unclear.” “That woman is the sister of Gan’ya Shinsuke, a seafood wholesaler in Nihonbashi Ishi-chō. For about eight years now, she has maintained a residence in Yushima which that person has been frequenting.”

“Gan’ya’s daughter?”

――Are you aware of this?

“Gan’ya is supposed to have come from Ishinomaki.”

――The current Shinsuke is the second generation. “Gan’ya came from Ishinomaki and is supposed to have set up shop there as well.” ――The shop in Ishinomaki is being run by his younger brother Masakichi, it is said. “I see—Gan’ya’s daughter?”

“Wait—in that case, investigate Gan’ya’s annual trade figures.” “—Shall we proceed with haste?” “They mustn’t notice.” “—I will make immediate arrangements.”

“Do you think this Kumi woman isn’t his concubine?” ——“The woman herself states there remains no formal pledge.” “She said this herself?” ——“‘Even after eight years,’ she kept lamenting.”

“Is that truly the case?” “As for the house in Yushima—that person’s acquaintances also frequent it, and while everyone knows this, they all seem to regard it with suspicion.” “That’s just like that man.” “Moreover, Gan’ya purchased the Yushima residence, invested considerable funds into expanding the sukiya-style annex and renovating the garden, and it appears they have continuously covered all household expenses—including four servants—ever since.”

“He is that sort of man.” “The entire household appears completely devoted.” “He’s precisely the type to entangle others so deeply.” “That concludes the matter.” “Wait—what purpose brought Kumi here?” “I had neglected to mention—last night, his wife was summoned to Edo.”

“Harada’s wife?” ――Kumi came to report that. “Why did his wife show up?” ――According to Kumi, she stated it was to receive treatment from a skilled doctor in Edo, but she did not appear ill. “He didn’t know, did he?” ――It did not seem he was aware. “I know his wife.” ――Ah. “That woman is the elder sister of the current Genba—a daughter of the Monya family. I saw her when she was still a girl at Matsuyama’s residence—a clever girl with a beautiful face she was.”

――I have not yet had the honor of meeting her. “What sort of retinue is this?”

――With a young samurai named Nakakuro Tatsuya and two others, the retinue appeared to be of an informal nature.

“It was surely unreported, I presume.” ―Shall we investigate?

“We’ll keep watching—no need to rush. But ensure none slip through the net.” ――Shall we send more people to Yushima?

“Do it as necessary—but unless you’re extremely careful, they’ll notice.” “Is there anything else you would command?” “Has he still shown no signs of going to Shinagawa?” “I don’t know.”

“Always assign an escort to Shinagawa.” —Yes. “He may attempt covert movement—though I deem it unlikely—but should signs of clandestine activity surface, implement the three-stage method.” —Understood.

“Send this.”

――This is most improper.

“Keep it—you’re a useful one.”

Evening lull.

The council of magistrates' meeting unexpectedly grew contentious and continued being convened for four consecutive days. As Kai was the most senior member, he could not excuse himself during that period and thus naturally had no opportunity to visit Yushima.

The agenda of the meeting was the matter of how to deal with Watanabe Kinnbei and two others. In the assassination incident on the night of July 19, there should have been at least ten assailants, yet only Watanabe Kinnbei, Watanabe Shichibei, and the footman Man’emon stepped forward. These three individuals claimed, “We alone subdued Sakamoto, Hata, Watanabe, and Miyamoto,” and insisted no others had participated. This incident appeared on the verge of being swept under the rug. This was because, immediately after the incident, when the council of senior retainers was convened, Date Hyōbu had been the first to declare, “Those four were treacherous villains—Kinnbei and his men acted admirably.”

Tsunamune was confined, the succession remained undecided, and none could foresee what would become of the six hundred thousand koku domain. Now was the time for the entire domain to unite as one—to endure all hardships, devote themselves to prudence, and await the shogunate’s decree. The actions of Kinnbei and his men were a “loyalist purge” carried out for the domain’s sake, devoid of any personal motive; moreover, were this matter to be thoroughly investigated, there was no telling how far the repercussions might spread. Here, they ought to acknowledge Kinnbei and his men’s loyalty to quash the matter and prevent the conflict from spreading. He had argued this point with vehement emphasis.

In other words, it meant that the assassination incident was to be left uninvestigated. It stood at the critical juncture of the domain's survival or collapse. The matter of succession—specifically whom to endorse—had become the entire domain's pressing concern; even were it decided, none could predict how the shogunate would respond. What mattered now above all was upholding "peaceful resolution in all affairs." The senior retainers aligned themselves with Hyōbu Munekatsu.

――Let us endure all things; let the entire household prove the sincerity of our restraint. Such a tacit agreement seemed to have been reached.

Therefore, it seemed the council of magistrates’ meeting would follow suit. It had been deemed inconceivable that anyone would dare raise objections; yet on the very first day, the newly appointed Tōyama Kangeyu voiced something entirely unexpected.

“Even if Watanabe Kinnbei and his three men’s actions were indeed a loyalist purge, we cannot overlook how their methods flouted the law,” Kangeyu declared. “Should we permit this silence, there will likely be second and third incidents of this nature. Moreover, I fear the justification of ‘for the domain’s sake’ might be improperly invoked. We must bring this matter to interrogation and render a definitive judgment.” Kai kept silent and listened.

Four or five others opposed Kangeyu’s argument. Their opposition lacked clear rationale, instead invoking the senior retainers’ intentions as justification—merely listing inoffensive phrases about the Date clan’s rise and fall, minor matters before major ones, and handling everything peacefully. They persistently clung to those vague objections.

Kangeyu did not back down either. Kai made no statements and listened to both sides' arguments.

Tōyama Kangeyu was Ōyama Daigaku’s younger brother. Daigaku was currently in Sendai; it was thought that Kangeyu’s vigorous insistence on his own argument stemmed from Daigaku’s will. Daigaku in Sendai must have issued some command to Kangeyu. Otherwise, there was no reason he could have adopted such a stubborn attitude so soon after his appointment. Kai had inferred this, but the others seemed not to notice. Why was Kangeyu being so obstinate? Why did he alone raise dissenting views? It seemed they could not comprehend it in the slightest.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Hyōbu-shōyū suddenly appeared. Hyōbu Munekatsu was forty years old. With his long, dignified countenance—fittingly reminiscent of Masamune’s youngest son—his brow revealed an authoritative sharpness and the tenacious fortitude of his character. Though he was two years younger than Kai, he appeared older than him. Yet his voice was thin and feminine, carrying a youthful timbre.

Hyōbu appeared without warning at the seat, sat in the place of honor, and looked at everyone’s faces.

“We hear the deliberations remain unresolved—what is the issue at hand?” said Hyōbu. Everyone looked at Kangeyu. Kangeyu stated his opinion. Hyōbu listened halfway through before interrupting Kangeyu’s words. “Has that matter not already been decided by the Council of Senior Retainers?” said Hyōbu. “The magistrates need only determine the three men’s punishment; they have no authority to comment on what has already been decided by the Council.” “If I may contradict your words,” said Kangeyu, “in such matters, should it not be the proper procedure for the magistrates to first conduct an interrogation and, awaiting their decision, then proceed to the senior retainers’ honorable judgment?”

“Let me hear your name, you there.” “I am Tōyama Kangeyu.”

“When were you appointed magistrate?” “This humble one received the appointment this month.” Hyōbu smirked with his lips. Then he said: “Was he not indeed kin to Lord Ōyama?” “I am Lord Daigaku’s younger brother.” Kai kept silent and listened.

Hyōbu looked around at the others. “Are there others who share this opinion?” Everyone remained silent. Hyōbu looked at Kai. Kai was looking toward the partition. 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 Council of Senior Retainers. Let us conclude this matter and proceed to the issue of punishment.” “If I may beg your pardon for a moment,” said Kangeyu, “as it is Lord Ichinoseki’s command, we shall of course proceed accordingly. However, in my capacity as magistrate, there remains a matter I must absolutely investigate.”

“Very well. Let us hear it.” “At the time of the assassination, Kinbee and the other two—” “This was not assassination—it was the execution of traitors!” Hyōbu sharply interjected. Kangeyu fell silent and glared defiantly at Hyōbu, but then immediately nodded and spoke in a voice that suppressed his anger. “It is said that at that time, the three men stated it was an ‘official execution,’ but this is no trivial matter. I believe we must by all means conduct an interrogation to verify whether this is factual.”

Suddenly, the room fell silent. The six magistrates and Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu both held their breath for an instant. Kangeyu’s demand was of grave consequence. The entire household’s attention was now focused less on Kinbee and his men’s actions and more on their claim of an "official execution."

If one were to investigate, there was no telling what might surface.

Everyone thought so. The fact that the four assassinated men had long served as Tsunamune’s close aides in recent years and enjoyed his favor was widely known. Among them, Sakamoto Hachirōzaemon and Watanabe Kurōzaemon, despite being newcomers, had frequently acted with overbearing arrogance and were even detested by some. Therefore, the fact that the four had been assassinated was not considered something to be made much of, given they were held to be traitors who had brought about the grave matter of their lord’s confinement.

But the term "official order" carried grave weight. Given that Tsunamune had vacated his position as clan lord and no heir had yet been appointed, the term "official order" should not have been in use. Since they dared to use that term, there must have been a reason of corresponding weight. Regarding this matter, Itō Shichijūrō had pointed it out at the morning gruel meeting, but it could be said the entire Date household harbored the same doubt.

There was something behind Kinbee and his men. But one must not carelessly touch upon that.

There was no telling what might emerge! Thus, none dared speak openly of that matter; nor did they believe anyone would. Yet now Kangeyu confronted it directly.

The moment of tense silence was broken by Kai’s quiet cough. Hyōbu and Kangeyu turned around. “Do you have any opinion?” Hyōbu said to Kai. Kai replied “No” and coughed again.

Hyōbu looked at Kangeyu. “By all means—you insist on this, then.” “That is correct,” said Kangeyu. “Though newly appointed, I demand their interrogation in my capacity as magistrate.”

“Very well,” Hyōbu said. “Let it be done. Summon them here immediately for questioning. If necessary, call that underling Man’emon as well.” “The two of them alone will suffice.”

Kai remained silent, listening to Hyōbu’s cold, mocking voice and Kangeyu’s—unbecoming of his age (he was already thirty-six or thirty-seven)—unrestrainedly excited voice. Watanabe Kinbee and Watanabe Shichibee were summoned and brought forth. Though they shared the same surname, there was no familial relation between them. Kinbee was twenty-five years old and Shichibee twenty-seven; both served as overseers of low-ranking attendants. The two men sat on the veranda. Being in confinement, neither wore swords at their waists, and their shaven pates and beards had grown out. Thus they appeared thoroughly haggard overall, yet their posture—shoulders squared and sitting rigidly upright—and their expressions with foreheads thrust forward revealed an unyielding defiance.

Kangeyu asked Kai whether he might conduct the interrogation. Kai, having consulted the other five magistrates, answered that it would be permissible. Kangeyu turned his gaze to Hyōbu.

“Hmm, We shall also observe,” Hyōbu said. “As a member of the Date clan’s branch family, We will hear this interrogation.”

Kangeyu paid his respects to Hyōbu, offered him a seat, and began the interrogation.

The strong afternoon sunlight glided over the deep eaves and beat down on the edge of the veranda. In the enclosed garden surrounded by partition walls stood five fir trees about one jō in height, their shadows cast like spilled ink upon the starkly white, parched, and glaring bare soil of the garden.

Kai was gazing at the dark tree shadows. I must go to Ganryū-in Temple. He thought so. The Hata children should have arrived this morning.

And then to Yushima as well. He also thought as much. But why did Ritsu come out? 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 seemed not to notice even that. In the courtyard’s fir trees, evening cicadas began their metallic chorus. The metallic voices of evening cicadas reverberated shrilly throughout the council chamber, and Watanabe Kinbee seemed to falter at the very start of his response.

“What’s wrong—?” Kangeyu pressed. “Speak clearly! I won’t tolerate evasive answers!” “I shall answer,” said Kinbee. “I deeply apologize for falsely invoking official orders. Moreover, this was done under no one’s instruction but my own discretion—there was no other course of action.” “Why?” “We intended to eliminate those four individuals—by eliminating those four alone, we wished to avoid unnecessary casualties.”

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

“And then—” said Kangeyu. “Must I continue?” Kinbee retorted. “That you ‘didn’t want to cause other casualties’ alone isn’t sufficient to understand,” Kangeyu pressed on. “Explain more concretely.” “But in reality,—” Kinbee cut his words short. He made a look as if questioning whether Kangeyu’s mind was dull or he was deliberately being verbose—either way, it was absurd.

“As you are well aware,” Kinbee continued, “there were no injured besides those four individuals. The single phrase ‘official orders’ compelled their compliance. Had we not invoked those words, they too had retainers—some would surely have drawn blades in resistance. Naturally, other casualties would have been unavoidable.” “An excellent stratagem—an excellent stratagem,” Hyōbu said. It was an exceedingly hasty manner of speaking—as if hastily trying to catch something flying away.

Kai quietly closed his eyes. “While the false invocation of authority must be censured, such thorough preparations for eliminating traitors merit praise. Had they not declared ‘official orders,’ countless more casualties would have ensued. This forethought deserves commendation. By Our sole judgment, We grant them recognition.” Kangeyu said, “Then you admit to falsely invoking orders?” “That fact stands acknowledged,” said Hyōbu. “Rather than dwell on transgressions, we must credit their strategic planning. Moreover, another critical matter remains.”

With this, Hyōbu looked at Kai. "This matter will eventually come before the Council of Senior Retainers, but first We wish to hear the magistrate’s opinion," said Hyōbu. "It concerns the bereaved families of the four executed traitors. Sakamoto has no dependents. Kurōzaemon has one concubine—expelling her would suffice. However, Hata Yoemon leaves two children, and Miyamoto Mataichi is said to have a wife and younger brother. The magistrate must have considered how to handle these cases; if so, We wish to hear it now."

“However—” Lord Tōyama began, “shouldn’t such measures follow only after confirming definitive evidence that these four were indeed traitors?” “Definitive evidence?” Hyōbu’s voice sharpened like drawn steel. “Precisely—not mere rumor or hearsay,” Lord Tōyama pressed on despite the gathering storm in Hyōbu’s countenance. “Tangible proof that withstands scrutiny.” “You dare raise this now—?” The councillor’s words cracked through council chamber air like a war fan striking stone. Then came Harada Kai’s measured intervention—a blade sheathed in silk. “Lord Tōyama,” he interposed with practiced calm stilling both men’s breaths before turning toward authority’s seat. “If I may—”

“This matter has not yet been deliberated in council, but as for Hata’s son—a child of six years—and his daughter said to be thirteen, I decided at my own discretion to have the boy take monastic vows, assigned his sister to accompany him, and sent them provisionally to Ganryū-in Temple.” “I see—so you assigned the sister.” “Having abruptly lost both parents, they are pitiful indeed, and at merely six years old he would likely burden the temple as well. Thinking to keep them together until he turns eight, I sent them both.”

Kai opened the folding fan on his lap but, without particularly fanning himself, kept it half-open there as he continued. "For the Miyamoto bereaved family, confinement in the home province; as for Hata’s daughter, once her younger brother turns eight, I think it would be appropriate to decide on placing them in permanent custody at one of the home province’s locations—though of course, this cannot be finalized without council deliberation." "Mm, mm." Hyōbu stared fixedly at Kai. "While I can largely surmise the magistrate’s intentions, doesn’t the handling of the traitors’ bereaved families seem a bit lenient?"

“Is that so?” Kai said. “I fear my own measures may have been overly harsh.” Hyōbu’s eyes gleamed. “If necessary, that night Kinbee and his two men could have eliminated the parents as well. I refrained from doing so because I deemed it unnecessary to slaughter entire families.” Kinbee and Shichibee lowered their eyes. “Understood—” said Hyōbu. “We shall remember this matter. Though it may seem We have intruded upon an unnecessary gathering, as one of a cadet branch, We had no choice. You must forgive Us.”

And shortly thereafter, Hyōbu rose from his seat.

The six magistrates remained seated as they bowed. Tōyama Kangeyu still appeared unable to quell his indignation; he puffed out his shoulders and arms, swelling up in sullen anger. Kai stood up with Hyōbu and walked down the corridor together.

“I find myself in a rather troublesome situation,” Kai said as they walked.

Hyōbu said, "Mm." Hyōbu seemed to be thinking of something else; Kai, feigning ignorance, murmured once more.

“I had intended to come to the Udagawa-chō mansion to make a request.”

Hyōbu turned around. Kai continued. “Since there is no one else I can turn to.” “What are you so—” Hyōbu stared fixedly at Kai’s expression. “What could possibly be troubling Lord Funooka so deeply?” “Might I request your assistance?” “Is this about Kangeyu?” “That is part of it, but—” Kai smiled. Then deep vertical wrinkles formed on both cheeks, his eyes narrowing softly into a warm, captivating expression that would draw in anyone who saw it.

“That is part of it,” Kai said, “but in truth, my wife has come from the home province.” “――――”

“Without informing even me, and seemingly having come without reporting to the domain office either—it has caused me great consternation.” “Well, well.” Hyōbu’s face showed an expression that seemed to say, “Damnation.” ——He’d been outmaneuvered. The impression surfaced and vanished in an instant, yet it revealed his innermost thoughts with startling clarity. “I would not think such matters could trouble Lord Funooka,” Hyōbu said, “but if there is anything this one might do to assist…”

“I cannot entrust this to anyone but your lordship. I humbly ask for your discretion regarding the unauthorized arrival.”

“Very well.” “Truly, women are such a handful.” “Indeed,” Hyōbu said sarcastically, “particularly for Lord Funooka.” “You honor me with your words.” “I’m listening.” “I’m rather too good-natured for my own good,” Kai said. “People keep foisting their romantic entanglements upon me—it’s become quite the nuisance.” “I should think so, I should think so.” Hyōbu let out a short laugh. For his part, Kai smiled.

Flower Arrangement

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

Uno said, “Yes.” “My mother and I—” Tanzaburō spoke hurriedly, “we had intended to care for you both much longer—indeed forever—and made earnest appeals to that effect. Yet it appears remaining here would bring you harm. Staying would not serve your interests.” “Yes,” she replied. “I have understood.”

“It must feel lonely for you, but—” Tanzaburō said hurriedly. “However, Ryōgen-in lies within Shiba’s temple grounds—just a stone’s throw from the Atagoshita mansion and not too far from here either. My mother and I shall continue striving to aid you both however we can. Please hold fast to this thought and persevere resolutely when you go there.”

“Yes, I understand perfectly,” Uno said, looking up at Tanzaburō. “I am perfectly alright.” Tanzaburō still seemed to want to say something. Uno murmured softly to herself. ——She would likely never see this person again.

After being entrusted to the Saltazawa household, Tanzaburō often looked after Toranosuke. Despite being an only son, Tanzaburō possessed a nervous yet overly attentive disposition. He fussed over Uno with excessive kindness, but when it came to Toranosuke, he became as devoted as an elder brother to his own flesh and blood—so much so that Toranosuke, young as he was, had come to take full advantage of his kindness. As Uno was preparing, Toranosuke noticed and cried out.

“Ah! Are we going home?” He jumped up.

“Hush now,” Uno said, “we’re not going home today—we’re going elsewhere. If you don’t act properly, you’ll inconvenience Aunt Tatsu.” “If I’m good…” “What a fine lad! The esteemed ones will commend you.” “Then we’ll go home?” “If you keep being good.”

The two or three changes of clothes and undergarments that Saltazawa Tatsu had made for them were bundled into a single package. As for their home—on account of being "under censure"—both front and back had been strictly sealed, and not a single item could yet be removed. ——When the bundle was finished, Tatsu came and handed over another small package. “There is something written inside this,” Tatsu said. “Though you are not yet aware of it, before long, a change will occur in your body. When that happens, open this and read what is written.”

“Is it a letter?”

Tatsu shook her head.

“No, it is not a letter.”

Uno stared intently at Tatsu. “It’s not a letter,” Tatsu said. “When something unprecedented occurs with your body—what it signifies and how you must respond—those matters are written here. The necessary items have also been prepared as a complete set. Examine them thoroughly, then make arrangements yourself thereafter.” “Yes, Aunt.” “This is a mother’s duty,” Tatsu said. “Perhaps—when that time arrives—you will feel shame at having learned such things from me. Yet there was no alternative. With your mother gone, no recourse remained but for me to perform this service.”

Having started to speak, Tatsu pressed her fingertips gently to the inner corners of both eyes, then continued in a changed tone.

“Once your preparations are complete, let us proceed.” As the three of them passed through the gate, Uno turned back and gazed wistfully at the mansion grounds. She would probably never return to this mansion again. With that thought, Uno closed her eyes for a moment.

Dear Father, Dear Mother.

Please protect Toranosuke, Uno prayed inwardly, then began to walk. Ryōgen-in was a subtemple of Zojo-ji that served as the Date family's designated lodging quarters. When memorial services for the shogunate were held at Zojo-ji, the attending daimyo and senior retainers would change their ceremonial robes and rest there. Accordingly, it contained both a guest hall for the lord and appointed rooms for his chief vassals. Tatsu and the Hata siblings were shown to a guest room in the same building as the abbot's quarters, where they waited for Harada Kai's arrival. On that windless day of lingering summer heat with nothing to occupy them, Toranosuke had kept clinging to his sister while yawning repeatedly until afternoon tea was served, when he finally succumbed to sleep.

Afterward, Tatsu said, "Let us view the garden," and the two of them descended into the garden.

The garden was quite spacious, formed in a hook shape, and before the guest hall lay a spring-fed pond. Enclosed by white earthen walls—likely sub-temples on both sides—from the left came the sound of a temple bell and sutra chanting (likely for a memorial service).

“Please come this way.”

Tatsu beckoned. In one corner of the garden stood a well. She pointed at it and said.

“This is His Lordship’s well.” “Ah, so this is—” Uno nodded softly.

――So this was it.

The well was surrounded by a low fence of plain wood, with a roof covered in bronze tiles erected over it. The fence had a locked entrance, and the interior was paved with stone, the well itself also being of stone. In the Date family, they reserved the water from that well solely for the feudal lord’s use. For both cooking and drinking, the feudal lord used only water from that well. For this purpose, there were appointed foot soldiers who would go to draw water without missing a single day.

“Here too there is a temple official entrusted with the key,” Tatsu said, “and they unlock the padlock each time.” “The people who carry the water must have such a hard time,” Uno said. “It must be quite far to the Shinagawa lower residence.” “Surely not to the lower residence.” Tatsu gave a bitter smile. “The water is transported solely for the lord of the main residence. Since Lord Mutsu-no-kami has been confined, it now goes to Lord Kamechiyo’s residence in Sakurada.”

“...How pitiful,” Uno murmured under her breath. Tatsu seemed not to have heard; turning back, she remarked that Zojo-ji Temple’s main gate was visible. When Uno turned around, piercing through the pine treetops, the temple’s main gate appeared unexpectedly close. They had entered through the Onarimon Gate when arriving earlier and had once viewed it up close. Now only its high roof and two-story structure with vermilion-lacquered nameplate were visible—yet it felt far larger and more imposing than when she had seen it in full.

Near the guest hall stood a wing lined with temple lodgings for the senior retainers. In approximately the center of that area, there was a staircase descending from the high corridor to the garden, but Tatsu stopped before it and pointed to a room there.

“That is our Master’s room.” “Is that Lord Harada’s?”

“Yes, and then—” Tatsu turned around, “this is the fir tree His Lordship himself transplanted from Funooka Manor.” “Ah…”

Uno looked at it. It was a tree she was seeing for the first time. The trunk’s girth measured about as thick as clasped hands’ fingers might form a ring, its height roughly eight shaku. The branches all stretched upward, their leaves resembling those of a yew. “Did Lord Harada transplant it himself?” “He favors this tree,” Tatsu said. “Being a northern species, it struggles to root here. Twice before it perished—this marks the third attempt. Five years having passed since transplantation, they say this time it should hold.”

“It’s a tree from your homeland, isn’t it?” Uno murmured.

“Yes,” Tatsu nodded. “Around Funooka Manor, these trees form a beautiful grove, and there are quite a few in the manor’s garden as well.” “Do you know Funooka, Aunt?” “I grew up in Funooka and married into Shiozawa.” “Of course, the late Shiozawa was also from there.”

Uno looked at the fir tree again. Its yew-like leaves and upward-reaching branches gave it the appearance of a tree from a harsh, cold land—seeming robust by 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 Tanzaburō; Tanzaburō had come to summon the siblings, but when they went to the temple lodging, Kai was relaxing, fanning himself. When the siblings sat down, Kihee and Tanzaburō immediately left.

“Come closer,” Kai said.

Uno placed her hand on Toranosuke’s shoulder and took a slight step forward. “Your name is Uno, isn’t it?”

Kai smiled. It was a warmly enveloping smile, inexpressibly captivating. Uno also smiled without realizing it. "So you're Toranosuke?"

Toranosuke gave a firm nod. "You seem clever. How old are you?" Toranosuke silently spread the fingers of one hand and added one finger from his other hand. Kai laughed. His white, beautiful teeth showed as the corners of his eyes lowered slightly.

“What’s wrong, boy? Can’t you speak?” “I won’t say.” “Toranosuke,” Uno said. Kai soothed him. Then, with quiet eyes, he looked at Uno. “I won’t speak of your father and mother now—there are complicated circumstances that would be difficult to understand if I explained them 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. “Of course, there’s no need to worry—I am taking care to ensure there are no mistakes. “However, the boy cannot remain as he is,” Kai said. “If we let Toranosuke continue the Hata family line, danger will inevitably follow. Therefore, I wish to have him take tonsure.” Uno looked at Kai in silence. “If he takes tonsure, he can sever worldly ties and perform memorial services for your parents who met untimely deaths. Don’t you think that would be better?”

Uno quietly lowered her eyes.

“Or do you dislike having him take tonsure?” “No,” Uno said, raising her eyes. “If you say it is better to do so, then I would wish it to be done that way.” “Next is about you,” Kai continued. “You can stay here and look after your brother until he turns eight. After that, I intend to take you to Funooka in my domain. Remaining in Edo would bring various complications—and someday, we will uncover who killed your parents.”

Uno's eyes blazed intensely. Kai noticed those eyes and, as if to calm their blazing intensity, nodded gently and slowly. "Let's leave this talk for later," Kai said. "For now, you need only think about surviving safely—all other matters can wait until after that. Understand?"

“Yes, Uncle.”

Uno started to say, then gasped and covered her mouth.

“There, there, ‘Uncle’ is fine.” “I’ll become your uncle,” Kai smiled. “Toranosuke, stand up and come here.” Toranosuke looked at his sister. “Uno, come here too. I have something to show you.” Uno took her brother's hand and stood up. Kai stood up holding Toranosuke. Toranosuke stiffened his body 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 quietly drew Uno closer. Uno leaned softly against him, but then shuddered again with a twitch.

“There’s a tree over there, by that moss-covered stone on the right.” “Is that a fir tree?” “It’s a fir tree. Do you know that, Uno?” “Yes, Lord Shiozawa’s aunt taught me.” “I see,” Kai nodded. “Then you know it was transplanted from Funooka.”

“Yes,” Uno said. “I like that tree,” Kai said. “Funooka has many of them—places where firs grow so thick they form whole groves. Quiet, still trees that don’t utter a word.” “The trees do speak.” “Don’t you know this, Uno?” Uno looked at Kai; meeting her gaze, he said, “Trees speak. Whether trees, stones, pillars like these, walls, roof tiles with demon faces—they all speak when they grow old.”

Uno looked up with sorrowful eyes. "Among them all, trees speak most clearly," Kai continued. "When you go to Funooka someday, I'll show you how those trees speak." "Yes, Uncle." "Take good care of this fir tree," Kai said. "This one seems to thrive now. Those transplanted before all perished, but this time it grows well. While you remain here, Uno, tend carefully to this tree."

“Yes, Uncle.” Then Toranosuke said, “I’ll take good care of it too!” “Will you take good care of it too?” “I’ll take good care of it! I won’t shake the tree!” “Good job...”

Kai smiled. Then, with his left hand, he gently drew Uno closer again. "Uno, this fir tree was separated from its parents and siblings and transplanted here all alone—completely by itself. Do you understand?" Uno nodded, saying, "Yes." "Alone, transplanted to an unknown land with no one around to help—yet it stands tall, unbowed by wind, rain, snow, or frost, living steadfastly on its own. You understand that, don't you, Uno?"

“Yes...” “Uno understands,” Kai said. He suddenly took on a gaze as if looking at some distant place.

Uno thought. Uncle was someone lonely. She had interpreted Kai's words that way. Not as words meant for herself, but rather as if Kai had been speaking from within his own heart. "Uncle," Uno said, "you will take me to Funooka someday, won't you?"

“When Toranosuke turns eight.” “I would very much like to be taken to Funooka.”

“In two years, you’ll be able to go.” “Will I get to go too?” Toranosuke said.

Kai laughed gently and said, “You’ve gotten heavy—quite a load you are!” “Will I get to go too?” “Toranosuke,” Uno said. Kai set Toranosuke down. “Well, Uncle has to go now,” he said. “I’ll come again. Be good now.” Toranosuke remained silent. Kai said to Uno, “Take him over there. I’ll return, but if needed, send a messenger without hesitation—come here now.”

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

Uno had seen Kai before. At the Sakurada estate, she had once walked alone in worn-out clothes. At other times she had been accompanied by household retainers or other senior vassals, but she had always immediately recognized him as Harada Kai. She did not know who had taught her this; she retained no memory of being instructed. From long ago, whenever she glimpsed him, she had known it was that man.

Kai stood out somehow, whether alone or accompanied. He walked slowly, his tall frame slightly bent forward. His features were warm and gentle, and when he smiled, his white teeth showed.

I know—I’ve known that person from long ago.

Uno often thought this way. That was a genuine feeling. She had known him well for a long time, and he had been especially close to her. Even now, if only they could understand each other, they could become close again as before. Uno had been thinking this by herself.

―It was just as she had thought.

While walking down the corridor with her brother, Uno murmured inwardly. He seemed so terribly lonely—he must have experienced something profoundly isolating and sorrowful. His manner of speaking made him sound utterly alone in the world.

When she turned the corner of the elevated corridor, Shiozawa Tanzaburō was there. He had likely been waiting; he smiled at Uno and immediately tried to pick up Toranosuke.

“I’ll walk,” Toranosuke refused. “Come now—you won’t get carried much longer.” “I’ll walk.”

“What’s this—are you angry?”

Shiozawa Tanzaburō 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, Tanzaburō lowered his voice and quickly said to Uno, “Did you ask about that matter?” Uno did not answer. Tanzaburō looked at Uno quizzically. “Didn’t you ask?” “Yes,” Uno said. “Didn’t you ask who your parents’ enemy was, or whether you could get revenge?”

“I didn’t ask.” “Why not?” Uno gave no reply. Tanzaburō studied her face intently before relenting with a sigh. “Never mind then.” “But I’ll stay by you. When the time comes, I’ll see your parents avenged—this I swear.” Uno turned toward the fir trees beyond the garden wall. Afternoon light crept down the earthen barrier to gild their uppermost boughs.

The wind's harbinger

After leaving Ryōgen-in, Kai proceeded from there to Yushima. The house was located on the Ueno side of Yushima-dai. If one crossed Izumibashi Bridge, ascended the slope beside Kanda Myojin Shrine, and exited from the riding ground of Hayashi Daigaku-no-kami’s residence—where the Seido would later be built—onto Hongo-dori, one could bring the palanquin right up to the entrance. Moreover, though this was almost unknown, there had also been a back road leading toward Hirokoji. It was a damp, narrow, perilously winding stone stairway through deep forests of chinquapin, pine, and Japanese hornbeam, along hillside slopes thick with shrubs and thickets. Later, when the thicket on the hill was cleared to build Tenman-gū Shrine and a cut-through was made north of it, the path fell into disuse—but even before that, few people had ever traversed it.

When Kai arrived, all the women were out. It was said that Okumi had guided them on an outing to Kobikichō to see a play. In March of that year, Morita Kanya’s theater was established in Kobikichō Fifth District, and Okumi guided Law there.

Nakaguro Tatsumi had apparently accompanied them as an attendant, and there were two others who had come from Funooka—Okamoto Jirōbei and Matsubara Jūemon. Kai ordered bath preparations and met with the two men. Both his wife Law and their attendants had not left the Yushima residence for five days since arriving in Edo, anxious about Kai's reaction to their unauthorized presence in the capital. The two men were deeply apologetic. Kai refrained from any reproach. In his usual calm tone, he inquired about personnel arrangements in Funooka and the condition of the farmlands. In Funooka were his elderly mother and eldest son Umeie Munekiyo; the acting chief retainer Katakura Hayato remained in good health with no changes to report. Since Umeie was expected to undergo his coming-of-age ceremony upon turning fifteen the following year, they were already anticipating it with pleasure, they reported.

“It was stated that the role of eboshi parent would be requested from Grandfather in Matsuyama.”

The grandfather in Matsuyama referred to Moniwa Sagetsu; Law, Umeie’s mother, was Sagetsu’s daughter, making Umeie his maternal grandson. Kai listened in silence. Matsubara Jūemon went on to describe the state of the farmlands, but his account suggested that due to the persistently low temperatures in early summer, reduced yields for both rice and wheat would likely be unavoidable. “Will it stop at reduced yields?” Kai said. He did not show any particular distress, but Jūemon understood what his master was feeling.

“At least twenty percent—and depending on the weather from here on out, it may exceed thirty percent.” “Then I suppose the mansion repairs will be postponed again this year,” Kai said. Okamoto and Matsubara, too, seemed eager to learn about the clan’s fate following Tsunamune’s confinement—tentatively, circuitously broaching the subject—but Kai said nothing.

The women returned from the play after dusk had fallen, but before that—just as they lit the lamps in the rooms—Sukezō, the clerk from Hatokudō in Ginza, arrived to deliver brushes. Hatokudō was a Chinese goods merchant that traded with Ming China, handling books, paper, brushes, inkstones, and ink. The master was named Jinzaemon; he served as an official supplier to the Date clan and had long been acquainted with Kai. Kai met with the clerk himself. Sukezō said, “The tiger-hair brush you ordered has arrived,” and presented the box unopened.

Kai nodded. Then saying, "Wait here while I make my selection," he stood and went to his private chamber. Tanzaburō followed and moved to light the lamp immediately. "Light the candlestick," said Kai. Tanzaburō produced a candlestick and lit the wax taper. Kai waved his hand. At this signal, Tanzaburō withdrew to the adjoining chamber.

Kai sat down before the desk. When he opened the box atop the desk, five brushes lay arranged in a holder. He took one mottled shaft from the very center and carefully twisted it. Then the shaft split into upper and lower parts at a seven-to-three ratio—an inlaid craftsmanship. When he shook the lower portion, a slender paper tightly rolled into a cylinder emerged from within.

Kai pulled the candlestick closer and unrolled the paper that had been formed into a tube. The paper was high-quality thin stock with small characters written in five lines. Upon finishing reading, Kai immediately held it to the candle's flame and burned it to ashes. Then he reassembled the brush and returned it to the box, took two others and set them on the desk, summoned Tanzaburō, and handed him the box.

“I requested only two,” Kai said. “Tell them to return the rest.” When Tanzaburō left, Kai placed both elbows on the desk and remained still, supporting his chin. Until the women returned, he remained sitting like that. Before long, lively voices could be heard, making it clear the women had returned, but until his wife Law entered the room, Kai remained leaning against the desk. Law looked at her husband from behind. She was thirty-seven years old but looked far younger; the space between her eyebrows and eyes was broad, and her nose was shapely and high. Her mouth was somewhat large, but with its tightly drawn chin and full cheeks, her whole being possessed a relaxed youthful freshness and an elegant sensuality.

Law stood gazing at her husband's back for a short while; then quietly drew near, hunched her body, and gently embraced him from behind. "Are you angry?" Law whispered.

“Oh, you are angry, aren’t you?” “Go and wipe your sweat,” Kai said. “You are angry, aren’t you?” “Won’t you go and wipe your sweat?” “If you would deign to say you’re not angry…” “I’m not angry, I tell you.”

“You are angry, I tell you.”

Kai remained silent. Law gently yet swiftly touched her lips to her husband's ear, then enveloped him with her entire body. Kai did not move. Feeling the warm, heavy softness of his wife's form—the resilient curves and fullness of her body—pressing insistently against his back, Kai remained motionless and unresisting. "Say something," Law said. "Oh, this humble one 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 might return—but that too remains utterly uncertain."

“It’s hot. Won’t you sit over there?” “But you are angry, I tell you.” “You should know why I couldn’t return.” “This humble one knew, but that was from others—you never deigned to tell me anything yourself.” “What would come of informing you?” Kai said. “Even I, here, can do nothing about it, and informing you would only cause Mother and you needless worry.” “Don’t you think hearing things through rumors makes one worry even more?”

“Is that why you came out?” Kai said.

Law fell silent and suddenly stiffened her body. Kai realized that the body of his wife pressed tightly against his back had stiffened rigidly.

Law pulled away from her husband. “I shall take my leave to cool off.” “Yeah,” said Kai, turning around. Law stood nonchalantly, averting her eyes, but Kai noticed that her forehead had turned pale. —Again. Kai thought to himself. —It’s happened again. Law, 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 smiled while nodding.

“Go and cool off,” Kai said. “You’ll be able to stay at ease tonight, won’t you?” Law said while lowering her eyes.

“Seems so.”

“It’s been a year and a half.” “Go on.” “You will.” Law looked at her husband again, “You will stay over tonight, won’t you?” Kai smiled.

Law’s eyes often betrayed her will. When some disturbance or change arose within her heart, and she tried to conceal it, her eyes—contrary to her will to hide—would lay bare that very disturbance or change.

Sixteen years of marriage. Kai knew that fact well through many experiences. "Ms. Okumi is a beautiful woman, isn't she?" With those words, Law smiled at her husband and left the room. Kai summoned Murayama Kihee and ordered him to deliver a notice to the main residence. It was to report that he would stay in Yushima that night due to a sudden stomachache. Kihee departed immediately. Soon after, a banquet was held at the sukiya. Ganya Shinsuke and his wife Kiwa were summoned from Nihonbashi and arrived. There were three male entertainers and five young female entertainers who sang and danced. They were all frequent guests invited to this house, making the banquet grow lively.

Ganya Shinsuke was forty-two years old. He had a stout frame—short yet robust—and his thick-browed face with its large eyes and mouth bore an air too rugged for a merchant, carrying instead an imposing, almost intimidating quality. Though Kai himself was not much of a talker, Shinsuke too seemed taciturn. He drank steadily in silence, wearing a sullen expression as though perpetually angered by something.

Law was sitting next to Kai. Okumi and Shinsuke’s wife Kiwa were seated as attendants, and Law was irritated.

Why had he started such a lively banquet? She couldn't comprehend it at all. She had meant to be alone with her husband. She had wanted to dine just with him, to speak just with him. Her husband should have understood this - should have arranged for them to be alone. Yet he hadn't particularly cared for such banquets before.

Law tried to catch her husband's attention and hold his gaze. But it seemed to have no effect on Kai. The shamisen music, the singing, the dancing, none of the light banter held any interest. —I should just leave.

Law had thought that. It was nearly half an hour later when—as if timed to coincide with her having that thought—Kai called out to Okumi.

“I’ll rest for a while. Have them make preparations,” Kai said. “Preparations, you say?” Okumi made a puzzled face. Kai looked at Shinsuke. Then, when Shinsuke nodded with his eyes, Kai said to Okumi.

“I’m supposed to have come down with a stomachache. Since I had Kihee submit that notice, I think it’s best to lie down for a while as precaution against any potential informants.” “There’s no such person here,” Okumi said. “Why would you say such a thing? There couldn’t possibly be anyone in this household who would inform on us.” “So it seems.”

“Seems so,’ you say?”

“Don’t fret,” Kai laughed, “I’m well aware there’s no such informant here. That was mere jest. But I’ll take my rest now—have them make ready in the other room.” “You truly mean to retire?” “Ganya awaits,” Kai replied. “Okumi,” Shinsuke said.

Okumi turned around, looked at her brother’s stern eyes, then stood and left. Law looked at her husband as if dazzled. Kai told the geishas to take a break and spoke to Shinsuke. “How goes the trade?” “It’s not going well.” “It’s not going well?” “Not favorably,” said Shinsuke. “It’s the same as if the Chinese ships had stopped coming.” “What happened?” “The war in Ming has yet to be resolved.” “Is the Ming army still holding out?” “Such seems to be the case,” said Shinsuke. “According to what I heard in May, the Ming king fled to Burma last February.” “So it still hasn’t been resolved?” “Such seems to be the case.” “Isn’t it already becoming the Qing king’s era?” “What do you make of it?” Shinsuke said. “It seems Zheng Chenggong is still causing havoc, and after all, the land is said to be astonishingly vast.” “Zheng Chenggong’s request to the shogunate for reinforcements—that occurred the year before last.” “Yeah, that was the year before last,” Kai said.

“While I was in Funooka, I heard things grew rather rowdy in Kyushu with people trying to stow away—isn’t that right?” “There were such rumors,” Shinsuke said. “Over twenty years have passed since the Shimabara Rebellion, yet ronin only multiply. In this cramped island nation, there remain many with no means to live.” “A difficult situation.” “Matters grow more complicated by the day,” Shinsuke said. “Currently, the Chinese ship trade lies stagnant, but British merchants near Macau exploit this to corner our cargo.” “Should this entangle us, they might monopolize the trade market entirely. Thus we labor to forge a pact with English trading houses against handling their goods—yet when coffers run dry, some inevitably break ranks,” Shinsuke said.

As Okumi returned, Shinsuke stopped talking. Okumi wore a stiff expression. "The preparations are ready." "Now then, Ganya," Kai said, looking at Shinsuke. Shinsuke said without smiling, "We have been awaiting you." "Okumi, call Matsubara and the other two—have them deal with Ganya. Then prepare the palanquin," Kai said. Okumi gave another doubtful look. Kai looked at his wife and stood up.

“Law, let’s go.” Law rose gracefully. Okumi kept her questioning gaze fixed on Kai’s eyes. The word “palanquin”—she seemed to doubt she had heard it correctly. Kai met her look as if reiterating the command, then exited the parlor. In the main house’s depths lay an eight-tatami bedroom readied for rest, screens arranged around sleeping quarters. The high windows facing the inner garden stood open at both sides of their paper screens, their wind chime dangling beneath the eaves tinkling listlessly at intervals.

“What a cramped little bedroom.” Law remained standing as she spoke. “Do you sleep in such a cramped bedroom even in summer?” “Towns are generally like this.” “Do you think so?” Law 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 change.” “Someone’s coming now.”

"I shall do it," said Law. "Though I cannot perform such tasks at the estate, there are times when I would dearly like to assist with changing your clothes." "It could be done even at the estate." "Oh, is that so?" Law had her husband change clothes and gazed at his face with a captivated look. At last being alone together, combined with the lingering thrill of the play they’d attended and the pleasant haze of sake, seemed to heat her blood.

“Dear,” Law said with a smile, gently gazing at her husband, “you may ask about Ms. Okumi if you wish.”

“I have a request.” Kai sat down and slid the window’s shoji screen wide open. “You mustn’t ask about that, you know.” As Law spoke these words, a voice sounded from beyond the sliding door and a young maid entered. Law stepped away from her husband. The maid bowed and sat to assist Law with changing.

When Law had finished changing, the maid withdrew once. Then another maid brought in a large water basin and placed it about three feet away from the bedding near the pillows. The water basin had been lined with rounded stones and filled with water, in which a young willow sapling and reeds were arranged. When the maids left, Law sat atop the bedding with a fan in hand.

“I must go out,” Kai said. Law, holding a fan in one hand, extended both hands toward her husband. “People are waiting.” “You’re going out, I hear?”

“Matsuyama is waiting,” Kai said. Law lowered her outstretched hands. “Is Matsuyama your brother?” “It’s Lord Suō,” Kai said. “Lord Wakidani has come from the province—it’s still confidential at the domain residence. He’s staying with Lord Suō at the Koishikawa construction hut.” “The construction hut, you say?” “You know about the moat construction—Lord Suō is the overseer, staying every three days at the Kishō Temple’s administration hut.”

"Is Lord Wakidani staying in such a hut?" "The two of them are waiting for me," Kai said. "I can't say anything more. And my departure mustn't be noticed by anyone except Okumi." "Then I—" Law looked at her husband.

At that moment, the three-foot-wide sliding door beside the bedding opened soundlessly, and Okumi entered carrying a set of clothes. “Stay here and sleep.”

Kai said to his wife, then stood and went over to Okumi. “Stay here and wait in bed until I return.” “There’s some important official business, isn’t there?”

“It’s a matter that doesn’t concern Law.”

“What a fine duty,” said Law. She turned to look at Okumi helping Kai change clothes. “Ms. Okumi, does this happen often?” “It’s routine,” said Okumi. “Though His Lordship rarely stays overnight, when he does, he almost always goes out incognito.” “Will I have to wait long?”

Law asked her husband. Kai wore a dark blue linen robe secured with a black obi, did not don hakama trousers, wore black tabi socks, and fastened only a short sword at his waist. “I should return within the hour,” said Kai. “Okumi—the lantern.” Kai exited through the rear gate, wrapped his face in dark blue linen cloth, and descended the stone-paved slope while illuminating his path with a white-paper lantern. On one side of the lightning-zigzagging stone steps loomed a thicket where insects chirred so clamorously they nearly drowned all else; now and then those very insects would dart toward the lantern.

Having descended the stone steps and proceeded along that road toward Hirokoji, there stood a palanquin shop two houses before the corner. At the shop called "Mataemon," when Kai was spotted, the proprietor Mataemon himself came out. "Kishō Temple Bridge," Kai said while extinguishing the lantern. Mataemon silently nodded, summoned three young laborers, and prepared himself. Mataemon was thirty-five years old. Known as "Immovable Masa," he had once rampaged among men. Several years ago during the Kanda Myojin festival, he had gotten into a quarrel with five samurai companions and was nearly cut down when Kai—passing by—intervened and saved him. Since then, Mataemon had become utterly devoted to Kai and was prepared to lay down his life for him at any time. Kai too loved Mataemon’s character and provided funds to establish him with a palanquin shop.

“Couldn’t you use me as a servant in your mansion?” Mataemon pleaded. “I wish to always remain by your side and serve you.” However, Kai had him establish a palanquin shop. Of course, it was not for his own convenience; he had never even considered that Mataemon might someday be of use. He had wanted to set him up in honest work, have him take a wife, and let him live an ordinary life. However, Mataemon did not take a wife. He no longer drank much, kept no company with bands of roving toughs, and worked with dead seriousness to earn his keep.

Since last year, his workforce of young men had grown to fifteen, and he had even opened a branch shop toward Kurumazaka. And so, he began gradually repaying the money Kai had provided when establishing his shop. “This isn’t repayment—your kindness can never be repaid. I’m merely keeping this money in trust.” Mataemon insisted. “I can’t trust myself,” he said. “I’m earning an honest living now, but given the right opportunity, I might slip back into my old ways.” “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ll slip back into my old ways someday. That’s why I’m having you keep it for when that time comes.” That was how Mataemon spoke.

This was likely because he had thought Kai would refuse him or grow angry. Kai merely said "I see" and accepted the money without demur.

In March of this year, the shogunate ordered the Date clan to undertake construction on the Koishikawa moat, and since then, Kai began occasionally using Mataemon’s palanquin. This was for secret meetings to avoid prying eyes, and though Kai said nothing, Mataemon keenly discerned their purpose and invariably accompanied him.

Mataemon accompanied the palanquin that night as well. He wore a shirikiri happi coat and straw sandals, carried a wooden sword at his waist, held a crest-marked lantern, and ran ahead of the palanquin. Seventeen or eighteen *chō* to the construction hut. Crossing Ochanomizu and descending, they soon came before Kishō Temple. 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 Kishō Temple Bridge.

Kai alighted from the palanquin before the temple. “Shall I wait here?” asked Mataemon. “Mm,” Kai whispered. “Hide the palanquin. Come to the gate with me.”

Mataemon waved at the young laborers. Kai started walking while sharply surveying both sides of the dark road. After walking about one chō, they came upon a fenced hut where tall lanterns bearing the Date family's official crest were visible. That was the front gate. Kai turned north just before the fence and began singing *Mochizuki* in a low voice. Mataemon walked diagonally ahead of Kai while illuminating the ground with a lantern.

“...I detain travelers coming and going, sustaining their lives,” Kai continued singing. In a voice so low it resembled the faint murmur of a drunken man, he continued, "...Should travelers pass through again today..."

As he began to sing thus, from within the fence came a response in an equally low, hoarse voice. "I humbly wish to request lodging at your honorable inn."

Kai coughed. Mataemon turned back, saw Kai’s hand signal, and extinguished the lantern. Then a lantern came into view inside the fence. “Wait here.” To the right lay a stone storage area; Mataemon hid there while Kai walked onward. The lantern that had been moving within the fence halted, and the small servants’ gate there opened. When Kai passed through the gate, a middle-aged samurai stood holding a lantern, silently poised to guide him. It was Konno Shirobei, steward of the Moniwa household.

When he entered the small courtyard garden of the makeshift hut and stepped up onto the veranda, Moniwa Suō was waiting. Suō Sadamoto was three years younger than Kai, his stature slightly shorter than Kai's though his frame was well-fleshed and his build robust. The thick eyebrows, large upturned eyes, and tightly pursed lips seemed to reveal a strong-willed character.

“Was everything safe on the way?” “I believe so.” “Please—he’s been waiting eagerly,” said Suō. “The drinking began at five in the evening and continues still, yet he shows no sign of drunkenness. Was he always that resilient from former times?” “So the rumors say,” he replied, “though I’ve never shared drinks with him.”

Kai removed his headgear and took off his tabi socks. Suō guided him to the inner chamber.

Date Aki was drinking sake. The one serving was Chiba Saburōbei, Date Aki’s chamberlain. When Chiba saw Kai, he slightly moved back from his seat. Date Aki Muneshige sat cross-legged in a plain white silk kimono worn informally, holding a fan in his right hand and drinking from a sake cup in his left. When Kai took his seat, he gestured with the cup-bearing hand as if to say, "Come closer."

After Kai celebrated the safe completion of the journey, he sat down in the prepared seat. “It’s been a while. Let’s have a drink,” said Aki. Kai declined. “I have someone waiting, as I must hasten back.” “I never imagined things would become this constrained,” said Aki. “Must we always meet in such a manner?” “It’s been since March,” said Suō. “At first we didn’t notice, but anything resembling secret discussions was leaking out completely. When we looked into it carefully, it seemed spies had been planted everywhere.”

“Let us hear it,” said Lord Aki, looking at Kai. “At Nakada post station in Shimousa, I met a secret envoy from Lord Matsuyama who sought to report critical domain matters—instructed me to enter Edo covertly and come here first. Thus I arrived last evening... but he insisted the discussion couldn’t proceed without your presence.” “It wasn’t something conveyable through a single messenger,” he said, “and we’ve uncovered new secrets still unknown even to Lord Funooka.”

“Let us hear it.” Date Aki said this and placed his sake cup on the tray. “It was five days ago,” said Suō. “Lord Kuze—would you be aware of him? He is one of the shogun’s inner advisors called Yamato-no-kami Hiroyuki. Since Lord Tsunamune’s succession, he has extended various courtesies to us.” “I have heard of this.” “Since the moat construction began,” continued Suō, “we had frequently sought his mediation through official channels. Five days ago came a message from Lord Kuze ordering us to visit covertly at night. But that day proved ill-fated—the newly built embankment collapsed, leaving no hands free from reinforcement work. Thus we went at dawn’s breaking instead.”

“Is Lord Kuze’s residence nearby?” “It lies below Nishinomaru,” said Suō. “Though the hour was unseasonable, he consented to an immediate audience, and we were shown straight to his bedchamber.” “—To his bedchamber?” “The secrecy required it,” said Suō. Kai quietly waved his folding fan at the mosquitoes. The sake and food tray likely drew their swarms. Neither Aki nor Suō touched their fans. So engrossed were they in the weighty discussion that the insects’ incessant buzzing went unnoticed.

Suō’s account was indeed grave.

It was that Senior Councillor Sakai Uta-no-kami (Tadakiyo) and Date Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu had colluded and were now actively advancing a plan to embezzle Sendai’s 600,000-koku domain. “Impossible,” said Aki. “There’s no way such a thing could actually be done.” “However, the first part has already come to pass.” “The first being?” “Our lord’s confinement.”

Aki glared sharply at Suō. “Are you saying His Lordship’s confinement is part of this scheme?” “The second matter concerns the succession,” said Suō. “As you know, an auction is to determine the heir. Depending on its outcome, they plan to split the 600,000 koku domain—300,000 koku to Lord Ichinoseki, 100,000 koku to Lord Shiroishi (Katakura Kojiro), with the remainder distributed elsewhere. There had been multiple collusive discussions regarding this.”

“So it was Lord Kuze who disclosed this?” “Moreover,” Suō continued, “he warned that those scheming may already know of the domain partition plans. Though Lord Shiroishi’s supposed allotment of 100,000 koku makes this seem unlikely, we must take particular care.”

Aki's body froze. Kai continued using his folding fan with sunken eyes, his expression nearly impassive. "Split the six hundred thousand koku into two?" said Aki. "Into two parts—the six hundred thousand koku," Suō replied. Aki quietly lifted his face. His white-streaked hair glistened in the candlelight, his features—previously showing no trace of intoxication—now flushed crimson. "—I won't permit this." Aki's voice dropped low. "Even should such a plot exist, I'll never allow it. But tell me—what root caused this? What spawned this scheme?"

“I do not know, but there are matters that come to mind.”

“Let us hear that.” “One of them is a matrimonial alliance between the Sakai family and Lord Ichinoseki.”

Aki paused briefly in thought but soon nodded. He had recalled that last year, a betrothal had been arranged between Hyōbu Munekatsu’s eldest son Yasuchirō and Uta-no-kami’s daughter. Though she was called Uta-no-kami’s daughter, that was not the case in truth. Sakai Uta-no-kami's wife was the daughter of Ayanokōji Kinnori, and her younger sister was betrothed to Yasuchirō as Uta-no-kami's adopted daughter. Furthermore, Yasuchirō underwent his coming-of-age ceremony this year and took the name Tōichi Masamuneoki, but he was still only twelve years old.

“If they seek marital ties,” Suō continued, “I believe their aim must be elevating Lord Ichinoseki to feudal lord status. That would be the logical origin of this scheme.” “But Ichinoseki already holds ten thousand koku as a direct vassal daimyō,” Aki countered. “Were you unaware that too was accomplished through Lord Umayabashi’s machinations?” Aki remained silent. “Consider this,” Suō pressed.

The relationship between Hyōbu and Uta-no-kami was longstanding. Hyōbu Munekatsu was the tenth son of Masamune, and his mother had been a concubine of the Tada clan. After his father Masamune died when he was sixteen, he became dependent on his older brother Tadamune. 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 daimyō with a fief of 10,000 koku. To be a direct retainer daimyō meant being of equal status to a hereditary vassal. In the following year, he was appointed to Junior Fifth Rank, Lower Grade as Hyōbu-shōyū, then in that same fourth year took Tachibana Tadashige (Sakon no Shōgen)’s sister as his wife.

Lady Nabe, wife of Tachibana Tadashige, was the eldest daughter of Hyōbu’s brother Tadamune—thus creating a dual marital bond—and all these arrangements were said to have originated from Uta-no-kami’s goodwill and counsel. “This is what I think,” said Suō. “If Lord Umayabashi were to genuinely elevate Lord Ichinoseki to Direct Retainer Daimyō status, the fief should rightfully be granted by the shogunate. Yet despite this, the 10,000 koku was divided from the Date domain—making him nominally a direct retainer but in truth still part of the Sendai clan’s inner circle.”

Aki nodded with a “Mm.” “By the same logic, I believe their current scheme is to allocate the 300,000 koku from dividing Sendai’s territory to Lord Ichinoseki. After all, this lord stands as an unrivaled power in our time—a man of particularly resolute and decisive character who never abandons his objectives.” “But surely there are others,” said Aki. “As shogunal advisors, we have Lord Hoshina Masayuki, and the Chamberlain of Kawagoe, Matsudaira Nobutsuna, should also be present.”

“Lord Hoshina is in poor health,” said Suō. “And I trust you haven’t forgotten—Lord Kawagoe is said to be a master at dismantling outer daimyōs. Was that not the case?”

Aki did not answer. If word spread of splitting the Date clan’s 600,000-koku domain, Nobutsuna might rather welcome it. Not just Nobutsuna—the shogunate itself would welcome this—Aki thought as he involuntarily let out a low groan.

After about half a period, Kai departed the hut.

Konno Shirobei escorted him to the gate. The sky had clouded over unnoticed; not a single star remained visible. When he stepped through the gate, darkness enveloped everything outside.

Mataemon had been waiting at his post when Kai approached. “My lord?” he called out. “Drop the formalities,” Kai said curtly. “Any disturbances?” “None whatsoever.” “We return.” “The clouds have thickened completely,” Mataemon ventured. “The path grows treacherous—allow me to light the lantern.” “The path suffices.” “You forbid its use?” “We bide our time longer.”

The two proceeded cautiously.

What required caution was not the journey out but the return, Kai thought. There must be eyes watching around Suō too. While there was no fear their conversation had been overheard, the risk of being followed remained very real—he thought. They emerged onto the moat bank and turned toward where the palanquin waited. There they paused awhile to survey their surroundings. Only after confirming no pursuers trailed them did Kai finally board the palanquin.

...Uta-no-kami. In the palanquin, he closed his eyes. ...This is difficult. Extremely difficult, Kai thought. He had known of Hyōbu and Uta-no-kami’s collusion regarding Tsunamune’s confinement. It was Hyōbu who had informed Uta-no-kami of Tsunamune’s debauchery. Tsunamune had only just begun frequenting Shin-Yoshiwara when, in barely ten days, there came a warning from Uta-no-kami. The only one who frequents the Sakai residence is Hyōbu.

Itō Shichijūrō said: "How did Lord Uta-no-kami learn of something that happened in barely eight or nine days? Is he acting as overseer of Shin-Yoshiwara now?" It was precisely because Shichijūrō stood outside these affairs that he had likely been able to see through Hyōbu's collusion. His tone had clearly suggested someone was conspiring with Lord Uta-no-kami.

But that was a settled matter. Tsunamune's confinement had become irreversible. However, the conspiracy to divide the six hundred thousand koku domain posed a grave threat. Since Fukushima Masanori's domain confiscation in the fifth year of Genna [1619], over ten daimyō houses—beginning with the Gamō, Katō, and Tanaka clans—had suffered similar reductions or complete stripping of their lands. Of course, this was all to solidify the shogunate's foundations and authority—given sufficient pretext, they would show no hesitation even against the Date house.

Kai sighed.

“Did you say something?” Mataemon called out from in front of the palanquin. “No, it’s nothing,” Kai said. “Make haste.”

Fragment (2)

—We have just arrived.

“We were waiting.” He had taken leisure in Sendai; while autumn had fully settled over the castle town there, he was astonished by how severe the lingering summer heat remained here. “Did the messenger arrive in time?”

“He made it in time.” “Let us hear the details.” “As we had received your messenger, we promptly dispatched them from Ichinoseki to Sendai. Satomi Jūzaemon had already arrived from Edo, but as Lord Okuyama had gone to Yoshoka’s residence, the meeting had been delayed until his return.” “Daigaku had gone to the residence,” “That is what I ascertained.”

“For a senior councillor to leave the castle town unattended at such a critical time—Ōyama Daigaku is precisely that sort of man.” “Understood.” “He’s been arrogant since the old days, but ever since I began favoring him, he’s carried himself like a regent. No matter—that’s where his usefulness lies.” “Understood.” “Let us hear the details.” “The conference was convened on July 30th in the Ōhiroshoin hall within the castle. Senior Councillor Lord Kouchii Shouzen was absent.”

“Kouchii has gone to Mount Kōya.” “I ascertained it was for Lord Gizan’s memorial service—the late Tadamune.” “Lord Gizan’s memorial service has taken him to Mount Kōya. He shan’t return before September.” After Lord Danjō—Date Munetoshi—had departed for Edo, Lord Awa assumed the seat of honor. It was then that the matter of senior retainers’ oath documents first arose. In this crisis facing our house, henceforth unity between clan elders and senior retainers must be paramount. Therefore, let sworn oaths bind us: all matters shall undergo mutual deliberation; none shall petition our lord alone. Moreover, though grudges may fester between us, for ten years hence we shall endure them and devote ourselves fully to public duty.

When Lord Yamato Ishikawa had made such an announcement and Lord Awa along with all present had expressed their consent, Lord Okuyama from his seat voiced opposition with a "No." "Did he state it?" "He did state it."

“What did he say?”

“If it be for our lord’s benefit, I would step forth alone to state it; I cannot make such a roundabout oath requiring prior consultation.” “Just as We thought.” “Understood.” “What did he say next?” “Furthermore, while it states that we should mutually endure for the next ten years,” he declared, “if there exists a grudge that cannot be endured, then endurance is impossible.” “So—if there exists a grudge that cannot be endured, endurance is impossible—that’s what he said.” “He stated it clearly.”

“Just as We thought.” “Understood.” “Daigaku grows arrogant just as We anticipated—the other day there was a magistrate meeting where Tōyama Kangyū alone voiced dissent.”

“You mean Tōyama?” “He is Daigaku’s younger brother.” “Is that so?” “It was We who appointed Kangyū as Magistrate; We suggested that Daigaku do so. Daigaku leaped at it—believing that making his brother a Magistrate would solidify his own standing—and thus sought first to have him distinguish himself.”

“Then, the one who raised an objection was…” “It was Daigaku’s scheming.” “From Sendai?” “We gave instructions from Sendai. We knew Daigaku would make his move—piled the kindling and waited for the flames to rise.” “Does it seem the fire will ignite?” “Let us hear the rest.” Lord Yamato Ishikawa pacified Lord Ōyama’s remarks, and Lord Awa voiced a firm opinion. As a result, Lord Ōyama alone reached a settlement to submit a separate oath document.

“What of the bidding?” ――There was another objection from Lord Ōyama. “What did he say?”

“Lord Tsunamune has an undisputed heir in Lord Kamechiyo,” he reported. “Therefore, there should be no occasion for debate over succession—let alone something as preposterous as bidding.” He had declared that he would absolutely not engage in such unreasonable conduct. “Did everyone remain silent?” “For a moment, the gathering fell into an awkward silence—it seemed the meeting might adjourn. But then Lord Awa declared: ‘Since the matter of bidding has already been decided through consultations with clan elders in Edo, I shall comply with their resolution. Should none of you object, let us proceed with the bidding. As Lord Yoshioka is scheduled to depart for Edo within days, any dissenting opinions may be stated at the Edo residence.’”

“What did Daigaku do?” “He submitted a bid.”

“What?” “He stated that while he would present his opinion upon arriving in Edo, if all present were to submit bids, he too would tentatively do so.”

“So it concluded without incident, then?” “It did indeed conclude without incident.” “What is the predicted outcome?” “I do not know.” “As for the general state of affairs—”

“It seems the assembled lords are inclined toward Lord Kamechiyo.”

“Just as We thought.” “However, this is merely my own conjecture, my lord.” “Lord Kamechiyo, hmm—yes, that’s probably where things stand. We had roughly thought it would be as such.” “Understood.” “But the shogunate will never accept that. To propose a suckling infant as heir to a great domain like Date—those old-fashioned fools.” “Understood.”

“The difference between provincial retainers and those in Edo—here in Edo, one does find those who exercise their wits. The bids weren’t uniform either.” “Were there any bids that met Your Lordship’s considerations?” “There were various cases—some placed bids for Lord Ukyō (Date Muneyoshi) and Lord Shikibu (Date Munemichi). The two are Lord Tsunamune’s elder brothers—but there were also those who placed bids for Us.” “Who might that be?”

“Who could it be? Hah! Those who do such transparent things can usually be guessed.” “Those who think We would fall for such a trick… Very well—you may withdraw and rest.” ―Understood. “Wait. Wakuya will be coming forth.” “I believe Lord Wakuya has already arrived, but...” “He hasn’t arrived yet!” ―His Lordship departed for Edo without awaiting the bidding, but... “Wakuya has not arrived yet!” “How peculiar—I had already assumed His Lordship arrived long ago.”

“Could they have overtaken him en route?” “I remained entirely unaware during my journey.” “Then again—no, impossible. That man’s nothing but stubbornness incarnate—utterly incapable of backroom schemes. Which route did Lord Wakuya take?” “The Coastal Route, my lord.”

“Very well—you may withdraw and rest.”

―Hah.

“Who’s there? Hayato? Enter.” “Pardon the intrusion.” “Ōtsuki Saikyū has arrived from the province—the situation in Sendai seems largely as anticipated. When Daigaku comes, there’ll be an uproar!”

“I have something to report.” “What?” “Lord Funooka met with Lord Itakura.”

“...” “Through Itō Shichijūrō’s arrangements, Lord Funooka visited the coastal residence and afterward called at His Lordship’s secondary residence on his return.” “So Kai met with Lord Itakura?” “Under the pretense of presenting handmade walnut miso—though I believe this was indeed his true purpose—I have come to report this matter and bring it to your attention for due caution.” “We shall take note.” “That concludes my report.” “Very well—you may withdraw.”

The Rice of Society

Omiya emerged from Hanakawado onto Nakamachi Street and swiftly scanned her surroundings while keeping her hood drawn. Her dark, plain kimono and obi, combined with the hood concealing her face and the rosary hanging from her hand that clutched a small bundle, gave her the appearance of a young widow.

Around ten in the morning, Nakamachi Street was bustling with worshippers heading to Sensō-ji Temple. Omiya turned toward Ōhashi Bridge while scanning both sides of the street for familiar faces, then froze mid-step when she spotted a young samurai in travel garb approaching from the opposite direction. The samurai appeared exceedingly young. Though his sedge hat obscured precise judgment of age, his delicate features and gaunt frame made clear he remained more boy than man.

The young samurai was covered in dust. His shoulders were caked with road dust, his straw sandal-clad feet mud-caked, and the hem of his hakama spattered with dried mud. “Excuse me, you there—” Omiya called out.

The samurai was startled. He was so startled—startled enough that the change in his complexion became visible. He stood stock-still, then tried to flee. Omiya removed her hood as she pursued him. “Wait, please!” Omiya called out. “You’re Lord Miyamoto’s Shin-san, aren’t you? It’s me!”

The samurai turned around. "It’s me—Miyā! Don’t you remember? From Watanabe Kurōzaemon’s Ohama residence." "The Ohama residence?" "I belong to Watanabe Kurōzaemon’s household," Omiya said. "You often visited the main estate on your brother’s errands—have you forgotten Miyā who served your tea and meals?" "Ah—you." He was Miyamoto Shinpachi. At last he seemed relieved. Eyes revealing his sixteen years—filled with both familiarity and nostalgia—met hers as he gave an awkward nod.

“I failed to recognize you—my apologies. So much has happened that I’ve been on edge, and also…” “It’s because my appearance has changed, right?” Omiya chuckled softly, “In this getup, it’s only natural you didn’t recognize me. Have you been traveling somewhere? You look like you’ve just returned from a journey.” “No, I—”

Shinpachi quickly scanned his surroundings. Then, gulping down saliva, he lowered his gaze. The sedge hat he wore now concealed his face completely.

“I’ve run away.”

Omiya also surveyed her surroundings. "So you've run away." "Yes, but I can't speak of it here—they're pursuing me." Shinpachi said, "I escaped while being taken to Sendai. If I'm caught, I'll surely be killed—so I must take my leave here." "Wait! Then where are you going?" "I—I'm going to—"

“Do you have someone you can turn to?” “I’m not sure,” Shinpachi said vaguely, “but I think it’ll probably be all right.” “Let’s walk.” Omiya started walking. Shinpachi followed. She said: “My husband met the same fate as your brother—I understand this situation well.” “That’s why I’m telling you—if you wander into reckless places, you’ll walk straight into a trap yourself.”

“I’ve considered that.” “Then are you truly certain it’s safe?” “I don’t know, but he helped me once before. Everyone says he’s an honorable man.” “So it’s someone from the clan?” “Yes—Magistrate Harada-san,” Shinpachi said. “That won’t do—it’s unacceptable,” Omiya countered. “I’ve heard Magistrate Harada’s reputation too. They call him respectable enough, but my husband declared him a fraud—a man of unfathomable depths who feigns ignorance while scheming unknowable evils in his heart.”

"I don't think so," Shinpachi said. "My late brother respected him too, and on the night my brother was killed, we were sheltered by Magistrate Harada." "Let's discuss that later—come to my place," Omiya said. "It's over there behind Zaimoku-cho—a cramped little hovel, but with just my brother and me, there's no need for formalities. We've space enough for you to stay."

"But I—" "But there's no proof that visiting Lord Harada will be safe, is there?" Shinpachi remained silent. "You and I share exactly the same circumstances, don't we?" Omiya said. "Come along. At your age, you can't possibly grasp how the world works—it's dangerous to act solely on your own ideas. If I'll suffice, I'll lend you my aid. See? Let's go together."

Shinpachi finally nodded—but with indecision.

Omiya hesitated slightly. Until she could persuade Shinpachi, she had thought of some way to bring him home—but the moment he agreed, the matter of her brother came to mind. —That drunkard. Omiya thought. —He’ll surely be furious—might even turn violent. But Omiya quickly steeled her resolve. It’s not that I’m relying on my brother’s support—I’m the one putting food in his mouth. Even when I was serving as a concubine to Watanabe, I sent monthly support, and now while doing this shameful “nightly drumming” work, I’m putting food in my brother’s mouth and letting him drink his sake.

I have absolutely nothing to fear. Omiya looked at Shinpachi. "I'll say this upfront," Omiya said. "My brother gets mean when he drinks—might say awful things. But that's just the liquor talking. Sober, he's sweet as can be. Don't take his words to heart." "But...is that truly all right?" "It's fine," Omiya answered with a laugh and nod. "Years as a ronin left him no prospects. It shames him to live off his kid sister—so he drinks till it pours out as rage at everyone."

“Are you from a samurai family?”

“Yes, exactly—oh! It’s just around the back here. Mind the muddy planks over the ditch.”

Entering a narrow alley between rows of houses facing Ōkawabata in Zaimoku-cho, there stood a small two-unit house. The alley's end opened directly onto the Ōkawa River. Omiya went to the river-side unit of the two-house structure, offered greetings upon her return, and expressed thanks for minding the place during her absence. The reply from within came in a young woman's voice. "He's rather reclusive, you understand."

Omiya whispered to Shinpachi. Then she opened the door to her house. It didn’t look particularly old, but likely built on the cheap—the fittings were poor, and the door creaked gratingly. Omiya entered first, opened the kitchen door from the inside, and fetched water for washing feet. The room contained a three-tatami entrance area along with two six-tatami spaces. Opposite the entrance ran a three-shaku corridor; opening its door revealed a plank fence over which hung the eaves of the neighboring house.

As Shinpachi entered, Omiya opened the back door and slid the shoji screens wide open, deftly tidying 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 pause. She was buoyant. Her flexible movements, smooth and melodious speech, and occasional sidelong glances at Shinpachi all appeared almost coquettishly lively.

Omiya continued talking.

Her brother was Kakizaki Rokurōbei and was twenty-seven years old. Her father had died five years ago, and her mother seven years before that. Her father was named Hachirōbei, who had served the Toda family of Ōgaki as a samurai commander with a stipend of about six hundred koku. “When my father was young,” she said, “he fought in the Shimabara Rebellion and achieved considerable distinction. However, after his lord Toda Ujikane passed away, discord arose within the household, and he voluntarily withdrew to become a ronin.” “By then my mother had already passed away. The three of us came to Edo, but not long after arriving, my father also died.” “My mother’s grave remains in Ōgaki, and my father’s ashes are still kept in that house.” “When I someday have the means and time to travel, I intend to take my father’s remains and bury them with my mother’s grave in the Ōgaki area.” Omiya related.

Her brother Rokurōbei was skilled in swordsmanship and well-reputed even in Ōgaki. After coming to Edo, he went to various dojos for matches but was never once defeated. Dojos often asked him to become an instructor, but Rokurōbei would not consent. His swordsmanship was not a means of livelihood.

Rokurōbei would say. "My swordsmanship exists to serve my lord when duty calls—it’s not something I cultivated just to put food on the table." Rokurōbei stubbornly insisted on this. "At first, I didn’t believe a word my brother said," Omiya said. "But three years ago...we were living in Fukagawa then...I saw him get into a fight with five samurai. They all drew their swords, but he took them down without even unsheathing his own. That’s when I realized how truly strong he was. After that, I decided I’d endure any hardship for his sake."

Shinpachi was not 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 visits, she had given the impression of a servant. "The reason I went to serve Master Watanabe," Omiya said, "was because I thought it would only be until my brother found a proper opportunity for advancement." Then she abruptly changed the subject. She seemed to have realized she should not say more. Omiya said in a forced manner, "Pray excuse me," and spoke while changing clothes in the adjacent six-tatami room.

“Where did you escape from?” “It was a place called Kakura,” Shinpachi said. “In Hitachi’s Kakura—I escaped by seizing a moment when my escorts were off guard.” “Is that place far?” “It took three days from Edo, as I departed on July 29.” “Today is already August seventh.” “I took a detour,” said Shinpachi. “Thinking I’d be caught if I kept to the main road—there’s a river called Tomoe near Kakura. Followed it downstream to Kasumigaura—that’s a lake—then crossed by boat to Edosaki. After that…”

“Even if you tell me all that, it doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.” Omiya gave a wry smile. After changing, she hung and folded her discarded garments, all while preparing tea and firing off questions one after another. What an undisciplined woman. While thinking this, Shinpachi replied to her queries in a perfunctory tone. If she wanted to talk properly, she should sit down—starting conversations before she’d even finished changing, chatting while boiling water, and volunteering life stories no one asked to hear.

Shinpachi thought. She doesn’t seem like someone raised in a samurai household—just like a common townsfolk. He thought he should have gone to see Harada instead. While thinking this, he gave his reply. Omiya’s brother Rokurōbei returned after dusk. He was said to be twenty-seven, but to Shinpachi’s eyes, he appeared closer to thirty-four or thirty-five. He had a lean, muscular frame; his face featured prominent cheekbones, and his eyes—likely due to drunkenness—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 stripped these off and, while sharply scolding Omiya, changed into his everyday clothes.

Omiya did not talk back no matter what was said to her. With kitten-like obedience, she dexterously attended to her brother. Shinpachi stiffened. Rokurōbei utterly ignored Shinpachi. He did not even look in Shinpachi’s direction, let alone speak to him. “Is the sake ready?”

As soon as he sat down, Rokurōbei said this. “It’ll be ready right away,” Omiya replied. As she tidied her brother’s cast-off clothes and glanced toward Shinpachi, she began to say, “What about—” Then Rokurōbei cut her off without so much as listening.

“Shut up and get the sake ready. Now.”

“Yes,” Omiya clamped her mouth shut. 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 sake drinking took about an hour, but during that time, he never released his sister from his side and kept giving her one task after another. What a rude person he was.

Shinpachi thought this. Conscious of being a burden, he sat rigidly proper while Rokurōbei's insolent attitude filled him with anger.

Should I just leave?

That thought had also occurred to him. After Rokurōbei had fallen asleep, Omiya prepared a meal in this six-tatami room. As if fearing her brother might hear, she moved with stealthy footsteps, making almost no sound at all as she made the preparations.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” Omiya whispered. “You must be hungry.”

Shinpachi shook his head. Omiya whispered in an even lower voice. "When he's drunk, he can be difficult—sometimes he's in good spirits, usually even-tempered really—but when he's not... well, he becomes like a thunder deity. Please don't take it personally." "Wouldn't it be better if I made myself scarce?" "I'll speak with him in the morning," said Omiya. "Once the drink wears off, he becomes a different person entirely. If you talk properly with him, he'll understand—I'm certain he'll help you. Now please eat."

Shinpachi had no appetite. He had eaten breakfast early, so while it was true he was hungry, between the hunger having passed its peak and Rokurōbei’s unpleasant attitude, he had completely lost his appetite.

That night, the two slept in the same room. Of course, the bedding was spaced apart at either end, but Shinpachi slept restlessly.

“Please bear with this,” Omiya whispered from under the bedding. “My brother has a nervous disposition—he says he can’t sleep with others in the same room. It must be a bother, but please endure it.”

Shinpachi kept his eyes closed and nodded silently. This was his first time sleeping in the same room as a woman, and he felt somehow conscience-stricken, unable to look in Omiya’s direction. “Rest well,” Omiya whispered.

It was five days later that he spoke with Rokurōbei.

Until then, he would start drinking immediately upon waking, go out once drunk, return to drink again, and then pass out. Shinpachi remained ignored, and he gave his sister no opportunity to speak to him. On the fifth morning, he said to his sister, “What sort of person is this one?”

It was after breakfast.

Unusually, Rokurōbei did not drink sake. After eating the chazuke with a look of distaste, he sipped his tea and spoke to his sister. Omiya told him about Shinpachi. “Make it brief,” Rokurōbei said. Omiya said, “Yes.” She had likely intended to keep her explanation brief herself, but it ended up being tedious and long.

"Just give me the key points," Rokurōbei said again.

After Omiya finished speaking, he stared vacantly at the wall and said nothing for some time. Then he suddenly looked at his sister. “Aren’t you going out?” “Yes, I’m fine,” Omiya said. “He went out on some business at Mount Hiei and won’t return until the end of the month.” “Tea,” Rokurōbei said. When Omiya poured the tea, he did not drink it and looked at Shinpachi with tired eyes.

“He was being escorted to the home province—but once there, what outcome had been ordained?”

“It was meant to be indefinite custody,” Shinpachi answered. “This one’s master was also killed,” said Rokurōbei. “Your brother and two others—they say they were cut down on charges of encouraging Mutsu-no-kami’s debauchery. No investigation, just assassination. And the killers claimed it was done under ‘official orders.’” “I don’t know.” “Miyā heard it herself,” said Rokurōbei. Shinpachi set his jaw and stared at Rokurōbei.

“I don’t believe it,” Shinpachi said. “If they truly said that, it’s a false claim. I refuse to accept any talk of official orders.” “Why?” “I... I know.” “What?” “That, I cannot say.” Shinpachi lowered 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 kill your brother’s killer,” Rokurōbei said. Shinpachi stiffened his body and silently turned his face away.

“Who is your foe?”

Shinpachi did not answer. “Shall I say it for you?” Rokurōbei said. “Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu—am I wrong?” Shinpachi shuddered. Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu. He had never imagined that Rokurōbei might know, so when the name was spoken, he felt as though his innermost thoughts had been laid bare. “I had heard about the Date clan’s internal strife and roughly inferred the situation from Miyā’s account—but what’s your view?”

“I... I think so too.” “Tell me,” Rokurōbei said. “Do you have any concrete evidence?” “It was planned from the start,” Shinpachi said. “Mr. Watanabe and my brother were ordered by Lord Ichinoseki to accompany our lord to Shin-Yoshiwara and ensure it became public knowledge.” “Your brother told you this?” “My brother said it.”

“What’s the reason?” Rokurōbei asked. “I heard it was to rectify the clan’s lineage.” “Rectify the lineage, you say?”

“That’s correct,” Shinpachi nodded vigorously.

Tsunamune, who had been confined, was the sixth son of the late Tadamune. The eldest son, Torachiyo, died at seven; the second son, Mitsumune, passed away at nineteen. The eldest son, second son, and Nabe-hime—who had been married to Tachibana (Sakon Shōgen) Tadashige—were the three born to Principal Wife Furi-hime. Furi-hime was the daughter of Ikeda Terumasa and had been wedded to Tadamune as the adopted daughter of Tokugawa Hidetada. Additionally, there were the third son Kamechiyo; the fourth son Gorokichi, who died young; the fifth son Tatsunosuke; and the sixth son Minosukemaru (Tsunamune)—all born to concubines. In Shōhō 2 (1645), when Mitsumune died at nineteen, Principal Wife Furi-hime insisted that her youngest son Minosukemaru (Tsunamune) be made heir.

This was because Minosukemaru's birth mother was the daughter of Kushige Sa-chūjō Takayoshi. She was known as Kaihime, and her elder sister Hōshunmon'in had been the birth mother of Emperor Go-Sai. Because he was born to a mother of such distinguished lineage, the Principal Wife apparently advocated for him as heir. Thus he surpassed his two elder brothers to become Tadamune's successor.

The third son succeeded the Tamura family and now goes by the name Ukyō-no-suke Muneyoshi, as the lord of Iwagasaki in Kurihara District with a 15,000-koku estate. The fifth son also established a branch family, going by the name Shikibu Munemichi, as the lord of Teraike in Tome District with a 12,000-koku estate. “Then, in short,” Rokurōbei said, “despite there being two elder brothers above him, the youngest son inherited the position—you’re saying that’s improper?” “To put it simply, yes,” Shinpachi said. “My brother also said exactly that.”

“That’s Hyōbu’s theory, isn’t it?” “My brother said so.” “Let’s hear the rest,” Rokurōbei said. “I too had thought it might be so, but on the day the lord was honorably confined, my brother had said, ‘I’ve been plotted against.’” “Plotted against?” “Yes—in a terribly agitated and unsettled state, he kept saying ‘Plotted against, plotted against,’ muttering things like ‘What should I do?’ as if in anguish.”

“Did the assassins come the following night?” “It was the following night.” Rokurōbei sipped his tea. “It’s Hyōbu’s doing,” Rokurōbei said. “Hyōbu incited those four, then eliminated them to erase all traces of his instigation.” “Do you also think so?” “I deduced it from Miyā’s account,” Rokurōbei said. “According to her, Lord Watanabe was supposed to have their stipend increased and be entrusted with greater responsibilities—Ichinoseki clearly made that promise, they say he mentioned it in a drunken slip.”

“I will avenge my brother’s death.” “Now, calm down.” “I can’t stay calm,” Shinpachi said. “I have no relatives to rely on—and even if I did, under these circumstances I couldn’t impose on them, and... and I—”

“Is it about money?” “That’s right—I only have two or three coins left.” “Don’t worry,” Rokurōbei said.

“Now, now—there’s no need to fret about money,” said Omiya. “Quiet,” Rokurōbei snapped. “You’re not the only one nursing hatred for Hyōbu. I—whose sister’s lord was slain—won’t sit idle either. And the other two must’ve left kin behind.” “Indeed,” Omiya replied. “At the Hata household—a girl called Uno and her little brother Toranosuke.” “This isn’t your fight alone. Understood?”

Shinpachi hung his head. That Hyōbu... I'll wring him dry.

Rokurōbei thought.

"I'll wring him dry—down to the marrow of his bones." He set down his tea bowl and said, "Bring out the clothes." Omiya immediately stood up and left. "Wait for the right time—I'm here with you," Rokurōbei said. "I'll make sure you get your revenge." Crickets chirped. "That's enough now," Omiya said. "Take off your clothes over there." Shinpachi replied, "Yes." He wore Rokurōbei's unlined kimono. In the ten-odd days since coming to this house, Omiya had made new undergarments for him, while he'd been made to wear Rokurōbei's old clothes.

“What are you doing?” Omiya said in the kitchen. Shinpachi said “Now” as he indecisively undid his obi. Omiya peered out from the kitchen entrance. “What are you doing? Should I help you undress?”

“I’m fine.” Shinpachi was left wearing only his loincloth. The kitchen was terribly cramped. There was a washbasin placed there, filled about halfway with hot water. Omiya passed him a hand towel as they switched places. “Take off your loincloth.” Omiya said, “The spare one hasn’t dried yet today, right? If you get that wet, you won’t have anything to fasten with.” “Yes, but like this...” “What’s the problem? You’re not bathing in public where people can see you—and I always do the same.”

Shinpachi nodded but stood with both hands hanging at his sides. "What's wrong, Shin?" "Yes, now." "My goodness, are you embarrassed?" "Please go over there." "You're embarrassed, aren't you?" Shinpachi remained silent. Omiya's face flushed as she gazed at him with amusement, then deliberately adopted a stern tone and spoke.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Shin! What’s this—a man like you getting embarrassed over such a thing? How undisciplined! Make up your mind!” Shinpachi took off his loincloth. Omiya slapped his back with the flat of her hand and, giggling, headed toward the six-mat room.

Shinpachi stepped into the washbasin. Though not small in itself, the basin proved cramped for washing his body with one side pressed against the wall and the other near the cooking hearth. He raised one knee, dipped his washcloth in lukewarm water, and began meticulously wiping his body. Then Omiya peered in.

“You’re right—this spot’s rather impractical for a man to wash up,” Omiya said. Shinpachi flinched and hunched his body. Omiya came closer. “Let me wash you.” “I’m fine,” Shinpachi said. “I’ll wash you.”

“Please stop—I’m fine as I am.”

Shinpachi hunched his shoulders. Omiya swiftly grabbed the hand towel, and water splashed against the wall. “Look, see? The water’s splashing!” Omiya said. “That’s why I said I’d wash you—now hold still.” Shinpachi stiffened. “You’ve got such a sturdy build—no one would think you’re sixteen when you’re naked! The muscles here are so firm.”

Omiya grasped his shoulder with one hand, held a rolled hand towel in the other, and used it to scrub his shoulders and back. As she scrubbed, Shinpachi's white skin turned red. His skin was still the flexible, thin skin of a boy, yet beneath it one could sense the fresh, vibrant force of youth in full growth, pulsating with life. “Oh my, what are you doing?” Omiya said. “If you keep squirming like that, I can’t wash you properly.” “It tickles.”

“Don’t act like a child. Brace yourself properly—look how much grime’s coming off.” Omiya’s face flushed red, her breathing turning rough from exertion. Each time Omiya stood or crouched, her musky scent mingled with incense oil enveloped Shinpachi, her heated breath grazing the nape of his neck, shoulders, and back. Shinpachi grew breathless, his body stiffening further. “Now your hand,” Omiya declared, seizing his right arm. “Stretch it out more.”

“I’ll do it myself.” “Stretch it out properly. If you make me do all this work, I’ll smack you.” Shinpachi raised his right hand and placed his left where his right had been. Omiya’s eyes flickered. She circled to his flank, lifted Shinpachi’s arm, and scrubbed his armpit. Shinpachi gasped “Ah,” blocking Omiya’s hand with his left while wrenching free his right. The water he struck sprayed upward, flecking even Omiya’s face. At that instant, her eyes darted again with feral precision.

“Oh my, how awful! You’re being so rough!” “But you’re tickling me!” Shinpachi turned red. “Look how much water you’ve splashed around.” “I’m sorry.”

At that moment, a voice sounded at the entrance.

“Is this the house?” Omiya said. The voice came from the entrance. Omiya answered “Yes,” wrung out the hand towel she held to wipe the wet spots, lowered the hem she had tucked up, then went out while removing her work sash. An unfamiliar samurai stood at the entrance.

“Is this the residence of Mr. Kakizaki?” “Yes, this is Kakizaki’s residence.” Omiya kneeled and looked up at the other person. That was a ronin of about thirty years old—gaunt-framed, with sharp sunken eyes and an unimpressive appearance.

“My name is Nonaka Matagorō,” the samurai said. “Is Mr. Kakizaki at home?”

“He is not at home at present,” Omiya replied.

The ronin said, “Hah...” A look of deep disappointment appeared on his face; he averted his eyes from Omiya and let out a sigh. What kind of man was he?

Omiya thought. Visitors to her brother's place were nearly nonexistent; though he seemed to have acquaintances, he never brought anyone to this house. He must keep all his social interactions strictly outside, she concluded—this ronin named Nonaka was someone she had never seen before. "Is there some business you require, sir?" Omiya asked. "This is troublesome." The ronin repeated, "This is troublesome." His tone truly conveyed that he was at a loss.

“Do you know when he will return?” “He left yesterday and hasn’t returned yet, but I believe he’ll likely come back today.” Shinpachi overheard this exchange. When he recognized the voice at the entrance belonged to a samurai, he grew furious at the thought they might be Date clan pursuers. Without properly drying his wet body, he hurriedly threw on his kimono. After dressing, he watched from the six-tatami room until the samurai soon departed and Omiya returned.

“Who was that?” “Oh, has he already left?” “Who was that man just now?” “There’s no need to worry—he must have come on some errand for my brother, dressed like a down-and-out ronin. Someone I’ve never seen before.” Shinpachi sat down. “I think I’ll work up a sweat too,” Omiya said. “Shin-san, sorry to trouble you, but could you light the mosquito repellent? You know where it is.” “I understand.” Shinpachi stood up. As he burned the dried mugwort in the brazier, he heard Omiya adjusting the bathwater temperature in the kitchen.

Then she came to the six-tatami room, took off her kimono, and returned to the kitchen naked. "Shin-san," Omiya called from the kitchen, "I hate to trouble you, but there's a bran bag over there—could you get it for me?" "Hah..." Shinpachi replied, but choked on the smoke and coughed. "Where is it?" "It should be hanging next to the mirror stand." A bran bag tied with string was hanging on the mirror stand. While rubbing his eyes that teared up from the stinging smoke, he handed it through the shoji screen.

“Come over here, you lazybones,” Omiya said. “You can’t reach from there—come all the way in properly.” Shinpachi entered the kitchen and, averting his eyes, handed her the bran bag. Omiya chuckled. “Where are you looking, Shin-san?” “The smoke got in my eyes.”

“Wait.” Omiya called out to stop him, “You’re so heartless—just leaving like that?” “What is it?” “I washed yours for you, so you could at least wash my back.” Shinpachi stood there, his gaze fixed on the distance.

“Hey, just my back then.” Shinpachi remained silent. “Don’t stand there like some backward-facing stone Jizō someone stuck in the ground—turn this way and say something! Hmm? Shin-san? You’re ashamed to look at me naked, aren’t you? That’s it—you’ve gone and gotten ideas!”

Shinpachi clenched his fist. "If that weren't the case, there'd be no reason you couldn't wash my back—after all, we did promise to become siblings."

“The mosquito coil—it’ll go out,” Shinpachi said. “Fine then, do as you like—I won’t ask again.” “I’m sorry.”

Shinpachi left for the six-tatami room. Behind him, Omiya’s suppressed laugh reached his ears. In the end, he did not look toward Omiya. Yet even without looking, his senses perceived—more vividly than his eyes could have—the plump white nakedness of her body in the dimming kitchen, its presence raw and undeniable.

――I have fallen.

Shinpachi thought to himself. He had never experienced such emotions before. He had felt a vague yearning toward the opposite sex. Among friends his own age, there were those who put on airs of adulthood and spoke quite explicitly. Among them were some who would proudly describe how they slept with prostitutes, but Shinpachi could neither comprehend such things nor had any interest in them.

The women he had known closely were only his mother and one elder sister. Both his mother and sister had passed away, but among the female guests who visited them, there had been someone he liked—whenever that person came, he would often go to their guest room only to be scolded. That too had likely been but a vague curiosity—a simple interest in women as such—yet those women had imparted a different kind of heart-fluttering sensation from what he felt toward his mother and sister.

Omiya’s situation was entirely removed from such experiences. He now felt himself growing more defiled with each passing day. ——I’m sinking deeper into corruption—nothing but corruption ahead. Shinpachi thought. His life with Omiya had lasted barely half a month, yet it kept him in constant turmoil of confusion and shame. When he was with Omiya, emotions and sensations he had never known stirred within him, seeking to dominate him with overwhelming force. Moreover, he felt himself becoming powerless to resist them—and in that powerlessness, he found himself unclean and defiled.

——I should leave this house.

I must leave. He had resolved to do so countless times. Yet he could not leave—he found himself unable to depart from that house. ——I have no money. The Sendai domain's pursuers would capture me. That was indeed the truth. It could never be a mere "pretext". Or could it? Was it not indeed a "pretext" after all? Shinpachi felt shame coil through him, his very being tainted. Omiya moved with buoyant energy. As she prepared the evening meal, she addressed Shinpachi in honeyed tones, humming as though savoring some private delight.—When they sat down to eat, Rokurōbei returned. He reeked of drink. True to form, he demanded sake and commenced drinking in the six-tatami room at the rear.

Shortly 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 who ran a shipping agency in Nihonbashi, and according to Omiya’s account, she harbored feelings for Rokurōbei.

"It's been that way for ages." She had once said to Shinpachi. "But Brother won't have any of it. 'She'd been pleading so patiently for ages now, but he wouldn't even glance her way—it was almost pitiful to watch.'"

Even now, she seemed to be persistently pleading—begging to bring some sake accompaniments and be allowed to pour drinks for him. But before long, Rokurōbei called out “Miya” in a sharp voice—likely having been admonished, Okume quietly returned home. Even Shinpachi, present there, could perceive Okume’s dejection from her feeble, sorrowful manner of farewell. “Oh, a visitor came by today.”

As she served, Omiya’s words could be heard. “Noguchi—no, wait—what was it? It wasn’t Noguchi, was it?” “You’ve got a terrible memory.” “I had it right until a moment ago.” Shinpachi coughed from his seat and said, “He went by Nonaka Matagorō.” “Oh, is that so?” “He said he was called Nonaka Matagorō.” “Understood,” said Rokurōbei. “If it’s Nonaka, I know the man. Prepare supper.”

“Oh, are we finished already?” “Let’s eat,” said Rokurōbei. “I need to leave immediately.” “Again tonight?” “Let’s have tea over rice.” After quickly finishing the meal and changing clothes once more, Rokurōbei left.

“What should I say if Mr. Nonaka comes?” “He likely won’t appear, but if he does, tell him I went to the temple.” “The temple?” “He’ll understand if you say that.” Then he departed.

In the dead of night, Shinpachi was tormented by a terrible dream. He had entered a crevice in a cliff face and found himself completely unable to escape; the cliffs pressed in from both sides so oppressively he felt on the verge of being crushed. He could almost hear his bones creaking under the strain. Though likely brief, the agony became so unbearable that he let out a groan and awoke. Then a cloyingly sweet fragrance assaulted his nostrils—he realized someone was embracing him from above. Still not fully awake, still half in the nightmare, he became aware of being pinned down and thrashed his body, trying to swing his arms free. But only groans emerged—his body refused to move, hands utterly immobilized as if bound by invisible chains.

"Stay still," came a panting whisper near his ear. "Just stay still, Shin. You understand you need to stay still, don’t you?"

Shinpachi shook his head. A clammy, feverish heat pressed against his lips, brushed his earlobe, then sucked at his mouth with bruising force. Finally rousing fully, Shinpachi seized the arm pinning him and wrenched himself free in terror. She entangled him with limbs like vines, pressing down with her full weight to immobilize him. The slick scalding heat latched onto his cheeks and neck, teeth sinking into his shoulder as ragged gasps enveloped him.

“No,” Shinpachi brushed away her hand. “Stop it! I said no!”

Shinpachi sprang up. “That hurts!” the woman cried out. The lamp had gone out, leaving the room pitch black.

“You’re cruel,” Omiya said in the darkness. Shinpachi kept sitting and shrank backward. Then his back came up against the wall. “You’re cruel, Shin. That’s too much,” Omiya said. Shinpachi stood and groped for the sliding door to open it. He thought of going outside. “Shin, what are you doing?” came Omiya’s voice as she stood. “What are you doing, Shin?” “Wait—” Shinpachi stammered. His voice quivered wretchedly. He moved toward the three-mat room.

“Wait! Wait!” Omiya chased after him. “Forgive me—I was wrong! I’ll apologize properly, so please forgive me! Look, Shin—I won’t do anything anymore! Please forgive me!” “Don’t come here,” Shinpachi said, his voice still trembling. “Stay away from me.” “Fine! I won’t come! I’ll behave! So you come back here too!” “I’m staying here.”

"I won't do anything ever again, please, I'm begging you, Shin." "Please don't come." "I won't come over, see? I'm right here, aren't I?" "Please don't mind me and sleep. I'll remain like this for now." "You can't! I've apologized and said I won't do it again! Please come back to bed, I implore you! Please, Shin!" "I'll remain like this."

Shinpachi sat in the three-mat room. Omiya persisted. Shinpachi no longer responded. Omiya returned to light the lamp. "Then I'll go to sleep," she said. Shinpachi remained silent. "I swear I truly won't do anything anymore," Omiya said. "Once I've fallen asleep and you feel it's safe, you should go to bed too." Shinpachi sat leaning against the wall. Omiya slipped into her bedding. He had known it would come to this.

He thought to himself. Beneath the floorboards in the deep stillness past midnight, crickets chirped incessantly. Shinpachi quietly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Without Shinpachi noticing, Omiya had been narrowing the distance between their bedding each night. Eventually he became aware of it but found himself unable to voice any objection. He thought that he was not in a position to complain about such things. Omiya would sometimes turn over in bed and place her hands or legs on Shinpachi's bedding, but he would only quietly shift his body away, never pushing her back or waking her to reprimand her. And so, it had finally come to this. Shinpachi wiped his lips, face, and neck with the sleeve of his nightclothes as he was seized by a vomiting fit.

“Forgive me, Shin,” Omiya whispered in the six-mat room. “I thought of you as a brother—and while thinking of you that way, my feelings changed. It’s painful.” “I’ll never do anything you dislike again, so please don’t hate me.” The sound of Omiya’s stifled weeping reached him. Shinpachi listened intently to the crickets’ cries.

Like flint sparks

Kakizaki Rokurōbei left his residence, went straight to Hatagomachi, turned right at the Second Block, and entered Saifukuji Temple.

He did not emerge again.

The following morning, two ronin entered through the small gate in the temple's earthen wall, and around ten o'clock, three more ronin went in.

And shortly before two in the afternoon—Rokurōbei emerged through the gate with a ronin. This companion was a man distinct from the five who had arrived later, one who had likely stayed at the temple; he was Nonaka Matagorō.

When they came out onto Hatagomachi Street, there the two parted ways. Nonaka bowed his head and said, “Then.” Rokurōbei didn’t even nod in acknowledgment; he walked away without so much as 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 arrived at Shiba’s Udagawachō, he alighted there, crossed Udagawa Bridge to the south, and visited the gate of the Date Hyōbu residence. When he gave his name, the guard—seeming to have expected this—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 made to wait for a long time. Tea and sweets were served twice, and when nearly two hours had passed, a middle-aged samurai appeared and announced, "I am Tadano Naizen, chamberlain." Rokurōbei silently nodded in acknowledgment. “I shall inquire about 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’m aware of that,” said Naizen.

"I am well aware of that," he said, "but inquiring into the nature of your official business is my duty as chamberlain, if only as a formality."

Rokurōbei looked at the man before him, then spoke coldly. “To put it plainly, this concerns Lord Ichinoseki’s head.”

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

Rokurōbei remained silent.

“However, with only that to go on, it’s too abrupt—I’m at a loss how to convey your request. Could you provide a few more details?” “If this isn’t acceptable, I’ll simply leave,” said Rokurōbei. Naizen remained silent for a while but, likely perceiving that Rokurōbei would not yield, said “Wait here” and rose to leave.

Once again, he was made to wait.

And after about a quarter-hour, a small-statured samurai of forty-five or forty-six with a sturdy build emerged and announced, "I am Niizuma Hayato, chief retainer."

Kakizaki Rokurōbei gazed boldly at the man. Niizuma Hayato returned his gaze with calm eyes. In response to his announcement, Rokurōbei gave a nod of acknowledgment but said nothing. Hayato spoke again.

"Let us hear your business." "You're a dense lot," said Rokurōbei. "How many times must I repeat myself?" "I will hear your business." "So you refuse me audience with the lord?" "Let us hear your business." Rokurōbei remained silent. Then he spoke. "I formally requested a personal audience with His Lordship regarding urgent matters and came here upon receiving his summons." "That reply came through my hand."

“So you claim the lord remains unaware?” “If every trifle required His Lordship’s personal approval, we’d have no need for chief retainers or chamberlains—would we not?” “This transcends ordinary protocol.” “Elucidate precisely how it transcends.” “I’ll speak when granted audience with the lord,” said Rokurōbei. “Failing that, I depart.”

Hayato looked sharply at him. “Very well,” Niizuma Hayato nodded. “Then we have no choice.”

Rokurōbei, without so much as twitching an eyebrow, took his sword with his left hand and stood up. When Hayato called out, a young samurai came out to guide them. Rokurōbei followed the young samurai and quietly began walking down the corridor toward the entrance. At that moment, Tadano Naizen, the chamberlain who had likely been listening to the situation, came shuffling after them. “Wait,” called out Naizen.

Rokurōbei continued walking in silence. Naizen caught up and said, "His Lordship has consented to meet you," but Rokurōbei did not halt his steps. "Wait, I beg you—His Lordship has commanded an audience, Kakizaki-dono." "No," Rokurōbei said without breaking stride. "I despise bargaining."

"This was our failing. As my lord remained uninformed, I implore you—please wait but a moment." Rokurōbei halted mid-stride. "Your failing?" "The necessities of duty compelled us. I beg you return with this understanding." "What meddlesome folk you are." Rokurōbei curled his lip in derision before dipping his head slightly.

“Please come this way.”

Naizen escorted him back to the reception room. There, another dispute arose. When told to leave his sword there, Rokurōbei refused. The demand to temporarily surrender one's sword was not particularly unreasonable. Even for a minor daimyo of just over ten thousand koku, there were protocols for appearing before them. While the short sword could be overlooked, leaving one’s long sword behind was proper etiquette. However, Rokurōbei refused. "I am a ronin who receives stipends from no one." "Since I came to warn Lord Hyōbu, I won’t meet unless we’re equals," he said.

Niizuma Hayato was no longer there. Troubled, Naizen went to consult once in the inner chambers and returned to consent: "Very well—as it stands."

They were shown to the small study. This time, they were not made to wait. By Rokurōbei’s side, Naizen stood in attendance, while Hyōbu came out to the upper level accompanied by a single page. Rokurōbei gave a slight bow. “—Let us hear it,” Hyōbu said. Rokurōbei boldly stated while staring into Hyōbu’s eyes: “Please dismiss the others.” Hyōbu silently met his gaze, then spoke.

“Is it that significant?” “For your lordship’s benefit.” Naizen tried to say something. Hyōbu stopped him and said with a sharp smile, “Everyone withdraw.” The page placed the sword he had been holding on the sword rack and left. Naizen hesitated for a moment but then withdrew to the peripheral area. “Let us hear it,” Hyōbu said. “I believe Lord Hayato has already informed you—there are those watching Your Lordship’s crest.”

“What sort of people?” “You ought to know.”

"Then why did you come?" Hyōbu said. "If you thought We already knew, there would have been no need for your coming." "You are exactly right." "Then for what purpose did you come?" "I thought it might prove useful."

Hyōbu remained silent.

"Who watches Your Lordship - I believe you already know that yourself," Rokurōbei said slowly. "But their motive for watching you, and that they might take action beyond merely targeting your life—" He cut himself off. Hyōbu had laughed. When Rokurōbei stopped speaking, Hyōbu said, "Pay it no mind." "I'm listening—continue." "It seems you don't believe my words," Rokurōbei said. Then Hyōbu spoke.

"I prefer straightforwardness—that is all." "I am speaking straightforwardly."

“Very well—continue.”

Rokurōbei clicked his tongue inwardly. This one is formidable. Hyōbu’s laughter held no particular meaning—it was meant to cut off my words. He deliberately interrupted my narrative to prevent himself from being carried along by its momentum.

“They”—Rokurōbei said—“know whose hands did away with their fathers, masters, and elder brothers, and for what cause.” “You too, then?” “Myself included.” “This isn’t some delusion of yours?” “That truth lies within Your Lordship’s own knowledge.”

“Let us hear the rest,” Hyōbu said.

Rokurōbei said bluntly. That a certain person had ordered Watanabe and three others to make Lord Mutsu-no-kami engage in debauchery, resulting in Tsunamune being placed under confinement; and that to erase the fact of having compelled this debauchery, they had the four assassinated. He laid everything out without reserve—that all these matters had been executed under a certain person’s design, and that the bereaved families of those assassinated were fully aware of it. After hearing this, Hyōbu smiled and said, “Are you suggesting this ‘certain person’ refers to We?”

Rokurōbei did not answer. Hyōbu said, maintaining his smile. "In that case, you must certainly understand why that certain person did such things—the reasons behind them as well." "There are two aspects—one overt and one covert," Rokurōbei said. "The first is to rectify how Lord Mutsu-no-kami succeeded over his two elder brothers to inherit the household. The second is the plan for that person himself to replace Lord Mutsu-no-kami and directly become master of the 600,000-koku domain."

“And you’re claiming that refers to Us?” “I intend to be of service.” “Are you suggesting We intend to directly become master of the 600,000-koku domain?” "I must clarify," said Rokurōbei, "that I would not have come here without grasping sufficient evidence. I am aware of the succession bid to determine the heir—and that Lord Ichinoseki's name was included in that bid." Hyōbu's face tightened. Rokurōbei acknowledged it clearly and then spoke.

"I intend to be of service." "—State your terms," Hyōbu said. Rokurōbei answered composedly, "Five hundred gold pieces initially, followed by three hundred monthly. Extraordinary expenses shall be received separately." Hyōbu appeared to take interest in Rokurōbei. More than interest—one might say a shared facet of their natures powerfully attracted Hyōbu. Hyōbu spoke. "I endured the bitter existence of a dependent heir."

“I am aware.” “I know the taste of cold rice,” Hyōbu said. “I wasn’t raised as some daimyo’s son oblivious to money’s value—when I wanted something, I learned to endure and refrain from buying if the price required it.” “I maintain five capable men,” Rokurōbei said. “They are of proper lineage and possess skills in military strategy and martial arts beyond the ordinary, yet through ill fortune find themselves in dire straits—men who must sell their lives to eat.”

“Do those men also know the circumstances?” “I am not one to let sentiment compel unnecessary speech.” “So it seems,” Hyōbu nodded. “I’ll have Hayato handle the gold.” “No—I will receive it directly from Your Lordship’s own hand.” “Why?” “This contract exists solely between Your Lordship and myself. I’ll brook no interference from others. Any orders must issue from Your Lordship’s own lips; all payments pass directly from Your Lordship’s own hand to mine.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust my retainers?” “I have an aversion to bowing my head to others.”

"I shall remember this." Hyōbu smiled. "How should I summon you?" "I shall inform your chamberlain." "What proof demonstrates your utility?"

“Are you acquainted with someone called Miyamoto Shinpachi?” “I know.” “He should have been placed under custody in his home province, I believe.” “I hear he escaped during transport.” “I have him secured.” “Shinpachi, then?” “I have apprehended Miyamoto Shinpachi,” said Rokurōbei as Hyōbu took out a folded paper and wiped his lips. While wiping his lips with the paper, Hyōbu said, “Where?” Rokurōbei remained silent. “Where have you put him?” Hyōbu said. Rokurōbei remained silent, staring fixedly at Hyōbu’s eyes. Hyōbu discarded the paper. And nodding, Hyōbu said.

“Very well, I shall dispatch the payment.”

And turning around, he said, "This."

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

It was a night threatening rain, terribly muggy, with low clouds hanging in the sky and darkness shrouding the road. Rokurōbei emerged onto the main street and, when turning toward Udagawa Bridge, abruptly halted.

――Don't come any closer. Rokurōbei thought. He had stopped without turning around, yet could unmistakably sense someone following him from behind.

It seemed to have been waiting at the corner of the tsuchibei earthen wall of the Hyōbu residence. There, they had let Rokurōbei pass and, timing their approach, followed after him. All of this was perceived with considerable clarity. Do they intend to kill me, or are they testing my skill? The pursuer was now hiding. ——Which one was it?

Rokurōbei looked to both sides of the road. He appeared to hesitate over which direction to take when hailing a street palanquin. He slowly crossed Udagawa Bridge. Turning left would lead to the Date main family's middle residence. With samurai residences lining both sides of this road, though still early evening, there were few lantern lights and no passersby.

Rokurōbei entered that road. The pursuer followed after him.

The light from the warrior windows in the Date family's gatehouse cast a faint glow over the tsuchibei earthen wall onto the road below. When he reached that spot—Not yet—Rokurōbei thought. His intuition had held true. The opponent who had been closing the distance until now advanced steadily across the gravel road and charged from behind with a low, tearing battle cry.

It was an accurate, splendid thrust. Rokurōbei twisted his body swift as a swallow the instant his opponent's blade tip was about to pierce his torso. The blade grazed Rokurōbei's side—tearing through his kimono—but as the sword in Rokurōbei's twisting hand flashed, his opponent darted past like a rebounding ball and swiftly turned around to face him.

The opponent was still young. He wore a dark kimono with the crotch guard removed from his hakama trousers and a tasuki sash draped across his shoulders. He apparently hadn't had time to apply sweat powder—no mask covered his face, and his feet were bare beneath the hakama without tabi socks. "What's your move?" Rokurōbei said. "Still coming at me?"

The opponent closed the distance. He remained silent; between his clenched lips, teeth showed. “Were you ordered to finish me off?” Rokurōbei said. “You don’t stand a chance.”

At that moment, the opponent struck. From straight ahead to the right flank, he leaped mightily, sinking into a crouch shaped like the character 'ku'. This too was undeniably precise—a strike where both breath control and swordwork were executed with consummate skill.

When the sword that seemed headed straight for his forehead was redirected to his right flank, Rokurōbei rose onto his toes, swung his blade to the right, and leapt sideways. The opponent violently dropped to his knees, and his sword struck the ground. The blade hit a stone on the road, sending sparks flying. The clang of steel against stone and those scattered sparks seemed to declare the match concluded. Rokurōbei pressed his sword against the opponent's face.

The opponent remained on one knee, panting heavily with heaving shoulders. Rokurōbei watched from above for a while, observing this state. On the paper screen of the warrior windows in the gatehouse, illuminated by lamplight, a human shadow appeared. They seemed to have heard the noise from earlier, but there was no sign of them opening the shoji, and the shadow also quickly disappeared.

“Who gave you orders?” Rokurōbei asked. “Was it Lord Hyōbu-shōyū?” “Cut me down,” the opponent said.

“Was it Lord Hyōbu-shōyū’s order?” Rokurōbei said. “Cut me down.”

“I’ll make you talk.” Rokurōbei pressed his sword’s kissaki tip against the opponent’s forehead. “If you don’t talk,” he said, “I’ll bind you as you are and drag you before the authorities. Even if you refuse to name that person, Sendai’s six hundred thousand koku will inevitably be exposed.”

“Cut me down,” the opponent said. “You can kill me, but you can’t bind me alive—and you won’t stop me from ending my own life!” “I see—” As soon as he said this, Rokurōbei kicked up at the opponent’s chest. He had apparently intended to deliver a strike, but at that moment, someone emerged from the shadows ahead.

“That’s enough—let him go,” the man said.

Rokurōbei leapt aside. The pursuer had twisted his body sideways and was panting with one hand planted on the road. The man approached. “Who are you?” Rokurōbei said.

"Don't concern yourself with that," the man said. "What you want to know is who ordered that man to kill you. That would be the chief retainer of that estate—a man called Nīzuma Hayato." "Nīzuma Hayato—" "A loyal retainer of the Ichinoseki family," the man said, "and that pitiful wretch over there is Watanabe Shichibei, a master assassin." "Who's that one there?" "Is that all you care to ask?"

“Who is that one over there?” Rokurōbei said.

The man chuckled, turned around, and said as he walked away, "I am Itō Shichijūrō." His soft chuckling could still be heard. Rokurōbei stood blankly, staring after him.

Willow's Fallen Leaves

In the living room of the Yushima residence, Harada Kai sat writing a memorandum at his desk. Beside him, Itō Shichijūrō drank sake while speaking animatedly.

Past four o'clock. The late August sun had already sunk low, and beyond the open window stretched a darkened pine forest past the earthen wall, with crimson evening clouds hanging high above. Shichijūrō sat cross-legged in his everyday clothes before the tray of sake accompaniments, talking with a cup in hand when he suddenly fell silent and gazed up at the sky veiled in evening clouds. From the tatami room direction came the lively sounds of singing and shamisen drifting over. There, a separate banquet was being held for Kai's wife. As Ritsu would return to Funooka tomorrow, Okumi had taken charge as hostess to arrange a small drinking gathering.

“Strange. Is it already that season?” Shichijūrō muttered. “Those must be wild geese.”

Shichijūrō raised the hand holding his sake cup toward the sky. Kai continued writing.

— August 15. Kai changed to a new line.

―A messenger arrived from the Senior Councilors; I proceeded to the Sakai residence. Lord Ichinoseki, Lord Wakidani, Lord Danjō, Suō, Daijō, Lord Katakura, and myself—seven in total. Lord Tachibana and Ōyama Daigaku were absent. The Senior Councilors present were Lord Sakai (Utau), Lord Inaba (Mino), and Lord Abe (Bungo). Also among the close attendants was Lord Kuze (Yamato). Lord Sakai conducted an inquiry, with Suō handling the response; there occurred roughly the following exchange. Lord Sakai: "Regarding Mutsu-no-kami being confined due to misconduct, and the recent order issued for submitting succession procedures—it appears you have petitioned for Kamechiyo to inherit the family headship. Is this correct?"

Suō: "There is no mistake—we have indeed petitioned for Kamechiyo to inherit the family headship." Lord Sakai: "How old is Kamechiyo?" Suō: "He was born in March of last year (Manji 2), making him two years old this year." Lord Sakai: "Do you believe such an infant can administer six hundred thousand koku?" Suō: "Regarding this matter, the Date clan members and family elders thoroughly deliberated and decided by consensus." Lord Sakai: "A mere infant cannot govern Sendai's six hundred thousand koku. Therefore, you should submit a new petition for someone of Lord Masamune's bloodline who has reached fifteen years or older."

Lord Sakai's words struck at the clan's very foundations. Lord Wakidani trembled, breath caught in his throat. These pronouncements matched exactly what Moniwa Suō had disclosed the previous night at the Kichijōji Bridge construction shack. From Lord Wakidani outward, the entire delegation felt as though their souls had been extinguished. Suō renewed his entreaties, but Lord Sakai only shook his head in refusal. Unmoved, Lord Sakai wielded Kamechiyo's tender age like a shield, reiterating his demand for an older candidate. It was then that Suō spoke.

“There must be a provision to establish a regency for administering six hundred thousand koku. The one to inherit the family headship can be none other than a legitimate child of Mutsu-no-kami.” “Kamechiyo is indeed the legitimate heir of the late Masamune. If Kamechiyo is not permitted to inherit the family headship, then we would rather have the Date clan dissolved.” “Then have Sendai abolished.” “If we are to have someone illegitimate appointed as family head, we would rather have our six hundred thousand koku abolished.”

Suō's words carried a piercing intensity that struck at the very core. That Moniwa Suō would speak in such a tone and make such a bold declaration was something even Lord Wakidani had not anticipated. Even the formidable Lord Sakai fell silent for about five beats. At that moment, Lord Kuze addressed them. That Lord Kuze attended the meeting as a shogunal attendant was indeed standard protocol given it concerned the succession of a major domain, but the fact that it was specifically Lord Kuze must be seen as demonstrating his extraordinary goodwill toward Suō.

Lord Kuze remarked.

“What Lord Moniwa has stated aligns with reason as a retainer of the Date clan,” said Lord Kuze. Then Senior Councilor Lord Abe interjected swiftly. “I too recognize validity in Lord Moniwa’s words…” Lord Abe declared. “Withdraw temporarily and await further summons.” As the senior-most among the Councilors, his utterance became their salvation. A profound sigh escaped Lord Wakidani—his rigid frame visibly slackening. After waiting nearly half a koku, we were recalled to receive Lord Abe’s pronouncement: “Deliberations shall be conducted.” With this, we withdrew.

Kai wrote up to that point and asked without looking toward Shichijūrō, “What about the geese?” “The wild geese have migrated just now,” Shichijūrō said. “It’s too early for their arrival, yet those were unmistakably geese—an ill omen.” “Is Shichijūrō being superstitious?” “It’s not superstition. There’s an old farmers’ legend that years when wild geese arrive early bring poor harvests.” “What of it?”

"So,inotherwords—"ShichijurôlookedatKai,"Ah,Isee,"hesaidandpouredhimselfadrink. Andhesaid. "That’sall."

“Who is that man?”

"I don't know." Shichijūrō poured himself another drink. "Don't know," said Kai. Shichijūrō said, "I don't know," and continued, "I visited Udagawa Bridge in the afternoon, drank some sake, and ended up falling asleep. This napping is my specialty—when I lie down like that, I can hear all sorts of things." "Will they act here as well?" "That's precisely why I was able to inform you about the spy's presence here."

Kai laughed. Shichijūrō added with slight embarrassment. "Though of course, you had already known that, hadn't you?"

“Hard to say.” “I am no match for you.” Kai resumed writing. Shichijūrō continued. “While feigning sleep, I heard Watanabe Shichibei’s voice. Since he mentioned ‘chief retainer,’ his accomplice must have been Nīzuma Hayato. The man’s simplicity makes him prone to heroic posturing—ask him anything and he’ll play the martyr. ‘Consider it done,’ he likely vowed. He made quite the spectacle, swearing ‘I’ll eliminate them without fail.’ So I roused myself, took my leave, and trailed them.”

Kai was writing.

――Same day - August 23rd.

A brush was delivered from Hatokudō. The secret letter from Suō stated: "Having been summoned by Lord Kuze, [I] have come. [He] said to rest assured regarding the matter of succession—there is no greater cause for celebration." ――August 25th. That is, on the morning of the day before yesterday, a messenger came from the Senior Councilors, and [we] proceeded to Lord Sakai’s residence. Lord Ichinoseki, Lord Tachibana, Lord Ōta (Settsu-no-kami Suketsugu). Daijō, Katakura, Suō, and myself—seven in total. Lord Wakidani; Ōyama Daigaku did not attend.

Those seated were: the Shogunate Advisor; Lord Hoshina (Masayuki); Lord Sakai; Lord Abe; Lord Inaba; the Inspector-General; and Lord Kanematsu (Shimōsa).

The edicts were as follows:—

First: Kamechiyo was hereby permitted to succeed as head of the Date house. Second: To appoint Lord Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu and Tamura Ukyō Muneyoshi as guardians of Kamechiyo.

Third: To increase the stipends of Lord Hyōbu and Lord Ukyō by thirty thousand koku each, inclusive of their existing domains. The above was as decreed.

――August 27th. That is, today, notification was issued by the shogunate to the feudal lords regarding Lord Kamechiyo’s succession and the matter of both guardians.

How immense must have been the joy of Lord Wakidani, Suō, and the entire household. Suō, particularly to express gratitude for Lord Kuze’s mediation, delivered a ten-ken woolen carpet received from the Mito (Yorifusa) house, accompanied by sake and food offerings. “Isn’t this finished yet?” Shichijūrō said. “There’s supposed to be the Wakidani old man’s meeting today, isn’t there? I heard it starts at five—isn’t that right?”

“Will Shichijūrō be attending as well?”

“I’m not good with that old man, you know.” “So it seems.”

Kai wrote again.

――August 28th. Tomorrow morning, Lord Wakidani will return to his domain.

And he set down the brush. "To visit even Ichinoseki without concern yet struggle with Lord Wakidani—that's quintessentially Shichijūrō." "Even Benkei had his weak spot, they say," said Shichijūrō.

Kai put away the memorandum and brushed off the desk with one hand. Yellowed willow leaves came scattering in through the open window. The willow tree stood by the back gate, and there didn’t seem to be much wind, yet its dead leaves kept scattering through the window.

“Satomi is over there, I suppose,” said Kai. Shichijūrō drank by himself. “Of course he has come.” “Did you slip away to discuss the current matter?” “Oh, there was a bit of an argument and things got too noisy. How about a drink with this cup?”

“Let’s have that later.” “You’re no drunkard.” “I do like sake.” “You’re no drunkard—you drink often enough and put on the airs of a sake lover, but you’re no drunkard.” “Don’t get so heated.” “You’re no womanizer either,” Shichijūrō said. “Women fall for you constantly—mysteriously so—and you play the gallant well enough, but you’ve no real taste for them.”

“Don’t get so worked up,” Kai said. “I like both sake and women.” “Itō Shichijūrō cannot be fooled.” “Who knows?” “Then shall I say it?”

“Let’s go then—to where there’s sake and women you fancy. Who else has come besides Satomi?” “Gotō Magobei and Mayama Gyōbu—those two.” “Mayama and Gotō, eh?” “They’re the superintendents for the moat construction,” said Shichijūrō. “Jūzaemon mentioned you’d spoken about showing them appreciation.”

“I did say that, but...” “Since it coincided with the lady’s separate banquet, Jūzaemon seemed terribly apologetic.” “Lord Wakidani’s is 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, “I’ll change.” Shichijūrō stood holding only his sake cup and said, “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 were superintendents for the Koisikawa moat construction, nearly always stationed full-time at the site shack; Jūzaemon had often spoken of their diligence and Harada Kai had mentioned wanting to commend them once, but Jūzaemon—unaware that tonight’s invitation was for Ritsu’s separate banquet—had brought the two along. As a result, Ritsu, the guest of honor, naturally had to take on the role of host and entertain the guests together with Okumi. There were seven performers, both men and women, and the banquet had become a lively affair with instrumental music, singing, and dancing—very much in keeping with Ritsu’s tastes.

Kai sat in his seat, greeted the guests, drank about three cups of sake, then excused himself with “I have Lord Wakidani’s separate banquet to attend,” 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 pressed firmly. “We haven’t had a single proper talk yet. I can’t bear you leaving like this.” “I intend to return.” “There’s something I must discuss.” “I’ll hear it when we return to Funao ka.” “Then it may be too late.” “I have a general understanding,” Kai said.

Ritsu looked at her husband as if startled. "They say you already know." "Do you think I don't know?" "There's no way you could know." "Then that's just as well," Kai said. "Wait." "There's no time left."

“Let me ask you one thing,” Ritsu said, her face stiffening and eyes glinting. “Do you truly understand?” “I am your husband.” “Is that truly so?”

“It’s not just now—the previous time too, and the time before that,” Kai said.

Ritsu turned pale. And though she tried to speak, her lips merely quivered, and no words came forth.

“The palanquin has arrived,” Okumi announced from beyond the sliding door. Then Ritsu replied, “Have them wait,” and said to her husband: “What do you mean by that—‘this time,’ ‘last time,’ ‘the time before that’?” Ritsu’s voice trembled with anger. “Tell me—what on earth does that mean?” “I’ll tell you when we return to Funaoka.” “No, I will hear it now.”

“There’s no time.”

Kai made to go. Ritsu moved around in front of him and grabbed her husband’s arm with both hands. “Please tell me what you’re thinking—I know you won’t return tonight either. It’s too cruel to send me back to Funaoka like this.” “This is just my nature.” “That’s right—you are that sort of person,” Ritsu said trembling, “You’re cold, heartless, cruel—over fifteen years as husband and wife, you’ve never once shown your true feelings. “You’re always shut away inside yourself—never letting anyone draw near—even when people suffer or struggle, you just watch silently. You’re that sort of cruel—no, utterly unmanly—person.”

“Your eyes see true,” Kai nodded. “But I can no longer alter this nature of mine. That matter—I’ll speak of it when we return to Funaoka.” “What would you speak of when we return?”

"Let me make this clear," Kai said, "the fact that we've lived as husband and wife for over fifteen years isn't something that applies only to you—I too have spent those same years married to you." "There's no need to tell me that."

“Then that settles it.” “What exactly are you implying by that?” “I mean that settles it.”

Kai said this and quietly shook free the hand she had been grasping. Ritsu stepped back. “I have one request,” Ritsu pleaded in a low voice. “Please dismiss Nakaguro Tatsumi.” “What for?” “I cannot state the reason.”

Kai averted his gaze. “Can one dismiss those who have served since their parents’ generation without reason?”

“That is precisely why I make this single entreaty.”

“I can’t do that.” “Is there absolutely no other way?” Kai headed toward the sliding door, opened it, and stepped out. From behind, Ritsu called out pleadingly, “You.”

Kai turned back and said, “Give my regards to Mother.” “You—”

Kai went out to the entranceway.

In the entranceway, Matsubara Jūemon, Okamoto Jirōbei, and Nakaguro Tatsumi stood waiting. As if she had been anticipating Kai's exit, Okumi emerged from near the cedar door bearing his sword. There was no indication of Ritsu approaching.

“I don’t believe I’ll return tonight,” Kai said to the three men. “Jūemon, it seems the mistress’s chronic illness has flared up. Take good care of her on the way.” “Understood.”

“Tatsumi—” Kai looked at him. Nakaguro Tatsumi's well-formed face, which had been looking up from his kneeling position, tensed sharply. “You will remain in Edo,” Kai said. Tatsumi answered without averting his gaze, “This may sound contradictory, but as my mother is ill, I humbly ask to be permitted to return home if at all possible.” “No, you are to remain,” Kai said. “When Lord Shibata (Kurazukai) arrives in the New Year, I too shall return to the domain. Tatsumi will stay in Edo until then.”

Tatsumi started to say something but fell silent and bowed his head. Kai received the sword from Okumi and descended to the entranceway. By the palanquin, Yazaki Toneri and Naruse Kyūma were waiting. There were two palanquins. When he looked at the rear one, Itō Shichijūrō revealed a faint smirk. "I've reconsidered, you see," Shichijūrō said. “I’ve decided to meet with old man Wakuya—he’s better than that stubborn Satomi fellow.” “That won’t be easy.”

“Regarding what?” “Wakuya-dono may be manageable, but Matsuyama (Shigeni Sōkan) is a man of strict propriety. If I myself were invited, that would be another matter—but otherwise, even obtaining a seat would prove difficult.”

Kai boarded the palanquin. The two palanquins were lifted up together.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Shichijūrō said from the rear palanquin. “The old man prioritizes status and ceremony—I dislike that aspect—but he’s an easy target to placate.” “Splendid.” “You don’t believe it?” “That’s not the case at all.” “Very well—just watch,” Kai said. “I’ll wrap this up neatly for you—just watch.” Kai did not respond.

Shigeni Sōkan's residence stood within the seaside estate. Kai arrived slightly late for the appointed hour. In the guest room, the banquet had already commenced.

Chrysanthemum

That night, eight guests had gathered at the Shigeni house. The guest of honor was Date Aki, followed by the current chief retainer, Okuyama Daigaku, Daijō Hyōgo, and Furuuchi Shugen. Also present was Katakura Kojiro, bearing the status of 'one-house'. In addition were Harada Kai, Tomizuka Kurazukai, and Endō Matajūrō; these three were senior councilors referred to as "chakusa." The drinking had apparently commenced earlier than scheduled. Kai had been only slightly late, but the gathering had already grown lively, and Okuyama Daigaku was already drunk, shouting something incoherently in a high-pitched voice.

Kai greeted Furuuchi Shugen. Shigeni Shigehisa was a fifty-two-year-old man who already seemed to have entered old age—a gentle man with a thin, pale face and a low voice. His late father, Shigeni Shigehiro, had followed his lord, the late Tadamune, in death. This time he had been sent to Kōyasan for Tadamune’s memorial service and had returned three days prior. When the greetings were concluded, Shugen lowered his voice and said. "It seems everything has settled peacefully—you must be greatly relieved."

Kai smiled ambiguously. "I heard an outline from Lord Sōkan," Shugen said. "I also heard Lord Kuze's account—Lord Sōkan stated he had resolved himself to the Date clan's potential destruction." "Lord Sōkan acted splendidly," Kai said. "When he declared to Lord Sakai, 'If Kamechiyo-sama is not permitted to inherit the family headship, I would rather have our 600,000-koku domain abolished altogether,' that single utterance saved our house."

“I heard about that matter from Lord Daijō—there’s no doubt that single statement had its effect,” Shugen nodded, then continued in a low voice: “However, as Lord Sōkan stated, he could make that declaration because Lord Kuze was present at the gathering. Moreover, behind Lord Kuze’s attendance lay Lord Itakura (Shigenori)’s mediation.”

Kai nodded while averting his eyes. “Lord Sōkan remarked that someone might have appealed to Lord Itakura about our dire circumstances,” Shugen said. “From Lord Kuze’s account, he mentioned that it indeed seemed someone had gone to petition Lord Itakura regarding the hardship.” “That may be so,” Kai said, still averting his eyes. “I cannot say for certain, but given that this matter appears to be rather widely known among the feudal lords, I believe Lord Itakura undertook his efforts based solely on his own considerations.”

“Mr. Harada—are you involved in this?” “Excuse me,” Kai interrupted Shugen, “I must go pay my respects to Lord Wakuya.”

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

His seat was at the center of the three senior councilors, positioned somewhat apart from Furuuchi Shugen. From his seat, Shugen occasionally glanced nonchalantly in Kai’s direction. “Lord Iwano (Shugen) ought to know,” Okuyama Daigaku declared, “When preparing to follow his lord in death, the late Lord Shugen stated: ‘Lord Ichinoseki’s wisdom proves advantageous for the clan—yet his being excessively astute gives cause for concern. He is too keen of mind, his discernment too far-reaching—this indeed warrants apprehension.’ Was this not precisely his warning, Lord Iwano?”

“That was the intended meaning,” Shugen said. His voice and tone both feeble, he continued: “However, the words were not so forceful—I believe I stated that while your lordship’s astuteness is heartening, I cannot help but feel apprehensive for the clan’s sake.”

“It’s the same thing,” Daigaku said, drinking from his sake cup.

Okuyama Daigaku was younger than Shugen, being forty-six at the time. He was the lord of a 6,000-koku estate in Yoshioka, Kurokawa District—the most fertile land within the Sendai domain—and thus managed household affairs with abundant prosperity. His nature was arrogant; he prided himself on acting impulsively by conviction and never compromised what he deemed right. “It’s precisely equivalent,” Daigaku declared. “The late Lord Shigeni had already identified where corruption took root—I’ve witnessed proof myself.” He turned toward Aki and continued: “When I first attended court in Edo and paid respects at Udagawa Bridge, Lord Ichinoseki himself mentioned endorsements—some pledged support for Lords Ukyō and Shikibu, while others,” he snorted derisively, “even cast theirs for me.”

"Indeed, that does appear to be the case," said Tomizuka Kurazukai. "I too have heard that a few people submitted endorsements to Lord Ichinoseki." "My gall boiled over," declared Daigaku. Completely ignoring Tomizuka's words, he continued addressing Aki: "So I demanded, 'Who exactly submitted endorsements to Lord Ichinoseki?' I couldn't refrain from asking."

“So,” Katakura Kojiro inquired, “what did Lord Ichinoseki say?” “Lord Ichinoseki gave a bitter smile and said, ‘Now that the matter is settled, there should be no need for unnecessary prying.’” “So I retorted, ‘If such talk is unnecessary now that matters are settled, you shouldn’t have mentioned it at all! But having heard it, I must know those names.’” Daigaku’s tone was fierce and haughty. Everyone remained silent and listened. Daigaku continued.

"I stated that as a senior councilor, I needed to know those names," Daigaku said. "Then Lord Ichinoseki nodded plausibly and declared, 'Very well—I shall name only those who cast their endorsements for me. It was Lord Danjō.'" "An exchange of endorsements, perhaps?" Tomizuka interjected. "Lord Danjō submitted his to Lord Ichinoseki, and Lord Ichinoseki—"

At that moment, Aki coughed. He interrupted Tomizuka with a dry cough and said, “When will Lord Yoshioka return to his province?” “Me? I—” Daigaku looked at the cup he held. Aki said quietly, “Though you will soon take up Edo guard duty, since your provincial stay has not been lifted, you must return home for now. Why don’t you return together with this old man?” “Thank you kindly,” answered Lord Yoshioka, “but as I have matters to attend to, I intend to return within four or five days.”

He glowered darkly. His own words held grave significance for the Date clan's future—this matter demanded immediate clarification and required countermeasures to be established here and now. Daigaku was certain of this. Moreover, that individual had now formally assumed guardianship duties; having already shown tendencies to meddle in domain governance before, their interference would surely intensify henceforth. As for co-guardian Tamura Ukyō—he was but a mild-tempered figurehead. Whether Suō, Shugen, or even Daijō—none could restrain Ichinoseki's ambitions. This cold assessment solidified in Daigaku's mind.

They could never restrain Ichinoseki—Suō, Shugen, Hyōgo—they would all likely end up being manipulated by him. That was what Daigaku had concluded. “Lord Funooka,” Aki said, “it’s been too long—let us share a drink.”

Kai acknowledged him with a silent bow. The serving boy received the cup from Aki, stood up, and came before Kai. When Kai took the cup, the young attendant who had been serving poured the sake. Kai looked into the cup, then turned those eyes toward Aki. “That is something I fired,” Aki said. “I made it as a pastime in Wakuya. Since I heard Lord Funooka enjoys sake, I brought it to present to you. You may dislike it, but please take it home.”

“I humbly accept,” Kai said, drank the sake, and immediately wrapped the cup in tissue paper before tucking it into his robe.

Okuyama Daigaku resumed his tirade. Some time later, Kai rose to wash his hands, but upon returning began drinking furiously until he collapsed in a drunken stupor. Okuyama Daigaku kept up his vehement diatribe until Kai finally passed out.

Daigaku disliked everyone, and his relationship with Moniwa Suō was particularly poor. As chief retainer, Moniwa Suō occupied the highest seat. It was likely galling for Daigaku that Suō—a full seven years his junior—held a higher position than himself. However, he did not get along well with Daijō Hyōgo or Furuuchi Shugen either, though they shared the same seating.

It was fortunate that Aki was there. Even Daigaku seemed to lack the courage to oppose Date Aki; though he ranted with the same intensity, his words carried far less venom than usual.

When Kai collapsed dead drunk, Suō himself stood up, summoned three young retainers, and had them take him to the bedchamber. He was so drunk that he had to be practically carried rather than escorted. And before dawn, sensing someone entering the bedchamber, Kai raised his head to look—it was Moniwa Suō. “Let’s go…” said Suō.

Kai sat up. He had removed his hakama but remained in his daywear; Suō too still wore his everyday garments.

“It’s a little before four o’clock,” Suō said. As they moved into the corridor, Kai whispered, “There’s an informant among our retinue. This isn’t good.” “You know it couldn’t be helped.” “Methods like using cups are too crude,” Kai said. “I disapprove of such approaches—the brush shafts were questionable enough, but writing messages in vermilion on drinking vessels? That’s courting disaster.” “You should’ve realized necessity dictated this,” Suō countered. “Covert messengers or hidden missives would’ve let them sniff the scheme out. Doing it openly before everyone’s eyes—that’s what blinds them. The surest method.”

“I dislike this,” Kai said. “I’m not suited for such methods.” “Here,” Suō said, coming to a stop. The space was an eight-tatami room with shoin-style windows, giving the impression of Suō’s regular sitting quarters. When the two entered, a young woman who had been standing behind Aki rose, bowed silently toward them, and quietly exited. Aki wore white sleepwear with a white tied sash. The woman who had left was also in sleepwear, her unbound hair tied at the back, the vibrant hue of her sash, and the supple beauty of her bare feet as she swept her hem aside remained vividly in Kai’s eyes. Date Aki exited the bedchamber and sat down, while the woman behind him appeared to have been adjusting his hair; Suō brought the candle stand closer.

"That was an impressive performance of drunkenness," Aki said. With complete indifference to the woman who had just left, he addressed Kai as soon as they sat down. Kai silently bowed his head. "I truly thought I'd drunk myself senseless—though I did drink my fill, this was to the point where I believed I'd truly collapsed." "Lower your voice further," Suō cautioned. "You provincials do bellow so." Aki gave a bitter smile and readjusted his position on the mat. Until then he had kept his right knee raised with elbow propped upon it, through the torn hem of his sleepwear revealing a sun-darkened shaggy shin; but as he settled properly, he aligned both hands upon his knees.

“Now then—” Date Aki lowered his voice, “It seems we have managed to overcome the immediate issues. The danger of our 600,000-koku domain being carved up has, for the time being, passed—but this is not over.” Kai was looking at the tokonoma. In Suō’s prized celadon vase, a single white chrysanthemum had been arranged. In the dark tokonoma, removed from the candle stand’s light, that single chrysanthemum stood silently white, appearing to listen intently to the conversation taking place.

――The chrysanthemums were already blooming. Kai thought to himself. "While we might set aside Lord Iwagasaki"—Date Aki lowered his voice—"Tamura Ukyō, who currently holds fifteen thousand koku at Iwagasaki in Kurihara District, it was undoubtedly Lord Sakai who pushed to install Ichinoseki as guardian. Lord Ukyō being an upright and mild-mannered man stands no match against Ichinoseki. This conspiracy to carve up our six hundred thousand koku has merely seen its immediate crisis averted—it remains far from eradicated." He leaned forward, the candlelight catching his intense gaze. "With Lord Sakai still maneuvering beyond our walls and Ichinoseki now entrenched at the Date family's heart wielding guardianship's authority, our true trial undeniably lies ahead. Worse still"—his finger tapped the matting—"most senior retainers prove indistinguishable from potential enemies, leaving us perilously few trustworthy allies. Therein lies our greatest vulnerability."

Aki looked back and forth between the two. “What poses greater difficulty for us than the enemy’s formidable power colluding inside and out is the fact that there are so few within our house whom we can trust. First, we must thoroughly confirm this matter. No matter what we do hereafter, we must not forget this fact.” “In addition to that,” Suō said, “I believe Lord Wakuya and we, as well as myself and Funaoka, must continue maintaining our traditionally distant relations as before.”

"Rather, let us appear as adversaries at odds." "We shall conduct ourselves with visible discord."

Aki nodded and said, “Well then, let us begin our discussion.”

The discussion among the three lasted over half a koku. Kai offered no opinions, merely listening to their conversation and approving the agreed terms. When they finished and he returned to his bedchamber, the lattice window was tinged with pale light. Suō, who had escorted him to the bedchamber, turned to leave when Kai stopped him. "Would you sit awhile?" "You'll draw attention." "A brief word," Kai said. "You're aware they're watching Matsuyama and me particularly closely."

Suō nodded. “To execute what we’ve just agreed upon, merely maintaining superficial discord as before won’t suffice. We must establish a more definitive appearance of mutual estrangement.” “For instance—” “I can’t elaborate here,” Kai said. “Should we coordinate methods beforehand, they’ll instantly discern this as orchestrated alienation. Let Matsuyama contrive his own measures. I possess separate means.”

"Is there a need to go that far?" "I don't care either way," Kai said. "As I've said many times—I dislike these sorts of things. Whether it be Lord Ichinoseki's conspiracy or this counter-plan against it, I have no interest. If anything, it's more of a nuisance. I want nothing to do with anyone—just leave me alone." "Is that your true intention?" Suō countered. "I can speak my true mind to Matsuyama."

"Then why did you go to Lord Itakura?" Suō said. "If you dislike such methods, why did you actively meet with Lord Itakura and request his assistance in the succession matter?" "Don't misunderstand," Kai said with a bitter smile. "That was merely an invitation for tea. Given that Shichijūrō had already established a connection with Lord Itakura beforehand, they sent word saying a new position had been created and I should come." "Like 'Come in stealth'?" “Do you think I’d sneak around? The fact that I visited Lord Itakura has long been known to Lord Ichinoseki. It’s almost absurd for Matsuyama to bring that up now.”

“Very well, let’s set that aside.” Suō said, “Then are you saying Funaoka wants to withdraw from this matter?” “If he may withdraw.” “Then will you withdraw if permitted?” Suō pressed.

Kai quietly looked at Suō. "If Lord Wakuya and I were to permit withdrawal... would Funaoka withdraw?" "That would be preferable." "You're certain?" Suō contorted his lips. "You swear there's no error in those words?" "There's no error." "Harada—was this your true nature all along?" Suō's voice quavered. "No—unthinkable. Impossible. I know you." "From your days as Koshirō—though unspoken—I revered you. Relied on you utterly. Yet now, when our house faces calamity—"

“Ah,” Kai quietly interjected, “let’s avoid such overstatements. Everyone naturally relies on elder relatives during their youth—especially since Matsuyama and I share close marital ties with merely three years between us. And you yourself had no brothers. That’s why those childhood sentiments linger even now. While I’m grateful for your respect and dependence, I must ask you to spare me this exaggerated sentimentality.”

“What exactly have I exaggerated?” “All of it.” Kai said this, stared fixedly into Suō’s eyes, then shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll take my leave.”

“Just like this?” Suō said. Kai stood up. “It stays like this. There’s nothing left to discuss.” “No! This discussion isn’t over yet!”

“Kyūma, are you there?” Kai called. Suō’s face abruptly paled. He realized someone had been in the adjoining chamber and stared at Kai with a stunned expression—mouth agape, as if doused with water. Kai called again. “Kyūma, come in.” This time there was an answering voice. A voice answered from the room beyond, and Naruse Kyūma promptly appeared. “Hakama—” Kai said. The boy immediately brought hakama from the adjoining room and helped Kai put them on.

“Did you sleep?” Kai asked. Kyūma answered, “Yes.”

"I was dozing off, so I did not hear when you called." "You didn't hear?" "It was your second call that finally awakened me."

“I see,” Kai said and looked at Suō.

Suō lowered his eyes. “Have the retainers prepare the palanquin.” After Kyūma left, Suō looked up. Kai said as he took up his sword.

“The chrysanthemum in the tokonoma was magnificent.”

Fragment (3)

Lord Wakuya has departed.

“I see.” “Lord Funaoka’s wife accompanied him.” “Have they already returned?” “It seems there was some sort of dispute.” “As husband and wife?” “That’s what she stated.” “They should be on good terms.” “It is said that Her Ladyship told Lord Funaoka, ‘You are a cold and heartless man.’” “That’s the first I’ve heard such an assessment.” “Understood.” “Up until now, Harada has been called a deeply compassionate, warm-hearted man. Isn’t it said that he alone has no enemies and has been held in favor by all?”

“That is indeed my understanding.” “And his wife stated that he was cold and heartless?” “It is said that she declared, ‘I have lived with you for over fifteen years, yet...’”

“It couldn’t possibly be jealousy.” “At the Yushima residence, he is living with a woman named Kumi.” “That’s not the case. She isn’t the sort of hypocritical woman who would feel jealousy toward some concubine. I knew her in her maiden days—she was magnanimous and free-spirited, not someone who could ever be prone to jealousy.” “Understood.” “There must be some meaning behind this ‘cold and heartless’ talk. If my wife of fifteen years says Harada Kai is a cold man—very well, I’ll commit that to memory.”

“Regarding the separate banquet—” “Who gathered?” “The Four Chief Retainers, Three Senior Elders, and Lord Katakura were in attendance.” “Was Daigaku present?”

“Lord Ōyama was alone, vehemently arguing in a loud voice—so it was reported.” “What did he say?” “They could not approach close enough to make out the content—so it was said—but they reported having heard only Lord Ōyama’s raised voice.” “What did Harada do?”

“It is said he got dead drunk and was moved to his sleeping quarters partway through.” “They colluded.”

“It appears to be true that he got dead drunk; they reported that he remained awake and kept watch.”

“Did nothing happen?” “They reported nothing occurred until dawn. When he began dozing off, Lord Matsuyama’s voice was heard.”

“They colluded.” “Is that so?” “Wakuya was also involved.” “No, it was only Lord Matsuyama—they reported that Lord Wakuya’s voice was not heard.”

“What did Suō say?” “It appears Suō quarreled with Lord Funaoka, who was then told to withdraw.” “Withdraw?” “Lord Funaoka reportedly stated, ‘I dislike these affairs and want no part in them,’ adding that his invitation to Lord Itakura’s new tea room kettle-opening ceremony held no deeper meaning—or so it was relayed.” “Harada with Suō?”

"There is no mistake about that." "That tanuki." "Understood." "Even if Suō gets fooled, I won't be. But fine—I'll watch things play out." "That is all." "Tell Hayato to attend too."

“Do you wish to summon him?” “What of the Saifuku-ji matter?” “It was unsuccessful.” “Let’s hear it.”

“All six appear thoroughly devoted to Kakizaki Rokurōbei and rejected our proposal.” “They refuse the stipend?” “We’ve entrusted our very lives to Kakizaki,” they reported. “They declared it their sworn oath to obey him in all matters—advancing or retreating, living or dying. No terms could make them betray him.”

“The six men’s full names?”

Gamō ronin Nonaka Matagorō.

Gamō ronin Shimada Ichizō. Higo ronin Ishikawa Hyōgo no Suke. Yamashiro ronin Sunayama Tadayuki. Chūgoku ronin Fujisawa Kura no Suke. Chūgoku ronin Oda Naiki.

“That concludes the report.” “They all claimed to be in dire straits.” “Nonaka, Oda, and Sunayama have families; the others are all unmarried—yet every last one of them lives in destitution.” “And still they refuse the stipend?”

“They appear completely smitten with Kakizaki.” “That path was indeed right for those six.” “Those were your instructions.” “Failed with Shichibei’s blade, failed to persuade Hayato—and worse yet, Itō Shichijūrō witnessed everything during the Shichibei operation. This defeat is mine.” “Shall we tighten the screws?” “We’ll employ them.” “As you command, but—” “No—we’ll use him. He shows promise. And with six men that devoted under his wing, we’ll find endless applications moving forward.”

“Understood.” “If they request stipends, give them. I’ve given the order.”

The shadow of a solitary lamp

After Ritsu, his wife, returned to the domain with Date Aki, Kai caught a mild cold and confined himself for four or five days.

On September 2nd, the shogunate’s provincial inspectors dispatched to Sendai—officials sent annually by the shogunate to oversee regional affairs, with two assigned to Sendai for six-month terms—arrived at the Date family’s Sakurada main residence bearing the shogun’s black-sealed decree. The inspectors were Tsuda Heizaemon, a shogunate envoy, and Tsuge Hyōemon, another envoy. The black seal bore Shogun Ietsuna’s monogram and held greater authority than a vermilion seal. Kamechiyo, carried in the arms of his attendant Dakamori, met the two men in the Omote Hiroshoin reception hall to formally receive the seal. This act constituted the shogunate’s official recognition of Kamechiyo as head of the Date clan, leading the entire domain to collectively sigh in relief while hosting a grand celebratory banquet.

Kai did not attend the "black seal reception" ceremony, nor did he appear at the celebratory banquet. Shibata Kura no Suke was expected to depart for Edo as early as December or at the latest by New Year’s, and once that happened, Kai would be able to return to Funagoka. He informed Shigetsura Moniwa of Matsuyama of the matter by letter and also wrote two more letters conveying the same message. One was addressed to Yogobei, who worked as a forest warden in Funagoka; the other to an inn at Aone Hot Springs—both being contacts indispensable for Kai’s personal respite during his stay in the domain.

The night of September 5th. Nakaguro Tatsumi attempted suicide. After being left behind in Edo, Tatsumi had shut himself away in a room, spoken to no one, and become deeply troubled by something. He had lost his father at seven years old, and now only his mother remained in Funagoka; though he was twenty-two, he still had no wife. A hereditary retainer since his late father's time, his residence was within the estate, and until four years ago, he had served continuously at Kai's side. Tatsumi had a pale complexion, thick eyebrows, an oval face, and handsome features. He was by nature a man of few words, fastidious, and strong-willed, not one to associate much with his peers.

Around ten o'clock on the fifth night, as Kai was writing a memorandum, a commotion arose from the direction of the samurai quarters. Kai set down his brush and listened for a time, but sensing this was no ordinary disturbance, he rang the bell on his desk.

Immediately, Shiozawa Tansaburō arrived.

“Bring me tea,” Kai said. “What is all this commotion?” Tansaburō answered, “I will go and see,” and left. Just as he left, Horinouchi Sōzaemon entered.

“What is it?” Kai asked. “Nakaguro Tatsumi is attempting to commit seppuku.” “Tatsumi?” Kai raised his eyebrows. Then 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 reason.”

Kai set down his brush.

“Bring him here,” Kai said. “Use force if you must, but bring him here.”

Sōzaemon left.

Shiozawa Tansaburō brought the tea utensils. Kai drew them close before his knees and, with calm movements, prepared the tea himself. As Tansaburō withdrew under Sōzaemon's escort, Nakaguro Tatsumi entered. He wore a lined kimono carelessly thrown over his shoulders without an obi, his hair disheveled, his pallid face rigid. “Horinouchi, withdraw,” Kai said. “Ensure none enter unless summoned. Tell Tansaburō to retire to his quarters as well.” Sōzaemon acknowledged and departed.

Kai quietly sipped his tea.

It was a bitterly cold night. A single bell cricket somewhere on the wall, and then about two crickets beneath the floorboards, their intermittent voices thin and faint, seemed to lament to one another as they chirped. "What is the matter?" Kai said. Tatsumi remained silent, his hands on his knees trembling faintly. "For what reason are you trying to die?" "I cannot tell you," Tatsumi said. Kai slowly sipped his tea again. Then, lowering the hand holding the tea bowl onto his knees, he said in a low, quiet voice.

"Do you know that Her Ladyship requested your dismissal, Tatsumi?" Tatsumi bowed his head. "Do you understand why she ordered your dismissal?" "Yes." His voice remained low. "Is that why you sought death?" Tatsumi kept silent. "So it was for that reason you tried to kill yourself." "...Yes." Tears fell from Tatsumi's downcast eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.

“Tatsumi, what do you make of me?” “For three lifetimes, you are my one and only lord.” “When this self of mine does not permit it, why do you insist on dying?” “I beg your forgiveness.” Tatsumi collapsed forward, planting both hands on the tatami as he began to weep, and through his tears said, “To die without stating my reasons—to act against your will—is the height of disloyalty. Yet I cannot continue living. There exists a reason... a reason I simply cannot remain alive.”

“I know the reason,” Kai said. Tatsumi flinched and looked up with tear-drenched eyes. “I know the reason,” Kai said. Tatsumi’s face, lifted toward Kai, stiffened with doubt and terror. “That is why I can well understand your desire to kill yourself,” Kai said. “Others might choose different means, but you resolved to die by your own hand—you must have thought suicide the best solution. I know your nature. I fully comprehend this desperate resolve. Were it possible, I would let you die. But you must go on living.”

Kai set down the tea bowl. "In any circumstance, living is never easier than dying. More so for you now—death would likely be preferable. But Tatsumi, I must have you live. Not merely survive, but undertake a duty more difficult and painful than dying itself."

Tatsumi returned both hands to his knees. "If you truly consider me your master for three lifetimes, you should naturally heed my request. Do I ask too much?" "Is there something within my power?" "That rests solely on your resolve."

“I am already as good as dead.” “Will you hear me out?” “Yes,” Tatsumi answered.

“Then come closer,” Kai said.

Tatsumi wiped his tears and shuffled forward on his knees. The discussion lasted over an hour. Kai spoke candidly. Tatsumi was at first astonished. Kai said there was no one but you to rely on, and Tatsumi pleaded. "That alone I cannot do." "Rather, please let me kill myself now," he said. Kai was patient. He spoke of the complex issues concerning the clan's future and the delicate difficulties of his own position, then requested his assistance.

“For a samurai, there is no mistaking that ‘dying with loyalty’ is one’s true aspiration.” “However, for the sake of a samurai’s ‘Way,’ there are times when one must endure even the stigma of disloyalty and insubordination.” “I too am prepared for this, so you must assist me.” Kai repeated those words.

Tatsumi finally acquiesced. “Hate me,” Kai said. “My request defies all law, but you must understand it must be done regardless.”

“Yes.” Tatsumi bowed his head. “Besides you, several others must also take on similar roles. To be born a samurai in such times and have a master like me is your misfortune. Hate me. Resent me. But fulfill your duty.” Tatsumi said “Yes” and bowed his head even lower.

Through the brief silence, the sound of crickets could be heard sporadically. Kai said quietly.

“Then step back and get some rest.”

Tatsumi left quietly. After Kai recovered from his cold and returned to duty, an incident occurred at the Koishikawa construction site that prompted the councilors to conduct an inspection. It had been raining since morning, but as Kai held senior rank, he went out together with the other five.

At the construction site, Superintendent Moniwa Suō awaited them and personally guided the six around. The problem stemmed from a section of the completed embankment—about fifty ken in length—having collapsed, necessitating reconstruction from scratch. This would not only delay the mandated deadline but also deal a significant blow to the domain through increased costs. The moat construction had been an immense burden for the Date clan. From Sujikai Bridge on the Kanda River, they headed west upstream through the Ochanomizu Moat, passing Kichijōji Bridge and Koishikawa Bridge until reaching Ushigome Gomon and Dobashi. The project involved dredging and deepening the existing moat structure to enable boat transport across its total length of six hundred sixty ken. Width: thirty ken. Depth: two and a half ken. It constituted a massive undertaking—building earthen embankments along both banks using excavated soil.

For every 10,000 koku of land value, the calculation required one hundred laborers; thus for 620,000 koku, six thousand two hundred men were needed. The shogunate provided only the rice rations based on headcount, leaving all other expenses to be borne entirely by the Date clan. Consequently, additional levies were imposed on all domain retainers, but the difficult construction work necessitated repeated increases in laborer wages. With the embankment already having collapsed three times, the construction budget had reached its absolute limit. Then came another collapse of over fifty ken along the embankment. As Superintendent of Construction Moniwa Suō guided them around—accompanied by Gotō Magobei, Mayama Gyōbu, and inspectors Satomi Jūzaemon and Kitami Hikoemon—not a single official offered comment, while the six councilors could do nothing but sigh.

After completing their inspection, they held discussions for about an hour at the shack near Kichijōji Bridge.—Just as the meeting concluded and they were about to depart, Mayama Gyōbu and Satomi Jūzaemon became embroiled in a heated dispute with five men who appeared to be labor bosses outside the shack. Seeing that Kai had stopped, Satomi Jūzaemon approached. “The laborers have come demanding a wage increase,” Jūzaemon said. “With the cold setting in and the work involving water, no one will take on laborer jobs at the current pay—they’re making such unreasonable demands, like asking for one monme of gold per day.”

“Four days for one koban,” Kai said. “It’s a harsh situation, but in the end, we’ll have to pay.” “One monme per day?” “They’re shrewd,” Kai said. “The shogunate would be pleased to see construction costs rise, and the laborers know that full well. There’s no point getting angry over a battle we’ve already lost.”

And Kai said, "Come eat morning gruel on my day off," and left that place. The rain continued to fall for three days. And on the afternoon after the rain stopped, Kai went to the Shinagawa lower residence to attend on Tsunamune. Due to Tsunamune being in the midst of drinking, Ōmachi Bizen (Sadayori), the chief retainer of the lower residence, attempted to refuse Kai’s request for an audience. He argued that since [Tsunamune] had been ordered into confinement by the shogunate, meeting with an active senior retainer might be deemed unlawful.

Kai nodded calmly and remarked in an utterly casual tone, “Since Lord Kamechiyo has received both the approval of succession and the shogun’s sealed decree, Lord Tsunamune should by now be considered ‘retired.’” “Even without an official notice,” he added, “we may regard the ‘confinement’ as lifted.”

Then Bizen changed the subject. "Lord Tsunamune is currently drinking, and as he has lately developed a tendency to become violent when intoxicated, perhaps you could meet him when he is not drunk," Bizen said. Kai did not press further and instead asked, "Does he drink often?" “Almost every day and night,” Bizen answered. "In that case, it must be quite trying for you. Does he become violent every time?" “It’s not necessarily every time,” Bizen said, “but when something displeases him or he meets someone he doesn’t usually see, he seems to become excited and violent.”

"I will soon be relieved of duty and returning to my home province," Kai said. "Given these circumstances, there may not be another suitable opportunity, so I shall request an audience today to take my leave." "If you insist, then I have no choice." "Please arrange the meeting," Kai said.

Bizen reluctantly stood and left, but almost at the same moment, a young samurai entered the room. Likely assuming Bizen would be present, he started upon seeing Kai and made to withdraw with a silent bow. "Wait, Zendayū," Kai addressed him. "You are Imamura Zendayū, are you not?"

The young samurai said “Yes” and knelt there. That was the inspector named Imamura Zendayū. Kai stared fixedly at his face with the look of one beholding something rare; Zendayū lowered his gaze. “Have you been transferred to a different post?” Kai said. Zendayū lowered both hands and answered in a trembling voice, “That is not the case.” “Then have you come as a messenger?” “Yes,” Zendayū mumbled hesitantly. “Are you saying you came as a messenger?” Kai pressed.

Zendayū did not answer.

At that moment, Ōmachi Bizen returned and, seeing this scene, his expression changed slightly.

Kai looked at Bizen. “Please proceed to His Lordship’s presence—” Bizen said. There was an unmistakable haste in Ōmachi’s tone as he urged this—a transparent attempt to smooth over the situation.

Kai stood up. He did not even glance toward Imamura Zendayū, maintaining an attitude of complete disregard. Bizen shot a sharp glance at Zendayū and rose to guide Kai. When they stepped out into the corridor, he looked at Kai as if wanting to say something, but his tongue seemed unable to move immediately. He’s going to try to explain Zendayū’s presence here. Kai perceived this. That alone was sufficient.

That alone was sufficient, Kai thought. At this lower residence, aside from Ōmachi Bizen, there were seven samurai and otherwise only menial workers among the men; the rest consisted of thirteen maids and forty-seven lower servants—a household composed entirely of women. Ōmachi Bizen had been selected as chief retainer of Shinagawa immediately after Tsunamune was moved here, and the one who selected him was Hyōbu Munekatsu. Moreover, that Imamura Zendayū had become an inspector stationed at the main residence was also a very recent development, and Kai understood perfectly well that this too was Hyōbu’s selection.

From below, like water gradually seeping into the land, bit by bit, minute by minute, with an imperceptible force, Hyōbu was expanding his reach. To Kai, it now seemed as though he could see it clearly.

At the lock entrance, an old woman named Fujii was waiting. Kai stopped. It seemed he would be handed over to the old woman there. If that were the case, then Tsunamune must be in the inner quarters. Because the separation between front and inner quarters was extremely strict, even Kai found himself somewhat hesitant. “Please do not hesitate,” Bizen said. “You are summoned, so please proceed.” The old woman also bowed and said, “This way.” Kai passed through the lock entrance into the inner quarters.

Tsunamune was in the sukiya tea room. Beside him sat Mitsuwa Hatsu, with five maidservants seated in attendance. Hatsu was twenty-one years old, the same age as Tsunamune, but having given birth to Kamechiyo the previous year, she appeared considerably older than her years. Moreover, it later became clear that she must have been pregnant at the time—her puffy, gentle face had good color, and her body appeared healthily plump.

“There you are. Come, this way.” Tsunamune beckoned with his hand, “I’m retired—no need for formal bows. Come closer here. You came—good. Kai can hold his liquor. First, give him a cup!” Tsunamune spoke hurriedly. He looked truly delighted, and seemed unable to contain that delight. Kai received the sake cup. Tsunamune said: “Keep them coming—I’ll drink too. You came all this way. Let’s talk while we drink. It’s been too long.”

Tsunamune talked on by himself and drank heavily. Kai listened in silence and kept refilling the cups as instructed. Seeing Tsunamune’s delighted appearance, he couldn’t bring himself to decline the sake nor interrupt the conversation, and before he knew it, over an hour had passed. Gradually, Tsunamune grew increasingly agitated, his round, well-fleshed face having turned pale and rigid. “I am a pitiful man—just how pitiful I am, you must know, Kai,” Tsunamune said. “Father despised me.”

“With all due respect—” Kai tried to stop him. He thought he must prevent the conversation from touching upon the late lord Tadamune at all costs. But Tsunamune shook his head and declared: “No—I’ll speak! Even unsaid, all know it! Father despised me! Until Hatsu here, he never chose me a wife! An heir to six hundred thousand koku—twenty years old with no betrothal? Does such disgrace exist elsewhere? Answer me, Kai!”

Kai looked at his own cup. "You know full well the circumstances under which I married Hatsu, Kai. She was promised to be my legal wife. Her aunt Kii insisted she become my formal consort, and Father gave his approval—was that not so?" Tsunamune said. Kai quietly raised his eyes. It was just as Tsunamune had said. Kai knew this contained neither exaggeration nor error.

Hatsu’s father was a ronin from Mino named Mitsuwa Gonza, and her mother was of the Kutsuki family. She was born in Tottori but went to Edo, and from the age of thirteen had been raised by her aunt Kii. Kii had initially served in Edo Castle’s Ōoku, but when Himehare—daughter of Ikeda Terumasa—was married to Tadamune as Shogun Hidetada’s adopted daughter, she came to the Date household as her attendant. Hatsu had been raised under her care, and when Tsunamune requested to take her as his wife, Kii had clearly stated, “If she is to be your formal consort.” Tsunamune reported this to his father; Tadamune consented, and the two held their wedding ceremony. Yet they had merely exchanged nuptial cups without any formal celebration, and in the end Hatsu was relegated to concubine status.

“That’s not all,” Tsunamune continued. “Until his final moments, Father refused to settle the succession. Suō [Moniwa Sadamoto] had to visit his sickbed time and again—pleading desperately—before he finally consented. This too you must know, Kai. Father despised me—if not hatred, then disdain.” “And that is what drove me into this wretched state—do you understand, Kai?”

“With all due respect, I cannot inquire further about Lord Kansen-den,” Kai said. “If you continue to speak of this matter, I shall take my leave.” “No, I won’t let you go—you cannot leave!” Tsunamune said. “The only ones I can bare my heart to are Suō and you, Kai! Since my confinement began, I’ve been unable to meet even Suō—cannot summon anyone, have no means to send letters. Now that we’ve met after so long, how could you possibly plug your ears and walk away without hearing what’s pent up in my chest? You cannot do this, Kai—you cannot!”

Tsunamune’s voice trembled, and his eyes gazing at Kai grew moist and glistened brightly. Kai averted his eyes. “So you still insist on leaving?” Tsunamune said. “If even you desert me, I have nothing more to say. Go if you must go.” “Lord Harada,” Hatsu said. Kai nodded. “I deeply apologize for having displeased you,” Kai said. “If you would but refrain from mentioning Lord Kansen-den, I would be honored to listen to whatever you wish to share.”

“Even if it were fact?” “No matter what facts may exist.” “You fear it,” Tsunamune said. “You know the truth—why We were confined, what stratagems lay beneath it, whose hand devised those machinations. Kai must grasp this full well.”

“Lady of the Chambers,” Kai looked at Hatsu.

Kai’s gaze asked, *Should we clear the room?* Hatsu smiled a forlorn smile and replied with words that meant, *It makes no difference now.* “Of course! If you want to hear it, then hear it!” Tsunamune’s voice rose shrilly. “I’d been restraining myself—hadn’t touched sake for years! Why did I start drinking again? Who created that opportunity? You don’t know, Kai—you were in Funooka then!” “I have heard about it too.”

“The Hamayashiki incident?” “At the far end from your seat, Satomi Jūzaemon was stationed.” “Could you tell from afar?” Tsunamune said forcefully. “The Hamayashiki was a construction celebration. A banquet had been held—when I set down three cups, Daigaku urged me to drink. ‘The succession’s settled—you’re now master of a 600,000-koku domain. At last, you’ve no reason to hold back from anyone. Drink your fill,’ he pressed. Did Jūza know this?”

“He stated as such.” “I am a weak man—particularly weak when it comes to sake. I know this all too well myself. That’s why I had been abstaining.” “That’s why I’d been abstaining all along!” Tsunamune said. “But Daigaku told me to drink—‘Now that the succession’s settled and you’re master of the Date clan, there’s no one left to hold back for!’ So I drank.”

Tsunamune reached out to Hatsu. Hatsu took a large cup and handed it over; the attendant filled it to the brim. Tsunamune downed it in one gulp and said. "I drank. Daigaku praised me for it. I kept downing large cups. Daigaku praised me even more, and not a single soul tried to stop me. Does Jūza know this?" "After that," Kai said, "Jūza must have reprimanded Lord Ōyama."

“If it were you, Kai,” Tsunamune said, “would you too reprimand Daigaku?” Kai remained silent. “Jūza doesn’t understand—perhaps no one does. But if you hear that Ichinoseki was there at that gathering, seated next to Daigaku, at the very least, Kai should grasp the circumstances.” Tsunamune had more sake poured and drank it, waved to the maidservants and said, “Why aren’t you serving Funooka?” then propped one hand on his knee and squared his shoulders.

“Daigaku is nothing more than a simple hothead,” Tsunamune said. “That guy’s a paper kite (*ikano-bori*)—moved not by his own will but by the strings of whoever controls him. In fact, isn’t he now spreading slanderous rumors that it was Moniwa Suō who urged me to drink at Hamayashiki?”

“I have not yet heard of this.” “Then you’ll hear it soon enough—even these confined ears of mine have caught wind of it, so it should reach yours too. Listen well: he’s now obsessively slandering Suō, all while failing to realize he’s but a paper kite jerked about by strings.”

And Tsunamune laughed. It was a dry, rasping laugh—one that mocked himself. “Of course, these paper kites aren’t limited to Ōyama Daigaku alone—there are many others, so very many, Kai,” Tsunamune said. “My confinement too—I was reprimanded by the shogunate. Why? For what reason was I ordered into confinement? What did I do to deserve this? True, I frequented the pleasure quarters—barely ten days or so, and only after completing inspections of the construction huts… And even that wasn’t by my own will! My aunt in Kyoto (the elder sister of my mother, Lady Hōshun’in)—" “When the summer gift arrived from my aunt—the birth mother of His Majesty Emperor Go-Sai—someone said, ‘Such diligence will strain your health; you ought to divert yourself,’ and had four men force me out. They dragged me against my will and guided me to the brothels. You must know who that was, Kai—Ichinoseki! It’s Ichinoseki pulling the strings! Every last thing has been the scheming of Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu!”

Tsunamune’s face had turned completely pale, and his bloodshot eyes began to glisten brightly. He seemed to have forgotten he was holding a cup, and struck his knee with that hand while shouting. “And not a soul restrains them! Even those who know full well it’s all Hyōbu’s schemes just stand by with hands bound—watching in silence, doing nothing at all!” “With all due respect—” “You too, Kai!” Tsunamune shouted. “You’re one of them as well, Harada Kai!”

“Lord Harada,” Hatsu said.

Kai nodded to Hatsu as if to say, “It’s all right.” “With all due respect,” Kai said quietly, “I do not fully grasp the meaning of your words.” “What don’t you understand?” “Everything you say holds true,” Kai said. “Now that the young lord has assumed succession and the Date clan stands secure, why would Your Lordship voice such matters? Should any disturbance arise from these drunken utterances of yours, how would you answer? With our house finally at peace after much striving, what would you do should misfortune strike?”

“Silence, Kai! Sendai’s 600,000 koku is Ours!” Tsunamune shouted. “If falling into Hyōbu’s conspiracy means living in obscurity for the rest of Our days, We’d rather see the domain destroyed!”

Kai looked at Tsunamune with sorrowful eyes.

“I’ll destroy it!” Tsunamune shouted. “What’s this 600,000 koku? I’ll tear it down in grand fashion! If you think Tsunamune is some wooden puppet who’ll stay silent about such lawless acts, you’re gravely mistaken! I’ll crush it without fail!” “Yes, I understand,” Hatsu said. “Lord Harada too grasps the turmoil in your heart, Milord. Please desist—let us have Konami dance for you and mend your spirits.”

“Silence, Kai! What could you possibly understand?”

Tsunamune shouted “This one!”, and hurled the cup he was holding at Kai. Kai did not dodge; the cup struck his chest, then fell onto the tray with a clatter. “This one’s also part of the conspiracy!” Tsunamune bellowed. “Kai’s with Hyōbu’s faction too! I’ll cut you down myself! Fetch my sword!” “Lord Harada!” Hatsu cried out. Tsunamune stood up, took the sword from the rack behind him, and drew it. “Lord Harada, please hurry!” Hatsu cried out.

Kai did not move. Still holding a cup in one hand, he remained seated, nodding to Hatsu as if to say, “It’s all right.” Tsunamune came down from the upper platform holding the drawn sword. His eyes slanted upward in rage, drunkenness making his steps unsteady. “Milord!” The elderly maidservant Fujii cried out. She chased after Tsunamune and clung to his arm. He shook her off. “Kai, don’t move.” “Milord!” Fujii clung to him again.

Tsunamune violently shoved her away. Fujii staggered and fell to her knees while screaming, “Lord Harada, please escape!” Hatsu was crying. Kai saw her, remaining seated in her place on the upper platform, covering her face with both hands. Because Kai did not move, Tsunamune struck. Of course, he likely had no intention of striking to kill. Kai twisted his upper body and carelessly grabbed Tsunamune’s right hand. Tsunamune writhed.

“Please calm yourself,” Kai said. Tsunamune shouted, “Are you resisting me?”

“Please calm yourself.”

Tsunamune shouted “Damn you!” and raised his leg to kick. As Tsunamune tried to kick, Kai narrowly avoided it, twisted his arm back, wrenched the sword away, and shoved him aside.

Tsunamune fell backward.

“Fujii-dono,” Kai said, handing her the sword. The elderly maidservant received it with both sleeves folded together and swiftly went toward the upper platform. Tsunamune remained sitting on his rear, gasping laboriously—*hah, hah*—as he placed both hands forward and lowered his head. “I’m still twenty-one,” Tsunamune said. “I’m still twenty-one! Kai! Do you understand? Can you possibly understand? I’ve barely been out in the world for two years—at this age! From now on, I must live my entire life in obscurity! Do you understand this feeling?”

Kai remained silent.

Tsunamune raised his face and looked at Kai. Tsunamune’s eyes were wet. Kai stared fixedly at Tsunamune’s wet eyes. “Forgive me. I was wrong,” Tsunamune said. “Will you come again?” “I will return to Funooka by New Year’s.” “Don’t come again.” “Once my official duties are completed, I shall come to pay my respects.” “I’ll be waiting.” Tsunamune turned his face away and, extending one hand behind him, said, “Hatsu, lend me your hand.” Tsunamune, supported by Hatsu, retreated deeper into the residence. The sukiya room had already grown dark, with two maids holding hand lanterns leading the way and leaving the elderly maidservant behind as the other attendants followed at the rear.

Kai watched them leave. The hand lantern light faintly and unsteadily illuminated Tsunamune's figure—supported by Hatsu—as he staggered beyond the upper platform's sliding doors. Kai stood perfectly still, watching them go. When Tsunamune'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 Tsunamune as he was just then into his memory.

Suddenly, a stifled sob arose. The elderly maidservant Fujii began to cry. She said in a low, whisper-like voice, "Don't you find it pitiful?"

Kai did not answer. "When His Lordship becomes intoxicated, it always ends like this. Is there truly nothing that can be done?" "Well then—" Kai lifted his eyes, "I shall take my leave." "Lord Harada," Fujii said in a quivering voice, "do you not find this present circumstance pitiful? Is there truly no measure to be taken?" "What do you mean?" "It means restoring His Lordship to the main residence. Forcing him into retirement in this manner is too cruel. Is there truly no way to have his censure revoked?"

“I am merely a councilor,” Kai said calmly, “such matters are beyond my expertise, and I am not in a position to comment.”

“Ah, Lord Harada.”

“With this, I shall take my leave.” And then he stood up.

After boarding the palanquin, Kai took out a folded paper and pressed it against his eyes. As the palanquin exited the lower residence’s gate and traversed four or five blocks through streets now deep in dusk, he remained perfectly still—pressing the folded paper against his eyes—holding his breath all the while.

At the end of that month, a letter arrived from Kakizaki Hayato, the chief retainer overseeing Funooka in his absence. The autumn harvest, which had been a cause for concern, turned out better than expected, and the tax rice was gradually being collected. The temperatures were lower than usual, but the days remained clear and sunny, fattening the loaches in the Shiraishigawa River. A few days ago, Yogobei came down from the mountains and reported that based on the movements of the mountain animals, this winter would likely bring heavy snowfall. The peasants were also saying that the wheat crop would yield a better harvest than usual.

As provincial inspectors were coming from the shogunate, I went to Sendai. They arrived on the eleventh day. On that day, even clan relatives, chief retainers, and town magistrates came out to Kawahara-machi wearing hemp formal attire to welcome them, and I joined them. Those who guided them to the lodgings were Lord Shibata (Kura no suke) and Lord Tomizuka (Kura no jo).

The following twelfth day. At the invitation of the provincial inspectors, the main family branch, cadet branches, and affiliated clans went to the lodgings, where the provincial inspectors presented the shogun’s vermilion-sealed official documents; however, the chief retainers did not attend this.

The twenty-second day. At Okushiro Ninomaru, there was a banquet for the two inspectors, and I attended the reception. The banquet companions were Lord Wakuya (Date Aki). Nakazato Dōsaku, a physician accompanying the two inspectors, and Usagi Gyokuan Tei provided hayashi musical accompaniment as entertainment. After the banquet, I guided the inspectors to the main keep, concluding the reception.

Lord Wakuya returned to his domain on the twenty-third day, and after seeing him off, I returned to Funooka. There have been no other changes at the residence; my wife and Lord Koshirō are both in good health, and everything is proceeding peacefully.

Hayato’s letter concluded in that manner. That month was eventful—it had been decided to increase the domains for Hyōbu-shōyū Munekatsu and Ukyō-no-suke Muneyoshi as guardians of Kamechiyo. Hyōbu, whose holdings had been just over 10,000 koku, was increased to 30,000 koku. In addition to his main residence at Udagawabashi, he received a middle residence in Iikura Kawarake-chō and a lower residence in Azabu Shinbori. His son Tōichimasa moved to the middle residence in Kaware-chō. Tamura Ukyō had originally held 15,000 koku in Iwagasaki, Kurihara District, but after being administratively transferred to Iwanuma in Natori District, he similarly became a 30,000-koku lord and received a residence in Atagoshita. Ukyō was Tsunamune’s elder half-brother from a concubine and three years his senior.

After the stipend increases for both guardians were decided, a proposal regarding the appointment of chief retainers was put forth by Hyōbu and Ukyō. The chief advocate was Hyōbu, and Ukyō appeared to have been drawn into it. Shibata Kura no suke and Tomizuka Kura no jo were nominated as candidates, with Hyōbu attaching the condition of "an increase of 3,000 koku each." Thereupon, a council was held between the three chief retainers and four councilors, and after consulting with Tachibana Hida-no-kami, it was decided to appoint both men as chief retainers. Shibata Kura no suke consented. He had been the lord of a 3,000-koku estate in Yoneya, Tome District, but with this became a 6,000-koku chief retainer and changed his name to Shoki Tomomune.

From Tomizuka Kura no jo came word that he would accept the appointment but decline the stipend increase. "My stipend exceeds 2,000 koku, and my financial resources are more than sufficient. If an increase is to be granted, I would prefer to receive it once the young lord comes of age." Such was his stated position; however, in the end, he consented to the increase as well, and the two men assumed their positions as chief retainers.

And then October arrived.

Frost pillars.

At nine o'clock on a clear morning—Omiya emerged from Jōmyōin Temple's back gate. Appearing to gaze at Sensōji's main hall roof and five-storied pagoda towering high in the winter sky, she swiftly darted her eyes left and right along the road while slipping past Denbōin Temple toward Kasen Tea House. She wore a dark-patterned komon kimono layered with a navy overgarment and similarly donned a navy crepe hood. Clasping a small bundle in hands adorned with a crystal rosary, her figure—pressing the bundle against herself with a right hand tucked into her sleeve—appeared just as before: that of a young widow come to visit the temple.

“Partake in the auspicious tea! Please drink the auspicious tea!”

At the row of tea shops, voices were already calling out incessantly to customers, and a fair number of visitors were also out. Omiya entered the fifth tea shop from the end, saying, “Good morning, Auntie.” In the back of the shop, where benches were lined up, hung a curtain dyed with “Okichi,” from behind which a plump woman of about fifty peeked out. “Oh, welcome back! You’re early this morning.” “There’s a memorial service, you see.”

“Oh, well then come this way. No one else has arrived yet, you see.” Omiya entered the back. On one side of the dirt-floored area where a tea kettle, shelves for utensils, a water jar and other items stood lay a small room of about three tatami mats, steam rising from the kettle.

“I’ll get the fire going now.” “I’ll be going right back.”

Omiya sat on the raised threshold of the small room and unwrapped the bundle she had been carrying. “Oh never mind—if you went back at this hour, the neighbors would talk. I’ll make tea now.” The woman took embers from the hearth with a fire shovel, placed them into the small room’s brazier, and added charcoal. Omiya took some money from the bundle, wrapped it in paper, and presented it before the woman.

“Auntie, this is the usual.” “Oh my, thank you.”

The woman promptly took it, tucked it into her sleeve, then picked up the fire shovel and returned to the tea kettle. “You’d better keep your hood on—it’s bitterly cold this morning.” “It’s already November, after all.” “It’s November, truly—then, Ms. Omiya, how many months has it been since you came to Jōmyōin, I wonder?” “Since August.” “That’s four months now, hmm,” the woman said as she poured tea. “I hadn’t realized it, but for someone to stay four whole months—you’re the first.”

“Oh, really?” “That reverend—‘Tea!’ he barks.” The woman came over, placed the tray bearing tea bowls, and while offering it to Omiya, took one herself. “When it comes to that reverend, there hasn’t been a single person who lasted even a month with him before.” “Oh, really?” Omiya sipped her tea. “‘Oh, really?’ you say—can’t you think of anything?”

“No, there’s nothing like that at all.” “Hmm, so you’re getting along then,” the woman said. “Up till now, either the reverend took a dislike to them, or if he did take a liking, the women would run away—truth be told, there hasn’t been a single one who lasted even a month.”

"But why would they run away?" "They say he has perverse tastes, don’t they?" "I don’t like that, Auntie," Omiya said, glaring. "That’s not it." "Auntie, you’re impossible!" "On top of being brutally strong, they say he has perverse tastes," said the woman. The woman set down her tea bowl, pulled the tobacco tray closer, and took a drag. "Once I got him a proper courtesan—a woman who’d worked the pleasure districts—but even she couldn’t handle it and ran off."

“I wonder…” “You can think of something, can’t you?” “I don’t know,” Omiya said. “I think he’s a kind, considerate person.” “That’s why I’m telling you I’m right,” the woman said.

The woman licked her lips and spoke bluntly, laying everything bare without reservation. Omiya showed no particular shame as she responded to everything with feigned interest, though her cheeks reddened. The woman laughed hoarsely, her eyes glinting sharply. "You're quite something, aren't you?" "Oh, why do you say that?" "That samurai patron of yours trained you well, didn't he?" "How vulgar, Auntie!"

Before long, from the front entrance, the hired tea-serving woman came in.

“I’m sorry for being late.” “Well now, what brings you here at this hour,” the woman said in a cutting voice. Omiya seized the moment to stand up.

"I'll be going now," said Omiya. "Well, if you must." "But I can't afford to linger."

Omiya gathered her bundle.

The tea-fetching woman was making excuses: "My mother isn’t well." Omiya greeted the woman and left the tea shop. Upon returning to the house in Zaimoku-chō and calling out to the neighbor, Okume hurriedly came out and, whispering "Wait a moment," beckoned with her hand. Omiya entered the doma.

“It seems that person followed you.” “That person…?”

“It’s someone named Shinpachi.” Omiya jolted.

“Won’t you come in for a bit?” Okume said. Omiya shook her head and asked in a hushed voice, “He followed me?” “I think so,” Okume said. “Last night when you went out, that person left right after you.” “And then—”

“He came back around midnight,” Okume said. “He couldn’t have gone out carousing, and even after returning, his behavior was strange.” “In what way?” “He wouldn’t sleep—pacing about the house and muttering to himself. He was acting most peculiarly.”

“Is he here now?” “He should be—given how he was carrying on last night, he might not have slept till dawn. This quiet likely means he’s sleeping now.” “Thank you. I’ll go see.”

“Miya-chan,” Okume whispered. “You did it with him, didn’t you?” “Oh, Ms. Okume!” “You finally got him, you hateful thing.” “It’s not like that—he’s still just sixteen, a complete child, isn’t he?” “Hiding won’t work—the walls are thin,” Okume glared. “My husband barely visits anymore, your brother won’t even glance my way, and I’ve had too many sleepless nights. Making me listen to all this is downright cruel, Miya-chan.”

“You’re quite the talker.” Omiya said coldly, “Drought-stricken farmers may mistake blowing sand for rain, but such groundless suspicions ill become someone like you.” “Just come inside,” Okume said. “I don’t mean to anger you—it’s just strange how someone so capable still has such innocent airs about her.” “Capable now, am I?” “Just come inside.” Omiya’s lip twitched to one side. “Otherwise,” Okume said gently, “your precious boy might overhear far 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’d come again later, said goodbye to Okume, and went into her house.

Shinpachi was sprawled out asleep. In this six-mat room, still wearing his clothes, he lay curled up under a single quilt, huddled in sleep.

Because the storm shutters were closed, the room was dark, and in the dim light from the open sliding door, Shinpachi’s face appeared haggard to a pitiful degree. His face had always looked delicate, but lately his complexion had noticeably worsened—his cheeks had sunken, his lips were dry, and they remained 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 had formed on his forehead.

Omiya shuddered. After the insatiable, sensual hours with Jōmyōin's head priest, Shinpachi's haggard appearance only inflamed Omiya further. Trembling, she swiftly stripped to her undergarments, shut the sliding door, and slipped into the quilt where Shinpachi lay curled. Shinpachi groaned and stretched his body. Omiya clung to him. Still half-asleep, Shinpachi groaned and shook his head—but when Omiya's legs entangled with his,

He opened his eyes with a gasp. "You're awake, Shin." Omiya released a ragged breath. Shinpachi thrust her away, violently shook off her clinging limbs, and upon standing up wiped his lips with his hand. "Disgusting. Enough!"

Omiya sat up. Without noticing that her hem had rolled up to reveal her thighs, Omiya stared up at Shinpachi with startled eyes, her gaze vacant.

“I was 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... lewd. Disgusting.” “‘Disgusting,’ you say?” “You’re disgusting.” “What exactly is so disgusting?” “Don’t you know yourself?” “Don’t raise your voice—the neighbors will hear,” Omiya said. “Sit down, Shin. I need to talk to you.”

"I've had enough," Shinpachi shook his head. "Please sit down. I don't recall ever deceiving you, nor do I remember being called disgusting by you." "S-s-so then," Shinpachi stammered, "what exactly is this Jōmyōin?" "What about Jōmyōin?" Omiya countered.

Shinpachi faltered. Omiya's counter-question—"What about Jōmyōin?"—held such calmness that not a trace of shame or guilt could be detected.

“I was supposed to have told you about Jōmyōin,” Omiya said. “No, that’s not true.” “What’s not true?” “You said you were going into retreat—you said because you’d entrusted your father’s remains there, you sometimes went into retreat for memorial services.” “Oh, Shin.” “I believed that.” “Oh, please listen.”

"But it was all lies. Last night I went to Jōmyōin and heard everything from the temple caretaker." "Why would you do such a thing?" "Because your father's remains were in the storeroom," Shinpachi said. "The urn bearing both his secular and posthumous names sat there unconcealed. Was I wrong to realize your 'memorial retreat' was a fabrication?" "Oh, please listen." "I've had enough." "Please listen, Shin," Omiya said. "I did say those things—I admit that—but I never intended to lie or deceive you."

“You claim this isn’t a lie?” “I never intended that at all—if I’d meant to deceive you, I wouldn’t have left the remains there. Even I have enough sense for that.” “Then what does this mean?” “I thought you’d realize, Shin.” “Realize?” Shinpachi’s fist trembled. “That your ‘commuting to Daikoku’ meant selling yourself to that temple’s head priest?”

“It was beyond you after all, Shin,” Omiya said. Adjusting her disheveled hem and hanging her head weakly, she continued slowly, “I told you on that first day, didn’t I? That I’d resolved to endure hardships for my brother’s sake. He may be a drunken fool, but he’s still worth the trouble—and on top of that, I’ve even gained someone like you, Shin.” “That’s a lie too,” Shinpachi said.

“Oh, what’s a lie?” “I once heard Kakizaki-san tell you, ‘You don’t need to work anymore. I’ll provide the money.’ He stated it clearly, and I know you’ve been taking his money.” “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—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, the world doesn’t just settle things that easily.”

Shinpachi remained silent. Omiya continued. "I don't know what sort of money Brother provides—whether it'll last forever or just temporarily. If Brother's situation worsens, I'd have to start earning again, wouldn't I?" "If that's needed," Shinpachi said, "you don't need to do such shameful things. I can do laborer's work at least." "With that body—" Omiya shook her head. "Listen," she said. "The same person who arranged things with Mr. Watanabe and handled Jōmyōin for me—I've been deeply indebted to them. Even putting aside future matters, I can't just cut ties now that it's convenient for me."

"I'll earn my own keep." "The world isn't that simple." "I'm leaving this house too," Shinpachi said. "I won't forget your kindness, but my coming here was a mistake. I should've left sooner—I knew that myself." "Shin," Omiya said, "are you truly serious about this?"

Shinpachi pressed his arm against his face, leaned back against the wall, and began to sob. Omiya called “Shin,” sprang up, and clung to Shinpachi. Shinpachi’s tears seemed to ignite a new fire within her. Omiya embraced Shinpachi like a madwoman, pressed her cheek against his, and said in a trembling voice: “You won’t go—you can’t go! The Date’s pursuers are watching outside. You have to avenge your brother—my brother won’t let you go, and neither will I!”

Omiya’s words came out in a jumbled mess. Shinpachi sobbed, but he no longer tried to escape from Omiya. “Don’t abandon me, Shin,” Omiya said. “You’re the first for me—my body may be soiled, but my heart is pure. I fell for you with a maiden’s untainted heart. You understand, don’t you? You do understand, don’t you, Shin?”

Omiya burst into tears.

“Don’t abandon me—if you abandon me, I won’t be able to go on living. Please, you understand, don’t you? Shin.” Omiya hugged him. “You understand, don’t you? You do, don’t you?” She pulled Shinpachi close. Shinpachi rebelled against his own indecision. But Omiya pulled him close with all her strength, clinging to him almost savagely. The two staggered, entangled, and fell onto the bedding there. What’s happening to me? Shinpachi tried to restrain himself. You call yourself the son of a samurai? Shame on you. But he was enveloped after all.

A supple weight as light and warm as cotton enveloped him, pressed him down, constricted him, and left him numb. He fell, soared up, and was torn apart within pleasure.

I'll escape—I'll make sure I escape. Shinpachi cried out in his daze. I have to escape. But he fell. He could not restrain himself. The monotonous repetition of that motion bound him up and tore him apart completely. I have to escape—quickly, quickly, I have to get out. And then he—utterly—lost sight of himself, melted, and was sucked into the ground. Shinpachi had become aware that his own body was slipping beyond his control. The habit he had first experienced about a month prior and had repeated ever since not only bound his body but now seemed to shackle even his freedom to think.

"But I'll get away," Shinpachi muttered under his breath.

While listening to Omiya’s peaceful breathing after her ecstasy, he thought that he would escape. I will definitely escape from here—I still have that much strength left in me. He believed this.

After some time had passed, Shinpachi abruptly opened his eyes. Then there was a person standing there. In the midst of a numbness-inducing slumber, he awoke and saw the person standing there. The man was watching Shinpachi. "Miya, wake up," the man said. Shinpachi opened his eyes fully. However, he couldn't move. That person was Kakizaki Rokurōbei. Rokurōbei put his foot on the shoulder of the deeply sleeping Omiya and shook her, his expression icy. Omiya let out a groggy sound. Shinpachi shuddered, closed his eyes, and—overcome by nausea—turned over.

Omiya's groggy voice embodied ignorance and vulgarity itself. In the inescapable stain of disgrace from having his condition witnessed, Shinpachi cursed Omiya. "Shinpachi, rise and come here," Kakizaki Rokurōbei's voice called from the six-mat room beyond. "There are matters requiring your attention too."

Rokurōbei’s returning to that house had become a rare occurrence of late. There had often been times before when he did not return, but from around early October, it became rare for him to come back at all, and even when he did return, he would leave immediately after taking care of his business. Omiya had let her guard down because of this; however, upon hearing Rokurōbei’s words, she became utterly bewildered. He told his sister that since she was to enter service at a mansion, she should prepare immediately. Omiya said she didn’t want to. "I can't handle formal samurai service anymore." "I won’t allow it. I’m giving the order." "Why?" "That’s none of your concern. Prepare yourself immediately." "What will happen to Shin?" "Miyamoto will remain here." "By himself?" "Nonaka Matagorō and his family will come." "So will Shin be living with those people?" "That’s right." "Do you have any objections?" said Rokurōbei.

Omiya quickly resigned herself. Resisting her brother was impossible. She did not want to part with Shinpachi - now that things had developed this way between them, separation felt all the more agonizing. Yet defying her brother's will seemed unthinkable. This drunken brute, she thought bitterly. "If I resisted, he'd beat me half to death and still force his way regardless," Omiya concluded. Rokurōbei pressed his sister with "Prepare yourself at once!" before turning to Shinpachi and questioning him about Hata Yoemon's surviving family.

Shinpachi spoke of Uno and Toranosuke.

“Were you close?” asked Rokurōbei.

Shinpachi answered that he was. Rokurōbei pressed further, "Do both siblings trust what you say enough?" "What do you mean by that?" "In every sense," said Rokurōbei. "I don't know," Shinpachi said, lowering his eyes. "We interacted like family, and that night we fled together and were saved by Mr. Harada." "I've already heard that." "Therefore, I believe they do trust me, but how much they will trust me depends on circumstances."

“Very well,” Rokurōbei nodded.

Shinpachi looked at Rokurōbei’s face with anxious eyes.

“Did something happen to those two?” “We’re going to rescue them,” said Rokurōbei. “If we don’t save those siblings, who knows what they’ll do to them. You understand that, don’t you?” “Do you think so?” “Don’t you?” Rokurōbei eyed him suspiciously. “Yes,” Shinpachi replied firmly. “The siblings are under Lord Harada’s protection. Whatever may come, I’m certain Lord Harada will keep them safe.”

Kakizaki Rokurōbei watched Shinpachi.

“You said when you escaped custody en route and returned to Edo that you planned to seek Lord Harada’s help.” “That’s right.” “You trust him that much?” “I do.” Shinpachi gulped. Rokurōbei studied his face with heightened suspicion. “So this belief isn’t based on firsthand experience?” “No direct dealings myself. But Mr. Harada holds the Chakuza rank—a hereditary position for chief retainers—so our stations differ entirely.”

“Then how can you know he can be trusted?” said Rokurōbei. Shinpachi hesitated slightly. Rokurōbei sneered. “What—the clan’s opinion?” Shinpachi said, “That’s right.” “You idiot.” A sneer and sharp anger flashed across Rokurōbei’s face. “You’re an idiot,” said Rokurōbei. “I know Harada Kai’s reputation too—he’s liked and trusted by everyone; few resent him, and there’s not a soul who hates or opposes him. Isn’t that right?”

Shinpachi nodded. “A schemer,” Rokurōbei said in a venomous tone. “That’s what we call such men. If someone’s loved by one side, they’re hated by another—praise and slander cling like shadows. For a man to be beloved by all without a whisper of ill repute? Proof he’s deceitful and cunning.”

"But Mr. Harada—" "Shut up! What do you know?" Rokurōbei snapped, his expression darkening with intensified anger. "You just spouted nonsense about Chakuza status and family lineages fit for chief retainers—low-ranking this, different status that. What's status? What does status matter? I don't care if Harada's a Chakuza or some lord of a 4,180-koku estate in Shibata District's Funooka—as Date retainers, you're equals! Why debase yourself like that?"

“I’m not belittling myself.” “If not belittling, then servility,” Rokurōbei said. “Those who take large stipends and hold high status are upstarts versed in cunning and schemes—and what’s more, they’ve stolen it all from the masses.”

Rokurōbei twisted his lips. He now seemed to have forgotten to restrain himself, consumed by hatred and hostility.

He could not endure families living in peace, those wielding power and prestige, the wealthy nobles basking in public admiration. These privileges were things they had unjustly acquired. Through guile and stratagems, they had merely wrested them from multitudes of others. Those ranks, riches, and authority might have rightfully been Rokurōbei's - or at the very least, should have belonged to countless ordinary men.

That fact constantly drove Rokurōbei to hostility and hatred. "Raise your head higher," said Rokurōbei. "This world is nothing but struggle—either you crush your opponent or get crushed yourself. There's no third path. Believe in yourself. Strengthen yourself. Trusting others just because you're swayed by reputation? That alone makes you a loser already. Get a grip!" "In that case," Shinpachi said uneasily, "is Mr. Harada someone we cannot trust?"

“That depends on verifying the facts first,” said Rokurōbei. “Until we’ve verified them, you can’t trust anyone.” “Then…” Shinpachi looked at him. “You’re still going to rescue the Hata siblings?” “Without fail.”

"When?" "That's for me to decide," said Rokurōbei.

Omiya came out and said, “The preparations are ready.” She adjusted her hair and makeup, changed her clothes, and carried a bundle. Rokurōbei grimaced and scrutinized his sister’s appearance as if testing her. Omiya fidgeted and asked, “Is this too flashy?” Rokurōbei looked at Shinpachi. “Nonaka’s family will come later—a couple with one child. The wife seems to be in poor health, so don’t treat them like guests the way you have before.” Then he said, “I’ll come within two or three days,” and stood up.

Omiya stared at Shinpachi. “Well then... Shin.” “Miyā, quit dawdling,” said Rokurōbei. Omiya stared at Shinpachi with tear-filled eyes and said tremulously, “I’ll be going now. Since you’re still unwell, please take good care of yourself.” Shinpachi replied, “Right,” without looking toward her. “I’ll come for sure once I’m back from my service. It must be hard for you here alone, but bear with it a little longer.”

“Miyā,” said Rokurōbei.

“Well then... Goodbye, Shin.”

While pressing her fingers to the corners of her eyes, Omiya stood up holding a bundle. Shinpachi turned his face away, remained silent, and nodded weakly. As dusk approached, Nonaka Matagorō and his wife and child arrived. The previous time they had visited, Shinpachi had only heard their voices; this was his first time meeting them. Matagorō was thirty-two years old. By his own account, he was a ronin from the Gamō clan. His wife’s name was Sawa, their nine-year-old daughter Oichi. Their life as masterless samurai must have been prolonged—both husband and wife were emaciated, their complexions sallow, their clothing threadbare, their possessions amounting to no more than three bundles. Matagorō and Sawa both greeted Shinpachi with formal courtesy. “We place ourselves in your care,” they said, and when the greetings concluded, Matagorō immediately had his wife lie down.

Shinpachi took the inner six-tatami room, and they took the adjacent six-tatami room connected to the kitchen. “Don’t go acting like some guest.”

“Don’t you dare act like a guest,” said Rokurōbei. Shinpachi had never considered himself a guest up until now, nor did he remember ever being treated as one. However, when he saw the Nonakas’ weary, life-worn appearance, he resolved to do everything within his power—but when it came to figuring out what exactly that might be, he found himself utterly at a loss. “If there’s anything you need, please tell me,” Shinpachi repeated.

Matagorō expressed his gratitude, apologized for the trouble, stated there was nothing he needed to ask for, and did nothing but repeat that he wished they wouldn’t worry about him. Oichi was also a quiet child; except when doing chores, she would sit by her mother’s side in perfect silence. It was later discovered that during those times, the girl was either reading or practicing calligraphy. Classical recitation was taught by her father Nonaka Matagorō, while her mother instructed her in calligraphy and needlework. However, except during classical recitation sessions, both the teaching voices and answering voices remained hushed, nearly whispered—so much so that one might think the place empty if not careful.

After putting his wife to bed, Matagorō took Oichi shopping; upon returning, he began cooking in the kitchen—Shinpachi first noticed through the sounds. He had never prepared meals or anything of the sort, nor had he ever considered needing to do so. With Omiya gone, he now had to handle all the cooking himself. He should have realized this naturally, but it was only when he discovered Matagorō had begun [cooking] that he finally became aware of it.

“No need to worry.” While rinsing rice, Nonaka Matagorō said with a faint smile, “My wife being frail, I’ve somehow grown skilled at this over time. Since the effort remains the same either way, I’ll prepare yours along with ours. Please keep sitting there.”

Shinpachi couldn’t bring himself to insist otherwise.

Listening to his sleeping wife’s coughs from the bedroom, Oichi’s “Yes, yes” replies from the kitchen area, and the crackling of firewood in the newly lit hearth, Shinpachi found himself vaguely thinking of Omiya. The day after moving in, Matagorō remained home throughout daylight hours—organizing their living quarters and taking his daughter out for provisions.

Shinpachi felt somehow ill at ease. Preparing meals was something he should naturally be doing given his age—he certainly intended to—but Matagorō kept taking care of everything first, leaving him utterly at a loss about how to intervene. So he decided to eat dinner out, and after Matagorō went shopping, left the house without a word. When he exited, at the neighboring house Okume had just returned home; opening the lattice door, she smiled his way.

“Oh, heading out?” Shinpachi nodded. “Yeah.” “Someone’s at your place—a guest maybe?” “They moved in,” Shinpachi answered quietly. “Moved in...to live with you?” “That’s right.” “Hmm—” Okume tilted her head, then added like sudden inspiration, “Why don’tcha step inside?”

“Miyā-chan stopped by yesterday—said she’s entering service at some grand house. You must be feeling lonely.” Shinpachi flushed red. Noticing his blush, Okume pressed further: “Do come in.” “She really did ask me to look after you! Said since we’re neighbors now, I ought to help out. I may not handle things as well as she did, but tending to you I can manage.”

“I have some business to attend to.” “Come now, won’t you come inside?” Okume tilted her head, wearing a coquettish smile as she stared fixedly into Shinpachi’s eyes. Shinpachi flushed deeper red and fled down the alleyway. Just as he emerged onto the main street, he met Nonaka Matagorō returning home. Carrying shopping parcels with his daughter, Matagorō quickened his pace upon seeing Shinpachi and shook his head.

“You mustn’t go outside.” Matagorō said, “You were told this by Mr. Kakizaki, weren’t you? Do you have some business to attend to?” “Yes, just a little.” Shinpachi stammered. “If there’s something you need done, please tell me. I’ll go and handle it for you.” Shinpachi shook his head vaguely and muttered that it wasn’t particularly urgent. “Then let’s return,” Matagorō said, beginning to walk. “From now on, please do not go out without permission.”

The following day—that is, the third day since moving in—Nonaka Matagorō left the house around eight in the morning and returned in the evening when darkness was already falling. Though not made of expensive materials, Nonaka's appearance in his neatly arranged haori over hakama looked clean and dignified. Kakizaki wore luxurious clothes and possessed handsome features, but he lacked Nonaka's clean-cut impression and bore no trace of that "dignified" quality. ——Mr. Nonaka truly is a man of upright character.

Shinpachi thought to himself. When dinner ended, Nonaka Matagorō said, “Let’s step out for a bit.” Shinpachi looked at him. “We’re heading to Mr. Kakizaki’s place,” Matagorō added.

Shinpachi changed clothes. The kimono, obi, and hakama had all been newly made for him by Omiya. Nonaka Matagorō cautioned his daughter about securing the doors, fire hazards, and caring for her mother. "I may not return tonight." With that, he left together with Shinpachi.

As they passed by the neighboring house, Shinpachi caught sight of Okume sliding open a shoji screen and watching them from the corner of his eye. Had he been alone, she would likely have tried to stop him; walking out of the alley, he recalled his secret affair with Omiya. The two walked for nearly half an hour. Shinpachi could tell they had passed through Asakusa Gate, but beyond that point, he had no idea which streets they'd turned down or how they'd wound their way through. I wonder if we're heading toward Surugadai.

While lost in these thoughts, they came upon a new house on a backstreet where Matagorō announced, "Here we are." A sign reading "Sugaryū Kakizaki Dōjō" hung on the gatepost. Shinpachi stood dumbfounded.

――Mr. Kakizaki’s dojo. To think he makes his sister work such degrading jobs while running this grand dojo himself—what sort of man is he? Shinpachi wondered. Matagorō bypassed the main entrance, circling around to enter through the residential wing’s doorway. The practice hall stood dark, with neither lights nor any indication of occupants.

Rokurōbei was drinking sake in the parlor. Three young women in gaudy attire served him. They were seventeen- or eighteen-year-old beauties—their hairstyles, clothing, posture, gestures, and speech all flirted with allure like women of the pleasure quarters. “Move along, move along,” Rokurōbei said, waving his hand. Shinpachi entered and—just as he was about to sit down—Rokurōbei waved his hand and spoke. Nonaka Matagorō stood up, signaled to Shinpachi with his eyes, and exited the room.

They proceeded down the dark corridor and turned to find a shoji screen illuminated by lamplight on the right side. "Ishikawa Uji," Matagorō called out, and a voice answered from within. Matagorō slid open the shoji screen and entered. A single middle-aged samurai lay sprawled there.

Winter wind.

Uno was having her morning meal.

The room was still dark. The light from the shaded lantern illuminated the face of the sleeping Toranosuke from the direction of his head. Uno was eating quietly, occasionally glancing that way as if trying not to make a sound with her teeth.

Uno’s face showed signs of fatigue. 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. Avoid exposure to wind until all rashes have fully developed. The doctor had stressed this. Uno had had measles when she was nine years old. She remembered the suffering of being confined day after day in a tightly shut room during the peak of summer heat. Now that it was fortunately winter, being confined would not be particularly harsh, and Toranosuke was sensible and obediently followed his sister’s instructions.

Ever since coming to Ryōgen-in, Yakichi the temple caretaker and his wife Okiwa had been caring for both siblings. They brought three daily meals while handling all sewing, laundry, and other trivial chores—everything was managed by Yakichi's household. Though likely motivated by responsibility from being entrusted by the Harada family, their childless state and faint awareness of the siblings' plight seemed to drive them toward this devoted care born of profound 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 weren’t truly life-threatening—or so she believed—she had sent the notice just to be safe. Even so, it’s still so early, Uno thought as she set down her chopsticks and stood up. Toranosuke slept soundly. Mindful of the fusuma and shoji screens’ movements, Uno made her way to the high corridor. The overcast sky and early hour left the surroundings dimmed, while a strong wind blew fiercely.

As the stinging cold wind blew, Uno pulled her collar together and glanced toward the garden. When she stepped out onto the high corridor, it seemed to have become a habit for her to always do so. The fir tree stood calmly. Was that spot sheltered from the wind? Despite the fierce gusts blowing, Kai’s fir stood with its branches spread wide, utterly still, not swaying in the least. “Uno-san, over here,” a voice called out. At the steps leading down to the garden, Miyamoto Shinpachi was looking this way. Not only was his attire different, but his face also seemed somehow altered, making it impossible to recognize him immediately. Uno quietly approached.

“It has been some time,” Uno said. She bowed slightly as she spoke, gazing at Shinpachi with nostalgic warmth. His face appeared pale and rigid; his dried lips, drained of color—likely from the cold—trembled faintly. “So it was you who came from Lord Harada.” “Yes,” Shinpachi moistened his lips, “it’s me, of course.” “I had thought you went to Sendai.”

“I did go once.” “As I recall, I had heard you were to be placed under the custody of your home domain, but—” “Yes, that’s correct.” Shinpachi quickly looked behind him.

“So?” Uno said. Shinpachi licked his lips again and, trembling, said hurriedly, “While I was being taken to Sendai, Mr. Harada rescued me. I’ve been in hiding ever since.” “Oh! By Lord Harada?” “So the reason you came here this morning…” He stammered. He seemed to be trying to speak urgently, but his tongue refused to cooperate. He quickly glanced around again. “Actually… it’s to take you with me—you and young Toranosuke.”

"Where to?" “I don’t know,” Shinpachi said. “You know Horiuchi Sōzaemon, Lord Harada’s chief retainer? He’s waiting near Seishō-ji. As for where we go after that, I haven’t been told.”

"But what has happened?" Uno asked. "Has something necessitated our leaving here with such urgency?" "Because it's become dangerous," Shinpachi said hurriedly, "I'm in the same predicament, but you and Toranosuke are also at risk. There's no time for detailed explanations now—Lord Hyōbu's faction means to seize us." "Why would that be?" Uno said. "Hadn't our punishment already been formally decided by the authorities?"

“It’s a conspiracy, yes,” said Shinpachi. “Lord Hyōbu’s faction’s conspiracy. Mr. Harada will explain the details later. They say time is of the essence, so please hurry.” “But that’s impossible,” Uno said, looking at Shinpachi. “Didn’t you hear from Lord Harada? My brother has been bedridden with measles since the day before yesterday.” “However, the palanquin is waiting,” 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’re aware of the measles?” “Do you doubt me?” “I don’t doubt you. But the doctor said he mustn’t catch wind until the rash fully surfaces. My brother’s only just begun to show spots.” “That’s as may be,” Shinpachi snapped, “but there’s a palanquin. Wrap him tight in something—carry him yourself—he won’t catch wind that way.”

“Is that so?” “If they abduct you, it will undoubtedly be a matter of life and death, so please make your preparations as quickly as possible.”

Uno nodded and said, “Yes.”

She hesitated. Shinpachi urged them onward with the eyes of a hunted man, his gaze constantly darting left, right, and behind. To Uno, this seemed like proof that danger was drawing near. Thus resolved at last, she retreated into the inner quarters.

Shinpachi bit his lip and trembled violently. A swift wind skimmed over the high roof of the temple lodgings and blew down, whipping against his hakama and sleeves. Shinpachi shrank back.

"I did it... I finally did it." His muttering trembled, "And I deceived Uno-san... No, that's not true." He shook his head. He muttered under his breath, "That can't be true." Why had he thought such a thing—to say he'd deceived her? I'm not deceiving anyone. I will rescue the Hata siblings. That's right. Kakizaki-san knows about the Ichinoseki conspiracy; he'll let us take our revenge. And I'll rescue Uno-san and the others—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 emerged shortly after, he began trembling so violently that his heels barely touched the ground, his eyes taking on an expression of near-terror. Behind Uno, Yakichi held Toranosuke—swaddled tightly in a kimono—while Okiwa followed carrying bundles.

“I’ll summon a palanquin now.” Shinpachi ran toward the gate.

Shiozawa Tansaburō arrived at Ryōgen-in immediately after Uno and the others' palanquin had exited the gate. He had come to visit Toranosuke. The previous night, he had heard from Kai that Toranosuke was bedridden with measles and been told to visit him the following day. At that time, he had also been given some money to bring items for the visit. Of course, he hadn't intended to come at such an hour, but upon waking, he felt a sudden urgency and wanted to meet Uno immediately to learn of Toranosuke's condition.

She must be struggling so much. Uno was only thirteen years old. No matter how mature beyond her years she might be, having to care for a sick younger brother would surely leave her at a loss. To Tansaburō, Uno's helpless, sorrowful face seemed to appear before his eyes. The get-well gifts can wait until later.

That’s what he thought.

His mother had said, "It’s too early," and told him to go after eating breakfast. "The temple gates probably aren’t even open yet." "No—I’ll go to Fujeimon gate and have them open it." While exchanging these words, 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 worker's hut. Yakichi was splitting firewood. As Tansaburō approached, Yakichi, still gripping the hatchet, looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“I came to visit the Hata siblings,” Tansaburō said. “I heard Toranosuke is ill.” Yakichi gave a half-hearted “Huh” in reply and rubbed his nose with the back of his left hand. The wind blew fiercely, and his partially gray hair fluttered into his face. “Well,” Yakichi said, “the honorable Hata siblings—an escort came for them, and they’ve just departed.”

“An escort came? From where?” “Well, that would be... from the residence.” “Which residence?” “Why, it can only be Lord Harada, of course.” Tansaburō grew anxious, but he thought Yakichi must be mistaken about something. But Yakichi said it was not a mistake. The circumstances were unclear, but an escort had indeed come from the Harada residence, and Uno left in a tremendous hurry together with Toranosuke. “The escorts had the palanquin wait, put the siblings into it, and departed,” Yakichi said.

Tansaburō changed color. "That can’t be," he said. "There’s no way an escort came from the residence. They’re impostors." "What do you mean?"

“Which way did the palanquin go?” Tansaburō shouted. Having likely heard the voices, Okiwa peeked out from the kitchen entrance. Yakichi answered while waving one hand as if to say *“Stay back!”*—*“The palanquin went toward Onaridō.”*

“We saw them off to the gate—they definitely went toward the main residence.” “I’ll go after them,” Tansaburō said. “My apologies—inform the middle residence. No, wait.” He bit his lip. I don’t know who’s behind this kidnapping—can’t let fools catch wind of it. Realizing this, he shook his head. “No—that won’t be necessary.” “This old man’ll come too,” Yakichi said.

Tansaburō had already started running. Exiting through the Onarimon Gate revealed a riding ground ahead, beyond which samurai residences stretched continuously. Through wind blowing directly against him, Tansaburō ran desperately. Yet no palanquin was visible. Since this road ran straight eastward, any departing palanquin should have been seen. It might be the cut-through path, Tansaburō thought. Or perhaps Shiba-dōri—he halted abruptly. Then came a shout from behind. "This way!" came the cry.

“Lord Shiozawa! This way!”

When he looked back, Yakichi was pointing toward the cut-through path. Tansaburō ran back. "I just saw them turn toward Atagoshita," Yakichi said. "How many are with them?" "There seemed to be two."

Tansaburō ran desperately.

The sparse crowd coming and going startled upon seeing Tansaburō running past, hastily stepping aside or watching him pass with uneasy eyes. Each time a gust of wind came, dust swirled up on the road.—A short distance past Seishō-ji Temple, Tansaburō caught up to the palanquin. Behind the palanquin was one samurai in a black haori with a hood; at the front was another samurai who still looked boyish in appearance. To the left was a temple; just beyond it, Mount Atago could be seen. To the right was a samurai residence, where companions could be seen sweeping in front of the gate. Tansaburō overtook the palanquin and, screaming, stood blocking its path.

“Stop the palanquin!”

And he gasped and widened his eyes. The other man also gasped. The palanquin stopped. "Aren't you Miyamoto?" Tansaburō said. Shinpachi abruptly turned pale; he opened his eyes wide and his mouth, but no voice came out. Tansaburō looked ahead. The samurai who had been behind the palanquin began advancing this way. That was Kakizaki Rokurōbei. Tansaburō said to Shinpachi, "What's going on? What are you doing with Lady Uno? What is the meaning of this?"

“What’s this meddling?” Rokurōbei said as he drew near. Tansaburō looked into the man’s eyes and sensed peril. Within the hood’s shadowed recesses, those eyes bore an eerie gleam resembling killing intent.

“Lady Uno!” Tansaburō shouted. A voice responded from inside the palanquin: “Yes?” “You’ve been deceived—come out at once!” “Surrender the palanquin,” Rokurōbei said. “Meddle further and you’ll pay dearly.” “Miyamoto—who is this man?”

“I’m rescuing the Hata siblings,” Rokurōbei said. “They’re being watched—I’ll hide them somewhere safe.” “Who are you?” “No need for names,” Rokurōbei said. “Just give up the palanquin now.”

“I won’t let you do that!”

Tansaburō jumped back and drew his sword. Shinpachi was trembling violently. A gust of wind suddenly blew dust. Tansaburō saw that one side was lined with samurai residences, their gates manned by his comrades. The two companions who had been sweeping in front of the gate were gazing this way as if wondering what was happening. Yakichi was also standing five or six ken away. Rokurōbei placed his hand on his sword hilt and, shouting “Shinpachi! Hand over the palanquin!”, advanced toward Tansaburō.

Tansaburō held his sword in the seigan stance and screamed at the top of his voice, “I beg you, lend me your aid! Please!” The sparse passersby came to a halt, and of the two comrades who were watching from afar, one dashed into the estate gate. While noticing this in his peripheral vision, Tansaburō kept screaming. “I am a retainer of Date Mutsu-no-kami! I beg you to lend me your aid! This is a kidnapping!” “Shut up, brat!” Rokurōbei closed in.

Tansaburō continued shouting as he circled to the side. In the distance, Yakichi also bellowed the same thing. The palanquin broke into a run. Tansaburō kept pushing past the front of the palanquin while avoiding Rokurōbei and screaming. But Rokurōbei immediately cornered Tansaburō. They were at the foot of Mount Atago; to the left rose the high stone steps of Otokozaka. Tansaburō leapt over a stone bridge spanning a ditch—about six feet in length—and as he entered the temple grounds, he shouted, "Yakichi-dono!"

“I’m fine here! Chase the palanquin!”

Yakichi's reply reached them, and Rokurōbei stepped forward. Tansaburō's mind snapped white-hot. Rokurōbei's advancing form loomed terrifyingly large - an overwhelming presence. He's going to cut me down, Tansaburō thought. Rokurōbei kept glaring as he pressed closer, step by relentless step. When the distance shrank to two ken, his hand closed on the sword hilt. Tansaburō couldn't move. I'm going to die here, I thought again.

But at that moment, five samurai came rushing over. The earlier comrade must have alerted them, and those from the samurai residence over there had come to lend their aid. “Which of you serves the Date clan?” one of them called out. “I do,” Tansaburō said. “A crucial ward under our protection has been abducted.” “That palanquin moving yonder contains them. I implore your assistance.” “Understood,” said one, whereupon two of the five men gave chase to the palanquin while three advanced this way. They shouted.

“We are retainers of Matsudaira Oki-no-kami—we’ll lend our aid!” Rokurōbei turned around. He released his hand from the sword hilt and coldly regarded the three men. Seeing his cold gaze and composed, unassailable stance, the three Matsudaira men swiftly spread out to either side.

Rokurōbei acknowledged the operation's failure. He scrutinized the three Matsudaira retainers individually before fixing his gaze on Tansaburō. "Brat," he said, his voice dripping with sardonic approval, "you've managed well." Tansaburō maintained his seigan stance, blade unwavering. Adjusting his hood with deliberate care, Rokurōbei buried both hands in his sleeves and commenced a measured retreat toward the thoroughfare. Each step fell with calculated precision—tentative yet deliberate—as he kept his hands concealed within his kimono folds. Tansaburō and the Matsudaira men stood transfixed, breath suspended like drawn bowstrings, compelled to witness his withdrawal.

When Rokurōbei emerged onto the street, the other two from the Matsudaira household returned with Yakichi, bringing Uno and Toranosuke back. Yakichi was holding Toranosuke. Without so much as glancing their way, Rokurōbei turned into Yakushi Alley. Tansaburō sheathed his sword, thanked the Matsudaira retainers, then ran toward Uno. “Uno-san, are you hurt?” “No,” she replied, looking up at him, “but I’m worried about Toranosuke catching a chill—his rash hasn’t fully cleared yet.”

“Let’s hurry back.” “Lord Miyamoto—what does he intend to do with me?” “I don’t know. But it will become clear in time.” Tansaburō once again expressed his gratitude to the Matsudaira retainers. Then the four returned through the wind to Ryōgen-in.

Fragment (4)

A secret accusation document had arrived once again from Lord Ōyama (Daigaku) of Sendai. "This makes twice now. What does it allege?"

“It concerns the impeachment of Lord Mōniya (Shūhō).” “What does it state?” “Lord Tsunamune’s misconduct was instigated by Lord Mōniya; the delays in the Koishikawa moat construction have repeatedly incurred large amounts of wasteful spending, driving the domain’s finances to distress. While burdening the entire vassal corps with additional levies, the indefinite continuation of this construction also falls under Lord Mōniya’s responsibility as overseer.” “They’ve presented concrete specifics for the first time.” “There are three other articles listed, but they hold no significance.”

"What is their demand?" "They demand his resignation." "Resignation, you say?" "It states that one cannot perform official duties alongside a person of malicious intent like Lord Mōniya—if you would punish Lord Mōniya and entrust all domain governance entirely to me, that would suffice; otherwise, resignation remains the only course." "Have they sent one to Iwamura (Tamura Ukyō) as well?" "It states that an identical petition has been submitted there."

“Then he will come to consult.”

“Lord Iwamura…?”

“He’s weak-willed—he’ll never manage to suppress it. He’ll surely come to consult.” “What would you have us do?” “What would Hayato do?” “Dismissing Lord Mōniya would be a most opportune chance, I should think.” “That’s shortsighted. Lord Shūhō oversees the moat construction project—do you think someone serving in an official capacity for the shogunate can be removed so easily?” “This was my mistake.” “Even if we could remove him, as things stand it wouldn’t be worth the effort. We must provoke Lord Ōyama further.”

“Understood.” “We’ll suppress this secret accusation too. When Iwamura comes groveling, we’ll crush him decisively. For one bearing guardianship duties—can he not separate public from private? Lord Ōyama’s petition isn’t worth a passing glance.” “Will Lord Ōyama not resign?” “Never. He’s feverishly scheming to oust Shūhō and seize the Council of Elders’ leadership. Had resignation truly been his intent, he’d have quit before filing this secret indictment.” “His fury will be inevitable.”

“What are the other three articles?” “We humbly beseech your gracious favor, Milord.” “Whining?” “In Manji 1, when the proposal for a gracious stipend increase was presented to Milord, Lord Mōniya stated three thousand koku, but I insisted on seven thousand koku. When the increase was decided that December, it followed precisely my insistence—this solely because I trusted you as my relied-upon patron. Regarding this current matter, I wish to obtain your special consideration.” Such was the meaning conveyed in the document.

“Enough. The fool spouts such nonsense.” “Shall I present the other two articles as well?” “Enough. Put that petition away.” “Understood.” “Is there any word from Shūhō?” “There is nothing to report.” “To the shogunate, there should be discussions regarding offerings as formalities for Lord Kamechiyo’s succession.” “There is still no word from Lord Mōniya.” “Is that all?” “Hino Nakauemon has arrived.”

“Have him come in.”

“By your august summons have I come to attend—I am Hino Nakauemon.” “Hayato, withdraw.” “At once.”

“Clear the room.” “Understood.” “Nakauemon, approach.” “By your leave.” “You were recently appointed guardian to Lord Kamechiyo, I presume?” “As your will dictates, I was appointed alongside Ōmatsuzawa Jinzaemon and Hashimoto Zen'emon.” “Do you comprehend the weight of this duty?”

“I am aware.” “No—you do not know. You cannot possibly know.” “Understood.” “It was I who added you as guardian alongside Hashimoto and Ōmatsuzawa. That decision stemmed from my recognition of your tenacity.”

"I am a man of no talent." "What I require is unwavering devotion." "I shall humbly accept." "Can you die for Lord Kamechiyo?" "You need not concern yourself." "Listen well. Lord Kamechiyo is not secure—there is no telling what may befall him." "I must ask something unexpected."

“I said you could not have known.”

“I ask that you disclose the particulars.” “At the Shinagawa lower mansion, Ōmachi Bizen serves as chief retainer. I hold guardianship responsibilities there as well. According to Bizen’s reports, Lord Tsunamune remains dissatisfied with his retirement and wishes to return to public office as Mutsu-no-kami.” “Does this come from his true heart?” “When Funooka—myself—attended him previously, he reportedly drew his sword and raged, shouting ‘I shall reclaim my position! My retirement was orchestrated through conspiracy!’”

“I have heard about his drunken rampage.” “There are not a few who sympathize with Lord Tsunamune and support him. Driven by misguided sympathy, some may be plotting unimaginable acts. In fact, several suspicious incidents have already occurred.”

“I find this difficult to believe.” “I do not tell you to believe—nor need you believe. You need only fulfill your guardianship duty with the resolve to abandon your very self.” “I am prepared for that.” “That suffices. I summoned you precisely to confirm that resolve. My judgment was not mistaken. Withdraw.” “I have one brief question.”

“What is it?” “Is it true there are those supporting Lord Tsunamune who plot to restore him?” “You need not believe it.” “Then is it also true something has already occurred regarding Lord Kamechiyo’s person, as you stated?” “I do not tell you to believe. What I ask is that this guardianship duty holds great import for you, and that—separate from your two fellow guardians—you bear responsibility to protect the young lord.”

“Understood completely.” “Do not forget what I am relying on you for.” “I do not intend to betray your expectations.” “You may withdraw. We shall meet again.”

“Hayato? What is it?”

“That person has just arrived and reported that Miyamoto Shinpachi is in Edo.” “Shinpachi… Right, understood.” “He reports that yesterday at dawn, he appeared at Ryōgen-in Temple and attempted to kidnap the Hata siblings under our custody.” “Shinpachi should be under Kakizaki’s protection.”

“Is that indeed the case?” “Kakizaki stated as much—that Shinpachi views me as an enemy—and thus claimed he has him restrained.” “Then it was Rokurōbei who ordered the kidnapping?” “Did it succeed?” “No—a man called Shiozawa arrived on the scene and reportedly recaptured them at the final moment.” “What of Shinpachi?” “He reportedly fled as he was.” “Kakizaki—you’ve bungled it.”

“Was the intention to acquire the Hata siblings?” “He’s not one to yield—he’ll surely bide his time and strike again. And as for the Hata siblings, no doubt they’re watching for my head too.” “Shall I summon Rokurōbei?” “Let him act freely for now. I’ll soon have orders for him. Every coin I’ve paid him—I’ll reclaim it all without fail.”

“It is nine o’clock. Will Your Lordship be proceeding to Lord Umabashi (Sakai Tadakiyo)?”

“Is there any word from Suō?” “No word has yet arrived.” “Then let us proceed to Umabashi. When someone comes from Suō, tell them to confer without concerning me.” “I humbly comply.”

Shell Matching

That day—at the Harada household’s morning gruel gathering—there was an unusually rare guest. From the province had come Shibata Geki, Furuuchi Shima (Yoshinari), and Katakura Kojūrō. Shibata Geki had recently assumed office as senior retainer, while Furuuchi Shima—son of Shigenobu, another senior retainer—was thirty years old and served as councilor. When his father Shigenobu was dispatched to Mount Kōya for memorial services honoring the late lord Tadamune and subsequently returned to the province after fulfilling his duties, Shima had come to Edo as his replacement.

Katakura Kojūrō (Kagenaga) was the lord of Shiraishi Castle in Katta District—a 17,000-koku estate—whose family held the prestigious "Ie-ka" rank within the clan hierarchy, and currently served as superintendent of the Koishikawa Moat construction project. In addition, the gathering included the elderly woman Toba, Satomi Jūzaemon, and Itō Shichijūrō.

The elderly woman Toba was the daughter of the ronin Sakakida Rokurōzaemon. At seventeen, she had entered service as a maidservant to the late Tadamune’s wife and now served as guardian to Kamechiyo at this main residence. She was forty years old, and though her complexion was no longer youthful, her expressive eyes and soft movements at times revealed a lingering voluptuous charm and wisdom. Itō Shichijūrō was supposed to return to the province within two or three days, and the conversation began there, but Shichijūrō sat silently drinking sake as though he had forgotten his usual loquacity.

Jūzaemon seemed concerned about this and kept glancing toward Shichijūrō. Even though they're always quick to start quarreling.

Kai found it amusing.

At the upper seat, Shima and Kojūrō were discussing matters. The subject concerned the gold mine in Rikuzen. Within the territory newly added to Hyōbu Muneakira's domain lay the Date family's gold mine. The debate centered on whether the gold from this mine should belong to Hyōbu or remain with the main Date domain.

“That is a difficult problem,” said Katakura Kojūrō. “It is a difficult problem,” Shima nodded.

"If we don't settle the ownership soon, I believe it will become a source of conflict," said Shima. Shibata Geki remained silent. When the conversation between Shima and Kojūrō paused, Jūza—appearing to have lost patience—called out to Shichijūrō. “Lord Itō, is something wrong?” “Yeah,” Shichijūrō turned around. “You seem terribly dejected,” said Jūza. “Has something troubling occurred?” “Shichijūrō seems to have had his horns filed down,” said Kai. “Wasn’t that the case at Lord Wakuya’s farewell banquet the other day?”

“At the farewell banquet—what was that about?” “It would be better not to say,” Kai said with a smile. Shibata Geki’s face soured. While Katakura and Shima were discussing the critical matter of how to determine the gold mine’s ownership, Kai had begun speaking of trivialities—clearly attempting to divert the conversation. Indeed, this apparent effort to avoid the topic made Geki openly scowl. Both Shichijūrō and Jūza, too, had discerned from Kai’s tone that he wished to change the subject.

“Let me hear you say it,” Shichijūrō said, looking at Kai. “What did I do at the Shigenie house?” “Shichijūrō insisted on meeting Lord Wakuya,” Kai said to Toba. “He hadn’t been invited. Matsuyama—Shigenie Suō—has that temperament you know well, and Lord Wakuya doesn’t bend protocol.” “When was this?” Toba asked. As she spoke, she fixed Kai with an impassioned gaze.

“When Lord Wakuya was returning to his domain, a farewell banquet was held at the Matsuyama residence.”

“So what happened then?” “I tried to stop him, you see, but Shichijūrō made a rather cheeky remark—‘The old man’—that being Lord Wakuya—‘is particular about formalities and etiquette, but he’s easy enough to appease.’ That’s what he said.” “That’s so like Lord Itō.” Toba smiled, pressing one hand to her cheek as she stared intently into Kai’s eyes. “He probably had some strategy to appease them and was quite confident, but the Shigenie family, of course, did not usher him into the inner chambers—left waiting in the antechamber, his aim ultimately went unfulfilled.”

“Lord Harada, how wicked of you! Why didn’t you mediate for him?” “If I did such a thing, Shichijūrō would get angry.” “So he’d get angry?” “He would get angry indeed,” said Kai. “He had considerable pride, you see. If I were to meddle unnecessarily, it would wound his pride.” “Lord Itō is quite the difficult one, isn’t he?” “I had gotten terribly drunk and ended up staying over, so I don’t know when he left, but I do believe he had his horns filed down that night. Isn’t that right, Shichijūrō?”

“I do not believe I ever had any horns to begin with, and therefore, I don’t think I could have nonexistent horns filed down.” “What are your thoughts, Lord Satomi?” said Kai.

Jūza looked perplexed and mumbled incoherently. "We're in mid-discussion," said Shibata Geki. He seemed to be suppressing his emotions, but unmistakable anger showed through his fifty-two-year-old eyes and voice. The gathering fell utterly silent. "Lord Funooka, what are your thoughts regarding the current gold mine?"

Kai said "Well," looking perplexed. “Within the territory newly added to Ichinoseki, there is a gold mine. Do you deem the gold produced there to belong to the main domain or to Ichinoseki?” “My apologies,” Kai said calmly, “but at this morning gruel meeting, we have agreed that all political discussions are strictly prohibited.”

“I want answers,” said Geki. “There are other questionable matters. The Ichinoseki faction has been redirecting the domain’s official ships to Kesennuma and shipping their own tax rice to Edo under the guise of ‘stipend rice.’ This is an indisputable fact. I wish to hear Edo’s senior officials’ opinions regarding these matters as well.”

"I remain but a Councilor." "That cannot be," Geki countered sharply. "You hail from a seated lineage, Lord Funooka. With Ichinoseki's support, are you not soon to be named Chief Retainer?"

“Well now,” Kai said with a wry smile, “I cannot say where such rumors might spring from, but this is the first I hear of it. Most unexpected.” “I find nothing unexpected,” Geki retorted. “Nor do our counterparts in Wakuya territory, it would seem. But let us lay that matter aside. You will answer my question.” “Allow me to clarify,” Kai responded with a nod. “Though lacking full particulars, when Lord Masamune received the gold mine within our domain from the Toyotomi house, there was attached a written guarantee stating that however much gold it might produce, we would manage it ourselves without shogunal confiscation.”

"I did not ask about such matters." "Since then—" Kai continued, "within the domain, officials called Kaneyama Honbanmochi have been appointed. They manage the mines and each year submit duty payments to the domain." "And what of that?" "If hypothetically speaking, the main domain were to present a portion of its gold production to the shogunate, then that gold mine would belong to the main domain. If not—since mines adhere to the land they occupy—would it not naturally belong to whoever holds that territory?"

“So that is your opinion, then.”

Geki barely suppressed a shout. That he had restrained himself became clear from his face flushing crimson with rage and lips trembling visibly. "I see," said Geki. "Now I understand why Lord Funooka enjoys Lord Ichinoseki's favor." "Well now," Kai replied with a polite nod. "When pressed to state my opinion, I merely expressed what came to mind—though it seems this displeases Lord Maitani."

“I am a stubborn country bumpkin,” said Geki. “I possess no flexible mind and know nothing of currying favor. But I can distinguish righteousness from wickedness, justice from injustice—black from white. Remember that I at least have eyes to see this much.”

“This is most troubling,” Kai said to Katakura Kojūrō. “It seems I’ve thoroughly offended Lord Maitani. Lord Shiraishi, won’t you mediate?”

“I’m leaving,” said Geki, rising from his seat. Kojūrō and Toba tried to calm him, but Furuuchi Shima also stood up and said, “Then I shall join you as well,” beginning preparations to leave. Kai patiently offered apologies and had Horinouchi Sōzaemon escort the two. The gathering grew completely awkward, and after that, the conversation failed to liven up. Eventually, Kojūrō turned his cup upside down and said to the attendant Naruse Kyūma, “A meal,” whereupon the elderly Toba and Satomi Jūzaemon also requested meals. Then, for the first time, Itō Shichijūrō raised his face and spoke to Jūza.

“It’s still too early for a meal. You can’t have it yet, Mr. Satomi.” “No, I’ll take my meal now.” “Fine then, let’s have one.” Shichijūrō raised his cup. “The day had been stifling enough, but watching Funooka’s master get dressed down cleared my frustration beautifully.” “Lord Itō,” Toba glared from across the room. “What?” “You would do well to mind your tongue.” “I’d rather you minded those eyes of yours. That glaring manner of yours is most unbecoming. Elder Shibata didn’t notice apparently, but I’ve been sweating bullets this whole time.”

“Oh my, what ever made you so on edge?” “There—those eyes!” said Shichijūrō. “With those eyes of yours, you’ve been staring nonstop at someone’s face.” “Oh, Lord Itō, you!” “With that ecstatic, melting gaze—wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Harada?”

Toba calmly picked up her chopsticks. Jūza said with evident displeasure, "What a foolish man." “To someone like Old Satomi, it might seem foolish,” Shichijūrō laughed, “but it would’ve been amusing if Lord Maitani had noticed.” “I should have told you,” Kai said. “Then you would’ve known who was condemned.” "Oh, never mind." Shichijūrō smirked and urged Jūza, “Return the cup.” Then, while having Shiozawa Tansaburō pour the sake, he said to Jūza.

"Anyway, this means Mr. Harada is no longer flawless. After all, he was always mild-mannered and humble, deeply committed to fellowship—never once hated or belittled by others. A man who never revealed any vulnerability." Shichijūrō nodded to himself with a "Hmm," then took a decisive swig from his cup before continuing. "Now an adversary has emerged here—one confronting us directly, loosing a challenge arrow straight at our faces. Clang! That impregnable position has collapsed. Now we've discovered even Mr. Harada is merely human after all. Things will grow intriguing."

“Lord Funooka,” said Jūza, disregarding Shichijūrō and addressing Kai directly, “when you expressed your views to Lord Maitani earlier—was that your true conviction?” “There—the second arrow flies,” said Shichijūrō. “Silence,” snapped Jūza. “Let us abandon this discussion,” said Kai. “Political discourse ill befits a morning gruel gathering. Though Lord Maitani pressed me insistently, forcing me to share my immediate thoughts, I hold no official position in such matters—nor do I grasp their complexities.”

“However, should the ownership of the gold mine become an issue, as Councilor you would have no choice but to assume responsibility for handling it.” “That would depend on the opinions of the main family and branch families.” “Are you suggesting this does not fall under the Councilor’s purview?” “Let me reiterate,” Kai stated calmly, “in such grave matters, the main family and branch families’ opinions take precedence. Whether the Chief Retainer renders judgment or the Councilor assumes temporary responsibility would be determined by those opinions.”

“Then, assuming the Councilor will take charge of this matter,” Jūza pressed, “I would hear your thoughts.” “Let us cease this discussion,” Kai deflected. “Might I inquire further?” “You must realize I cannot speak to hypotheticals,” Kai replied with a thin smile. “The matter remains unborn—to demand solutions for phantoms would leave me without reply. This discussion ends here.”

Kojūrō remained silent and continued eating. Jūza stiffened his face and stared at Kai’s profile with dissatisfied, suspicious eyes. Lord Harada was not this kind of person, Jūza seemed to think. Shichijūrō gazed at Harada Kai and Satomi Jūzaemon with feigned ignorance in his eyes, while secretly stealing glances at Katakura Kojūrō—who kept eating as if unaware—and Toba, who moved her chopsticks while furtively, anxiously observing Kai’s demeanor.

“What a pity to lower the curtain here,” Shichijūrō muttered. “I’d have liked another round of stirring things up—Tansaburō, more sake! The Harada family’s morning gruel gathering had been tepid and limp, but now it’s not entirely without merit. Mr. Harada, shall we lift the prohibition on political discussions from now on?” “I believe I’ll have some food as well,” said Jūza. Shichijūrō opened his mouth to retort, but Horinouchi Sōzaemon approached Kai and announced, “Hatakodō has arrived.” Kai nodded, instructed them to wait, and overturned his cup. To the guests, this seemed to signal the gathering’s conclusion.

“Please don’t mind me,” said Shichijūrō. “I’m just getting started. Everyone else, please carry on as usual. Tansaburō, have them bring more sake.” Kai ordered tea.

Itō Shichijūrō settled in and began drinking, but soon Katakura Kojūrō stood, Toba stood, and Satomi Jūzaemon also stood. After the three had left, Kai too rose from his seat, whereupon Shichijūrō grinned sharply and spoke.

“Well done, Mr. Harada.” Kai turned around and looked at Shichijūrō with calm eyes. Shichijūrō laughed again. “I like you.” “After making me yield that much?” said Kai.

Shichijūrō shrugged. "You must be joking. Whether I made you yield or not—you should know I only plucked that clumsy lyre to make your poem shine." "I don't get it. Not one bit." "Don't take me lightly," Shichijūrō said. "I've at least got working ears and eyes, plus a decent gut for sensing things."

"I wasn't aware of that," Kai said slowly. "I'll keep it in mind." "As I always say—there are areas where I can't measure up to you, Mr. Harada. I concede defeat there. But let me remind you—I am Itō Shichijūrō. Don't group me with those deaf and blind fools." "I'll keep it in mind," said Kai.

When Kai entered the living room, Sōzaemon brought a Hatokodō box and handed it over.

“I was surprised by Lord Maitani’s words,” said Sōzaemon. Kai nodded with an “Mm,” opened the box, and took out a brush with a mottled shaft and tiger-fur bristles.

“That rumor is news to me as well—where could it have originated?” “Rumors are—” “That you are to be appointed Chief Retainer upon Lord Ichinoseki’s recommendation.” Kai quietly removed the brush’s shaft, extracted a tightly rolled sheet of thin paper from within it, and carefully spread it open on the desk as he stated matter-of-factly.

“Of course, it’s Lord Wakuya.” Sōzaemon wore a look of disbelief. Kai read the secret letter and immediately began feeding it into the brazier’s flames when he suddenly let out a deep sigh. “Lord Maitani likely stopped by Wakuya before departing for the capital. I believe Lord Wakuya spoke of it during that visit.” “If that is so—” “It seems seeds were sown,” said Kai.

Sōzaemon finally seemed to understand and looked at his lord’s retreating figure with a pained expression. Kai leaned on the desk with his elbow.

“So the true trials begin at last?” said Sōzaemon. “Nonsense—nothing of consequence. You needn’t fret over such trifles.” “This humble servant finds continued attendance unbearable,” Sōzaemon persisted. “Might you summon Hayato in my stead? Grant me leave to serve our home province.” “You would never do such a thing.” “I can scarcely endure remaining by your side.”

“You can’t do that,” Kai said. “Even if I told you to, you wouldn’t return to your home province. Troubles would soon arise there too—we’d have to burden Hayato with them. Stay and serve in Edo, Sōzaemon. Sōza is indispensable here in Edo.” “I was just—” Sōzaemon began, then lowered his head without finishing. “I’m going to Yushima,” said Kai. “Have Kihee attend me with Kyūma.”

“Do you mean Naruse?” “Yes, Kyūma,” Kai said. “We’ll likely be staying the night—have word sent ahead.”

Sōzaemon answered with a vanishing "Yes."

The iris too remained indistinct.

When Kai went to the Yushima residence, he had them prepare the bedroom and lay down. "I'll wake when the lamps are lit," Kai said to Okumi. "Have Ganya and the usual entertainers summoned."

“There’s something I need to discuss,” Okumi said. Kai said, “Later,” and closed his eyes. Okumi sat at the bedside and whispered in a low voice.

“Lord Sakai of the Senior Councilors 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 stated that he wished to rest as he was feeling unwell.” “Did he announce himself as Lord Sakai?” “Later, one of the attendants informed me in confidence.”

“Did you show him into the sitting room?” Okumi answered, “Yes.”

Kai’s brow furrowed. He quietly shifted the bedding down from his chest, then said again, “Tell me.”

Okumi told him.

Uta-no-kami had brought five attendants. He had apparently been returning from a visit to Kan’ei-ji; upon entering the sitting room, he requested hot water and took medicine from his pocket. He didn’t appear to be feeling unwell, and after a while, he said he wanted sake. Okumi felt a flare of irritation—what a rude thing to say. He certainly carried himself like a man of high status, but making such a demand must have meant he looked down on them as mere townsfolk. Okumi refused.

Though he may be a ronin, he is still my samurai master. Since that master is away now, I cannot provide sake hospitality.

Then the man laughed and asked, "What's the name of that ronin?" "I go by Yasoshima Kazue." "Is that truly so?" "That is what I have been told." "Well then—we'll drink." The man laughed again. At that moment, one of the attendants called Okumi aside and explained that the man was Senior Councilor Lord Sakai, that he himself was Chamberlain Matsudaira Naiki, and that they meant no harm to her master—requesting she prepare sake as he held out a wrapped bundle of coins.

Okumi returned the money and prepared a tray of sake and accompanying dishes. Uta-no-kami drank cheerfully for about an hour. "That Yasoshima fellow appears to have been born under an exceptionally fortunate star."

Uta-no-kami mocked Okumi in that manner. Okumi did not engage with him, but Uta-no-kami persisted. “Wait,” Kai said. “What exactly was said there? Tell me in more detail.” “It’s difficult for me to say this in my own words.” “You may omit the parts that are difficult to say.”

Okumi paused to collect her thoughts, then continued as if carefully recalling. The part that was difficult to recount seemed to involve praise directed at herself. To have such a beautiful woman and such a quiet safehouse—he must be a man of great fortune. "I should like to partake in such blessings myself—I must meet this Yasoshima soon. Tell him to visit my estate." "If you will not come to the estate, I shall return to this house." "You will convey this precisely," he had said.

Kai remained silent for some time, then nodded and said, “Understood.” “Did he come knowing you are Lord Harada of the Date clan?” “Hard to say.”

“That’s how it seemed to me,” Okumi said. “I thought he came here knowing you were Lord Harada—that there must have been some purpose to it.” “Hard to say,” Kai said. “Can’t you think of anything that might explain it?” “I have no connection whatsoever with Lord Sakai,” Kai said. At that moment, his brow furrowed again. “Of course,” he said, “I have no recollection of anyone visiting here either—and there’s nothing at all for you to worry about.”

“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 stood and left.

―What mystery?

Kai kept his eyes closed and thought.

――What kind of trap—

Okumi’s intuition was correct. Judging from his tone, Uta-no-kami had come to this house knowing it was Harada Kai’s safehouse. And he had said, “Come visit the estate,” adding, “If you don’t come, I’ll return here again.”

What was he planning to do?

Even among Senior Councilors—why would Uta-no-kami Tadakiyo, whose influence was growing so conspicuously, show such interest in an indirect vassal like myself? I understood the relationship between Hyōbu Shōsuke Munekatsu and Uta-no-kami. I understood what Hyōbu was currently planning within the Date clan and that Uta-no-kami's support lay behind it. But when it came to why Uta-no-kami himself would extend his hand toward me—that he found difficult to comprehend.

When Kai was awakened, daylight had faded completely and lamps were lit in the room. He had fallen asleep without realizing it. The sleep appeared to have restored his vigor. The appearance of Uta-no-kami at this house no longer felt like an oppressive burden now, and even his accumulated mental fatigue from recent days seemed diminished. After bathing, shaving his beard, and changing clothes, he emerged to find candlesticks arranged in the tatami room where Ganya Shinsuke and the performers had already assembled, seated before trays bearing sake and accompanying dishes. When Kai lifted his cup, Shinsuke commenced speaking.

In Funooka, there had been unusual weather patterns, and because unseasonably warm conditions resembling those of May persisted, the miso brewery had ended up ruining over a dozen barrels of walnut miso. “Does ‘ruined’ mean they let it rot?” Kai asked. “No, since it’s miso, it likely hasn’t spoiled,” came the reply. “But mixing in walnuts altered the flavor, rendering it unsellable.” “Over a dozen barrels—those are large ones.” “Of course that would be the case.” “That’s a loss,” Kai said with a wry smile.

“Then we’ll have them discontinue production at the miso brewery.” “Is that so?” “He was reluctant from the start.” Kai said with a wry smile. The reason he had the walnut miso made was because he wanted to establish it as one of the local specialties. And he had consulted Moyaguchi Matazaemon. The miso brewery had long been engaged in brewing in Funooka and had also handled the Harada family’s financial affairs. When consulted, Matazaemon had stated that mixing walnuts into miso would make preservation difficult and that the flavor would not appeal to general tastes. He had shown reluctance, arguing that even if it sold, it would not yield significant profit. Kai had not expected substantial profits; rather, he thought that if they could successfully establish it as a local specialty and expand its sales channels, even a small profit margin might contribute to a stable annual income in the future.

—If we incur losses, the Harada family will compensate; if there are profits, we'll distribute them at such-and-such a ratio.

It was with such promises that Kai had finally persuaded Matazaemon. For about a year after that, while having Ganya Shinsuke handle sales, Kai also had acquaintances sample its flavor. And so, it had gradually become clear that while it was quite prized as a delicacy, it was not something that could be sold in large quantities. “Relying solely on land tax won’t sustain the samurai economy." “We must devise some other means of annual revenue—it was with that thought that I tried this as a first step, but...” “As expected,” Kai said self-mockingly, “an amateur’s business methods don’t seem to work out.”

“What would you say to that?” “—What are you laughing at?”

“Forgive my rudeness.” Ganya Shinsuke bowed his head and said, “You were speaking so earnestly that I couldn’t help but find it amusing.” “Too earnestly?” “You may scold me for this,” Shinsuke said. “Whether the walnut miso was truly devised for your financial affairs—others may not know, but this Shinsuke is well aware of it.” “Walnut miso,” Kai said with a wry smile, averting his eyes. “Let’s stop talking about that.”

Shinsuke silently bowed his head.

“How is the business going?” Kai asked. “It’s been passable.” “Has there been some improvement?” “We won’t know unless we wait a bit longer.” “Actually, since the Chinese ships remain halted as before, I tried acquiring two ships myself.” “Did you buy shares?” “No,” Shinsuke mumbled evasively.

Kai looked at Shinsuke. Shinsuke avoided meeting his gaze and signaled to the performers: “Begin.” The musicians struck up a lively tune as a young man and a female performer rose to dance the Saruwaka. With Okumi pouring his sake, Kai drank slowly, seemingly without a care in the world.

Naruse Kyūma was sitting behind Kai, but occasionally glanced to the right with the corner of his eye. By the sliding door over there, two maids were stationed. One was named Oura, the other Miyaji. Both were seventeen years old, but whenever Kyūma’s gaze shifted, subtle changes would surface in Oura’s expression. The two maids were not sitting still there, as they were busy clearing and bringing food and drink from the trays; however, when seated, it seemed that through their glances and slight expressions, something was being mutually communicated between Kyūma and Oura.

After about an hour, Kai set down his cup, lay down on the spot, and said, “Kyūma, rub my legs.” But Kyūma did not respond. Though there was the noise of musical instruments and Kai’s voice had been low, Kyūma had been so absorbed with Oura that it never reached his ears.

Kai turned to look at him and said again, “Massage my legs.” Kyūma startled, and upon noticing Kai’s eyes fixed on him, he scrambled back as if struck, planting his hands behind him. “What are you panicking about?” “Didn’t you hear what I said?” Kai said quietly. Kyūma prostrated himself with a startled “Hah!” As Kyūma’s behavior grew peculiar, the performers stopped their music and the dancers halted their movements. Kai waved a hand toward them. “It’s nothing. Continue,” he said, then gazed steadily at Kyūma with calm eyes. The performers began their performance again.

“Kyūma,” Kai said quietly. “You’ve always handled things without carelessness until now. What’s wrong today? If you continue like this, you won’t fulfill your crucial duties.”

Kyūma remained prostrated, holding his breath. Kai's words carried a double meaning—Kyūma seemed to sense this. “Please show him some mercy,” Okumi said from beside him. “You must be tired. Let me massage you.” “No, I’m fine,” Kyūma said, raising his face. “I’m not tired—I was just careless and missed hearing your order. Are you asking me to massage your lower back?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kai said wearily. “It’s not something to get 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, cradling his head in his hand as he closed his eyes in a daze. Kyūma shifted restlessly in his seat before standing and leaving. Kai seemed to drift into a doze just as he was. Since this was routine, the performers alternated showcasing their acts while drinking sake at Shinsuke's urging. When eight o'clock approached, Kai rose casually, cast a brief glance at Shinsuke's face, then withdrew to the bedchamber. Inside lay the same bedding that had been prepared earlier. Okumi, who had followed Kai in, inquired, "Are you going out?"

Kai shook his head. “Matsuyama is coming.” “Lord Shigeniwa?” “Yeah, keep the gate open.” Okumi was about to leave and asked, “Where should I let the guest through?” “Your bedroom will do,” Kai said. As Okumi went out, Kai lay down in the bedding just as he was. In the main room, the sounds of musical instruments and singing 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, a folding screen had been arranged around them, the lamp had been dimmed, and the two sat down with a brazier between them. “I’ve caught a cold.” Suō removed his hood and, saying this, coughed into his sleeve. Suō’s complexion was poor, and perhaps because the lamp was dim, his cheeks appeared terribly sunken.

“This cough won’t stop—I can’t sleep nights anymore,” Suō said hoarsely into his sleeve, his sunken cheeks catching dim lamplight as he removed his hood. “I should have come to you instead,” Kai responded evenly. “No space,” Suō rasped, shoulders hunched against another cough threatening his throat. “Can’t leave Koishikawa hut... no safe corners left there now.” His bloodshot eyes darted toward the paper screens as if they might peel back to reveal listeners. “Eyes in every shadow.” Kai nodded once, fingers resting on his knee like carved jade weights. “Report.” “Secret petition.” Suō leaned forward until his forehead nearly touched the brazier’s iron rim. “From Yoshioka—Okuyama Daigaku—to both regents.”

Kai nodded deeply. “That seems to be the case.” “You knew?” “It reached my ears just recently.” “Do you know its substance too?”

“First, let me hear.” “It’s my impeachment,” Suō said. “They’ve listed various baseless charges, demanding I be punished at once and that governance of the domain be entrusted to him alone—threatening resignation otherwise.” “This would be the second or third time,” Kai said.

Suō looked at Kai with bloodshot eyes, suspicion etched in his gaze. Kai spoke again. "It appears they've sent such petitions to Ichinoseki multiple times before." "Do they carry the same meaning?" "That's correct." "This is the first I've heard of it," Suō said. "If Funooka had known, why didn't he breathe a word?" "What would notification achieve?" Kai replied calmly. "The moat construction suffers persistent setbacks—even Yoshioka presses fiercely on this matter. Matsuyama exhausts himself completing the works. How could they possibly report secret petitions to me atop all this?"

"The moat construction and that are separate matters. If Yoshioka is impeaching me, then I must take countermeasures against it."

“For what purpose?” “For what purpose?!” Suō’s sunken cheek twitched. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and coughed, steadied his breath, then said sharply in a low voice: “Okuyama Daigaku and Ichinoseki have a special relationship. When there was once a proposal to increase Ichinoseki’s stipend, Yoshioka alone stood his ground and raised the amount of the increase. Ichinoseki regards this as a favor, and Yoshioka is using that as a foothold to scheme an alliance with Ichinoseki. By demanding that governance of the domain be entrusted to himself alone, he means to allow Ichinoseki to conduct politics as they please.”

Kai's forehead wrinkled. Three deep, distinct horizontal creases formed across it as he quietly stroked the edge of the brazier with one hand. "Ichinoseki will exploit this petition again," Suō continued. "They'll twist baseless articles to fabricate charges against me and undoubtedly expel me from the Chief Retainer's seat. Do you still believe no countermeasures are necessary?"

“Matsuyama is tired.” “I must remain seated as Chief Retainer. To hold back the forces seeking to undermine the clan’s foundations—as the primary dike, I cannot move from this seat.” “Matsuyama is tired,” Kai said again. Suō coughed into his sleeve, as if to suppress his agitation. Kai quietly raised his eyes. “The fact that Yoshioka may be trying to ally with Ichinoseki could perhaps be true, but that it is not his true intention is something Ichinoseki knows well.”

“Not his true intention?” “I believe Yoshioka’s true intention is rather to restrain Ichinoseki.” Suō once again looked at him with suspicious eyes. Kai spoke slowly.

"At the July Councilor Meeting, Tōyama Kangyoshi alone raised an objection and subjected Watanabe Kinbee and two others to interrogation." "I’ve heard about that." "Tōyama Kangyoshi is Yoshioka’s younger brother—the one Ichinoseki recommended for the councilor position—yet he defied Ichinoseki nonetheless." "Defied?" "Watanabe Kinbee’s group operates under Ichinoseki’s influence. That assassination incident on July nineteenth’s night had Ichinoseki pulling the strings." Suō nodded. Kai continued quietly.

“Kangyoshi’s insistence on interrogating the three was naturally under Yoshioka’s orders. As for why Yoshioka did such a thing—I believe it was to make Ichinoseki recognize his presence.” “As an adversary?” “In both senses—as ally and opponent.”

“Meaning?” “Yoshioka is earnest,” Kai said. “Ōyama Daigaku earnestly considers the clan’s welfare. He believes himself to be its foundational pillar.” “That is Funooka’s view.” “Hear me out.” Kai continued stroking the brazier’s edge with perfect composure: “In this affair—Ichinoseki aside—all act sincerely for the clan. Even Watanabe Kinbee’s assassins executed their deed unaware of Ichinoseki’s strings, convinced it served our cause. Yoshioka too believes this—that sole governance by himself would secure stability. He’s certain no surer path exists.”

“I don’t see it that way.” “His eagerness to ally with Ichinoseki stems not from personal ambition, but serves as strategic means to become Chief Retainer.” “That’s Funooka’s groundless suspicion.” “Hear me further,” Kai said. “Daigaku is precisely that sort of man. And Ichinoseki knows this full well. The true difficulty lies in Ichinoseki’s very awareness of this fact.”

Suō stared fixedly at Kai.

“To put it concisely,” Suō asked. “During the council meeting about the assassination incident, I noticed,” Kai said. “Ichinoseki is trying to incite conflict within the clan. As you know, the people of Sendai are self-willed and exclusive—even in matters meant to benefit the clan, they seek to assert their own will. When Lord Tsunamune retired, during the succession deliberations, at the oath of senior retainers—never once did opinions align.”

Suō nodded. "Even now, regarding the gold and goods to be presented to the shogunate for Lord Kamechiyo's succession ceremony," Kai continued, "the senior retainers' opinions remain divided and unsettled. This isn't meant as obstruction—they each sincerely believe it to be an act of loyalty for the Date clan's sake. Should their opinions go unheeded, they declare they'd sooner commit seppuku. Ōyama Daigaku stands as a prime example of this."

“Then, what do you think will become of the secret petition?” “I don’t know.” Kai shook his head. “But what can be surmised is that Ichinoseki will provoke Yoshioka’s anger and instigate conflict between him and Matsuyama.” “Give me your honest opinion,” Suō said. “What should I do? Am I to silently accept these distorted baseless charges?” “No matter how much they twist things or force connections, they cannot punish people over unfounded facts. If we dispute it, right and wrong will become clear—but that plays directly into Ichinoseki’s hands. Should conflict arise among the Chief Retainers, Ichinoseki—as regent—will surely petition the shogunal councilors for arbitration. Don’t you agree?”

Suō lowered his eyes. "Some time ago at Matsuyama's residence," Kai continued, "the three of us—Lord Wakuya and I—spoke. Ichinoseki harbors an ambition to split the Date clan's 600,000-koku domain and seize half for himself. With Sakai Uta-no-kami as his backer—should internal conflict arise, Uta-no-kami will undoubtedly bring it before the shogunal councilors. That much is certain." "That's right—it's almost certainly true." "Matsuyama should resign," Kai said. "He should do so once the moat construction is completed."

“Then Yoshioka will take his place.” “A fire that burns out will die.”

Suō thought for a while, then nodded and said, “However, there is a condition.” “If I resign, will Funooka become Chief Retainer?”

"That rumor has already begun circulating," Kai said with a bitter smile. "So it's being talked about?" "Maitani confronted me about it today - I was nearly shamed beyond recovery."

“What do you mean?”

Suō coughed again while covering his mouth with his sleeve. Kai waited for it to subside before speaking. "I was told that with Ichinoseki's backing, I'm likely to become Chief Retainer soon." Suō said, "Oh?" "I told him this was the first I'd heard of it—something entirely unexpected. Then Maitani said he didn't find it surprising at all, and that Lord Wakuya likely felt the same way."

Kai looked at Suō with calm eyes. Suō gave a quiet nod. “—Lord Wakuya?” “There’s no one else it could be,” Kai also nodded. “Maitani is a tight-lipped, honest man—not one to be swayed by rumors or gossip. But if he heard it from Lord Wakuya, he would believe it.” Suō said, “Mhm.” “Lord Wakuya has masterfully chosen his people—Shibata-dono seemed to have believed it entirely.” “I see,” Suō said in a low voice. “So Funooka has gained enemies as well.”

“Shichijūrō stated he was 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—Katakura Kojūrō—along with Elder Toba-dono, Satomi Jūza, and Shichijūrō.” “That’s… that’s quite something.”

“The effect was immediate—after Maitani and Furuuchi left, Satomi Jūza immediately began interrogating, and Shichijūrō applauded it as the second arrow.”

“Then word will reach Ichinoseki’s ears soon enough, I suppose.” “It’s likely already reached them,” Kai said. “They lack neither eyes nor ears.” Suō looked at Kai with eyes that pierced through him. They resembled the gaze of a warrior who, even while locked in his own battle, watches a comrade fall wounded.

“In that case,” Suō said, “the Chief Retainer matter will surface regardless. Funooka would naturally accept.” “Only after an initial refusal.” “It’s agonizing—” Suō’s voice cracked, “knowingly sending a comrade I’ve entrusted into enemy territory. Agonizing.” “I may prove inadequate. As I’ve repeated—this work doesn’t suit me. What little I can manage seems meager indeed.”

Suō shook his head and said, “Understood.”

"I know Funooka well," Suō said. "If possible, I didn't want to drag Funooka into such matters—but I need you to understand it was unavoidable." "I've been complaining too much—let's change the subject," Kai said as he drew out a kaishi paper. "It seems Lord Umabashi came here yesterday."

“Lord Umabashi?” Suō asked in return. “Using discomfort as pretext to rest, [he] had sake brought to the sitting room.” “Lord Umabashi?” Suō’s eyes widened. “What does that signify?” “I don’t know.”

“Did the Lord know this was Funooka’s safehouse?” “I think so,” Kai nodded. “Omiya used the alias Yasoshima Kazue as instructed, but the Lord laughed and reportedly told me to come visit his residence.” “It’s a trap.” “He reportedly said that if I don’t go to his residence, he’ll come here again himself.” “That must be a trap.” “I don’t know.” Kai wiped his face with a folded paper. “It’s clear the Lord is backing Ichinoseki, but I don’t understand why he would set his sights on someone like me, Harada.”

“That’s probably Ichinoseki’s—” Suō started to say, then abruptly fell silent.

Outside the sliding door was a hallway. Okuwa’s bedroom was located at the end of the central hallway, separated from Kai’s sleeping quarters by a single room, but suddenly Okuwa’s voice rang out in that hallway, accompanied by rough footsteps. “What are you doing?” Okuwa exclaimed, while Kyūma’s voice retorted, “She was eavesdropping!” “I caught her here because she was eavesdropping!” “No, that’s a lie!” cried a young maid’s voice. “I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything—I was just crouching down to tie my tabi strings!” “Be quiet! Quiet!” Okuwa’s voice could be heard. Those voices grew lower and faded away down the hallway.

“Well played,” Kai said.

Suō looked at Kai.

Kai put a crumpled paper into the wastebasket and said, “A clever scheme—they likely meant to draw us out of here. They didn’t know who was in this room.”

“So that earlier commotion…” “The young maid Ura and Kyūma are in cahoots.”

Suō let out a low sigh. The two reconfirmed their earlier discussion, and presently Suō rose to his feet. Kai observed Suō’s preparations and said, “You must be cold. Wait.” “I’ll have them bring a neck wrap now.” Kai summoned Okuwa and instructed her to fetch a woolen neck wrap. Suō wound it over his hood and asked while donning his raincoat: “When will you depart for Funooka?” “With Maitani having emerged, I could leave at any time—but given Lord Sakai’s involvement, I believe I’ll remain here a while longer.”

“Will we end up staying through the New Year?” Kai said, “Well.”

Okuwa made a gesture as if wanting to ask Kai something. It must have been about Kyūma and Ōura; Kai pretended not to notice. “When you return to the domain, you’ll meet with Lord Wakuya, won’t you?” “What will happen?” Kai shook his head. “What Lord Wakuya conveyed through Maitani must be seen as a declaration that I’ve already aligned myself with Ichinoseki. If that’s the case, I imagine Lord Wakuya likely won’t agree to meet with me.”

“But you can’t very well avoid visiting either.” “Who knows what will happen?” Kai said. “Once you return to the domain, let us visit Matsuyama’s residence. From Matsuyama, Wakuya will be close, and there may be some opportunity.” “That might be best.” Suō nodded and said, “Once the Hori construction is completed, I will resign as Chief Retainer. After that, I will seclude myself in Matsuyama’s residence, so I should be able to serve in any capacity.” “If that becomes necessary,” Kai said.

Suō looked at Kai. Kai waved at Okuwa. Okuwa slid open the sliding door, checked the hallway to confirm no one was there, and nodded. The two exited through the side door to the back.

In the darkness were two retainers of the Shigetani family and Murayama Kihee. There was no wind, but the cold was so intense that the ground already seemed frozen; as the retainers walked, the creaking sound of frost-hardened earth resounded beneath their feet. “Then we part here,” Kai said. Suō’s attendant held a lantern wrapped in a raincoat. In the faint light leaking from the raincoat, Suō stared fixedly at Kai. Kai avoided those eyes as he spoke.

“Don’t let your cold get worse.”

“Yeah, this is it then.” “It’s dark,” Kai said. Suō said quietly, “It’s as dark as the position we now find ourselves in—tomorrow could bring anything, who knows what pitfalls lie where. This darkness could use even a single light, but we don’t have so much as that one light.” “Matsuyama is exhausted,” Kai said. “Let us part. Take care of yourself.”

Snow.

December 25th—The Date clan presented a Motochika long sword, 500 bales of cotton, and 500 silver coins to the shogunate as part of Kamechiyo’s succession ceremony.

This envoy was Harada Kai. The ones who selected Kai as envoy were the guardians Date Hyōbu and Tamura Ukyō. The two attended the White Hall of Chiyoda Castle alongside Kai, the chief envoy, and presented the inventory to Senior Councilor Sakai Uta-no-kami. After fulfilling his duty 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 the Yushima residence near evening. Since Shibata Geki had come up to the capital, his tenure as Edo guard had already ended, and his regular attendance duties had been relieved.

In the Harada household, domestic affairs were in disarray. The Edo guard duty was supposed to rotate annually, but this time the term had been extended to nearly two years, causing expenses to mount severely and making any further stay difficult.

Even when he was selected as envoy, Chief Retainer Horinouchi Sōzaemon told him to decline. This was because thanks had to be given to both guardians, and there was simply no way to cover such expenses—or so he asserted. Kai laughed and said there was no need for that—he would fulfill this duty even if he had to borrow money.

Sōzaemon fell silent. It was because he had realized that Kai was attempting to naturally draw closer to Hyōbu. Horinouchi Sōzaemon also found the prospect of him spending New Year in Edo troubling. "You must return to the domain as soon as possible," he added. "I wish to do so," Kai replied. "I intend to do so as much as possible." "What does that mean?" asked Sōzaemon. It was then that Kai first spoke about Uta-no-kami’s appearance at Yushima. Sōzaemon lowered his head. He seemed unable to lift his eyes, as if witnessing his master being gradually enveloped by some black, sinister calamity.

That day, Yabuki Toneri, Nakaguro Tatsutoya, and Shiozawa Tansaburō served as attendants on the visit to Yushima. "Who is the guest, sir?" Okuwa asked as soon as she saw Kai. Kai smiled and said, "There's no guest." "Oh, how wonderful!" Okuwa's eyes sparkled. "Then we can have a proper talk after so long—it's been ages! To have you here without any guests..." "It's too early to rejoice," Kai said.

Okuwa narrowed her eyes. "Oh, why do you say that?" "A guest might come," Kai said. "Might come?" "The visitor who came while we were away last time—Lord Sakai." "Oh!" Okuwa exclaimed. That night was unusually free of outsiders as they shared their evening meal. He had Toneri, Tatsuya, and Tansaburō lay out the meal trays, with Okuwa sitting beside Kai. In good spirits, Kai drank sake and declared cheerfully that he would hunt deer when he returned to Funooka.

“There’s a deer I shot at and missed two years back at Jinjirō—the mountain—called Kubijiro. I’ve been chasing it for years now. That time too, after pursuing it for five days and nights, I ended up letting it escape at Ejiri,” Kai said. “Wasn’t Yogobei with you?” asked Yabuki Toneri. “Yogo never kills deer,” said Nakaguro Tatsutoya. “He hunts other animals—when it comes to bears, he’s a master—but he never hunts deer.”

"Didn't you see any deer last year, Tatsutoya?" Kai asked. "I don't know." "Didn't hear any talk about it either?" "I didn't hear anything," Tatsutoya answered. "The deer cross over from beyond the Abukuma River through Kosaka Rapids," Kai said. "Once before—in Meireki 2, was it?—I shot one weighing a full 22 kan. That one too had crossed Kosaka Rapids and was entering Shōkaku-ji Mountain when I got it." "Those antlers were magnificent."

“They were splendid.” “Such magnificent antlers are quite rare,” Toneri said.

Tansaburō had been listening silently when he suddenly said, “I would like to accompany you on such hunts too.” “No good,” Toneri said. “His Lordship always hunts alone. The only one permitted to accompany him is Yogobei,” Toneri said. “But I still don’t know Funooka,” Tansaburō said. “At least let me accompany you to the domain.” Kai nodded. “I’ll take you there someday.” “Might I accompany you this year?”

“This year is no good—you must look after the siblings at Ryōgen-in.”

Tansaburō lowered his eyes. As if reminded by this, Kai inquired about Toranosuke's condition. "It still isn't clear," Tansaburō answered. "Is he sleeping?" "No, he isn't bedridden, but he still hasn't left his bed." "Has the measles run its course?" "Yes." "Then has some complication arisen?" "I'm not entirely sure," Tansaburō said, "but it seems he's developed an intestinal issue, and the diarrhea hasn't subsided."

Kai’s brow furrowed. "I’ll go see him someday," he muttered in a low voice.

In the middle of that night, Okuwa came to Kai's bedroom. She wore a white nightgown with a brightly colored sash cinched tight, her hair undone and makeup applied. Okuwa slipped into Kai's bedding. "You lie still and sleep," Kai said.

Okuwa drew closer to Kai, her body stiffening as she trembled violently. Kai wrapped his arm around Okuwa’s shoulder. Okuwa used his arm as a pillow and pressed herself even tighter against Kai’s chest. Okuwa’s body burned with heat, her trembling showing no sign of ceasing. Whenever she tried to speak, her teeth clattered sharply. “Now sleep,” Kai said. Then, with the arm still encircling her, he gently tapped Okuwa’s shoulder. As he did this, she began crying in muffled silence. Kai stopped tapping.

“Go ahead and hate me.” Kai whispered to Okuwa, “This is who I am. Your misfortune began eight years ago when you met me.” Okuwa shook her head violently as she wept. Kai quietly stroked her shoulder. “It’s not your fault—it’s mine,” Okuwa said. “You never felt anything, yet I deluded myself into thinking you cared.”

“I love you.” “It wasn’t just me—my brother convinced himself of that too.” “I do love you...Okuwa.”

Okuwa sobbed.

Eight years ago—when Gan'ya took charge of the Harada family’s stipend rice—Shinsuke invited Kai to the house in Nihonbashi Ishi-chō. At that time, Okuwa, who had come out to serve, was captivated by Kai at first glance, and Shinsuke again became convinced that his sister had taken a liking to Kai.

"Why not keep a retreat house for your recuperation?" Shinsuke had recommended this to Kai and acquired the Yushima residence at his own expense. Then, saying "Please let her attend to your needs," he assigned Okuwa. "I do love you," Kai said, "but I wish to remain as I am—I must remain so. Because advancing beyond this would bring you greater unhappiness and sorrow."

“I wouldn’t shun any misfortune.” “It’s because you don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?” Kai fell silent for a moment. Then, evasively, he spoke about the nature of a man’s heart. “Please tell me the truth,” Okuwa said through convulsive sobs, “is there something that will make me even more unhappy?”

“That’s enough—let’s sleep.” “I beg you, please tell me.”

“Let’s sleep now,” Kai said as he stroked Okuwa’s shoulder. “If you keep being noisy, I’ll kick you out.”

Kai stayed in Yushima for two days. He decided to depart for Funooka on the 29th and sent a messenger to instruct Sōzaemon to make preparations. Then on the morning of the 28th—still around nine o'clock—Sakai Tadakiyo came riding up on horseback with five attendants.

That day, Kai had intended to return to the main residence and had already finished his meal early and changed clothes. But upon hearing the news, he immediately surmised it was Uta-no-kami, removed his haori, and went out personally to greet him. As it was a town residence, there was no reception platform; Kai sat with Okuwa in the four-mat entrance space to welcome them. Uta-no-kami was thirty-seven years old at the time. He was not particularly tall but had a somewhat stocky, sturdy build. His angular face, which widened toward the jawline, was well-fleshed, with thick eyebrows as sharply defined as if drawn in ink and tightly pursed lips that revealed a self-conscious intensity and unyielding temperament.

The two had met twice before. Once when an order for Tsunamune’s confinement was issued, and once just three days prior at Kamechiyo’s succession ceremony, when he had presented tribute offerings at the castle. This was when Kai, serving as official envoy, directly exchanged words in the White Hall of the castle. Uta-no-kami entered the genkan and handed his hat and whip to an attendant boy while fixing his large eyes directly on Kai. Kai placed his hands on his knees, bowed quietly, then looked up at Uta-no-kami—still meeting his gaze directly, but with an exceedingly calm expression.

“Are you the master?” Uta-no-kami said. “I hear you go by Yasoshima Kazue.”

Kai silently acknowledged him with a bow. "The other day when I came while you were out, I was treated to a meal. Today, on my way to inspect some horses, it suddenly occurred to me to stop by—" “Welcome,” Kai said with a polite bow.

And saying “Please come through,” Uta-no-kami nodded. When the attendant boy made him remove his fastened sandals, Uta-no-kami stepped up and briskly proceeded to the inner rooms. The zashiki had a floor covering and brazier prepared. Uta-no-kami removed his sword from his waist and sat cross-legged on the floor covering. The other attendants remained at the entrance, but the boy immediately came and sat behind Uta-no-kami, presenting the sword. Kai stepped back and saluted. “Come closer,” Uta-no-kami said. Kai did not move and declined, saying that since their statuses differed, he must ask to be excused as things were.

“Do you know me?” Uta-no-kami said. Kai calmly answered that he had heard from the women and that any citizen of Edo would know he was Lord Umayabashi.

Uta-no-kami smiled with his lips. “I feel I’ve seen that face before,” he said, fixing his sharp eyes on Kai’s. “Indeed—I believe we’ve met somewhere.” He was clearly savoring that moment. His eyes showed such anticipation that one might say he had come precisely to savor it.

A deep vertical wrinkle formed on Kai's left cheek. Kai smiled faintly with his lips and said, utterly casually, that it was an honor. He added that to be addressed thus by Lord Umayabashi—now preeminent among the Senior Councilors—constituted a lifetime's distinction. At that moment, a tray bearing sake and delicacies was brought in. The service was intended solely for Uta-no-kami. Okuwa personally set the tray before Uta-no-kami and knelt to attend him. Uta-no-kami took the cup, drank from it, and extended it toward Kai. "I bestow this," he declared. When Okuwa moved to relay it, Uta-no-kami commanded, "Approach and receive it." Kai told Okuwa, "Accept it on my behalf," remaining immobile where he sat.

“I permit it. Come closer and take it,” Uta-no-kami said.

Kai remained silent.

“What’s wrong?” Uta-no-kami said. “Have your legs given out?” “Okuwa,” Kai said. “Your hospitality doesn’t sit well with me. You’d do well to make a proper apology if you want my mood to improve.”

“I said come closer! Come here!” Uta-no-kami shouted.

Kai raised his head and looked at the man. And then, with an almost smiling, calm expression, he slowly said. "I must beg your pardon, but this is my residence. Even if you hold the rank of Junior Fourth Rank, Lower Grade General and are lord of over one hundred thousand koku—though I cannot claim to know such things—so long as I receive no stipend from you, we meet as equals. In my own home, I shall conduct myself as I see fit." "So you refuse to accept my cup, then." "I must humbly decline to accept it directly."

“So you still insist?” Lord Uta-no-kami said.

Kai bowed with his eyes and smiled. Uta-no-kami's face turned red. At that moment, Okuwa said she wished to receive the cup herself and extended both hands. Uta-no-kami gave the cup to Okuwa.

Okuwa raised the cup to her forehead, touched it to her lips, then wrapped it in tissue paper. Then, when Uta-no-kami took the next cup, she served him, holding the sake decanter.

“It seems I am an unwelcome guest,” Uta-no-kami said. Kai bowed deeply. “That would be a misapprehension on your part. As a mere ronin, I cannot provide hospitality befitting distinguished guests. Yet should you deign to visit again, it would be our highest honor to receive you with joy.” “I’ll remember this,” Uta-no-kami said. He set down his cup and rose. “Let us meet again. What... an encounter.”

And then Uta-no-kami left promptly. The attendant boy followed behind him, presenting the sword, while Kai and Okuwa escorted him out.

When they had seen Sakai Tadakiyo off, Kai also immediately began preparing to leave.

“Why did you have to be so insistent?” Okuwa asked dubiously. “Insistent?” “The sake cup,” Okuwa said. “You never usually make a fuss over such things—why wouldn’t you accept that one?” “There’s no particular reason,” Kai said. “I simply couldn’t be troubled to step forward.” “And that alone was enough to anger Lord Sakai?”

“The lord won’t get angry.” “He was furious—his face flushed bright red—I thought he might hurl that cup.” “Impressive,” Kai said with a smile. “The lord didn’t get angry—but he might have thrown that cup. I thought I might throw it too.” “That’s why I hurried to take it.” “Good timing.” Kai nodded and said, “Thanks to you, the lord narrowly escaped death.”

“He narrowly escaped death, you say?” “Isn’t the palanquin ready yet?” Kai called out sharply. At once from the adjoining room came Tansaburō’s reply: “It awaits.” “What do you mean? Why would Lord Sakai have needed to escape death?” “Have you forgotten Toneri and Tansaburō are here?” Kai said. “If I were humiliated, those two wouldn’t stay silent—they’d certainly attack the lord. Not that I’d wait around for that to happen.”

“What a dreadful notion!” Okuwa shuddered. “Were you truly contemplating such horror?” “If only matters could be settled with my life,” Kai laughed without sound. Okuwa shuddered again and said with a sigh, “Then I’m glad I took that cup.” Kai stood while fastening his hood. Okuwa suddenly clung to their parting moment, adjusting the sleeves of Kai’s haori and smoothing his hakama hems as she tearfully prayed for his safe journey, lamented the loneliness awaiting her, and pleaded for promises of reunion. Kai endured her attentions patiently while summoning Tansaburō and moved toward the entrance. Okuwa—who had followed behind cradling his sword against her sleeve—handed it to him at the doorway, then abruptly buried her face in both hands and wept.

At the entrance, a retainer who had made preparations was waiting.

“Lord Yazaki,” Okuwa said through tears, “I beg you to protect him.”

The retainer silently bowed his head. Kai exited through the entrance still holding the sword in his right hand and boarded the palanquin. Okuwa 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 walked alongside, and the palanquin was lifted.

“Let us stop by Ryōgen-in,” Kai said.

The entire time he was being carried, Kai sat with his arms crossed and eyes closed. At times he would frown; at others, bite his lip while furrowing his brow. The meeting with Uta-no-kami weighed heavily on his spirits.

——What was the reason?

What reason could he have had to visit me twice? During our conversation, I tried to probe for clues, but until the very end, I couldn’t grasp a single thread. Had he consulted with Ichinoseki? I didn’t know. I couldn’t imagine Hyōbu having such a need—nor did Uta-no-kami strike me as one who would visit Yushima for that purpose. The sake cup matter was absurd—had I accepted it directly, he likely would have declared something like “This seals our lord-vassal bond.” On our side, we presented ourselves as Yasoshima Kazue—a ronin—while Uta-no-kami’s faction seemed intent on making me declare myself as Harada Kai. Of course this was mere harassment—but had I taken that cup, he probably would have said exactly that.

"That's right—I shouldn't have refused," Kai muttered under his breath. "I should have accepted that cup. Had Uta-no-kami actually said those words, I might have uncovered his true purpose in visiting."

Kai's forehead creased deeply. But there was no need to press the matter, he thought. Uta-no-kami had been angry—indeed, he had clearly shown some irritation. This likely wouldn't end here—the man seemed willful and quick-tempered by nature. He would undoubtedly try something again—undoubtedly. Keeping his eyes closed, Kai smiled. "A pity for you, Lord Maebashi," he muttered under his breath again. "You bear the shackles of Junior Commander of the Lower Fourth Rank and shogunate elder." "Those very shackles will hinder you when trying to bind this Kai."

And he smiled.

When they arrived at Ryōgen-in, he encountered Shibata Geki at the entrance. Geki was accompanied by Date Shikibu (Munetomo); both men wore hemp kamishimo. They appeared ready to depart—the abbot and monks had come out to bid farewell while retainers waited beneath the shikidai platform. Geki gave a silent nod before leaving, but when Shikibu addressed him directly, Kai humbly exchanged formal pleasantries about their prolonged separation.

Date Shikibu Munetomo was the fifth son of the late Tadamune - making him Tsunamune's half-brother from a different mother - and both were twenty-one years old. He held twelve thousand koku in Terai within Tome District. Unlike Tsunamune, he possessed a lean frame, sharply defined features, eyes that betrayed nervous restlessness, and a characteristically feminine manner of speech that clung like viscous syrup. "I hear you're to become Chief Retainer soon," Shikibu said. Kai smiled as he responded, "Now what might that mean?" In an ingratiating tone, Date Shikibu pressed, "It's become quite the talk at Atagoshita Mansion - when might your appointment occur?"

“What brings you here today?” Kai deflected. Shikibu ignored the question. “Your appointment as Chief Retainer appears to be confidential,” he said, baring white teeth. Kai maintained a gentle smile as he replied. “That isn’t so. I remain entirely unaware of any such matter.” “‘Unaware,’ you say.” Shikibu nodded mockingly with an ironic gaze. Then abruptly changing tack, he inquired, “You’re returning to your domain soon—when might that be?” “I expect to depart tomorrow,” Kai answered. “You’ll likely meet with Wakuya upon returning.” “What would you have me do?” “When you see Wakuya,” Shikibu began, “there’s a message I require you to deliver.”

“Concerning the Yachi border—they’ve been making ambiguous claims.” “They claim that people from Terai territory are ignoring the borders and digging their hoes into Wakuya territory,” Shikibu said. “But upon investigation, we found no such facts—if anything, it seems those from Wakuya territory are crossing the borders instead. So please convey this message: ensure your own people are properly instructed to prevent such occurrences.” “If I have the honor of meeting them, I shall convey your message,” Kai replied.

After seeing Shikibu off, he went to meet with the abbot in the abbot’s quarters and spoke there for some time. From the Shinagawa Shimoyashiki lower residence had come a messenger from Lady Tsunamune with a request: to carve a personal Buddhist statue from their heirloom incense wood. That incense wood might possibly be something Lord Masamune had received from Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the abbot mentioned. If that were indeed the case, he would have reservations about carving it into a Buddhist statue. Such were the abbot’s words.

Kai listened attentively and offered no opinion. Then, since he would be returning to his domain, he said he was entrusting the Hata siblings, took his leave of the abbot’s quarters, and went to his lodgings.

Probably because Tansaburō had notified them in advance, both Uno and Toranosuke had changed clothes and were waiting. Toranosuke sat atop the futon, his small knees neatly aligned, and offered a greeting together with his sister. “What’s wrong, bud? Still not feeling better?” Kai sat down as he spoke. “My throat hurts.” Toranosuke raised his chin and said while pointing at his own throat. His voice was terribly hoarse, and his raised chin looked thin and pointed.

Kai smiled with his eyes and nodded. Despite the smile on his face, a sharp pain surfaced in his expression but vanished immediately. “I see, your throat hurts? Mine does too,” Kai said. “Do you cry when it hurts?” “──I won’t cry.” Toranosuke glanced sideways at his sister. Kai smiled. From between his lips, white teeth became visible, and vertical wrinkles formed on his left cheek. “That’s admirable. I don’t cry either—though when it hurts too much, I sometimes want to. But since it’s strange for a man to cry, I hold back and don’t. Is that how you are too, bud?”

Toranosuke glanced sideways at his sister again. Then, moving his fingers on his lap, he gave a firm nod. If he had a mother, he’d be at the age to cry and cling to her. Kai thought. The measles prognosis was poor—it had dragged on, sapping his body’s strength. Enduring such pain without crying must have been agonizing. “Now then,” Kai said, “please lie down.” “It’s not good for you to stay up,” Uno said. “Let’s talk while you rest.” “Then I’ll excuse myself so you can rest,” she added.

Toranosuke lay down and, raising his eyes to look at Kai, asked, “Uncle, are you leaving?” “No, I won’t leave. Let’s talk a bit more,” Kai said. “Do you know about bears, bud?” “Do you know?” Toranosuke looked at his sister.

“You know about them, don’t you?” Uno said. “I saw them once in a storybook.” “Yeah, I saw it. The Island Crossing.” “Do you?” “It’s The Island Crossing! I know it, bud!” Toranosuke declared eagerly. “Then what about deer?” Kai asked. “I know about deer too! The picture book had deer—there were bears and deer, and maybe rabbits too,” Toranosuke said, looking at his sister. Uno smiled and nodded, then adjusted the edge of her brother’s futon cover.

“In Uncle’s homeland, all those beasts exist,” Kai said. “There are big bears, cubs, deer with splendid antlers, and rabbits too.” “Even bear cubs?”

“Bear cubs too,” Kai nodded. He was about to say, “walking along with your mother,” but closed his mouth, then said, “You should come visit someday, bud.” “In Uncle’s homeland, there are mountains and rivers. In the mountains there are wild animals, in the rivers there are fish, and in the rivers you can catch fish,” he said.

Kai talked about deer. He spoke of how deer cross the Abukuma River; how they climb and descend even steep rocky slopes as swift as the wind; how they lower their heads when facing enemies, ramming and flinging foes with their sharp antlers or goring them; and how they remain ever vigilant, leaping away at even the faintest sound of a dropped needle. Toranosuke seemed to tire quickly.

After talking about deer, Kai spoke of mountains and rivers—the snow of Mount Zaō; the hot springs of Aone; the vistas of fields, rivers, sea, and islands visible from Aone’s inn. There were two rivers: one called the Shiraishi River, the other the Abukuma River. Both teemed with fish; when autumn deepened, salmon would sometimes come swimming upstream. “When you grow up, you should come visit,” Kai said. “We’ll climb mountains, catch fish in the rivers, see bears and deer and rabbits—would you like a bear cub, bud?”

“It’s snowing,” “When winter comes, the snow comes from Mount Zaō.”

“It’s snowing,” Toranosuke said. His eyes, wearied from listening and grown entranced, were looking toward the garden. Those eyes soon closed weakly, but Uno quietly stood up and slid open a shoji screen. “Oh my, it’s snowing,” Uno said. Kai turned in that direction. Under the cloudy sky, fine snow danced through the hushed and dim garden. Kai looked at Toranosuke. He was asleep. “Please close it—the child will get cold,” Kai said.

Uno said “Yes,” stepped out into the corridor, and closed it behind her. Kai was gazing steadily at Toranosuke’s sleeping face. You will enter the Buddhist priesthood. You will become a monk, Kai said in his heart. At such a tender age, to lose both parents at once—I know that sorrow well, bud. When I was younger than you are now, just five years old, I had my father taken from me. I still had my mother; there was land; retainers in plenty. Yet even now, I remember keenly how it felt—that loneliness without a father.

I only lost my father, but you and Uno lost both parents. You had no home, no relatives to rely on. I know how desolate and sorrowful you must feel, young as you are—Kai thought—but this isn’t the end. To live in this world means tasting greater suffering, more bitter sorrows, deeper despair. There is joy in living. The joy of a desirable dwelling; of dressing well; of eating and drinking; of being loved and respected. —And the joy of recognizing one’s talents; of one’s own deeds—Kai continued. There are indeed many joys in living. But all “joys” are fleeting—they vanish in an instant. They satisfy us momentarily, then disappear with startling speed, inevitably leaving behind suffering and regret.

People bear ceaseless efforts, suffering, and sorrow in place of fleeting, unreliable joys; enduring them, they eventually come to realize all is empty. You should enter the priesthood, bud. Kai thought to himself. Cast aside life's tedium and human entanglements—throw yourself into faith. Though I don't believe the Buddhist path holds only peace, if one could truly devote themselves... perhaps... maybe...

Kai’s mental murmur came to a halt there. If one could enter the Buddhist priesthood and devote themselves to faith, there would be salvation—that was what he had meant to say. He had tried to comfort the sleeping child in his heart. Though there was no one to hear him, he still couldn’t bring himself to say it outright. He frowned and stood up while turning his face away. Kai opened the shoji and stepped out into the corridor. And there stood Uno. She seemed to have been standing there all along, her sleeves folded over her chest, motionless as she gazed at a particular spot in the garden where snow swirled thickly.

“What are you looking at?” Kai asked. “Snow has piled up on that fir tree,” Uno said. Uno said without turning to look. Kai also nodded silently.

The fir tree was covered in snow. The snow fell fine and densely, almost straight down from the mouse-gray sky. Because it had been dry for some time, the ground was already blanketed in white; the garden’s trees and stone lanterns had also turned white, and even the shadows along the bordering earthen wall—reflected by the snow—appeared dark yet coldly tinged with blue. “I will return to Funooka tomorrow,” Kai said.

Then Uno whirled around to face him, her eyes wide open as she looked straight up at him. Her eyes, remaining wide open, instantly filled 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 as she pressed her flexible torso tightly against him. Kai felt the softness of Uno's body against his own skin. Her chest, abdomen, and thighs pressed snugly against him through their layers of clothing. Kai recoiled for just an instant.

The contact lasted only an instant. And though Uno herself was likely entirely unconscious of it, the warm, elastic roundness of the part that had boldly—or perhaps innocently—pressed against Kai’s thigh was more than enough to unsettle Kai at forty-two years of age. That momentary contact deeply unsettled Kai. That sensation seeped into the very core of his heart, spread throughout his entire body, and seized him firmly. At that moment, he felt that he and Uno were bound tightly and firmly by an invisible bond.

“I don’t want you to die, Uncle,” Uno said. It did not sound like the voice of a thirteen-year-old girl but rather like that of a mature young woman: “As long as you’re alive, Uncle, I don’t want you to die.”

Uno pressed her cheek firmly against Kai.

Kai casually withdrew from the contact and gently stroked Uno's back. Uno held her breath. She seemed to endure the urge to cry. Kai nodded and said.

“Yeah, I’m alive.”

Uno remained motionless. As if trying to immerse herself completely in Kai’s warmth and voice. Then, after a moment, she quietly raised her face. “When will you be leaving next year?” While saying this, Uno finally separated herself from Kai. “I’m not certain,” Kai answered. “I was supposed to return this spring, but various matters have delayed me until now. So in proper order, it should be next spring when I depart for Edo.”

“Then it will be the year after next.” “It will likely be that way,” Kai sighed, “but I may have to come out again next year. Who knows how things will turn out... What will happen... I can’t say anything definite here and now.”

Uno looked toward the fir tree again, then asked in a calm voice. "Is there anything I can do to be of help?" "Probably not," Kai smiled. "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 a younger brother—your role is to look after Toranosuke properly. And that's by no means an easy task, especially after what happened the other day."

Uno nodded.

“Now then, it’s cold—you should 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 Abukumagawa River... Uno will someday be able to see them all, won’t she?”

“That’s right,” Kai nodded. “You’ll be able to see them—once a little more time has passed.” “When Toranosuke turns eight, won’t it?” “That’s right—when Toranosuke turns eight.”

Then Kai called, “Tansaburō.” Immediately a reply was heard as Shiozawa Tansaburō emerged from the adjoining room and knelt in the corridor. Kai said, “The palanquin.” Tansaburō departed toward the entrance.

“Let me see the little one again.”

Kai opened the shoji. Uno entered the room after him and closed the shoji. Kai sat down at Toranosuke’s bedside. Toranosuke’s cheeks were red, his breathing short and irregular. Perhaps his sleep was shallow; his cheeks and eyelids twitched incessantly, and as if trying to say something, his lips occasionally moved.

“Has the diarrhea stopped?” Kai asked in a low voice. “No,” Uno answered. “I’ll have them change the doctor.” “Gen’an-sama is taking good care of him.” “Let’s try changing the doctor,” Kai said. “I’ll tell Sōzaemon. Tansaburō will continue coming here as usual, but if you need anything, don’t wait—send a messenger to the residence immediately.” Uno nodded and said, “Yes.” Kai turned around and looked at Uno.

“Uno, you’ll be alright?” “Yes, I will be alright.”

Kai quietly stood up, looked once more at Toranosuke’s sleeping face, then said, “There’s no need to see me off. Stay there,” and stepped out into the corridor. “Please take care,” Uno said.

Kai left without looking back.

After leaving Ryōgen-in, Kai immediately visited the residence of guardian Date Hyōbu, then made rounds to Tamura Ukyō, Moniwa Shūgen’s vacant house, Katakura Kojūrō, and Shibata Geki, bidding farewell at each stop before his return to the domain. When he returned to his home at the Sakurada residence late in the afternoon, the house remained crowded. That night, a private banquet was held exclusively for the household, with food and drink served even to the menservants and maids. Itō Shichijūrō—who would be traveling westward to Kamigata, contrary to Kai’s eastward journey—drank copiously while hurling acerbic jabs. His stated purpose for the Kamigata trip was to knock on Kumazawa Banzan’s gate. With drunken bravado, he clarified this didn’t mean studying Confucian classics—he intended to learn flute-playing instead. Kai shook his head and said, “Enduring more of Shichijūrō’s ‘blowing’ would be unbearable,” prompting uproarious laughter from all.

The following morning—he ascended to the palace to request leave to return to his domain from the young lord, then returned to exchange a brief farewell cup with the retainers remaining in Edo before departing for Funooka.

The snow was still falling.