Pathway to Japanese Literature

First Crucifixion “Boss, isn’t this just perfect? “Stuffed to bursting, pleasantly tipsy, spring in the air—and girls making such a ruckus everywhere—”

Garappa Hachi—Hachigoro—stroked his long face, licking his lips as he clung to Zenigata Heiji’s heels. Having been invited to Head Yoriki Sasano Shinzaburō’s modest celebratory banquet and feasted at Hatchōbori, the two were walking from Yatsukōji toward Shōheibashi—with Sujikai Gate visible to their right—on their way back. “Then if you’d plenty of pocket money, there’d be naught to complain about. Though girls making a fuss—that’s hardly reliable—”

“You’re not underestimating me, are you, Boss? Lately, if you carelessly pass through Myojinshita, it’s like love letters rain down—heh heh.” “What a Sukeroku you are—though I hear it’s not just the bitch at the corner liquor store that barks when she spots Hachi. Your aunt’s always giving you advice, the owner of the vegetable rice shop nags about last year’s tab, and Okanko from the stew shop—” “That’s enough—it’s not like that at all! Lately, the one who’s gotten close to me is Oei, the niece of Omiya Hanbee from Kanazawa-chō—”

“Oh, so you’ve set your sights on quite a prize. “That’s one glittering young thing you’ve got your eye on.” “She’s gotten so comfortable around me now, you see. “She’s been calling me ‘Boss Hachigoro, Boss Hachigoro—’ lately, you see.” “Don’t put on that creepy voice. “That girl—right in front of you—is a bit out of your league, Hachi.” “Her uncle’s a fallen ronin turned moneylender—not someone you can handle with simple methods. Brandishing your jitte and meddling there will only bring future trouble.”

Heiji, returning to his usual cautiousness, was saying such things.

It was early March—the air warm and pleasant, yet too soon for cherry blossoms—and Edo’s streets lay quiet just past the Hour of the Boar (10 PM), sinking into a spring night’s dream.

At that moment,

“H-Help...!”

A woman’s voice—crushed and desperate—clattered across Shōheibashi Bridge. She nearly collided with Heiji, who sidestepped just in time, sending her stumbling forward into Hachigoro’s arms—a young woman who seemed to tinge the night air pink with her presence.

“Ah! You startled me!” Holding her tightly as he stepped back two or three paces, Hachigoro peered at her through the faint light leaking from the oil-paper doors of the guardhouse at the bridge’s southern end—and gasped. “Ah, you’re Oei!” It was none other than Oei—the niece of Omiya Hanbee from Kanazawa-chō, the celebrated beauty who had lately been lighting up Myojinshita—who had just moments ago been gossiping about Boss Heiji. Her bloodless face, slightly disheveled hair, and the disordered front hem of her lined kimono—still as she’d worn it since daytime—all spoke of terror as she clutched her chest, her heart pounding like a frantic bell.

“Ah, Boss Hachigoro—perfect timing!” Just as she was about to collapse completely—her breath ragged—Hachigoro caught her once more.

“What’s happened, Oei?”

“Uncle... Uncle was—murdered.”

“What? “Uncle was killed.” “Where?” “In the house—when I returned from the neighbor’s and looked, he had been killed. “Hurry! Hurry!” Oei seemed to have finally regained her composure, urging the two onward as if tugging at their sleeves.

“It’s dark in here.”

Heiji spoke for the first time. Entering the alley of Kanazawa-chō, at the dead end stood the tenant house of Omiya Hanbee—constructed to welcome clients with ease, fitting for a moneylender. “When I rushed out, I extinguished the hand lantern.” “Please wait—I’ll light it right away.” Oei had apparently regained full composure; she entered first to search for flint tools when soon a sulfurous smell wafted through the air and light returned to the hand lantern.

Looking around, they saw mottled bloodstains stretching from the entrance to the back; Heiji and Hachigoro stepped around them and, holding up the hand lantern received from Oei, entered the next room.

“Oh?” Heiji came to a halt at the threshold. “What’s wrong, Boss?” “There’s an awful lot of blood, but no corpse.” “But that’s impossible—” The warmth of Oei’s cheek peering over from behind and her fragrant breath brushed against Hachigoro’s neck.

“Well, what could have happened?” “Just until a moment ago, it was right here.” Oei herself now looked genuinely terrified.

“Hachi, even if they moved the heavy corpse, there wouldn’t have been time to take it far.” “You search the outer perimeter—no need to go far. I’ll check inside while you do that.” “On it!”

Hachigoro lit the lantern and, clutching it in one hand, dashed out through the back door.

Only Heiji and Oei remained. “Is there any sign something was stolen?” “There doesn’t seem to be any sign of that.” The cupboards, closets, and entire room were neatly arranged, with nothing appearing scattered about. “The money?”

“That I don’t know. Uncle handled everything himself and wouldn’t let someone like me lay a hand on his affairs.”

“That’s what I figured. By the way—are just you and your uncle living in this house?” “No, we have a clerk and an apprentice too. Clerk Uhatchi went to Shiba on business, and apprentice Sadakichi left for his parents’ home in Honjo due to late seasonal leave.”

“And you?” “I went to the neighbor’s and became engrossed in conversation.”

“What time did you go to the neighbor’s?”

“It was just past the Hour of the Rooster and a half—7 PM.” “I became so engrossed in talking about the play that when I heard the Hour of the Boar bell at 10 PM, I was startled and rushed back home—” Oei seemed to recall that moment and gulped. Her voice still quivered slightly, but her complexion had regained complete composure—her large, intelligent eyes; her glossy crimson lips; the soft contours from her cheeks to her chin and neck—all combining into a beauty without equal, enough to leave Hachigoro utterly captivated. Though her manner of speaking held a distinctive charm, that faintly girlish tone seemed uncharacteristic of a twenty-year-old woman—yet this very quality lent her an alluring grace that some might call irresistibly charming.

Her manner of speech had a distinctive quality—a girlishly innocent tone unbefitting a woman of twenty with pearly white teeth—but this very quality transformed into a kind of coquetry that some might call an irresistibly endearing charm.

At that moment, "Ah! This is bad—here of all places!"

Hachigoro’s voice boomed without restraint near the back of the house. “What’s so bad?” “You’ll startle the neighbors.”

While reprimanding Hachigoro, Heiji slipped on his water clogs and stuck his face out from the kitchen entrance.

Oei remained behind—left alone in this blood-drenched room, the eeriness of her solitary presence must have overwhelmed her. “Boss! If this ain’t trouble made flesh!” Hachigoro stood planted in the vacant lot behind the house, still bellowing as he jabbed his finger toward a nearby chinquapin tree. Heiji’s gaze tracked the line of that pointing finger.

“Ah!”

Even he was shocked.

“See, Boss? Even with all this fanfare, you couldn’t be shocked enough by this!” Hachigoro’s words rang true—for bound to the chinquapin tree in crucifixion style was none other than the blood-drenched corpse of a hulking man. That this wretched figure was Omiya Hanbei, master of Omiya House and Oei’s uncle, needed no explanation. Coarse ropes lashed his chest and neck to the tree, while a dagger-pierced throat bore a thousand-ryō chest hung like some pilgrim’s satchel—whether curse or grudge mattered little before such a ghastly spectacle.

Hanbei was a man in his prime at forty-five or six, with a smooth, square face and a robust frame befitting a martial artist—his status as a fallen rōnin was evident at a glance. To drive a dagger into the neck of such a powerfully built man couldn’t have been easy. Perhaps due to the corpse’s weight, its feet remained planted on the ground while a six-foot pole had been placed across its shoulders to spread the arms in crucifixion fashion—the entire arrangement showed thorough meticulousness.

“Hmm——”

Behind Heiji came the sound of something collapsing—when he turned around, Oei, perhaps overwhelmed by the gruesomeness, had fainted and lay crumpled on a garden stone. “Hachi, you take care of the girl. “I’ll take down the corpse.” “Will you be alright on your own?”

Heiji did not respond and first removed the thousand-ryō chest from the corpse's neck. The rope's intricate binding contrasted with the chest's unexpected lightness—when he brushed open its loose lid, only fifty or sixty gold coins lay inside. On the right side of the neck where the chest-hanging rope had pressed, a ghastly wound gaped open. Blood had soaked through from shoulders to chest and down toward the waist. Given how relatively clean the rope remained, they must have transported him here post-mortem before binding him to the chinquapin tree.

“Shall I help you, Boss?”

Hachigoro emerged from the kitchen entrance once again.

“How’s the girl?”

“She seems to have recovered—this is no sight for women and children.” “Give me a hand. Let’s get him inside and make him look presentable.” “Right.” Heiji examined everything from the rope knots to the corpse’s body as he and Hachigoro carried it onto the veranda, heedless of the blood staining their clothes. “Oh, there’s something strange here.” Hachigoro was looking at the corpse’s arm—the outer side of the upper arm where the sleeve had rolled back.

“What’s there?” “It’s a strange tattoo!” Dice pips. “Let me see.”

Heiji brought over the lantern that had been placed on the garden soil and moved it closer to the corpse. "Huh, this here's the crest of Sanada Yukimura!"

The sudden shrillness of Hachigoro’s voice. “There’s no such thing as tiny six-mon coins—that’s a six of dice pips.”

“If it's a dice pip, isn't it too big? It's about the size of a bean. A die with eyes this big would be one of those papier-mâché dice dangling from a toy shop signboard.” “They can't carve them exactly like real dice pips.” While muttering these idle words, Heiji was carefully examining the tattoo. “Now that you mention it, there's a faint square line engraving here.”

While they were saying such things, a man slid in from the entrance.

“Oh, Miss Oei—what’s happened to you?” “Ah, Mr. Uhatchi—something terrible has happened!” “What have they done?”

That was a lean, wiry man of thirty-seven or thirty-eight who exuded toughness. Oei seemed to have finally regained her composure now and began crawling toward the entrance. “Uncle—he was murdered.” “What? That man—he couldn’t have been killed. He wasn’t the sort of weakling who’d get murdered by anyone—” As he spoke while entering, clerk Uhatchi—confronted with the splattered blood under the hand lantern’s glow and Heiji with Hachigoro inspecting the corpse by the veranda lantern—finally showed genuine shock on his face.

“Boss Zenigata! Mr. Uhatchi!”

“That’s… surprising. Since I didn’t know about this, I’d been making rounds to two or three places in Shiba—enjoying their hospitality drinks in good spirits—” “And you?” Heiji looked up from the corpse. Though they lived in the neighboring town and should have known each other, Omiya had only started their moneylending business here about half a year prior, and with Uhatchi the clerk, they had never exchanged words beyond passing each other on the streets or meeting at the bathhouse.

“I am Uhatchi, the servant here. ...This is terrible.” Though his tone remained composed, his complexion unaltered, and his brows unmoving, Heiji could not possibly miss the faint trembling of the hands placed on his knees.

“Where did you go?”

“From early afternoon, by my master’s order, I made rounds through Shiba for collections.” “Where exactly did you go?” “The names of the places you went to?” “At Tomoe-chō—the rōnin Mr. Ōhashi Dentsū; at Udagawa-chō—the draper Mr. Sagamiya Seibee; at Shibaguchi Nichōme—Master Kinosuke the chief carpenter... That’s all there is to it.” “Dinner?” “Where did you have it?” “I was treated to dinner at Master Kinosuke’s place.” “They even served me sake.” Uhatchi pressed a hand to his own cheek.

“What about the collected money?” “February’s bad for business—not much came in. All three shops begged to settle with just the interest payments. I only got seven or eight ryō out of ’em.”

Perhaps pressured by Heiji’s stern demeanor, Uhatchi took out a purse from his pocket and began rustling its contents.

Perhaps having caught wind of the commotion around that time, the late-night alley was gradually filling with more and more onlookers. “Hachi, go next door and find out what time Oei left and when she returned.” “You may lack tact, but make sure to thoroughly inquire with the neighbors about Omiya’s private affairs.” “Got it!”

“Then gather as many local informants as you can.” “Send men to check each time Uhatchi claims he visited those three places in Shiba.” “Then summon Sadakichi—that apprentice who’s supposedly gone back to his parents in Honjo.”

“That’s all?” “I’ve got plenty to do, but those need handling first.” “Got it!” “Ah, careful! Watch your step—if you tread on the tatami’s bloodstains, it’ll be hell to clean up later.”

“Oh, the bloodstains are starting to harden, Boss.” Hachigoro crouched down on the tatami and rubbed the bloodstains with his finger. “The murder happened in the evening—I’ll investigate that later. “Hurry up with those arrangements from earlier!” “Got it!” Hachigoro rushed off. “Oei—there’s something I want to ask.” “――”

Oei came silently to Heiji’s side and raised slightly frightened eyes.

“When you returned from next door, was there a lamp lit in the house?” “No, it was pitch dark—I couldn’t make out anything.” “So you entered that pitch darkness and lit a lamp?”

“Oh, I’m used to it.” “When you lit the lamp, your uncle’s corpse was indeed in this room.”

“It was indeed there. “...leaning against the long brazier with his head slumped forward.” Now that she mentioned it, the ash in the long brazier had absorbed the blood and hardened into black.

“After seeing the corpse, you came running straight toward Suheibashi Bridge, didn’t you?” “Huh?”

“You didn’t stop anywhere else along the way, did you?”

“I didn’t stop anywhere else.” “In such a situation, wouldn’t it be natural to call out to the neighbors first?” Heiji’s questioning was subtle yet biting.

“But I was flustered.” “I was so startled that...”

Oei’s tone was flat and artless, and she seemed to struggle even to comprehend the meaning of what was being said to her. “Even so, coming toward Suheibashi Bridge is odd, isn’t it? Even if you didn’t rush to the neighbors’ house, you must have known about my place in Myoujin-shita—going to Suheibashi is completely backward.”

Beside the dim andon lantern, the other hand lantern lay on the tatami mats—encircled by mottled bloodstains, this makeshift court was gruesomely effective.

“I thought it was around the time Mr. Uhatchi would return.” “When I saw Uncle had been killed, I must have first thought of that and headed toward Suheibashi Bridge.” “And besides—”

“And?”

“At the southern end of Suheibashi Bridge, there’s a guard post.” “I might have thought of rushing to the guard post.”

The psychology of a girl acting on impulse contained something that even Zenigata Heiji’s wisdom could not reach. “Boss, I went next door, but…”

Hachigoro seemed to have something he wanted to tell Heiji, looking around and flaring his nostrils. “What is it? Say it here.”

Heiji urged Hachigoro onward without showing particular vigilance. Though his niece Oei and clerk Uhatchi in the adjacent room were likely listening, he probably thought it wouldn’t cause much trouble even if they overheard whatever trivial matters the neighbors might tell a police informant. "The times when Oei went next door and returned are exactly as she herself stated." "She went over after finishing cleaning up dinner, and just when the bell for the Hour of the Boar—10 PM—rang, she thought, ‘Oh my, it’s already that late? I shouldn’t let Uncle scold me,’ and hurried back."

“How’s that girl’s reputation in the neighborhood?” “Not bad at all! She’s open-hearted, good-looking, and bold—” “What about the master?” “Omiya Hanbei was surprisingly generous for a moneylender—he got along well with the neighbors and never held back on donations or community expenses—” “For a moneylender to be such a generous man—isn’t that a bit unusual, Hachi?” “Now that you mention it, that’s true—but there’s one more thing, Boss.”

Hachigoro fidgeted awkwardly, as if struggling to get the words out.

“What’s the matter, Hachi? You’re being unusually tight-lipped, aren’t you?” “But this ain’t somethin’ I can say loud—neighbors say they call Master Hanbei ‘Uncle,’ but that Oei woman likely ain’t his real niece—Heh.”

“Don’t make those strange noises.” “Let’s hope they’re not some phony uncle-niece act—we’ll need to check the census records to be sure, mark my words.” Hachigoro looked thoroughly entertained by his own suggestion.

“What about the clerk and the apprentice?” “Uhatchi’s got good looks and they say he’s skilled in business too—that shop practically runs on the clerk’s efforts, or so the talk goes.”

“And?”

“The apprentice Sadakichi is just an ordinary errand boy—though for fifteen, he’s quite large and said to be clever.”

“That’ll do, Hachi. Didn’t you ask about Hanbei’s past?” “He was said to be a rōnin from around Chūgoku with something martial about him.” “Call Oei.” “Huh?”

When Hachigoro disappeared into the adjacent room, Oei came out instead, somewhat nervously. “How are you feeling? Have you calmed down a bit?” Heiji’s tone was ordinary, even gentle.

"Oh, thank you." "I'm all right now." "I was just so startled earlier." Oei said this while still pressing her chest, as if her racing heart hadn't subsided. "You should know if I ask you—your uncle Hanbei was a ronin. Which domain was he from?" "That's something I don't know." "And you're his niece?"

Heiji’s tone grew slightly more pressing. Oei’s demeanor had changed a bit too much.

“But there’s a reason for that.”

How did Oei intend to reconcile the fact that a niece didn’t know her uncle’s origins? “And what reason is that?” “I wasn’t Uncle’s real niece—I must confess something shameful, but when I first became aware of the world, I was an orphan with neither parents nor siblings, raised by a traveling showman.” “Perhaps I was born the daughter of an impoverished peasant in some distant countryside and sold off when they couldn’t feed me—or maybe I was a child born from some forbidden affair my parents couldn’t acknowledge, cast out from my village and passed into the hands of a traveling showman. I don’t know which it was, but at any rate, from when I first understood things until I was fifteen or sixteen, I grew up in the tents of performers who roamed all over Japan, trained in various arts and made to perform on stage.”

Oei’s story was rather bizarre, but once one realized that the peculiar allure she possessed—far from being cultivated in a respectable household—had been naturally mastered through years as a traveling performer catering to patrons’ tastes, it ceased to seem mysterious at all. “—” Heiji silently urged her to continue. “Three years ago, during a performance tour along the Tokaido Road, when our troupe leader incurred a local boss’s wrath and we faced a crisis that threatened even our lives, Uncle Hanbei rescued us. After that, we gradually grew closer, and ultimately I willingly became Uncle’s ward—formally adopted as his niece.” "My life of wandering from place to place ended there, and I settled in Edo—before I knew it, three whole years had passed."

Oei’s story came to an end here.

It was a well-structured account that provided a coherent explanation of her relationship with Omiya Hanbei—the uncle-niece arrangement now made reasonable sense. “By the way, that dice pip ‘six’ tattooed on Hanbei’s arm—what kind of tattoo is that? I think you know about it—”

“No, I don’t know anything at all. When he first left his lord’s household and lost his stipend, he used to laugh about how he’d been so desperate for money that he even worked as security at gambling dens back then. Perhaps it’s a memento from those gang affiliations?” If that’s how it was explained, then so be it—but if it were dice for gamblers, you’d expect two pips to be tattooed side by side. Having just a single six etched there didn’t sit right.

“Hanbei must have been quite skilled.”

Heiji asked a strange question. “He was proud of his martial skills. He had studied jujutsu, kenjutsu, archery, and horsemanship to some extent—but he seemed particularly proud of his swordsmanship. He said he’d obtained an official certification or something of the sort.”

“That he could be killed so effortlessly—”

That was something Heiji couldn’t comprehend. How could someone who had obtained a first-rate certification be stabbed like an insect without showing any sign of resistance? “What kind of people did he usually associate with?” “He didn’t have many associates,” she replied. “Though he was well-liked in the neighborhood.” “No spouse or children?” “There do not appear to be any.” “How much money do you think he had?”

Heiji’s question took a leap. “I’m not entirely sure about that myself, but he did say something last summer about how I’d now become a thousand-ryo heiress—though he also mentioned that nine hundred of that was loaned out money.”

Oei’s explanation was conveyed quite effectively.

“That’s quite a sum,” he said. “By the way—though I know I’m repeating myself—did Hanbei ever let slip about his birthplace or former lord during any conversations?” “He never spoke of that particular matter,” she replied. “He seemed quite knowledgeable about the Chūgoku region, and given his Kansai dialect, I believe he may have served a minor daimyo somewhere between Kansai and Chūgoku—” Even Oei’s sharp mind seemed not to have extended its inquiries this far.

“Another thing—what was the name of that show troupe you used to belong to? What was the master’s name?” “It was called the Akashi Troupe. The master was Akashi Gorohatchi—a traveling rural performer who didn’t set up proper venues in places like Edo.” “Alright, alright. If I ever run into that show troupe again, I’ll tell them about you.”

Heiji seemed to have gained enough composure to make such a charming remark.

“Boss.”

The one who came rushing in was Gara-Hachi. He remained as tireless as ever. “What now—it’s already late. I was just about ready to call it a night.” “This isn’t the time for that! There’s blood washed off at the wellside! It’s clinging like on a tuna-cutting board!” “I see.”

Heiji went outside. Seeing two or three assistants waving lanterns and making a commotion, he found the wellside washing area indeed streaked with bloodstains—as if declaring this was where the filth had been disposed of. “Boss, we haven’t found the dagger.” “I’ve been looking for it too—but the culprit must’ve taken it and fled.” “Have you identified the culprit yet, Boss?”

“No, I haven’t got the faintest clue.” “To take down that master swordsman of a ronin with a single strike—that requires considerable skill.”

Gara-Hachi had likely been pondering such matters just as hard. A man of such considerable skill was unlikely to be found around here—within Hachigoro’s jurisdiction.

“If they went at him head-on, it’d be tough, but maybe they snuck up from behind and did him in with a dagger.”

“Would that man stay silent until a dagger was struck into his neck?” “He must’ve let his guard down—no, it must’ve been someone who wouldn’t make him think anything was wrong even if they got behind him.” “Huh.”

“By the way, there was one more thing I asked you to do—” “You mean checking whether anyone saw Hanbei in good health after Oei went to the neighbor’s place.” “No one saw him, but two or three people heard his voice.” “When Oei was leaving through the gate—‘I’m just going out for a bit,’ she said in her high-pitched voice—Hanbei called out from inside in a grumpy tone: ‘It’s a hassle being left alone here. Come back soon.’”

The Whereabouts of the Dagger “Boss, we’ve finally found it!” As usual, Hachigoro came bursting in while spouting his usual disjointed remarks. The evening after Omiya Hanbei’s murder found Heiji returning to his home—a mere stone’s throw from Kanazawa-cho’s crime scene where he’d spent the entire day investigating—for what was supposed to be a brief rest. “What’s been found now? Did another raccoon pup turn up behind Myojin Shrine?” “Nothing that trivial, Boss.” “During today’s midday ebb tide—a dagger surfaced beneath Shōhei Bridge.”

“What? A dagger?” “This beats a raccoon pup any day! The greasy blade that’d make your heart pound—when they chucked it in, must’ve botched the throw or somethin’, ’cause it ended up jammed perfect-like at the foot of the embankment’s stone wall!”

“And then what happened?” “The neighborhood children found it, and everything was fine until they climbed down the stone wall to retrieve it—” “Where did you put that dagger?”

“The story’s just getting started, Boss. The one who saw that was a passing barrel-collecting boy—he suddenly came over to where the kids were and confronted their gang leader—” “Quit beating around the bush—just get to the point. Depending on how this goes, I’ll have to chase down that dagger.”

Heiji looked impatient. Based on how the story was developing, he seemed poised to rush out at any moment. “Even if you rush out now, you won’t make it in time.” “That barrel-collecting boy bought the dagger for one shu.” “Damn it—why didn’t you detain that kid?”

“I caught him,” said Hachigoro. “Found him sticking his head into a sweets shop in Koyanagi-cho and left him at the Shōhei Bridge guard post. But when we gave him a proper scare, he started howling like a stray pup—couldn’t get a word out of him.” “That dagger I bought for one shu? No clue where it went now!” Heiji clicked his tongue. “Scaring kids won’t make ’em talk.” “Let’s go see for ourselves.” Heiji rose decisively. Following Hachigoro to Shōhei Bridge, they pushed through a crowd thick as storm clouds until they found the boy—twelve or thirteen years old, dull-eyed and wailing like a teakettle left too long on the fire.

“That’s the kid, Boss.” “The one who bought the dagger for one shu and was poking his head into the candy shop in Koyanagi-cho—”

Hachigoro continued to bellow without restraint as usual.

“There, there—you’re that boy I sometimes see around here, aren’t you? Even if you bought the dagger, I’m not going to scold you for it. If you want sweets that badly, I’ll buy you enough to gorge yourself, I tell you. There’s no need to cry—you’re a man, aren’t you?” While patting the barrel-collecting boy’s back, Heiji skillfully placated him. “Just tell me who asked you to buy the dagger and where you took it—that’s all you need to say. Do you understand, kid? Look here—there’s one shu. I’m not asking anything unreasonable. You can eat whatever you like until your belly bursts—though making yourself sick won’t do you any good. Good. You understand now.”

“Heh, heh... There you go—smiling now. Not crying anymore, are you, kid?”

Heiji skillfully drew the boy’s interest.

"Yeah, someone asked me to," he said. "I was told if I bought that dagger the kids found for one shu, they’d give me another shu as a reward." The boy clutched a new one-shu silver coin like a treasured possession, his words tumbling out between sobs.

“And then what happened?” “I handed the dagger over to the person who asked me for it—but I don’t know where that person went.”

The boy looked around unsteadily. “What kind of person made you buy that dagger? Was it someone you know, or a stranger?” Heiji finally got hold of a crucial lead.

“It’s someone I know—that voice, I’ve heard it plenty of times before. “I can’t remember their face—they had a cloth over their cheeks and were hiding their mouth with their sleeve.” “What about their clothes?” “It was what they call twin stripes, right? They wore a happi coat over a lined kimono.” “They might be a shop clerk from somewhere.” “Can’t you think of some way to remember them?” “I’m counting on you, kid.” Heiji felt like grabbing the boy by the collar. He felt that if this not-particularly-clever boy had been a bit more perceptive, this troublesome case might have been solved in one fell swoop.

“If I see them again, I’ll definitely remember.” “They’ve gotta be someone from this neighborhood—”

A faint glimmer of light shone through the boy’s words.

“Where do you live?” “Sakumacho. Just ask for Motokichi at Nisuke’s shop.” Motokichi the barrel collector said something worthy of Banzuiin Chōbei.

“So you’re Motokichi from Nisuke’s shop, huh.” “Good boy. Stick around here for a while and look for the person who made you buy the dagger.” “I’ll pay your daily wage.” “And if you successfully find them, I’ll give you another shu.” “Thanks a bunch! I’m countin’ on ya, Boss.” While spouting such arrogant words, this not-particularly-clever boy threaded his way through the crowd of onlookers and headed off toward Myojin Bridge. For a little while longer, Zenigata Heiji was on Shohei Bridge asking the children about the area where the dagger had fallen.

“Was there no sheath?” “There wasn’t one, mister.” The children who had found the dagger and secured a one-shu coin still appeared convinced something else might be lying about, clinging stubbornly near the stone wall as if reluctant to leave.

“Were the dagger and sheath thrown separately, or did it come off in the water? In any case, if you find the sheath, bring it here. I’ll give you a reward.” “Thanks, mister!”

The children already felt as though they had found the sheath.

“By the way, Hachi—I just remembered something important—”

Heiji summoned Hachigoro. He wore an intensely grim expression.

“What is it, Boss?”

The serene expression on Hachigoro’s face as he received this. “Put a watch on that barrel-collecting boy.” “Forgetting to keep watch might turn into a terrible blunder—I just hope it doesn’t.” Heiji appeared extremely worried.

“Boss, we can’t find that kid anywhere.”

Hachigoro brought the report to Heiji's house that evening—while it was still early in the night. “Can’t be helped—though I’ll admit this one was my oversight.” “I checked Nisuke’s shop in Sakuma, but even though it got dark, he still hadn’t returned. In the back alleys of Sakumacho—a house like a sparrow’s nest—a single mother with six kids in that chaotic mess. They say that boy’s the second child and a hard worker despite his looks.” “As long as there’s no mistake—”

Heiji appeared to be worried about that. “By the way, I had every place Uhatchi from Omiya House visited that night thoroughly checked.”

Hachigoro brought up a new topic. “What’s the situation? You’ve got all the details figured out, I trust.” Heiji too seemed deeply interested in this matter, completely forgetting about the barrel-collecting boy’s whereabouts from that point on. “He went to Denchū Ōhashi, the rōnin in Tomoe-chō, around the mid-hour of the Sheep (3 PM), collected just 1 ryō and 2 bu in loan interest, drank some tea, snacked on millet crackers, and returned home.” “And then?” “He went to Master Kinosuke’s place next to the Sendai estate in Shibaguchi Nichōme exactly at the Hour of the Monkey (4 PM)—and as if on cue, Zojoji Temple’s bell rang out, so there’s no mistake—there he went inside, talked at length, drank a cup, was treated to dinner, then leisurely returned around the mid-hour of the Rooster (7 PM).” “The amount received was three ryō and two bu, including both interest and monthly installments.”

“—”

“The third stop was at Udagawachō’s clothier—Sagamiya Seibee—which he reached at the mid-hour of the Dog (9 PM).” “Wait—that interval seems a bit too long. Shibaguchi Nichōme and Udagawachō are right under each other’s noses. Even crawling on all fours, it shouldn’t take one koku (two hours).”

“I thought it was strange too,” Hachigoro replied. “When I met Uhatchi just to be sure, he said he’d overdone it with the drink at Master Kinosuke’s place—got such a splitting headache he couldn’t stand it—so he went out to Shibaura for a spell. Ended up behind the Sendai estate, gazing at Ohama Palace and soaking in the sea breeze—that’s what he claimed.”

“And then?”

“At Sagamiya, he handled the business right at the shopfront—though this being a large transaction, he collected three ryō in interest and went straight back to Kanazawachō.” “So that means he returned from Udagawachō to Kanazawachō in one koku (two hours).” “That’s likely how it went.”

Hachigoro's report ended there. If one were to return from Master Kinosuke's house in Shibaguchi Nichōme to Kanazawachō, kill Omiya Hanbei, then turn back again to Udagawachō, Clerk Uhatchi could indeed have been the perpetrator—but his claim about gazing at Shiba Bay and sobering up alone in an empty spot couldn't serve as an alibi under these circumstances.

“By the way—another matter—what about the household of Omiya’s apprentice?” “As for the apprentice Sadakichi—that kid’s clever, isn’t he? It’s just a single parent and child—the parent’s paralyzed and can’t move a muscle, so they’re relying on his younger sister for care—”

Hachigoro continued his account.

“So when I checked the apprentice Sadakichi’s house—it’s in Ishihara in Honjo.” “His father Sadagoro used to run an inn at Totsuka post town and lived well, they say, but after losing his fortune he came to Edo, went through all sorts of hardships, and ended up paralyzed—can’t even move his legs now.” “As for the sister—Osato, who came back home after a failed marriage—she’s Sadakichi’s aunt. She’s looking after them, but despite her sweet-sounding name, she’s like some shriveled-up old hag possessed by a demon—”

“You’ve got a sharp tongue.” “But Sadakichi’s a dutiful son. Just look—he’s fifteen but acts grown beyond his years, sharp-witted and sturdy as any full-fledged man. But Master Hanbei was such a tyrant—never gave proper wages, wouldn’t even grant him seasonal leave! Pitiable, I tell you—that day he went back to his parents’ place from noon onward. Not a single show in Ryōgoku for him—no, he sent his aunt Osato off to rest and tended to his father himself. Isn’t he something?”

“You’ve done well—searched what needed searching, asked what needed asking. But we still haven’t pinpointed who’d stand to gain from killing Omiya Hanbei or anyone bearing a grudge worth killing him over.”

Heiji sank deep into thought. “What should we do next, Boss?”

“We’ve no choice but to wait for them to make their move—given how deft and tenacious they are, they’re not likely to back down after just this.” “So?”

“Wait—looks like someone just ducked into that alley.” Heiji had no time to listen closely.

“Boss! Something terrible has happened! Please come at once!”

That was Yoshi of Yushima—a middle-aged police informant not easily shaken. “What’s wrong, Yoshi?” “Behind Tsumagoi Inari-sama’s shrine—that boy’s been killed.” “The barrel-collecting boy?” “Oh—you called him Motokichi, right? Poor thing—he had a rope put around his neck like a stray cat.”

Even Yoshi of Yushima gasped despite himself.

“Let’s go, Hachi—I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but...” Heiji’s premonition had come true with cruel accuracy. Forming a group of three, they passed through the grounds of Tsumagoi Inari and emerged into the thicket behind it. There, amidst town officials and onlookers jostling with several lanterns, lay the corpse of that barrel-collecting boy. “Oh, Boss Zenigata—this one’s already gone. “He’s been dead for at least half a koku (one hour).”

The town doctor shook his shaved head and quietly stood up beside the corpse. "What a horrible thing they've done." "The bastard who did this cruel deed—I won't rest easy until we make him carry five or six crucifixion posts on his back." "Bastard!"

Heiji and Hachigoro crouched down on either side of the corpse. They had removed the rope from his neck, but agony was etched vividly across his face. When they touched his forehead, it was already growing cold. "They used this boy as a tool and did something this brutal when their secret was about to come out," he said. "I'll definitely find this killer." Heiji's words were calm, but within his gut burned a seething rage at the killer's cruelty.

“Hachi, go check Omiya’s place in Kanazawachō. Find out who left the premises since evening.”

In that instant, Heiji grasped the close connection between three incidents: the barrel-collecting boy’s death, the missing dagger, and Omiya Hanbei’s murder. Hachigoro bolted off like a hunting dog unleashed, yet within half an hour came storming back with breath heaving like a tempest. “Just as you figured, Boss—that bastard rushed out before finishing cleanup after the master’s funeral and still hasn’t come back!”

“Uhatchi the clerk?” “Exactly.” “I thought as much. It’s probably futile, but round up five or six informants and comb through any likely leads.” “I’ll take care of that—I know that Uhatchi bastard’s face.”

Yoshi of Yushima dashed out. Having detected what seemed to be the killer’s trail, he must have been driven by his police informant’s instincts—unable to resist pursuing it. “Then I’ll leave Uhatchi to Brother Yoshi—you take this boy’s body back to his parents in Sakumachō.” “Huh?” “I have something I urgently need to investigate.”

Heiji—whatever he had been thinking—parted the crowd and vanished into the darkness of the spring night.

“Hey—has someone come to claim this child yet, huh?” “Uh, uh, I am Nisuke—landlord of Sakumachō. This is Oyuki, Motokichi’s sister.” The one who answered Hachigoro’s call was a nearly sixty-year-old bald-headed old man, and the one who abruptly looked up at his voice was a young woman who had been squatting beside the corpse, weeping bitterly. She appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen—a girl whose beauty was just beginning to ripen into maturity, yet the poverty that had seeped into her very marrow hindered its full blossoming, giving her the air of a worm-eaten fruit.

Under Hachigoro’s instructions, the laborers brought a wooden plank, laid the boy’s corpse upon it, and made their way through the late-night streets to Sakumachō, mournfully illuminated by the yellow glow of their lanterns. The sound of Oyuki’s voice seeped from the tattered sleeves covering her face, piercing Hachigoro’s heart. When the corpse was carried into Nisuke’s shop—into what people called a sparrow’s nest of a back-alley tenement—Hachigoro must have been driven by the impulse to flee countless times. A mother in her forties—worn down by life until barely recognizable—along with four more small sisters and brothers besides Oyuki, clung to Motokichi’s pitiless corpse and abandoned all decorum and restraint, bursting into a great chorus of wailing.

“Boss... my brother’s just too pitiful.” “Who in the world could’ve done something this cruel?” Oyuki clung to Hachigoro’s sleeve and pleaded through her tears. “Don’t you fret—I’ve got a fair idea who did it.” “I’ll nab ’em within three days and make sure they get what’s coming.” “Boss Zenigata’s already got it all worked out, see?”

While tears streamed down his face and he patted the girl’s shoulder, Hachigoro made a terrifyingly rash promise.

12,000 ryō

Heiji and Hachigoro met the next morning at Heiji’s house in Myōjin-shita.

“What’s wrong, Hachi? You’re spacing out.” While using Saruya’s bucket, Heiji called out from the wellside.

“I can’t help spacing out.” “It was so damn irritating that I scoured the streets past midnight, but I couldn’t find a single clue about the brat’s killer.”

When he entered through the lattice door left wide open, Hachigoro brushed past Oshizu’s broom and peered into the kitchen. “This runs deep,” he said. “Since rushing wouldn’t get us anywhere, I dashed straight to Suiyakibashi Bridge right afterward, woke up Minami’s clerk, and had him check the magistrate’s records. Didn’t get home till daybreak.” Heiji had spent nearly the entire night investigating to uncover the truth of the case.

“So have you figured out who killed that barrel-collecting boy, Boss?” “You’re really putting your back into this brat-killer business again, aren’t you?”

“When we carried the corpse to Nisuke’s shop in Sakumachō, it was heartbreaking.” The mother was a forty-year-old woman worn ragged by poverty, with four small children clinging to her; the eldest sister was seventeen and did piecework to support them—though she was exceedingly beautiful, her lined kimono and obi were tattered. “I emptied my wallet to leave condolence money, but last night—I felt so wretched wishing I’d had even three or five ryō in here. With just five or six holed coins, there wasn’t any point wrapping them in paper.”

“Don’t cry, Hachi. Not having pocket money shows poor daily habits—though speaking of which, my wallet’s never exactly been full either.” Even as he spoke, Heiji wore a lonely, bitter smile.

“That’s why I promised them I’d at least capture the killer within three days and settle this grudge.” “Strange how your resolve sharpens when there’s a proper woman involved.” “It’s not like that, Boss.”

“Well, have it your way. By the way, since I ended up getting terribly sleepy after buying Minami’s clerk a shō of sake, I did manage to uncover various things.” “Oh? What kind of things?” “First of all, that tattoo on Omiya Hanbei’s upper arm is no ordinary matter.” “Huh?” “You know about the Six-Man Gang—the ones who ransacked the highways for a time—right?”

“I know,” Hachigoro replied. “Two or three years back, wasn’t it? That six-man gang of master thieves who’d ransacked every inn from Odawara to Sunpu.” “The very same,” Heiji said. “They never dared enter Edo proper—the shogun’s backyard—but made that stretch from Hakone to Utsunoya Pass their hunting ground. Villains who targeted nothing but major scores.” He leaned forward, the morning light catching his sharp features. “Exactly two years ago today, at Utsunoya Pass, they slaughtered a horse handler and two samurai escorts to steal Lord Owari’s official gold shipment—12,000 ryō bound from Nagoya to Edo. Dumped two of their own dead comrades and vanished like mist. You’ve heard this tale before.”

“I certainly know—under orders from the authorities, they arranged searches not just throughout Edo but even beyond the Four Post Stations for that Six-Man Gang, but ultimately their whereabouts remained unknown——” “Unlike incidents in Edo, with the Utsunoya Pass robbery—our initial efforts waned over time until people forgot—but Omiya Hanbei, killed recently, appears to have been part of that gang.”

Heiji’s story was utterly astonishing. That Omiya Hanbei—killed and crucified on a chinquapin tree in his garden—had once been part of the Six-Man Gang who terrorized the highways was nothing short of sensational news, a dramatic reversal that struck at the very instincts of any police informant. “Boss—is that really true?” Even Hachigoro—opening and closing his mouth, slapping his kneecaps, stroking his chin—seemed momentarily at a loss for how to contain his agitation.

“As you know, after Lord Owari’s official gold shipment was stolen and two of his finest retainers were slaughtered like insects, the Three Great Houses couldn’t maintain face before society—so the entire clan mobilized for an extensive manhunt. But with time having passed, they found neither trace of the gold nor clue to the culprits’ whereabouts.” “From the sole surviving horse handler’s testimony, they learned that the culprits were a six-man gang: their leader was a middle-aged man resembling a rōnin, among them was a young samurai with a forelock—and that these men were remarkably skilled. But with only that information to go on, there was no way to pursue them.”

“—” Hachigoro listened, barely containing his belated realization. Heiji continued to recount the incident at Utsunoya Pass from a year prior—recorded in the Minami Magistrate’s archives—as if ruminating on it, moistening his lips with morning tea. “The culprits were none other than that Six-Man Gang who’d been terrorizing the highways even before this incident—the 12,000 ryō was probably smuggled into Edo disguised as shipments of sake or rice.” “At that time, an official notice must have circulated through Edo’s townspeople areas as well, right?” “A reward was set by Lord Owari—ten ryō each for those who located the Six-Man Gang’s hideout, and a hundred ryō per person captured from the gang—”

“I’m impressed you never forget the greedy parts.” “Even now, would that reward still be offered?” “The opponent is the foremost of the Three Great Houses—a great daimyo with 619,000 koku. I won’t say that reward was a joke—how about you try monopolizing all 400 ryō by successfully capturing the four remaining members of the Six-Man Gang?” “Heh, not bad at all.” “From that [reward], take about two shu as condolence money to that barrel-collecting boy’s sister—that so-and-so young woman—”

“I wouldn’t do something that stingy! I’d set aside half for condolence money, use the rest to get summer supplies, give Auntie some pocket money, and buy Boss a shō [of sake] with what’s left!” “I’ll pass on my share—the aftermath sounds too scary.”

Even amidst the tension, the two of them still couldn’t resist trading quips. “And then, Boss—what happened next?”

“Another interesting thing came to light.” “The Six-Man Gang have dice pips tattooed on their upper arms—numbered from one to six. The leader’s likely marked with either one or six.” “The tattoo carved on Omiya Hanbei’s arm was a six—in the Six-Man Gang’s ranks, he probably held a prominent position.” “If it’s about upper-arm tattoos, wouldn’t we find out quick if we alerted every bathhouse in Edo?”

“That’s a clever idea, but there’s no way those Six-Man Gang villains would miss something anyone could think of. Instead, first check if there’s anyone bathing without removing wrist guards—or who hasn’t visited a bathhouse in six months or even a year. Investigating that would be quicker.” “But Boss—Edo’s crawling with thousands of bath-hating layabouts. You’re really gonna investigate every last one of those lazy sorts?”

Hachigoro made a sour face. The very Gara-Hachi who spoke thus was not exactly the type to be particularly fond of baths. "You’re such a fool—Edo’s a big place, isn’t it?" "How could we possibly investigate every single person who loves or hates baths?" "Moreover, wealthy households all maintain private baths, and samurai of sufficient rank to have audience with the shogun don’t frequent public bathhouses in the first place." "I see." "Moreover, there’s another thing—when they stole Lord Owari’s 12,000 ryō official gold shipment at Utsunoya Pass, both of his retainers overseeing it were killed, but the Six-Man Gang sustained injuries too." "—One of the six villains—a man who appeared to be a rōnin—and another who seemed like a yakuza were cut down by Owari’s overseers and ended up dead as if in mutual slaying."

“So, of the Six-Man Gang, only four remained—is that right?”

“That’s correct.” “Now, with Omiya Hanbei killed as one of them, only three of the Six-Man Gang remain—even if you captured them all, the reward’d be a measly three hundred ryō. The barrel-collecting boy’s sister—what’s-her-name—” “Her name’s Oyuki—you can’t keep forgetting every little thing, Boss. She’s a real cutie, you know.” “I’ve made it a rule to forget old debts and young girls’ names.” “By my old man’s dying wish, you see.”

“As for me, I even forget new debts.” “But I never forget young girls’ names.” “That’s a commendable mindset—by the way, even if we scrape together condolence money for Oyuki, it’d amount to 150 ryō at best.” “Heh, 150 ryō would be a godsend—” “Of course—wait, where were we?—Oshizu’s laughing her head off in the kitchen. Days are getting long, huh.” “Days’re gettin’ long, huh.” “So, getting back to where we were—about how two of the Six-Man Gang died at Utsunoya Pass—”

“Right—those two had dice pip tattoos of two and four on their arms.” “Meaning the remaining three must have tattoos of one, three, and five.” “If we know that much, it’s half the battle won—but Boss, where’d that stolen 12,000 ryō end up?”

Hachigoro’s question finally returned to the main subject.

“That’s it—since it was the Three Great Houses’ official gold shipment, there were six chests each containing two thousand ryō in koban coins.” “They’re not like those compact thousand-ryō chests you see in illustrations—these were long, narrow two-thousand-ryō chests. Not that I’ve seen them myself, mind you, but each one weighed nearly ten kanme. Hardly something you could carry around easily.” “Probably smashed the chests open in the mountains, burned them, then repackaged just the contents into smaller bundles to blend with other goods and sent them into Edo—that’s what they must’ve done, I imagine.”

— “Where they hid the 12,000 ryō remains unknown,” he said, “but given how Omiya Hanbei was killed, the remaining four villains must’ve had a falling out—some internal squabble.” “If those four stay united and hidden here in Edo, they’d be hard to track down—but once a rift forms among them, it’s as good as done.” Heiji seemed to have some purpose in mind, uncharacteristically rubbing his hands together.

The Third Victim

That evening, Heiji and Hachigoro had gone to Omiya in Kanazawa-cho. The following day would mark the seventh-day memorial of the murdered Hanbei, and they had accepted Oei's invitation to hold a modest eve service. The guests consisted of just two or three neighbors, along with Sadakichi’s aunt—a shadow-like, lonesome middle-aged woman named Osato. Once the drowsy sutra chanting by the memorial service’s monk had concluded, surprisingly lavish Buddhist vegetarian dishes were served, accompanied by what seemed to be carefully selected sake.

Oei modestly ushered the guests to their seats, her usual allure carefully contained—a demeanor that left Hachigoro looking thoroughly discontented. “Boss and gentlemen, what unexpected fortune brings your company here tonight.” “My uncle moved in limited circles, so we’ve few who’d attend such occasions.” “Please take your ease.” Such was her manner. Her pale makeup, subdued blue lined kimono, and black obi—only the crimson of inner sleeves and lips breaking the restraint—somehow deepened her mystique, and Hachigoro kept refilling his cup as he stared.

Though Heiji knew the deceased had been one of the Six-Man Gang—a notorious robber whose criminal turn had come—he kept silent about it. The guests remained oblivious, and even Oei, who called him uncle, likely knew nothing of such matters.

Osato, the sister of Sadakichi’s father Sadagoro, was one of those mysterious women. She had dark circles under her eyes and the gaunt, lonely appearance of a middle-aged woman with pinched nostrils—yet upon closer inspection, there was a sharpness to her movements, a hoarse rasp to her voice, and bulging eyes set in bluish, swollen skin. Dissipation and illness had thoroughly ravaged what youth she once possessed, making her the very image of a woman who’d fallen from mercantile respectability.

As for her age—perhaps she might still have been in her thirties. Her features weren’t bad, her health and mind sound—had she not lost her youth, she might have been quite a beautiful woman.

Zenigata Heiji observed this woman’s demeanor with a somewhat unexpectedly complex feeling as he quietly sipped his sake cup.

“Hey, Boss. Miss Oei’s being unusually modest tonight, isn’t she?”

Hachigoro whispered. He was on the verge of collapsing like a mountain of jade about to crumble. The cup raised in his left hand swayed like a tidal wave; when he brought it to his lips, his chin jutted toward the heavens in a drunken arc. “She’s better than that barrel-collecting boy’s sister—what’s-her-name—that girl.” Heiji’s expression took on a teasing edge. “It’s Oyuki we’re talking about—you mustn’t forget her! Oyuki’s just plain cute, but Oei—she’s sharp yet demure, alluring yet prim, something like—”

“This is getting rather troublesome.” “You’ll spill the sake, hey, Hachi!”

The night had likely neared the Hour of the Boar (around 10 PM) when Zenigata Heiji and Hachigoro, attempting to leave, found themselves detained by Oei’s gracious persistence—and before they knew it, the sake began flowing more freely. It was at that moment. “Excuse me—I’ve come from Honjo. Is Mr. Sadakichi here?” “What’s this? Somethin’ wrong?” When Sadakichi himself frantically appeared at the doorway, the man barked at him as if hurling stones— “There’s been trouble with Mr. Sadagoro.” “Come right away—I’m from the neighborhood association.”

Heiji, Hachigoro, the apprentice Sadakichi, and his aunt Osato rushed along with the messenger to Sadagoro’s house in Honjo Ishihara. It was already past the Hour of the Boar (10 PM), and Edo’s streets fell completely silent, their own disorderly footsteps alone sending an ominous echo from town to town as they went. Perhaps worried about his father, the apprentice Sadakichi had broken away from the group first, his youth driving him forward until he vanished into the spring darkness. Meanwhile, Zenigata Heiji realized that the messenger who should have been running alongside them in formation had somehow disappeared.

“Hachi, did you notice where the man from Honjo went?” “I don’t know—no, wait a second. Now that you mention it, that guy pretended to adjust his footwear earlier and slipped past you and me, Boss—looked like he ducked into an alley on the right.” “Ah—that’s it!” “Shall I give chase?”

“Waste of time, I tell you. He must’ve planned this escape from the start—rather than chase him, let’s question Sadakichi’s aunt. You dash ahead.” “Right, then, Boss.”

Once Hachigoro realized he didn’t need to stay with the Boss, he dashed off like a runaway horse.

It was Yanagiwara Embankment. In this dangerous area notorious for street slashing and night hawks after dark, Heiji stood in the haze of a spring night, forced to wait briefly for the slow-footed Osato to arrive. "You there, ma'am."

“Ah—Boss Zenigata! You gave me such a fright—I thought you were a villain.”

Osato came to a stop, panting heavily as she clutched her chest weakly.

“This may sound like an odd question—but do you know that messenger who came earlier from Honjo?” “No.” Osato’s face showed ignorance, indifference, and not a shadow of suspicion. “There’s something that’s been on my mind—so who’s been tending to the patient at the Honjo house?”

“Though I say ‘patient,’ he isn’t bedridden,” “I prepared supper and left the rest to our neighbor.” “That messenger wasn’t your neighbor?” “The neighbor’s an elderly man.” “I don’t know who that person was.” “Strange—a stranger coming all the way from Honjo.” “And vanishing midway takes some doing.” “Huh?” “I’ll double back to Kanazawa-cho—you go ahead. Dangerous for a woman alone at night.” “The palanquin crews here know me—I’ll find one to take you to Ishihara.”

Heiji was thorough. He found a familiar palanquin bearer—one who made his living dashing to Yoshiwara late at night with a four-pole palanquin—and after instructing him to take Osato to Ishihara in Honjo, he himself turned back and rushed straight to the Omiya residence in Kanazawa-cho as if truly being pursued.

“Good evening—open up. It’s Heiji.”

Heiji knocked on the entrance door of the Omiya residence, but inside remained deathly still—heavy with dreadful anticipation—and no one answered. “Hey—Miss Oei, are you not here? Heiji’s back—open up!”

After knocking two or three times with some impatience, Heiji found the back door suddenly seemed to open—*Probably telling me to enter from here*—and moved around to the rear while considering this when *whoosh*—a man came bursting out from the rear entrance—colliding head-on with Heiji and shoving him aside—before leaping out of the alley in a single bound—. “Wait! Wait!”

He lunged at him, but the man was already out of reach. The villain was terrifyingly skilled—kicking over a garbage bin to block the path, he wove through the branching alley’s darkness and vanished like a swift insect. Heiji persistently chased after him, but suddenly recalling that the young and beautiful Oei was alone inside the Omiya residence, he wisely gave up and entered through the back door from which the villain had burst out.

In the dim six-tatami room adjacent to the kitchen—ordinarily used as both living quarters and bedroom—before an andon lamp with its wick turned up high, Oei lay sprawled on the tatami, bound haphazardly with a gag stuffed in her mouth, her eye-searing scarlet crepe under-kimono trampled beneath her.

“——”

Heiji gasped and froze. As if having witnessed something forbidden, he was overcome by a dreadful sense of profanation and instinctively turned his face away.

But the next moment, he reconsidered and approached, lifting Oei’s soft body and first removing the gag. “What happened, Miss Oei? Steady yourself.” Oei was half-unconscious, but he untied the thin cords binding her, adjusted her disheveled hem, and gently stroked her back—

“Ah—ah, it hurts, it hurts!”

She slightly opened her eyes and looked around dreamily. “Have you come to your senses, Miss Oei?” “Ah—Mr. Heiji, I’m scared!” When Oei became aware of Heiji’s face, she suddenly clung to his neck desperately, like a three-year-old child.

“What’s wrong, Miss Oei?” “I truly thought I was going to be killed.” Having finally regained her senses, Oei—looking thoroughly embarrassed—separated herself from Heiji’s neck and hurriedly began adjusting her collar and disheveled clothing. “Who’s that who just bolted out from here?” “——” “You know who it was—given how you were bound without making a sound.” The fact that someone had bound up a young and healthy woman like Oei without the neighbors noticing had already caught Heiji’s attention.

“Do I have to say it, Boss?”

“Yes, you do.”

“I may not be able to keep hiding it—that was Mr. Uhatchi. After everyone said they were going to Honjo and the neighbors had mostly left, he suddenly came in through the back door, said nothing but rude things, and since I wouldn’t listen—”

Oei’s words were troubling and deeply meaningful.

“Didn’t you see the face of the man who came from Honjo earlier?” Heiji pressed urgently, cutting through formalities. “No, I was the one who met him—but he was someone I’d never seen before.”

“So—to return to our earlier thread—what exactly did Uhatchi say to you?” “Nothing but vile things.”

Oei said this and finally lowered her face.

“Is that all?” “Then he kept pestering me, asking if Uncle hadn’t passed on something written to me.”

“Something written?”

Heiji felt as though he had abruptly come face to face with the secret of the twelve thousand ryō.

“Where is Uhatchi—didn’t he tell you? He’s been running around these past five days—we still can’t get a grip on him—” “He wouldn’t say where he was hiding, but—‘I’m being chased around, but do you think all the police informants in Edo could find my hideout even if they turned out in force?’—he sneered.” “That bastard has killed the barrel-collecting boy. And your uncle Hanbee—that man may have killed him too. After leaving Sagamiya in Udagawacho that day and until he showed up at the master’s house in Shibaguchi Nichome—for that entire hour—no one saw where that man was.”

Heiji muttered as if to himself.

“Oh, how terrifying!” Oei shivered as she pulled her sleeves together, her shoulders trembling.

“Uhatchi killed his master, tried to obtain the dagger used in the murder by employing the barrel-collecting boy—only to have his face recognized—and ultimately killed the boy too.” “When villains plot deeply yet their schemes start unraveling, they inevitably strangle themselves with their own crude cunning—that’s how it ends.” “Now that Uhatchi’s sunk into despair and turned reckless, there’s no predicting what he’ll do next.” “What should we do, Boss?”

“We have no choice but to apprehend Uhatchi immediately. But regarding that matter, I need you to honestly disclose various things to me.”

"I’ll tell you everything, Boss." "You didn’t make some kind of deal with Uhatchi, did you?"

"No way, Boss." "You’re a bit too pretty for your own good—that’s why all these troubles keep happening."

“Geez...” “If you and the murdered Hanbei weren’t actually uncle and niece, then didn’t he intend to take you as his spouse?” Heiji finally pressed this far. “Mr. Heiji, so I was trying to run away from this house, but Uncle kept watch and wouldn’t even let me go to the neighborhood bath alone.” “I thought as much.” “By the way—were Uhatchi and Hanbei merely servant and master?”

“Well, outwardly they were master and servant, but given their long history together, when out of public view he used quite crude language.”

Oei finally hinted at the scent of secrecy.

Needless to say, after leaving Oei at the neighboring house, Heiji once again rushed through the midnight streets to Honjo. “Oh! Isn’t that you, Boss?” On Ryōgoku Bridge, it was Hachigoro who suddenly came face to face with him. “Hachi? What happened—the boy’s father?” “It’s terrible! This is way beyond my skills—I rushed out to fetch you, Boss!”

Garappachi Hachigoro wiped the sweat from his brow again and again, his horse-like labored breaths carried off by the river wind.

“Was he killed?” “This wasn’t any ordinary killing. Stabbed once with a dagger, then crucified on that suspicious pillar in the alcove with a crossbeam lashed to his back.”

“A vicious bastard.” “So, did you check the upper arm?”

“I checked it,” “That palsied old man was definitely part of the Six-Man Gang too—the tattoo on his upper arm showed the dice pip five.” “Just as I suspected.” “Which means three and one remain.” “So we’re finally putting up notices at every bathhouse in Edo!”

While talking, the two of them arrived at Sadagoro’s house in Ishihara. A truly wretched back-alley tenement—though to call it that, wedged as it was between a vacant lot and a storage shed crammed with junk, it stood completely isolated from the town proper, no different than a lone house in the wilderness.

“Boss.” Hearing their footsteps, it was Sadakichi the apprentice who came rushing out. The lamplight from inside failed to reach here—a darkness so profound one couldn’t recognize faces even upon collision—yet for Sadakichi, his nerves honed razor-sharp, Heiji’s approach must have seemed excruciatingly delayed. “Sadakichi... A wretched business.”

“——”

Sadakichi turned his face into the darkness. He seemed to be crying violently. Heiji listened painfully to those sobs. When he entered the house, he found the interior surprisingly tidy, with four or five local police informants and neighbors milling about alongside Osato. The corpse had been taken down from the alcove pillar and laid on a six-mat space that had been hastily wiped clean. Speckled across the sliding paper door, the splattered blood held no eeriness.

“Hachi, were you the one who took him down from the alcove pillar?” Heiji glanced back at Hachigoro, who was craning his neck from behind.

“Oh, I helped out too.”

“When you all arrived, who was in the house?” “Only the deceased was here—when they heard the commotion, the neighbors came running.”

“So, the door wasn’t closed?” “The lattice door at the entrance wasn’t latched." “Though if there’d been a latch, that’d mean the deceased locked it himself, but—” Hachigoro was talking nonsense. However, the interior of the house showed little sign of disturbance; aside from the corpse’s grotesque appearance and the horrific blood splatter, there seemed to be no significant changes in where objects were placed or tools were kept.

“By the way, were the corpse’s feet touching the alcove floor, or were they suspended in midair?” Heiji's questions grew increasingly subtle.

Whether the feet of the corpse crucified on the alcove pillar were suspended in midair or touching the ground was a critical matter. To hoist a blood-soaked corpse from the front high enough for its feet to float would require either extraordinary strength or the cooperation of several people; moreover, whoever performed this task would have been drenched in copious amounts of blood. “I think the feet were floating—hey, neighbors,”

Hachigoro glanced at the neighbors milling about nearby. “When we cut the rope, it fell with a thud.”

One of them—the most sensible one—answered. Then they showed the blood-soaked cord discarded on the veranda. The knot was a tightly secured man’s knot—exactly like in Omiya Hanbei’s case. Laid out on a straw mat with only a single lined kimono draped over him, the corpse had Osato—his younger sister—sitting dejectedly beside it. Heiji sat facing her and removed the kimono to examine it. The corpse was a man of fifty-three or four—more robust than expected—who could not be seen as a mere former innkeeper fallen on hard times. His attire was rather elaborate, and nothing about him suggested a man so destitute he would send his son into service.

Another strange thing was his calm countenance—there wasn’t the slightest trace of harshness one would expect in someone who had fought violently before being killed. It seemed as though he had been struck down in an instant, caught off guard while engaged in peaceful conversation. The wound was exactly like Omiya Hanbei’s—a single gouge to the right side of the neck—and since the perpetrator who committed this deed must have shared a close blood relationship with the victim, the scope of suspects was thereby significantly narrowed.

“Was anything stolen?”

Heiji glanced at Osato. “There appears to be nothing missing.”

“By the way, you’ve noticed this, haven’t you?” Heiji rolled up the corpse’s—now completely cold—upper arm and showed Osato the tattoo of a dice pip “five” carved into it. “I was aware he had something resembling a tattoo, but I only realized it was a dice pip ‘five’ just now.” “When did this marking appear?” “Well…” “If you were siblings who grew up together since childhood, you should know that much.”

“But I had been separated from him for a long time. It’s only been about two years since we began living together.”

Heiji did not seem to place much hope in Osato's answer and, turning sharply around— "Didn't anyone in the neighborhood notice all that commotion?" he asked the people loitering nearby.

“You see, this house stands all by itself away from others.” The one who answered was the middle-aged landlord. “So who came to notify Kanazawa Town?” “If they weren’t the killer, then they’re the killer’s accomplice.” “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that they vanished halfway there?” Hachigoro stated this as if it were perfectly obvious.

The Forest of Yanaka

“Boss, heh, heh, heh.” “What’s this? You look at my face and suddenly start laughing—can’t complain if you get punched, y’know.”

Zenigata Heiji and Hachigoro began in this manner. It was the day after Sadagoro—father of the apprentice Sadakichi—was murdered in Ishihara, Honjo. "I wasn’t laughing at you, Boss." "The thing is, I’ve been asked to do something strange." “It’s a big world—there must be some eccentric who’d ask Hachigoro for a favor. What—they want you to lend them money?” “You’re kidding.” “Probably wants to use your back as a stepping stool—who is it?”

“That’s the problem.” “It’s a woman, heh.” “Who is she? Where’s she from?” “Or is your aunt saying she wants you to come house-sit or something?”

“It’s Oei of Omiya House in Kanazawa Town.” “What? Don’t tell me she was trying to seduce you?” Heiji, too, seemed slightly surprised at this person’s name. Whether she was the niece or mistress of the murdered Omiya Hanbei remained unclear—but regardless, Oei’s vengeful allure and charm that seemed ready to spill over at any moment made her request to the slightly loose-screwed Hachigoro impossible to dismiss. “Heh, well… more like she came onto me.”

“You idiot, tighten up that slack-jawed face when you speak. With how you look about to drool any second, listening to you isn’t exactly a pleasure.” “That Oei says she’s so scared and lonely she could die. Just like last night, Uhatchi might come again and force himself on her—and those who targeted Uncle Hanbei and Sadagoro in Honjo might very well turn on her this time. Sadakichi the apprentice has gone back to his family home in Honjo and likely won’t return until after the seventh-day memorial, so she’s asking—though she’s sorry to impose—if you could come stay at Omiya House for a while. She’ll do her best to treat you well, and depending on how things go, she might even let Boss Hachigoro court her—”

“You idiot!” “Can’t I go stay over there, Boss? She went to all the trouble of asking…” “I’m too exasperated to speak—but wait—someone going that far might have an ulterior motive. Staying there awhile could prove interesting.” “Is it really okay, Boss?” “You can’t go alone. You’d just make perfect bait—I’ll have your aunt come along.” “Huh? Staying over with my aunt there? That takes all the fun out of it. Right in front of the Boss too—”

“Don’t be so picky.” “Tch! A love affair with my aunt chaperoning? That’s too absurd to even get mad about.” Even as he said this, Hachigoro left without voicing much complaint. Oei was beautiful and brimming with cleverness, but her true intentions remained inscrutable—it was only natural that Heiji had grown wary of her.

Three days later, an unforeseen event unfolded, dragging this turmoil into a terrible catastrophe. “B-Boss, it’s terrible!” Hachigoro—known as Gara-Hachi—came bursting in like a bullet on the fourth morning after Sadagoro’s murder, just before seven o’clock. “Still making those shrill outbursts—you’re giving the tenement residents a scare with every visit. Rumor has it families with small children can’t settle within eight blocks of here.”

Heiji took a deep breath of the morning air and was gazing at the sky from the veranda. "You can’t just sit there moping, Boss." "Another murder!"

“What?!”

“This time in Yanaka Forest—stabbed to death just like before and crucified on a tree branch.” “It was unbelievably gruesome!”

“Who was killed?” “It’s Uhatchi—the clerk from Omiya House.” “Ah! That’s—”

Even Heiji was taken aback. This Uhatchi was none other than the prime suspect in the successive murders of Omiya Hanbei, Motokichi the barrel-collecting boy, and Sadagoro—Sadakichi’s father—and had been the very man all police informants across Edo had been mobilized to track down these past few days. That Uhatchi had been stabbed to death and crucified in the same manner as Hanbei and Sadagoro—wasn’t this an unimaginable turn of events? After quickly preparing, and guided by Gara-Hachi, Heiji dashed off single-mindedly.

“Hachi!” “Huh?” “You have terrifyingly swift legs, but I can’t run like a horse.” “Am I a horse or something?” “Don’t get angry, Hachi. Even a horse couldn’t keep up that pace—walk slowly for a bit so we can catch our breath. There are probably guards over there.” “I asked the mountain guards to keep watch. It’s not within Kan’ei-ji’s precincts, but anyway, the mountain patrol found it.” “There’s no need to hurry then—who did you hear from before going to the mountain?”

“After leaving Omiya House and walking home, that bastard Kiku from Yanaka came rushing over.” “He said something terrible’s happened and told me to come see no matter what.” Kiku from Yanaka was a local assistant police informant，and Hachigoro knew him better than Heiji did. “I’m in the middle of speaking here，Hachi.” “Huh?” “Have you been going to Omiya House every night and staying there since then?” “Well，a promise is a promise.” “You’re unbelievable，you idiot． “Try any funny business with Oei，and I won’t stand for it．”

“It’s fine—I’m with my aunt,” “Every night after dinner, I take my leftover work there and get stuck listening to these ‘precious’ stories about Daishi-sama until the 10 PM bell rings in Ueno.” “Stories about stone dumplings and reeds with backward-growing leaves—that sort of thing.” “While ‘listening’ to those precious tales, you’ve been staring intently at Oei’s face—you damned fool.” “When the stories end, they bring out nightcaps, and we retire to our respective rooms in a pleasantly tipsy state.” “Aunt can hold her liquor, and Oei does two or three choko cups herself—it’s not so bad, those storytelling sessions.”

Heiji and Hachigoro entered Yanaka Forest. Amidst the grove where gravestones lay scattered and small birds chirped overhead, a five-storied pagoda stood splitting the serene blue sky—a scene whose desolate loneliness felt worlds apart from Edo’s bustling streets mere blocks away. "That’s it, Boss."

In a certain thicket, about twenty people swarmed around a robust pine tree—Hachigoro pointed this out from afar. As they approached, they found it was a crowd surrounding a horrific corpse that had been taken down from a pine tree—two mountain guards, three or four town informants, along with local temple attendants and a swarm of gawkers who had rushed out from shops near Yanaka.

“Boss Zenigata.” The gawkers parted in two to clear the path.

Heiji greeted the mountain guards, “You’ve done well.” He quietly peeled away the mat that had concealed the corpse. It was unmistakably the corpse of Uhatchi—the clerk of Omiya House. Where he had spent these past ten-odd days remained unclear, but his kimono was severely worn—creases flattened, dust clinging to it, its former elegance utterly lost. Uhatchi himself now sported an overgrown shaven pate and an unkempt beard; depending on one’s perspective, he cut a truly pitiful figure.

The wound was identical to those on Hanbei and Sadagoro—a deep slash to the right side of the neck. Had someone struck from the front, the killer would have been drenched in blood. "The corpse had been hung from this tree, I take it?" Heiji said to no one in particular. "In a crucifixion pose, tied to this lower branch." "What a terrible thing to do." One of the mountain guards explained.

“Were the feet off the ground?”

“Yes, I believe they were about five or six inches off.” Heiji settled himself before the corpse and began examining it with terrifying thoroughness. Compared to when he had faced the corpses of Omiya Hanbee and Sadakichi’s father, there was a marked difference in his thoroughness. Though his shaven pate and beard had grown out, Uhatchi’s features were not so ill-favored; in the face that had died swallowing resentment, there lingered a faint softness somewhere. Though he was thirty-eight, his slightly aged appearance likely stemmed from having spent these ten-odd days hiding beneath temple eaves or similar places—never even loosening his belt—to evade the eyes of police informants across Edo.

His frame was slender, but given the dice pip 'three' tattooed on his upper arm, he had undoubtedly been one of the Six-Man Gang members. “With this, five of the Six-Man Gang—who stole Bishū’s 12,000 ryō government gold shipment at Utsunoya Pass—are now dead.” Heiji said with deep emotion as he examined the tattoo on the corpse’s arm. “Only one remains—the ‘one’.” Hachigoro was counting on his fingers. “That one’s probably the leader.” “Since two comrades died at Utsunoya Pass, only four remained.” “Those four must’ve had some reason to turn on each other.”

“What kind of fearsome bastard must that surviving leader be?” “Wouldn’t you want to see even just his face?” “He’s a dreadfully crafty bastard.” “He won’t give himself away easily.” Even amidst such talk, Heiji continued examining the corpse.

A New Clue

“What’s this?”

From the amulet pouch, Heiji found a single small folded piece of paper. “Isn’t that some fancy blessed amulet or something?” Hachigoro peered by jutting his long jaw forward, bringing only his face closer from across. “No—it looks like a letter—‘the tobacco shop at Koji Bridge, Yatsumae’—see? The handwriting is atrociously bad, but given how carefully it’s folded, this must be some kind of meeting arrangement with a girl.”

“The day isn’t specified.” “If it had today or yesterday written on it, that’d be convenient though.” “It’s not about today or tomorrow.” The paper was frayed at the edges with torn folds and slightly stained with sweat. He must have kept it close to his skin day and night, taking it out and rereading it countless times. “He must have carried it for five or ten days.”

“Then this must be about that night’s meeting arrangement! Omiya Hanbei was killed—” “Ah! Why hadn’t I noticed that before? That night, Uhatchi left Master Kinosuke’s house in Shibaguchi Nichōme at seven in the evening, and until he arrived at Sagamiya in Udagawachō just past nine, there should’ve been nearly two hours unaccounted for. He claimed he went to Shibahama to get some air, but that’s pure nonsense. He must’ve been meeting someone at the tobacco shop on Koji Bridge instead. Good catch there, Hachi. Your wits aren’t entirely worthless after all.”

“Aw, it’s nothin’ special.” “You fool—the moment I praise you, that’s all you do.” “While you’re busy being smug, make a dash for Koji Bridge and go ask at the tobacco shop.” “Listen well—make haste! They’re no ordinary schemer. Not a moment’s carelessness or opening!” “Got it!”

Garappachi Hachigoro tucked up his hem and rushed out. What remained were Zenigata Heiji, Kiku from Yanaka, two or three assistant informants, a couple of seemingly curious mountain patrol officers, and about twenty onlookers as persistent as bluebottles.

After seeing Hachigoro off as he dashed away, Heiji continued his investigation. Inside the wallet taken from Uhatchi’s inner pocket were five koban coins and a small amount of granular gold. Though not a fortune, it was sufficient for immediate flight expenses. At that time, when even a single ryō would have been considered extravagant for an Ise pilgrimage round trip, Uhatchi’s decision to remain in Edo—evading the mesh-like official pursuit while lodging at temple quarters—must have stemmed from some profound motive.

However, compared to the 12,000 ryō of official gold stolen by the Six-Man Gang, five or six ryō was a difference in magnitude too vast.

Uhatchi had likely not laid hands on that 12,000 ryō of gold. Had Uhatchi—a thief to his core—gained control of the full 12,000 ryō, even the most conservative estimate would demand he carry at least 200 or 300 ryō as emergency funds. About an hour later—just as they concluded their examination and paused to rest—Hachigoro returned soaked in sweat.

Koji Bridge—so named because beggars congregated there—stood between Ryūkan Bridge and Imagawa Bridge. That Hachigoro completed the round trip in half an hour truly demonstrated his prized swiftness. “What a shock! I overtook two couriers fine enough,” he said, “but when I cut through the mountains, those mountain patrol officers nabbed me and gave me an earful!” “I showed my jitte and they let me off, but those clueless officials—” Unaware of Heiji’s warning glare, Hachigoro kept ranting while mopping his sweat. Two fellow mountain patrol officers listened with wry smiles.

“Ahem, ahem. What about the task at hand?” “Let’s hear that first, Hachi.”

Heiji was utterly beside himself. “B-b-b-but that’s just it, Boss,” Hachigoro stammered. “The tobacco shop at Koji Bridge—it’s a stingy hardware store that’s barely a step up from a guard post, but the old woman there makes extra money by renting out the second floor for secret meetings.” “And?” Heiji pressed. Finally noticing the mountain patrol officers listening in, Hachigoro straightened up and resumed his report. “Boss, just as you deduced—it’s right on the mark. Eleven days ago—the very evening Omiya Hanbei was murdered—Uhatchi, that clerk from Omiya House we all know, showed up there. From just past seven till nearly nine, he kept puffing on tobacco like he was waiting for some woman, getting more fidgety by the minute. Then he mumbled, ‘Can’t keep this up forever—got another place to be. If she comes, tell her we’ll set a new date,’ and wandered off looking dazed.”

This was an astonishing new development. If what the old woman from the tobacco shop said was true, then Uhatchi’s actions that night were solidly proven—giving him an impeccable alibi for when Omiya Hanbei had been murdered. “It can’t be a lie,” Heiji pressed. “Could that tobacco shop crone have been coerced into spinning tales?” “She spoke after seeing my jitte—no room for lies there,” Hachigoro countered. “And Uhatchi made their shop boy buy a whole sho measure plus snacks.”

“So all this time we’ve been fumbling blindly down the wrong hole,” Heiji said. “Huh?” “We convinced ourselves Uhatchi killed Master Hanbei—that he’d gotten that barrel-collecting boy to buy the dagger for him, then pitifully murdered the kid behind Tsumagoi Inari Shrine to shut him up.” “That’s exactly right.” “We were certain Sadagoro—Motokichi’s father—must’ve been killed by Uhatchi too, since it matched Hanbei’s murder method. But now Uhatchi’s been crucified just like Hanbei and Sadagoro, and it turns out he didn’t kill Hanbei… What in blazes does this mean, Hachi?”

“If there’s something even you can’t figure out, Boss, what makes you think this humble self would know?” “Then my earlier praise of you was wasted breath after all.” “Heh, what an honor.”

While dismissing it as idle talk, Heiji appeared to be deep in thought. Or perhaps—when silently smoking tobacco might have been Heiji’s mental downtime—it could be that precisely when making silly jokes and teasing Hachigoro, the gears of his mind were turning most furiously. The case of the Six-Man Gang had now reached a complete impasse. Zenigata Heiji found himself confronted with four corpses laid out before him, and though over ten days had passed since the initial incident, he remained utterly clueless as to who had killed them for what purpose—or who might kill whom next.

“Hachi, you’ve grown quite smitten with Oei lately, haven’t you?” “Not really.” Because Heiji’s tone was serious, Hachigoro couldn’t respond in his usual flirtatious manner. “The reason I assigned you as her bodyguard wasn’t to play matchmaker—given the jitte I carry, you should’ve known that.”

“Huh?”

“If we just needed a bodyguard, her aunt would’ve been enough.” “The reason I sent you there, Hachi—” “Huh?” “—was to have you check Oei’s upper arms.”

Zenigata Heiji finally spoke his true thoughts. Even going so far as to involve Gara-Hachi in a romantic gambit, this was the mystery he had wanted to unravel. "Huh?" "Oei’s...?" Hachigoro’s face flushed crimson; he rubbed his narrow forehead, kneaded his lantern jaw, and for some time seemed utterly perplexed about where to put his hands.

“Before that, I checked both bathhouses in the neighborhood as a precaution, but they said Oei hadn’t visited either establishment.”

“Omiya House has a private bath.” “So they say.” “Having a private bath seems extravagant for a small upstart pawnshop like Omiya House,” he said, “but when you think about it, both the murdered master Hanbei and clerk Uhatchi had upper arms they didn’t want seen.” “I see.” “That left me stumped—so I went along with Oei’s request and put you in as her bodyguard.” “Whoa, that’s a terrifying scheme, Boss.” “It’s just like Yui Shōsetsu’s plot—though I’m not aiming to overthrow the government. This is just about a woman’s upper arm. Well, Hachi?” “Did you see them?”

“Huh?” “What’s with that face? I’m asking if you saw Oei’s upper arms.” “Haven’t gotten that far yet, Boss.” “What a damn fool you are. You’re still a decent young man around thirty, aren’t you? Sleeping under the same roof as that pretty young thing for ten days straight, and you couldn’t even get a look at her arms?” “Heh, my bad.” “I’m not telling you to go peeking at her navel—you should’ve noticed something that obvious without me spelling it out. Seeing her face morning and night, yet all you did was grin like an idiot and slack off. That’s why you’re a clueless, gullible glutton—”

“I’ll go check! If seeing’s all that matters, fine by me! What’s some girl’s upper arm anyway? Even if I gotta pin her down to look, damn it all!” Showered with Heiji’s verbal abuse, Hachigoro turned beet-red and bolted out.

“Oh dear,” said Oshizu reproachfully. “Saying such things—isn’t it pitiful for Hachi-san?” She watched his retreating figure with concern. “It’s fine,” Heiji replied dryly. “That’s exactly how it should be. Hachi may seem surprisingly timid, but he’s got a well-mannered side to him.”

Heiji was laughing with apparent amusement.

After Hachigoro rushed out, Heiji suddenly decided to go inspect the home of Motokichi—the murdered barrel-collecting boy—at Nisuke’s shop in Sakumachō. At the end of a spiderweb-like maze of alleys, Zenigata Heiji searched out Motokichi’s home and stood before it—a squalid and pitiful state of living that made him bitterly regret not noticing sooner and offering aid. “Excuse me.” “Who’s there?” Even calling it an inner room was generous—a shriveled voice came from behind a torn shoji screen, and when it slid open, a forty-year-old woman thrust her face out right before his nose, covered in dust and grime, wrapped in horrifically tattered rags. The bony face and sharp eyes were such a sight that even Heiji reflexively took a step back.

“I’m Heiji from below Myojin. That business the other day—truly pitiful. You must have been devastated to lose such a hardworking son. Though I knew I should’ve come to offer my condolences right away, official business kept piling up and delayed me—I’m sorry.” “Ah, Boss Zenigata!” As the woman’s harsh expression crumbled, a soft sadness welled up turbulently, and violent sobs wracked her throat. And despairingly, tears overflowed from her swollen eyelids. Heiji was ushered into a scene of such chaotic disarray that there seemed to be no place to set foot. Four children, junk, and creepy tattered rags were scattered throughout the single six-tatami room, creating space to bow before a makeshift altar—a wooden box set against the rough wall—in what little room remained.

“I know it’s heartbreaking to accept, but with so many children still depending on you, this isn’t the time to drown in tears.” “If by any chance you face hardship or find yourself at a loss, you should come to my house.” “Why don’t I try to help out somehow? Not that I’m someone who can do much, anyway.” Even though he was full of goodwill, Zenigata Heiji—an honest police informant living a proper life—could barely support his wife and himself on the meager stipend provided by the authorities.

“Boss Hachigoro kindly checks in on us from time to time.” “That person is truly kind beneath his rough exterior—” “So Hachi comes by, does he? Good—I’ll make sure to praise him when I see him.” “That man’s scatterbrained and says ridiculous things, but he’s good at heart—and this is nothing much, but consider it a token of condolence.” Heiji found himself in an oddly sentimental mood. Taking five or six small coins—his entire fortune at that moment—from his wallet and tobacco pouch, he twisted them into a piece of tissue paper and pushed it before his wife.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have, Boss—doing something like that for us...” “Nah, it’s not worth refusing over such a small amount. When you say that, it just makes me feel awkward.” “But Boss—last night, still early in the evening... There was someone who threw money through my window, but—”

“What? Money?” “Money—” At the unexpectedness of the woman’s story, even Heiji stiffened. “In the purse was twenty ryō—a fortune beyond anything we could have ever dreamed of—but it felt so ominous that I had my daughter take it, accompanied by the landlord, to deliver it to the magistrate’s office... Oh, here comes my daughter now.”

Outside the alley the woman pointed to, alongside a large bald-headed old man, a girl wrapped in radiant youth despite her soiled attire could be seen hurrying back. “Miss Ojin, this is something!” With his booming voice announcing his arrival, the one who stepped through the warped lattice was Nisuke—landlord and town official of this entire area. “Thank you for your trouble.” “I’ve caused you such inconvenience.” “Not at all! Even I got praised for accompanying them—today’s turned out to be quite an honor!” “Now listen here!”

“—” “When we brought the twenty ryō in gold koban along with the purse and reported to the duty officer, we were made to wait before being ushered into the sand-strewn court where the Magistrate himself conducted the investigation.” “I seized the moment and reported everything—Oyuki’s filial devotion, the late Motokichi’s circumstances, even your misfortunes—without holding anything back.” “Then the Magistrate was deeply impressed—declaring that Oyuki’s filial devotion was most commendable—and stated that the twenty ryō in gold thrown through the window must have been granted by heaven to reward such a virtuous child’s resolve. He thus ordered that they be taken home as they were.” “Isn’t this a blessing?”

“—”

As she listened to old man Nisuke rattling on without pause, the wife’s tears welled up afresh.

Heiji remained silent without calling out, staying hidden in the corner of the room among the clutter for some time. But when old man Nisuke—who had walked over from the sunny path—began to adjust his eyes and make out the state of the house, “Oh, if it isn’t Boss Zenigata! You listening in silence like that—that’s sneaky of you!” While saying this with an embarrassed air, he wiped the sweat from his bald head. “You didn’t give me a chance to speak.” “Anyway, that turned out well.”

“A blessing indeed.” “This too comes from Oyuki’s filial devotion—I’ve been quietly letting it go without collecting rent for half a year, but today I’m in too fine a mood to care about that anymore.” “I’ll tell my old lady to cook up some celebratory red rice and bring it over.” “Ah, nothing pleases a landlord more than having tenants with good hearts! Well then, Boss Zenigata—”

Old man Nisuke returned home, beaming with satisfaction.

“Mom.” As she watched his retreating figure, Oyuki placed the striped purse containing twenty ryō in gold coins heavily onto her mother’s lap. The eyes looking up and those looking down were wet with tears. In the midst of this life tormented by severe poverty, the resolve to take twenty ryō of gold—like manna from heaven—to the magistrate’s office was no easy matter.

“Let me see that purse.” “I suppose it’s all right if I borrow this.” Heiji found himself oddly preoccupied by the striped pattern of the purse. “Here you go.”

Oyuki took the gold coins from the purse, wrapped them in scrap paper to hand to her mother, then folded the purse into four and placed it in Heiji’s hand. A threadbare lined kimono with visible shoulders, a frayed obi, lusterless hair—her appearance was utterly destitute. Yet in the cool clarity of her eyes and the fullness of her cheeks, the eighteen-year-old girl’s youth burned beautifully, a flame that neither poverty nor adversity could extinguish.

Oei’s upper arm That evening, Hachigoro—unusually—brought along a one-shō bottle and, paying no heed to his aunt’s anxious glances, invited Oei to join him around the chabudai. “Aunt, tonight I want to get good and drunk and have Miss Oei hear something I need to say.” “Sorry ’bout this, but I’d like you old folks to hurry up with dinner and call it a night.” After gulping down five or six large cups in quick succession, Hachigoro was already woozy, resting both elbows on the low dining table as he blurted out such things without reserve.

“Oh, are you saying *I’m* in the way?” The aunt, who still treated thirty-year-old Hachigoro like a child, looked momentarily irritated. When she saw Hachigoro’s face—turned toward her with imploring eyes—was less drunk than expected, her expression softened with relief. “Since this old woman would just be in your way, I’ll pop home to fetch my night sewing.” “I might linger at a few houses along the way, so take your time saying whatever you need to say.”

While saying such things, once she finished cleaning up after the late-night meal, the aunt left with a knowing look. “Boss Hachigoro, you’re truly acting strange tonight. It’s fortunate she’s so good-natured—but if she gets the wrong idea, what on earth do you intend to do?” Oei said this and, after twisting open what must have been her third or fourth sake flask, checked the heat of the copper pot’s water by feeling its pulse, “Ah, hot!” She brought three fingers to her adorable earlobe—delicate as if carved from pink coral—

“See? Like this.” With that, she touched Hachigoro’s somewhat unkempt, stubbly cheek.

“Come on, just wait a little longer, Miss Oei. There’s something I need to ask tonight—with my life on the line—but it’s hard to bring up when you’re stone sober.”

“Oh my, that’s terrifying! You’re staring so hard like that.” “My eyes must be bloodshot—I’m trying to spit out everything I’ve stewed over for ten days in one go. Don’t freak out.” “I won’t be shocked—but Boss Hachigoro, you’re terrible at amorous scenes. Lines like that wouldn’t even land a bit part—wouldn’t even make it to the gong in a play.” “Tch, since when do love scenes need a gong?” All the while, as if to mask their embarrassment, the two of them kept refilling each other’s cups without pause. By the time Hachigoro’s drunken composure had collapsed into disarray—his eyelids drooping and the collar of his lined kimono gaping open about eighteen inches—Oei too was sitting sideways, adjusting her crimson hem as she pushed aside the chabudai and leaned onto his lap. There she remained, propped on one elbow and gazing up at him with suggestive intensity from below.

“If you don’t like the gong, try a wooden fish then. Hmph—what a ‘stylish’ way to court someone.” “Enough jokes—are you really going to listen to what I have to say?” “Oh, I’ll listen plenty, Hachi-san—‘Boss Hachigoro’ feels too stuffy—forgive me—I’ll call you Hachi-san from now on.” “I might actually court you properly.” “You wouldn’t run off now, would you?”

“Why don’t you try to see whether I’ll run away or not?” “Hachi-san.” Her seductive eyes gazed up from below, smoldering with passion—tormenting yet beautifully alluring. Oei—twenty years old with pearly teeth and voluptuousness beyond compare—mustered every ounce of charm her body possessed and pressed herself upon Hachigoro without the slightest hesitation.

The mysterious incense-like fragrance smoldering in her jet-black hair blended with this woman’s sweet-and-sour body odor into an intoxicating cocktail that vigorously agitated Hachigoro’s carnal senses. Her translucent silken flesh, large dewy eyes, lips as plump as ripe gumdrops, and immaculate teeth scattered a bewitching allure with every uttered word—binding the man’s entire existence like a ground spider’s web ensnaring its prey. “Hey Miss Oei, I’ll lay it straight—even drunk as I am and diving into your embrace, there’s still one thing I can’t swallow, even at this crucial moment.”

“Oh, what on earth could that be, Hachi-san? Please speak boldly—whatever it is, I’m so ready to hear even your most unreasonable requests.” Oei stretched up and whispered softly, her warm breath grazing Hachigoro’s ear. “I’m grateful—hearing that reassures me.” “The truth is, Oei.” “I want to see your upper arm.” “Oh...” “Just in case—if your upper arm bears the same dice-pip tattoo as Hanbei, Uhatchi, or Sadagoro—then bitter as it is, even a century’s worth of love would end here.”

“If there’s no such mark, Hachi-san.” “Then what would you have me do, Oei?”

For Hachigoro to say this, after paying for an entire shō out of his own pocket, he had to act out every manner of drunkenness and madness. “Well then, I’ll show you, Hachi-san.” “It’s not a boast, but you’re the first to gaze upon my upper arm so intently, Hachi-san.” “—” “If there were even flea bite marks on these arms of mine, I would—though mortified—retreat to Nasuno Plateau.” As she said this, Oei pulled the lamp closer and carelessly rolled up her right sleeve toward the light.

“Hmm... Nothing.”

Hachigoro fixed his bleary eyes and involuntarily groaned. Not only were there no dice pips, but Oei’s jade-smooth arms bore not a single flea bite mark. “Now the left.” Oei shifted her posture and then rolled up her left sleeve high to show it. The jade-smooth skin cascaded from her shoulder, pooled languidly, and flowed into a rosy hue from her armpit to her elbow—a beauty of unimaginable allure—yet even there, on that flawless expanse, no vile dice-pip tattoo marred the surface.

“Well? Boss Hachigoro.” “Boss Hachigoro.” “Nothing.”

Hachigoro blankly raised his head. “Is that all, Hachi-san?” “No—I shouldn’t have doubted you—Hachigoro here lays himself bare.”

Hachigoro bowed his head earnestly—and clinging to that lowered head was Oei, who, having lost the outlet for her pent-up passion, seemed slightly flustered. “Is that all, Hachi-san? You think that settles it—I... I’m so frustrated.” When Oei’s delicate hands entwined around Hachigoro’s neck, she threw her entire body against him and let out a cry—neither resentment nor joy, neither rage nor any definable emotion.

“Boss! Emergency!”

As usual, it was Hachigoro shouting as he barged in from outside the alley.

The next morning. “Shut up! Which bitch is going on about giving birth?” Savoring the crisp morning air from his seated position with cheap powdered tobacco, Heiji—long accustomed to his assistant’s “emergency addiction”—remained composed, not even bothering to turn around. “It’s not a bitch—it’s a human woman! I’ve just seen a pair of incredibly well-shaped arms!”

“What are you talking about? You call that an emergency?”

“Isn’t this an emergency? Since I saw Oei’s upper arms, this should count for something, right?” Hachigoro, thoroughly basking in his good fortune, was smirking repeatedly as he chuckled to himself over the memory. “If it’s such a grand occasion, you should’ve said you worshipped them instead of just seeing them—getting all worked up over some young lady’s arms. That’s just spoiled behavior, Hachi.” Despite saying this, Heiji appeared to have his curiosity considerably stirred.

“But those upper arms were like freshly pounded rice cakes—no tattoos or markings to speak of, not even a flea bite mark.”

“So that’s why you came barging in all worked up? —Anyway, was it her right arm or left arm you saw?”

“I saw both right and left.” “I saw them with my own eyes, so there’s no mistake.” “Eyes that mistake pockmarks for dimples aren’t reliable... but let’s take your word for it for now.” “Now then—if Oei’s arms don’t have dice-pip tattoos—whose arm still bears the remaining single pip?” “That must be the Six-Man Gang’s leader—isn’t he rotting dead somewhere?”

“Then who killed Uhatchi?” “There’s no way I could know—anyway, Oei’s too young and pretty to be a bandit leader.” “You’re hopeless. In your eyes, every young and pretty woman is a saint.” “Heh, seems like I’m outta luck.” “But don’t you recognize this wallet’s pattern? It’s one you’ve seen somewhere—” Heiji took out the wallet he had borrowed from Motokichi the barrel collector’s house. It was made of slightly flashy yellow hakucho fabric, with a pattern so distinctive that anyone could grasp its uniqueness at a glance.

“It’s the same pattern as Oei’s lined garment—the one she was wearing that night.” “That woman’s quite the clotheshorse, and she hasn’t worn that lined garment since.”

Hachigoro’s face looked as if he were about to leap forward. “Oh right—that’s why I remembered. If you hadn’t recognized the pattern, I was going to have you buy it—” “Heh, so I should buy it, huh?” “You look like you want to sniff it—your nose is twitching, isn’t it? Now then, someone put twenty ryō coins in this wallet and threw it through the window of the barrel collector’s boy’s house in Sakumachō.”

“Huh?” “Who do you think did this, Hachi?” “When was that?” “It was the night Uhatchi was killed in Yanaka.” “Then it’s Oei, isn’t it? That night, it seems Oei went out briefly in the early evening—but when I asked where she’d gone, she just laughed and didn’t answer.” Hachigoro had no intention of protecting Oei all along and thus had not mentioned it.

The Final Member

Three days later. “Oh, Oshizu—looks like that emergency demon’s here again.” “At least tidy up the laundry by the entrance.” He was in the middle of saying this when—

“Boss! The aunt in Honjo’s been killed!”

Hachigoro’s elongated face leaped into view. “What’s this? The aunt in Honjo?” “Your aunt is in Mukōyanagiwara, isn’t she?” Heiji remained composed and unperturbed. “That’s not my aunt.” “When Sadakichi, the errand boy from Omiya, finally returned to Kanazawa-chō last night, that auntie Osato—the bloated old woman—had been killed during his absence.”

“What?” “Sadakichi’s aunt was killed.” “Did you see it?” “A young man came rushing from Boss Ishihara Risuke’s place.” “He said to tell Boss Zenigata that.” “Alright, let’s go.”

Heiji quickly prepared and rushed off with Hachigoro. In the vacant lot of Honjo Ishihara, a house that looked as if it had been forgotten was under strict surveillance by local police informants; however, with this commotion occurring less than a month after Sadagoro’s murder, the lot was now packed with a crowd of gawkers. Pushing through them, they entered, “Ah, Boss Zenigata—just in time—” The autopsy had just been completed. Ishihara Risuke’s subordinates, unable to take action on this case that seemed to run deep, had been eagerly awaiting Zenigata Heiji’s involvement.

“How is Boss Risuke?”

“He’s still unsteady.” “Today we had our sister come.” Ishihara Risuke—a veteran police informant who had once rivaled Zenigata Heiji—had become broken in both body and spirit after falling ill. Now his daughter Oshina, a young woman returned from a failed marriage, led his many subordinates with Zenigata Heiji as her sole supporter, managing police authority through sheer force of will. “Ah, Boss Zenigata!”

When Oshina saw Heiji’s face, she greeted him with a relieved expression. At twenty-four or twenty-five years old, she was still quite young and beautiful, yet boldly took on the role of a police informant despite being a woman. Though derided as a “female investigator” or the like, she was a spirited soul who upheld her father’s legacy with the authority of a single jitte, never bringing shame to his name. “I hear Boss Risuke isn’t doing well. “He must be terribly worried, but tell him I’ll do everything in my power, so he can rest assured.”

“Thank you, Boss Zenigata.” When Heiji said this to her, Oshina—the female police informant—couldn’t help but tear up. When they entered the house after the investigating officer and town officials had left, only Sadakichi remained by Osato’s corpse, watching over it forlornly. “Young man, you’ve had misfortune heaped upon misfortune.” “Ah, Boss Zenigata!” When Sadakichi saw Heiji’s face, he startled upright. Yet unlike when his father had been killed—when he’d been so distraught he’d wept—this time he remained unexpectedly composed, though a cold disgust toward the corpse mingled with something like childlike fear in his manner.

A small-framed boy who at first glance appeared no older than thirteen or fourteen, but his well-built physique, the complexity of his facial expressions, and—under bright light—the faint shadow of downy hair above his lip suggested he might even be fifteen or sixteen.

“Who was the first to find this corpse this morning?” Heiji’s question was reasonable and common-sense. “It was me. Last night I stayed in Kanazawa-chō because I’d forgotten something, so this morning I told Miss Oei and came back. When I did, the entrance door was open, and inside my aunt had been killed.” “So?” “I was surprised and rushed to Boss Ishihara Risuke’s place.” Sadakichi’s explanation was crisp and clear. “Last night, you stayed at the Omiya house in Kanazawa-chō—that’s certain, right?”

“Oh, Boss Hachigoro knows all about that.” With Hachigoro still staying at the Omiya house as a witness, there was no way to press further. Heiji approached the corpse, bowed lightly, and began examining it meticulously. A bloated, livid, ugly woman—she must have been forty-seven or forty-eight—her corpse was all the more eerie, yet the slight swelling was characteristic of one who had died by strangulation. Upon closer inspection, her skin—once abused with white lead powder in her youth—bore dark congested blood around the eyes, likely evidence of how her unsavory occupation had ravaged her health.

Upon closer inspection, her features weren't so ill-formed—one might surmise she had been considered quite a beauty in her youth. If her harsh life had corrupted both temperament and blood alike, leaving this eerie ugliness in its wake, then she could indeed be called a pitiable woman. "Hmm."

On her neck was a dagger wound. This matched Hanbei, Uhatchi, and Sadagoro’s cases, but Osato’s showed almost no blood flow—and clear ligature marks from a thin strangling cord remained on her neck. “They strangled her first, then stabbed the dagger postmortem—right?” Even Hachigoro grasped this much. Why stage such elaborate theatrics—this glaringly obvious two-step scheme—in the first place?

“Isn’t it strange she wasn’t crucified?” “They likely did it to make folks swallow—in that roundabout way—that this might be Six-Man Gang work.”

Heiji was thinking three steps ahead. "Wouldn't this corpse have dice-pip tattoos on its upper arms?" Garappa Hachi seemed to have made the connection from Oei's arms to Osato's arms in a sudden leap of thought.

“There shouldn’t be one. I don’t think this is the leader of the Six-Man Gang—but let’s check just to be sure.” As he said this, Heiji rolled up the corpse’s left sleeve. The arm was bloated and livid, an eerie sight—but there, about three inches below the shoulder, something bluish-black could be seen. “Ah! Dice pips!” Hachigoro also brought his chin forward. On Osato’s corpse’s upper arm was a bluish-black line tattoo—apparently freshly carved—within a roughly one-inch square dice-shaped frame, with a single red bean-sized pip engraved inside.

“Hachi, take a good look at this—if you’ve got any tattoos on your body, compare them with this one. The color and needle marks—listen, once the corpse is buried or cremated, this tattoo will vanish. Our eyes are the most reliable evidence.”

Heiji said something strange.

“So that means all six men of the Six-Man Gang have died now, Boss.”

Once their investigation was complete, Heiji and Garappa Hachi left Sadakichi’s house and began walking toward Ryōgoku.

“Is that what you think?” “At Utsunoya Pass two died—then the remaining four were Omiya Hanbei, Sadakichi’s father Sadagoro, Omiya’s clerk Uhatchi, and Sadagoro’s younger sister Osato.” “So that means all six tattooed dice pips have been accounted for now—right?” Hachigoro thrust out his large hand and began counting on his fingers. “Then who killed those four?” “Even if they look similar—I’d say each method’s got its own twist—”

“Could it be that the Six-Man Gang has enemies or something, and they’re fighting over the 12,000 ryō gold?” “That 12,000 ryō hasn’t let us catch even a whiff of it.” “If we figure that out, we’ll know who killed those four—though come to think of it, they call it the Six-Man Gang, but really it was five men and one woman, wasn’t it?”

“If Osato is the leader—” “Don’t you think that dice pip tattoo on Osato’s arm was odd? With so many people listening then, I had to tell you to inspect it thoroughly without speaking up.” “Now that you mention it—the ink looked off, and even the needle marks had a speckled texture like scattered sesame seeds.”

Hachigoro had observed that much. "That doesn’t look like ink applied to living flesh." "Huh?" "Hey, Hachi—think carefully. When tattooing living flesh, the ink spreads—it doesn’t leave that speckled pattern. That one—you—" "—" Hachigoro audibly gulped and held his breath. Heiji’s words were far too bizarre. "That was tattooed onto the corpse. They mixed blue pigment into the ink."

“Boss… is such a thing even possible?”

Hachigoro was utterly astonished by Heiji’s leap of imagination. “To make people believe all six men of the Six-Man Gang have died, there’s no other way but that,” Heiji said. “The gang’s leader—the one with the dice pip ‘one’ tattoo—killed the three surviving members and took all 12,000 ryō for himself.” “—”

Hachigoro shuddered violently. He was both shocked by the sheer severity of the evil scheme and burning with righteous indignation against it.

“Who is that, Boss?”

“I don’t know.” “Until now, we’ve been played like fools by the Six-Man Gang’s leader.” “And right before our eyes, we watched them slaughter four of our comrades one by one while we stood there sucking our thumbs.”

“If you include the barrel-collecting boy, that makes five.”

“No—the one who killed that boy was different.” “That’s not the Six-Man Gang’s leader—it’s Uhatchi, Omiya’s clerk.” “Uhatchi needed that dagger either to protect or blackmail the leader.” “And to hide that he’d bought it from the boy, he coldly killed the barrel-collecting boy.”

The Bodyguard’s Deception “Things have gotten serious, Boss.” “If the leader of the Six-Man Gang killed three of his comrades and is living nonchalantly—”

Hachigoro made the sourest face in all of Japan. “We’ll have to start over from the beginning, Hachi.”

Zenigata Heiji’s face was grave. “What should I do now?” The tireless Hachigoro looked ready to dash off to Nagasaki right then and there. “There’s no need to skip the details—Boss Risuke’s house should be close from here. Since Miss Oshina is clever, she might’ve heard something.”

Heiji turned back from Ryōgoku Bridge toward Ishihara—Risuke’s house wasn’t far from Sadakichi’s place.

“Oh, Boss Zenigata!” Oshina, who had just returned home, seemed slightly flustered by Zenigata Heiji’s unexpected visit. “Miss Oshina, I came back because there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Huh?” “I feel bad for Boss Risuke, but I can’t exactly go inside and chat at length—to get straight to it, Miss Oshina, with all the recent trouble, you’ve been keeping tabs on Sadagoro’s household, haven’t you?” “Oh, I’ve been gathering various pieces of information.” “Such as?”

Heiji stood before the lattice door at the entrance and immediately got down to business. "The woman named Osato who was killed last night was supposed to be Sadagoro's sister—the man murdered earlier—but it seems she was actually his mistress or something of that sort." "Huh?" Even Heiji hadn't anticipated this revelation. "Because of that, Sadakichi and Osato were apparently on terrible terms."

“That’s news to me.” “If Sadakichi and Osato aren’t aunt and nephew, I’ll have to rethink everything.” Heiji too looked thoroughly taken aback. “What’s more, Sadagoro and Osato didn’t get along either—despite Sadagoro being ill-tempered from poor health, Osato turned out to be surprisingly selfish beneath her proper appearance.” “Hmm. Time to start over from scratch.” “I’ve been chasing nothing but wrong leads all along.” Heiji became completely lost in thought.

After crossing Ryōgoku Bridge twice more, the stubborn silence persisted until they entered Kanazawa-chō from Shōhei Bridge. Hachigoro knew how to behave during such times—practicing the tunes of his humming, thinking about that girl, and tagging along cheerfully as good company without getting in Heiji’s way. “Hachi, I have a request for you—” “What is it, Boss? If it’s about money or women, I’m not your guy—” “Idiot! This isn’t some carefree matter!”

“Huh?” “Use your wits to draw Oei out.” “I need to check something at that house—it’d be a problem if she’s around.” “I’ll give it a shot—if that’s all it takes.” Hachigoro eagerly dashed off but returned shortly to where Heiji waited at the street corner. “Oei’ll be leaving soon.” “She’s right in the thick of primping herself.” When they saw Oei scurrying out, Hachigoro slipped into her place and guided Heiji into the Omiya House.

Since Master Hanbei’s death, the business had remained closed, and Hachigoro even knew that whenever Oei went out, she would leave the key with the neighboring women’s household. “When she heard the coroner wanted to see you at Sadakichi’s place in Ishihara, even Oei got scared out of her wits and dashed off!” Hachigoro delivered this report with utter nonchalance. “That’s a ruthless lie for a pretext.” “Anyway, there’s plenty I need to check before Oei gets back.”

“Is the 12,000 ryō hidden here, Boss?”

“That’s not it—where do you sleep? That’s the first thing I need to ask.” “The three-tatami room by the entrance is my aunt’s, the six-tatami one next to it is mine—though it really irks Oei, the six-tatami room in the back is hers.”

“A strange thing has really gotten on my nerves.”

Heiji entered the back six-tatami room with a wry smile. The room appeared to have once belonged to the late master Hanbei, furnished lavishly. When they opened the closet, they found splendid nightclothes neatly folded inside. A three-foot tokonoma alcove and a single round window—since there was no lattice there, even with the shutters on the veranda closed, the fact that one could come and go freely day or night as long as they had footwear unnervingly set Heiji’s nerves on edge.

“Hachi, open that cupboard.” “Just in case—if there’s footwear here, I win.” Hachigoro tentatively opened the cupboard beneath the three-foot tokonoma alcove. Inside lay a box containing straw sandals wrapped in paper—still caked with fresh mud—that made him burst out cheering involuntarily. “There it is, Boss!” “Good, good. As long as they’re here.” “No need to shout loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear—though I might say the ground outside’s packed with footprints. Planning to plant flowers? It’s been dug up quite thoroughly.”

Heiji stuck his head out of the round window and looked at the freshly turned soil in the field beneath it—ground showing no trace of human footprints. “Oei’s quite the cultured one, see? Claims she loves flowers—takes a hoe to dig up that spot every single morning.” “Figured as much—now where’d that boy Sadakichi bed down last night?”

“It’s the two-tatami room next to the kitchen.” “All right, all right. With that, the mystery’s solved. My mistake was keeping Hachigoro—who’s probably Japan’s number one when it comes to being soft on women—here as this house’s guard.”

“Boss.”

“Hey, don’t make that face, Hachi. Only now have I finally uncovered the true identity of the Six-Man Gang’s leader and their evil scheme.”

“Boss, who is it? Which bastard is it?” “Don’t be shocked, Hachi.”

“?” “The leader of the Six-Man Gang—the ruthless killer who murdered three of their own—is that Oei with her butter-wouldn’t-melt face—the same Oei you’ve been mooning over.”

Heiji glanced around warily, as if cautious of the gravity of his own words.

“That woman doesn’t have any dice pip tattoos, Boss.” Hachigoro grew frantic.

“You haven’t seen Oei naked—what you’ve seen are just her arms.” “—” “Oei’s tattoo—the single-pip dice mark—isn’t on her arm. It’s probably on her thigh.”

“Huh?!” “Five of the six were men with tattoos on their left upper arms—but for their sole female leader, I believe she dared place her dice pip mark in an audaciously unconventional spot.” “Even so, Oei being the leader makes no sense! She wasn’t even here when Hanbei was killed—when Sadagorō died in Honjo during Hanbei’s first-week memorial vigil, she never left this house! And on Uhatchi’s murder night, I stayed here keeping watch with my aunt! Last night too—Oei shut herself in her room after dusk and worked on something the whole time!”

Hachigoro threw himself into this critical moment with desperate determination. “I’ll hear that excuse later. In any case, if we let the bird escape, it’s over. Let’s head back to Honjo immediately.”

“To Honjo?” “When we go to Ishihara and she realizes she’s been found out, that woman will flee without a second thought—she’s the one who knows where the 12,000 ryō is hidden.” “She likely doesn’t give a whit about the Omiya family’s honor.” “Then let’s go to Ishihara, Boss.” Heiji and Hachigoro raced straight to Ishihara like hounds on a taut leash. But, “Where’s Oei?” “Hasn’t Omiya’s Oei come here?” When they questioned Risuke’s underling from Ishihara, who stood watch at the entrance,

“No such person has come here.” It was a halting reply, as if he’d been caught off guard. “But she’s a young and beautiful woman!” Hachigoro interjected impatiently, “No women have come here—whether young or old.”

The reply was somewhat curt and laced with sarcasm.

“Hachi, it’s no use.”

“Huh?” “Oei’s sharper than you or me. If she’d caught wind of something, she wouldn’t cling around here hesitating.” “Huh?” Hachigoro still seemed unable to believe it.

“She pretended to be lured out by you but actually doubled back to observe our investigation.” “And when they found those sandals in the cupboard closet, she must’ve panicked and fled right then.” “Then what happened to the 12,000 ryō gold?” “If all the gang members die, Oei alone would know where it’s hidden—wait, Hachi.” “I need to look into something.” “You head back to Kanazawa-chō straightaway and keep watch on the Omiya House again.”

Without waiting for Hachigoro’s reply, Heiji dismissively said this and disappeared somewhere.

Rope Escape

After parting with Heiji, Hachigoro returned to the Omiya House in Kanazawa-chō with a tense heart. Though it was unclear who would arrive at this house first, in any case, Hachigoro took out his police baton from his pocket and fastened it at his waist, fumbled with the arresting rope that had fallen into his sleeve, and worked himself up into a thoroughly heroic state of mind.

He thought the key had been left with the neighbor, but just to be sure, when he tried the lattice door at the entrance, it opened easily under his hand.

“Who’s there?” From within came a young woman’s voice—that alluringly strained tone could belong to none but Oei.

Hachigoro gasped. He had rushed all the way to Honjo to apprehend Oei, then hurried back to Kanazawa-chō to watch for her return. That Oei herself had returned to this very house and was now answering in the most refreshing voice in all of Japan was a miracle that surpassed even Hachigoro’s boundless imagination. “Oei?”

While confirming a foolish suspicion, Hachigoro slid open the shoji with a clatter. “Oh, Boss Hachigoro.” Oei, who greeted this with a bewitching smile, was in the midst of opening a dresser drawer and searching for something. “This is official business! Submit quietly!” In that instant, when his professional instincts finally kicked in, Hachigoro positioned his jitte behind him and assumed a stance ready to pounce. “Oh, is that a joke? But how gallant you ain’t.” Oei paused her search and, turning around, smiled sweetly. Her upper body tilted at a seven-three angle—shoulders drawn back, the lush curve of her neck radiating up to cheeks and nose bridge, smoldering brows framing slightly parted lips where a glimpse of white teeth flashed—this was the pose that showed the woman at her most beautiful.

“Don’t play dumb, Oei. You killed Hanbei, you killed Sadagoro, you killed Uhatchi, and you killed Osato—you brazen woman!” “W-well now—how dreadful. Did I really kill so many?” “You know damn well you did!” “Though I did consider killing Boss Hachigoro with my eyes alone—that proved beyond even my skill.” “You’ve got some lovely charm protecting you—frustratingly unyielding.” “Enough games! Submit properly to the rope!”

Hachigoro lunged forward and struck Oei’s shoulder with his gleaming jitte—a sharp crack. Though he meant to strike her, it would be more accurate to say he merely brushed against the plush softness of the woman’s shoulder. Even so, Oei collapsed heavily to her knees. It was as though a grand peony had fallen soundlessly to the earth and shattered with a soft plop.

“Oh? You really mean to tie me up?” “Boss Hachigoro?” “Of course I don’t carry this jitte for decoration.”

“Oh? So that’s what you intended, Boss Hachigoro.” “Well then, I’ll let you tie me up once—if it’ll make your big moment, Mr. Hachi… like this.”

Oei moved her own hands behind her back and waited meekly for Hachigoro’s rope. Hachigoro stared blankly for a moment. If she’d put up a proper fight—scratching, thrashing around with all her might—there’d be some satisfaction in restraining her, but— “But I’d hate to be tied up for murder or burglary—if I set my house on fire to meet Mr. Kichisaburō and got bound for *that*, I’d gladly be burned at the stake.” While being bound by Hachigoro, squirming her body, Oei said such things.

“None of your nonsense!” Hachigoro put on the most merciless face he could muster, gritting his back teeth as he tightened the rope end with a grinding force. “Oh my, what reckless strength!” “Doesn’t that hurt?” “Endure it.” “But why on earth am I being tied up?” “The evidence for four murders has come up.” “You kept me here as your bodyguard and slipped out through the back room, didn’t you?” “You didn’t realize we’d found the mud-covered straw sandals in the floor cabinet, did you?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about—I have trouble sleeping, so sometimes I go out to get some night air. Since you and Auntie were kind enough to stay over, I didn’t want to wake you. That’s why I prepared straw sandals and put them in the floor cabinet in the alcove—didn’t I?” “What the hell?” “Or perhaps I should have enshrined the straw sandals on the household altar?” “Don’t mock me.” “If not, would it have been acceptable for me to go out through the front by treading past your bedside where you were sleeping—passing by your pillow in the dead of night?”

“—” “I’m so frustrated, Hachi.” Oei, still bound, sobbed intermittently. The beads of tears rolling down long eyelashes, trickling over plump cheeks, and falling onto slightly parted knees—even this stirred a strange pang in Hachigoro’s chest. “Then I’ll ask—you were supposed to go to Honjo, but you came back here without showing your face there. What’s the reason you were searching for something?” Hachigoro, having bound her himself, was driven by the impulse to refute this woman.

“I remembered something important partway through and came back—oh, there’s no need for you to make such a strange face.” “It’s not some joint pledge—it’s my important memo. I wouldn’t want to carelessly show such a thing to others, now would I?” “Actually, there’s a lot written about you too, Hachi—I must say, how awkward to have to mention such things—what a sinful occupation this police informant work is.” While saying this, Oei gazed up at Hachigoro’s face from below as though sweeping over him with her eyes.

“Smooth talker—it’s already been proven you’re part of the Six-Man Gang.” “Oh? What evidence?” “We discovered the tattoo on Osato’s arm was fake! There’s no doubt a dice pip’s carved somewhere on your body.” “How suspicious you are, Mr. Hachi. Didn’t I show you my arms just the other night?” “The tattoo isn’t on your arms—it’s probably in some strange place like your thighs or back.”

This had been Heiji’s deduction, but Hachigoro appropriated it to dismiss her claims. “W-well, I’ll show you—to clear your doubts.” “If it were anyone else, perhaps—but for you, Mr. Hachi, I’d gladly show you anywhere.” “Thighs, back—anywhere...” “Don’t be absurd!” Hachigoro turned his face away. Hachigoro wasn’t brazen enough to ask to see the bound young woman’s thighs, but the crimson crepe spilling between her knees seeped into the eyes of the youthful Hachigoro.

“Well then, what should I do, Mr. Hachi? If you untie me, I’ll do anything—anything at all.” “Be quiet. I have some business to attend to.” “Are you telling me to stay silent and accept being branded a four-time murderess, Mr. Hachi? Isn’t that pitiful?” “What a noisy woman. You’ll stay in the next room for a while—I want to look inside this chest.” “My!” After Oei had thoroughly sulked and clung to him, Hachigoro moved her to the adjacent six-tatami mat room as if lifting her up.

“You’ll have to endure this for a while.”

Using a pillar that seemed custom-made for the purpose, Hachigoro securely bound Oei's body to it and returned to the original room. The chest that Oei had just been ransacking in an exaggerated search—pulling out every drawer—was where Hachigoro became convinced lay the vital secrets of the Six-Man Gang and the stolen 12,000 ryō of government gold. "Please don't take out anything peculiar, Boss Hachigoro."

Oei called out from the adjacent room as if to restrain his hand. “Be quiet!” When inspecting a chest, one starts from the lower drawers—Hachigoro knew this well. What he pulled out were gaudy, alluring kimonos—unexpectedly luxurious garments of a young woman. “Women have all sorts of things they don’t want men to see, you know. Won’t you come show your face over here already, Mr. Hachi?”

“Just a little more patience.” Hachigoro’s hands moved busily as he inspected each kimono one by one, but since he took care to check everything from the sleeves to the inside of the collars, it ended up taking more time than expected.

But after some struggle, he finally finished going through them—only to find nothing suspicious at all.

“Oei.” “――” “What did you take from the chest?” “――” The fact that Oei—who until moments earlier had been chattering nonstop to distract Hachigoro—had suddenly fallen silent and stopped responding was no ordinary matter. What had happened? Driven by this unease, Hachigoro threw open the sliding paper door as though ripping it from its frame.

“Ah—she’s gone!” There was no sign of Oei there—before the pillar lay only the arrest rope she had masterfully slipped free from, coiled like a serpent upon the tatami mats. “Damn it! Where the hell did she go?!” Hachigoro searched the house like a madman, but not a trace of Oei remained, and the back door’s shoji stood half-open as if declaring she had fled through here.

It goes without saying that Hachigoro dashed out into the alley. “What’s wrong, Hachi? You’re in quite a panic, aren’t you?”

Blocking his path was Zenigata Heiji， who appeared to have just returned from somewhere． Heiji began． “Boss， have you seen that scheming witch Oei around here？” Hachigoro was utterly flustered． “I haven’t seen her—what’s happened with Oei？” Even Heiji’s face tensed up． “When she came back here， making a clatter with the chest and going ‘Oh， Mr．Hachi—’ all innocent-like， I suddenly tied her up—and she says if you want to see a dice pip tattoo， she’d show her thigh or whatever—”

“Did you actually peek at such things?” “I didn’t peek! With all due respect—after shaking off her pestering, tying her to the pillar in the six-tatami room next door, and going through that suspicious chest—when I thought it’d gone too quiet and looked in…” “What about the thigh?” “It wasn’t the thigh! When I checked the next room—just like this—she’d slipped clean out of the ropes and escaped through the back door! That damn fox!”

While showing the arrest rope left on the pillar, Hachigoro stomped his feet in frustration. "What a fool you are—that woman was the leading actress of Akashi Gorohatchi’s troupe and a master escape artist!" "Ah, I see." "That’s Oei—even when trussed up and stuffed into a wicker basket, she’d pull off a flawless escape act, then appear before the audience grinning in nothing but a red underrobe." "Slipping out of the ropes you tied would’ve been child’s play for her."

“Tch.” “Clicking your tongue won’t help catch her. There was a proper way to bind an escape artist—ah, well, giving a lecture here won’t help catch her.” Heiji comforted Hachigoro while using his foot to pull over a gaudy cushion. “I’m sorry, Boss.” “Boss.”

Scratching his temple with a scritch-scritch sound, Hachigoro crouched before him. “There’s no helping it,” said Heiji. “That woman’s got no hair below her navel—a real ruthless fox. Even if I’d tied her up myself, she might’ve slipped away.” “By the way, Boss...” “What’s this, Hachi? Getting all formal on me?” “Is Oei really the Six-Man Gang’s leader? The one who did all four killings?” Hachigoro still couldn’t wrap his head around it. “Whether she’s their leader or not—hell, we’d need to check her thigh to know for sure—but she definitely helped kill three of ’em: Hanbei, Sadagoro, Uhatchi... and Osato.”

“Huh—so there was another accomplice besides that woman—” “Haven’t you noticed? That boy Sadakichi—he was Oei’s accomplice.” “After parting ways with you in Honjo, I had been searching for Sadakichi’s whereabouts.” “Huh—that boy... Isn’t he still a child?”

“Did you think so too? I made a terrible mistake because I was convinced of that at first. That boy Sadakichi isn’t thirteen or fourteen. Though short in stature, his body’s fully developed—he even had a faint mustache under his nose. He must be seventeen or eighteen at least.” Heiji had seen through something crucial. “That’s shocking! Seventeen or eighteen? That boy? Huh?”

To Hachigoro, who was overcome with emotion, Heiji began his explanation as follows. “It’s the most dangerous age for a boy.” “Moreover, that boy Sadakichi was born with a terrifying heart.” “He doesn’t care at all about toying with men like Oei—for a woman, he’s nothing short of an ideal tool.” “Huh?” “And there’s still more to be shocked about.” “Sadagoro, who was killed, was undoubtedly Sadakichi’s father, but Osato wasn’t his aunt or anything of the sort—that story about her being Sadagoro’s sister was a blatant lie. In truth, she was his mistress or something along those lines.”

“—” “When Sadagoro was killed, Sadakichi wept so bitterly—yet when Osato died, he acted like nothing had happened. And according to Miss Oshina, Sadakichi and Osato were on terribly bad terms.” “Osato was likely a woman of ill repute who’d ruined her standing—she crashed into Sadagoro’s life and cast Sadakichi aside as a nuisance.” Heiji’s explanation had a basis for each point, but—

“So why did Oei go and kill three or four people?” “It’s a struggle over the 12,000 ryō stolen at Utsunoya Pass.” “The 12,000 ryō official gold shipment must be hidden somewhere—but nobody knows who actually knows its location.” “But if four comrades kill each other until only one remains, it’s certain the gold will end up in that last survivor’s hands.”

“Huh?”

“Shall I start from the beginning? On the night Hanbei was killed, when you and I met her at Shōhei Bridge, Oei must have been quite surprised. She had come there to dispose of the dagger used to kill Hanbei. There must have been a mark on the dagger that would identify it as Oei’s possession at a glance.” “I see. So she even killed the barrel-collecting boy to get hold of that dagger.” “The one who obtained the dagger was clerk Uhatchi. He got hold of it and threatened Oei—no, since he was smitten with her, he probably used the dagger as a pretext to court her.”

“What a nasty guy, huh?”

“If it were Hachigoro, he wouldn’t do such a thing. To court a woman, you need both dashing looks and substance.” “You must be joking.” “To backtrack—though Oei had arranged to meet Uhatchi at the Arakiya shop near Koji Bridge that night, she killed Hanbei instead, dawdled at the neighbor’s place, and never went to Koji Bridge. She meant to string Uhatchi along while making her movements look shady for about an hour and a half—all to plant suspicion squarely on him.”

“What a wicked woman.” “At that time, even though she guided you and me into that pitch-black, blood-soaked room, I found it strange there wasn’t a single drop of blood on Oei’s hem or feet—proof she knew every corner of that house.” “But didn’t they say Oei spoke with Hanbei at the entrance when she went to the neighbor’s? Then right after she came back, the uproar over Hanbei’s murder started. When you and I got there, the blood had already begun clotting.”

“No—Hanbei had already been killed when Oei went to the neighbor’s house.” “Judging by how the blood had clotted, he must’ve been killed an hour or an hour and a half before we arrived.” “Then who did Oei talk to?” “Oei.” Heiji said something mysterious.

The one who had spoken with Oei was Oei herself—Heiji was saying something mysterious.

“I told you Oei was an expert at escaping ropes, but you must know how acrobats and magicians nowadays mimic Kabuki performances to please their audiences.” “—” “Oei was also adept at voice imitation.” “For someone as clever as her, mimicking Hanbei’s voice—one she heard every day—would’ve been child’s play.” “She killed Hanbei, crucified him in the garden, scrubbed off the blood at the wellside, changed clothes in a flash, put on Hanbei’s voice for a fake conversation at the gate, then coolly loitered there wasting time for over an hour.”

“What a terrifying woman.” “But crucifying that hulking man Hanbei wasn’t done by a woman’s strength alone, was it?” “It was Sadakichi—the boy who slipped away from Honjo—who helped.” “Why would she go through all that trouble?” “To make people think it wasn’t the work of a physically weak woman.” “Suspending a man over five feet four or five inches tall—even by a few inches or a foot—isn’t something a woman could do alone.”

“But even with Sadakichi’s help, wouldn’t it still be difficult?” “They hung him from the upper branches, you see.” “If two people work together, it’s easy.” Heiji’s explanation delved into minute details.

“Knowing all that, why didn’t you arrest Oei, Boss?”

“There isn’t a single piece of solid evidence.” “That woman’s terrifyingly cunning—I’ve got my suspicions, but she’s never once let me catch her tail.” “Assuming Uhatchi killed the barrel-collecting boy, who killed Sadagoro?” “Uhatchi.” “Huh?” “Uhatchi was infatuated with Oei; he’d do anything she said.” “First, he was stood up at the Arakiya shop near Koji Bridge; then he used the barrel-collecting boy to purchase the dagger; killed that same boy to silence him; and on top of that, at Oei’s request, he even resolved to kill Sadagoro.”

“What a piece of work that guy is.” “The one who killed his father Sadagoro was Uhatchi—and the one who told that to the boy Sadakichi was undoubtedly Oei. On the night Oei killed Uhatchi in Yanaka, she had Sadakichi lure him out. Then, in the early evening, she went to the barrel-collecting boy’s house in Sakumachō and tossed a purse and other items through the window. After returning to the house in Kanazawachō, she watched with amusement as you made a strange face, then gave a knowing smile—this way, even if she slipped out in the middle of the night, you wouldn’t catch on.”

“Heh.”

Hachigoro stroked his long chin as if hiding embarrassment. "That method of going out once in the evening to reassure Hachigoro before quietly slipping through the round window at midnight was elaborate yet cunning. At that very moment, Hachigoro the bodyguard lay snorting like a lantern-blowing walrus, dreaming of daifuku rice cakes." "You're joking!"

“Oei doesn’t miss a trick.” “In Yanaka, when she met Uhatchi—just like when she’d stabbed Hanbei—she grabbed him from behind, made as if to whisper something, then thrust the dagger into his neck.” “That’s Oei’s technique—she lands the killing blow without fail and without a drop of blood on herself.”

Heiji continued explaining as though he had witnessed the scene firsthand.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, Boss.” “What is it?” “Who was the messenger that came from Ishihara saying there’d been a mistake with Sadagoro?” “It was Uhatchi—Uhatchi the clerk who killed Sadagoro—. Since Sadagoro was paralyzed and couldn’t move freely, Uhatchi could’ve killed him alone.”

That was truly beyond anything one could have imagined. “Then, doesn’t that mean his face was seen?” “The only ones who saw the messenger’s face were Osato and Oei.” “Osato must have kept silent because she suspected something was amiss, and Oei probably feigned ignorance, fully aware of everything.” “But why did he come to inform them in the first place?”

“It’s the act of someone doing bad deeds,” Heiji explained. “He meant to rattle us first so he could rig things afterward.” “So then,” Hachigoro interjected, “Uhatchi—disguised as the messenger—doubled back to tie up Oei?” “Exactly,” Heiji confirmed. “They’d arranged it beforehand. He watched for us turning back from Yanagihara, got there a step ahead, and tied her up with those quick-release ropes from Ryogoku shows—the kind escape artists use.” His fingers mimicked unraveling knots. “Looked tight as anything, but one good shake and they’d come loose like grains from a sack.”

“Heh! That’s shocking!” “You jump at every little thing.” “It’s all theater staged to Oei’s liking.” “Who killed Osato?” “That was Oei.” “When it’s woman against woman, you go from behind and strangle.” “She couldn’t very well grab her and stab her neck—though Sadakichi might’ve been in on it too.” “Sadakichi apparently thought having Uhatchi kill his father Sadagoro was Osato’s handiwork.” “Heh! What a rotten bunch!” “Osato must’ve known too much—become a liability.”

“Boss, when exactly did you start suspecting Oei?” “From the very first night. But there wasn’t a single piece of solid evidence. If I’d kept you around thinking you’d catch onto something, that turned out to be a huge miscalculation too.” “Heh.”

Hachigoro stuck out his tongue and tapped his forehead. “When I saw Uhatchi carefully keeping that letter from Oei—the one arranging their secret meeting—that’s when I truly began to suspect her.” “There was no need to check for a thigh tattoo.” “Heh, no way I can compete if I’m up against you, Boss.”

“By the way, Oei escaped, and Sadakichi has gone into hiding,” said Heiji. “The Six-Man Gang’s leader remains unknown, and we haven’t caught the killers behind the four murders either. I’ve never messed up this badly before—but if I can just snag a lead now, I’ll collar their boss with a neat little 12,000 ryō bonus in tow.” “Where’s that gold hidden?” Hachigoro demanded. “Right behind you.” “Huh?!” “Inside that chest of drawers.” Heiji’s gaze shifted to the battered piece of furniture Hachigoro had rummaged through earlier. “Why do you think Oei risked her neck coming back here?”

Heiji turned his gaze to the shabby old chest of drawers that Hachigoro had thoroughly ransacked.

Golden Ring

Challenge

A little over a month later, Edo had fully embraced early summer. The Inari shrines adorning the town’s heart were wrapped in vibrant young leaves, each morning cuckoos would veer over the waves of tiled roofs toward the Ōkawa River, and the calls of first bonito sellers resounded clearly through every district.

Five of the Six-Man Gang had clearly perished, but the whereabouts of their leader—the sole remaining member—remained unknown. To make matters worse, his true name, appearance, approximate age, and even gender eluded all knowledge, leaving a persistent thread of unease lodged deep in the hearts of Edo’s townspeople. Even Zenigata Heiji—renowned since Edo’s founding as a master thief-taker—found himself bearing his first black mark since taking up the jitte and arrest ropes.

“Boss Zenigata will handle it somehow.” The elders of Edo said so. It was an unshakable trust in Heiji. “No, Heiji really made a huge blunder this time.” “If they can’t even tell whether the Six-Man Gang’s leader is male or female, there’s no way they’ll catch the killers of four people.” The young people found it amusing to say so. It was an iconoclastic fascination. Amidst all this gossip, Heiji wore an indifferent face, listlessly passing each day as it came. His pocket money and tobacco both exhausted, he watched with a touch of pity as his wife Oshizu racked her brains over how to manage their evening drinks—yet he showed no sign of taking action. What could be the reason for this?

In the meantime, Hachigoro—aka Garahachi—had found two new holes. The first was at Nisuke’s shop in Sakumachō, where Motokichi—the barrel-collecting boy who had fallen to Uhatchi’s blade—lived in squalor like a rat’s nest. Under the pretext of comforting the mother, he had begun diligently visiting, though his true aim was to catch glimpses of Motokichi’s sister, Oyuki. Oyuki, true to her status as a poor man’s daughter, carried herself with a certain precociousness. Yet at just seventeen years old—lacking in flattery or charm—she exuded a pure freshness akin to fruit freshly plucked from a tree.

She was fair-skinned with sharply defined, charming features—not conventionally beautiful—but if Hachigoro found her appealing, it might have been her unvarnished naturalness and the peculiar disposition tempered by poverty that drew him in. The other was a twenty-three-year-old woman of exceptional beauty working at a small teahouse beside Tennō-ji Temple in Yanaka. Officially registered as the old teahouse proprietress’s niece—a divorcee idling her days until begged to help at the shop—her radiance pierced through Yanaka’s woods like sunlight, while her nasal-voiced coquetry gained such fame that she now ranked among local attractions, overshadowing even the Iroha Teahouse in the red-light district.

After Uhatchi, clerk of the Omiya House, was killed in the woods of Yanaka, it was only natural that Hachigoro—who had some business there—would hit it off with Ogin, the teahouse proprietress, and seize every opportunity to visit beneath the five-storied pagoda.

The blue shadow where her eyebrows had been shaved and her jet-black teeth—Ogin’s allure had captivated Hachigoro’s heart in a way entirely distinct from Oyuki. “Big trouble, Boss!”

Hachigoro came bursting in with his usual fanfare one morning just as Heiji, dissolving into the haze of tobacco smoke, was on the brink of attaining sublime enlightenment through his wild fox Zen.

“Still as rowdy as ever.” “What’s the emergency?” Heiji unwound from his coiled position and turned his head, tobacco still clamped between his teeth. “Someone threw something weird into Oyuki’s house in Sakumachō!” “Another purse stuffed with koban coins?”

“That’s not all! It’s maddening as hell, but I can’t make heads or tails of this blasted riddle, Boss!” “Boss.” Hachigoro knelt down with his bony knees pressed together, pulled out a handkerchief-wrapped item from deep within his pocket, and shoved it toward Heiji. “Not some love letter, I hope? —Judging by that look in your eyes, seems our little Oyuki’s caught herself a new suitor—” “It’s nothing so idiotic, I swear! Just read the damn thing already!”

“This is a bit unsettling... A challenge letter that actually apologizes?”

As he spoke, Heiji picked up the aforementioned item. When he untied the hand towel, a single golden-yellow round ring—about two inches in diameter—tumbled out and gleamed brilliantly atop the tatami mats. "What in blazes is this?" "Read the letter."

Heiji silently gazed at the ring, but this golden circlet—as large as a bull’s nose ring—defied all comprehension as to what sort of charm it might represent. Alongside the ring lay a sheet of hanshi paper folded into quarters. When flattened open, it revealed a letter penned in masterful calligraphy: "Boss Zenigata—pity you’ll lose all face this time. You’ll never uncover either the Six-Man Gang’s true form or the killer who slaughtered four men. Though I could claim this entire 12,000 ryō government shipment for myself without complaint from any quarter, being an honest soul compels me to share one final revelation before retrieving the gold."

On the Xth day of X month at X hour, I shall meet you at the pagoda. For the sake of the old man's mouth, the Six-Man Gang, and the Three Monkeys' principle, I'll let you borrow this golden ring. You'd do well to ponder deeply what this was used for.

“Damn it!” Even Heiji bit his lip. To put it mildly, it was a letter that treated people with contempt.

“This was thrown into little Oyuki’s house, I tell you.” “There were also ten ryō of gold and a letter attached, and the name ‘Ete三’ was apparently written on it.”

“Was it definitely written as ‘Ete三’?” “There’s no mistake—I saw it myself.” “I can read characters like that just fine!” “Then the Six-Man Gang’s leader must be someone called Saruzō or Shinsaburō.” “Sounds like a stage name.” “If it’s a woman, maybe O-Saru or Oen.” “Do you remember the letter’s exact wording?”

“It was all some really troublesome stuff written there.” “Not something you could just read through in one go.” “You hopeless oaf. That’s why you should learn proper square characters—though saying that makes me sound like some great scholar, doesn’t it?” With a wry smile, Heiji began preparing to go out.

Zenigata Heiji couldn’t bring himself to scold Hachigoro for his spinelessness and instead went straight to Oyuki’s house in Sakumachō himself.

In the same old Ukiyo Alley, the mother—weary from managing the household—and her daughter Oyuki, who strangely glistened with vitality, were there to greet him. Even with the magistrate’s intervention and money thrown through their window, this household—where poverty had seeped into their very marrow—did not suddenly brighten into prosperity; in their rat’s nest of a home, unchanged as ever, the mother had laid out handmade toys for piecework. “Ah, Boss Hachigoro!” Oyuki had already thrust her face into the alleyway, spotted that distinctive elongated chin, and come out to greet them at the entrance.

Her faded, threadbare lined kimono—its crimson collar now dulled—made her appearance pitiful to behold. Yet even in her tattered rags, the lusterless sheen of her unkempt hair overflowed with the beauty of youth: full cheeks, intelligent eyes, a gracefully slender neck—every part of her was utterly captivating.

“Today I’ve brought Boss Zenigata with me.”

“Oh!” When she saw Heiji’s face, the girl rushed clattering into the house. “Hachi, this doesn’t look proper—she came running out when she saw your face, but when she saw mine, she scrambled back inside.” “That’s not it at all.” “It’s just...embarrassing.” Listening to Hachigoro’s excuses at his back, Heiji settled himself before the mother. “Show me what was thrown in last night.” “I’ve received the portion delivered to me, but—”

“Here you are, Mr. Boss.” “Knowing full well this is those villains’ doing right before our eyes, we couldn’t just leave it be. So after consulting with the landlord, we’ve decided to report it to the authorities.”

What she produced as she spoke was a paper package containing ten ryō in koban coins and a letter—also folded into eighths—on a sheet of Japanese paper. The paper wrapping the koban had nothing written on it, while the letter was in the same handwriting as the one addressed to Heiji: "With Motokichi’s forty-ninth-day memorial approaching, use this to have at least one sutra recited for him. Let me make this clear—I didn’t kill Motokichi. Given what happened before, there’s no need to report this gold to the authorities. I earned this money through honest work—you can take it without worry. I’ve included a golden ring and another letter with this—please pass them along to Boss Zenigata or that idiot Hachigoro."

Six-Man Gang　　 Ete三

It was written thus. “Hey, Hachi.” “What is it, Boss?” “You were better off not reading this letter.” “Is there something written about me in it?” “It praises you lavishly—‘Boss Hachigoro is a clever, generous, and fine man,’ it says.” “You’re lying.” “Not such a bad feeling—now then, as for who threw this letter—”

Heiji glanced at Oyuki and her mother. “It was through that window. “It might have been around half past the Hour of the Boar—eleven o’clock—last night.” “It was around the time when we were finishing up work and preparing to rest.” “Now then, what should we do next, Boss?”

“Well, first off, we’ll have to reread that riddle-like letter and figure out what the other party’s scheming.”

After leaving Oyuki’s house in Sakumachō, Heiji and Hachigoro found their feet naturally turning toward Myōjin-sama. “What day is today, Hachi?” “I’ve never even thought about such a thing.” “Dog Days and Cat Days and such.” “A Day of the Courtesans or a Day of the Matrons—if only such things existed.” “Heh-heh-heh! Well now!” “So go ask that fortune-teller—he’s at Shoheibashi Bridge’s edge.” “Given your trade’s nature you should know these things well! If pressed about your business there—say you’ve got an appointment in Nakachō on this Monkey Day.”

“If they ask for payment, what should I do, Boss?” “I didn’t ask for fortune-telling or divination—I used it as a substitute for the calendar. Show them your jitte and leave.” “Is this the dine-and-dash technique?” “It’s a listen-and-dash. Though whether you leave a single blue coin or take a koban is entirely up to you.” Garappa Hachi went to the foot of the bridge, exchanged a brief exchange with the fortune-teller, and immediately returned. “It’s Eteko’s day, Boss—the previous month was Monkey, and tonight’s meticulously prepared for Kōshin-sama.”

“Now, this is serious, Hachi.”

“Are we storming some Kōshin vigil gathering or what?” “This isn’t about divine retribution—you remember that letter’s wording we saw earlier.” “Huh?” “‘X month X day X hour, sixty above, three monkeys’—that’s what was written.”

“The leader of the Six-Man Gang was called Ete三—his name would be Saruzō or Saruzaburō, I suppose.” “There must be a reason they wrote ‘Three Monkeys’ over and over like that.”

“Huh?” “Try plugging the character for Monkey into those three circles written as ‘○ month ○ day ○ hour’—wouldn’t that make it the Month of the Monkey, Day of the Monkey, and Hour of the Monkey?” “Ah, I see—” “The opponent is trying to lure me somewhere at today’s Monkey hour—four o’clock.”

Heiji had thought this far. “Where’s the location, Hachi?” “What you don’t understand, Boss, there’s no way I could figure out.” “Even knees can hold councils—don’t dismiss it and try thinking.” “Am I the knee brat now, huh?” “You’re quite the lanky knee brat—picking your nose and yawning, what a poorly behaved knee brat you are!” “Heh, what a delightful turn of events—” While dismissing it as nonsense, Heiji’s mind was racing at a terrifying speed.

“Damn it! There’s no way this sugary riddle beats me! What’s this ‘sixty above’ nonsense? Hachi—you think too!” “How ’bout under the sixtieth step of Atagoyama’s men’s slope?” “Sharp! I’d pay a fortune-teller’s fee for that!” “Right?” “You go dig under Atagoyama’s sixtieth step then. Guarantee you’ll find two-three worms crawling out.” Heiji crushed Hachigoro’s theory with gusto.

Five-Storied Pagoda

“Then where is it, Boss?” “Boss.”

“I don’t have any idea either. It’s not like nothing comes to mind—but if I mention this one, you’ll laugh at me for sure. Best to keep quiet and go check it out ourselves.”

“I don’t think there’s anywhere outside Atagoyama with sixty steps like that.” “Right, Boss?” Hachigoro doggedly persisted. “What’s this ‘(inside the old man’s mouth)’ written after that phrase?” “Is there even such a thing at Atagoyama?”

“What’s in the old man’s mouth is dentures, you know.” “Are you saying *that* has some connection to the twelve thousand ryō?” “Well, here’s the thing...” Hachigoro couldn’t think any further than that.

After preparing lunch in Yamashita, they ascended Ueno Hill around 3 PM—the Hour of the Ram. “Where are you going, Boss? Ahead there’s nothing but Iroha teahouses.” The unlicensed brothel district encircling Tennō-ji Temple in Yanaka served as a clandestine playground for hordes of monks stretching from Ueno to Yanaka—a place colloquially called Iroha. “Isn’t there one among them you’re obsessed with?”

“That’s not an Iroha teahouse.” “It’s a shop called Shikimiya that sells incense by Tennō-ji Temple.” “That’s some serious piety.” “Anyway, take me to that Buddha-reeking house.” “I want to borrow the shopfront and wait for the right moment.” “If it’s Ogin’s place, it’s right there.” “There—they’re sprinkling water in front of the shop.” “So that’s the hussy—wearing a white hand towel like a headscarf, a good-looking middle-aged woman with a trim figure—Hachi, go get her attention. A couple of claps should do.”

“You mustn’t mistake her for a fox spirit.” Perhaps having heard this nonsense, she turned around and took her hand towel,

“Oh, Boss Hachigoro, welcome!” She smiled sweetly. Her voice carried a heavy nasal tone—perhaps unsurprising given the proximity to Kasamori Inari Shrine—yet this very quality lent it a strangely captivating allure. Her voluminous round chignon, the thick pearl-like traces where eyebrows had once been shaved, and the black onyx teeth glimpsed between crimson lips all blended into an indescribable sensuality.

“I’ll borrow your shopfront for a bit.” “No need for cushions—there’s someone waiting in the shade catching their breath.” Heiji pulled the veranda platform closer and settled onto the lightly soiled straw mat.

“Oh, sitting there—we do have cleaner spots inside. So you must be Boss Zenigata! Boss Hachigoro, please introduce us properly.” The woman cradled two cushions against her chest, striking an intensely seductive pose. “This is Boss Zenigata—the one you’re always going on about.” “Oh, how embarrassing!” “—‘Bring Boss Zenigata here sometime. I’ve been longing for a love I haven’t seen in ages—’ You said that, didn’t you?”

Hachigoro laid it out point-blank. "Oh, I couldn’t possibly talk about such things anymore, Boss Hachigoro!" While squirming her body coquettishly, the woman nevertheless neither fled nor hid and proceeded to pour tea. "Let’s get going, Hachi. That’s enough of this." Heiji took a sip of lukewarm tea, placed the payment on the tray, and stepped outside. Heiji seemed not a little affected by Ogin’s seductive charm.

“Where are you going, Boss?” “The Five-storied Pagoda.” “Huh? You’re going to make a wish at the Five-storied Pagoda or something...” “What an idiot you are.” “Even so, that woman’s quite a looker, isn’t she?” Hachigoro pointed over his shoulder at Ogin leaning against a pillar of the teahouse they’d left behind, striking a dramatic kabuki-style final pose as she watched them depart. “She’s too alluring for your own good.” “Huh?” “That nasal voice isn’t normal.” “You’d do better not to get too close.”

“Huh?” “Don’t make that sulky face—let’s just hope some scary guy doesn’t come charging out waving a sharp cleaver any minute now.” “Is that right?”

“By the way, this is the Five-storied Pagoda.” Heiji stood before the Five-storied Pagoda in Yanaka, tilting his head back at a sharp angle to gaze up at its peak. “What’s the matter with the Five-storied Pagoda?” “The sun’s at the Hour of the Monkey—around four. I want to climb this pagoda. Go borrow the key from Tennō-ji Temple.” “Huh?”

Hachigoro tried to dash out. “Wait, wait, Hachi—using a borrowed key to enter would be too unimaginative. There must be some clever mechanism here—they wouldn’t possibly have arranged access through Tennō-ji Temple.”

Heiji stopped Hachigoro and made a full circuit around the pagoda. At that time, the Five-storied Pagoda was still brand new—its fittings and doors so sturdy there seemed not even a sliver of a gap. “Hachi, try touching the doors on all four sides,” he said. “One might open by mistake.” “Huh?” Hachigoro meticulously inspected each of the pagoda’s four doors one by one, but they stood as solid as iron, showing no sign of budging whether pushed or pulled.

“Ah! This is it, Hachi!” “What is it, Boss?” “I’d forgotten about this—this is the key.” Heiji took out the golden ring from his pocket. When they circled the Five-storied Pagoda once, there on the south door—slightly below a person’s height—was a fresh gap just wide enough to slide the golden ring sideways into.

Heiji did not hesitate even a moment.

“Are you sure about this, Boss?” Ignoring Hachigoro’s worried expression, he smoothly slid the golden ring into the gap. The ring dropped carelessly into the hole, and somewhere, there was a metallic clang. Following Zenigata Heiji’s push, the south door of the Five-storied Pagoda swung smoothly inward without a sound! “We’re going in, Hachi.” “Is it safe?” The interior was dimly lit, its unexpectedly shallow space feeling strangely anticlimactic compared to the imposing exterior—yet an eerie sensation still crept up one’s spine.

“Wait, wait!”

Hachigoro tried to rush into the Five-Storied Pagoda but was pushed back by Heiji’s hand.

“What’s wrong, Boss?” “When I think about it, if both of us go in and something happens to us, there’d be no one left to handle the aftermath.” “Huh, is that how it is?” “I’ll go into the pagoda alone. You turn back here and gather as many men as you can.” “Kiku from Yanaka should be around there. If that’s not enough, ask Officer Oyama to gather as many servants or laborers as possible.” “What about you, Boss?”

“I’ll go up and take a look at the pagoda.” “Isn’t it dangerous? Shouldn’t you wait until we’ve gathered more people?”

It was a frantic exchange of words as they stood at the entrance of the Five-storied Pagoda.

“No—they invited me to meet here at Shen hour (4 PM). By now we’re nearing You hour—six o’clock sharp. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me retreat.”

Heiji gazed at the sunlight filtering through the gaps, showing no sign of retreating even an inch.

“The enemy’s definitely at the top of this pagoda, right, Boss?” Hachigoro was still protesting. He was worried for his boss’s safety as he charged into the lion’s den.

“There’s no mistake.” “It was written in that letter earlier—‘the old man’s mouth’ being Yanaka’s riddle. The character for ‘valley’ is written with ‘mouth’ under ‘father,’ right?” “Huh?” “Sixty above means fifty above—the Five-storied Pagoda. It’s practically child’s play.” “Getting lured by such riddles galls me, but I can’t just abandon the 12,000 ryō government gold.” “What’s more, the Six-Man Gang’s leader has killed four people already.” “Letting that slide would disgrace this police insignia I carry.”

“But, Boss...” “Enough, Hachi. When I tell you to go, just get moving!” “Huh, I’ll go then. No need to get angry—I’ll go, right?” Hachigoro lingered with visible reluctance, but when Heiji’s tone turned harsh—perhaps thinking it unwise to defy him—he quickly trudged off and disappeared into the shadows of Ueno’s forest. After seeing him off, Heiji closed the pagoda’s door and picked up the golden ring he had dropped earlier.

When he looked, the ring that had slid down from the hole in the door had caught on a knot midway, dislodging the bar—revealing that the door was designed to open effortlessly. To use the Five-storied Pagoda as a dwelling and create such a simple yet effective mechanism was no ordinary feat. Between the second and first floors, there was no ladder, and when he looked up through the hole leading to the second-floor entrance, far above, the grand wooden framework of the Five-storied Pagoda could be seen; from the second floor upward, a sturdy ladder appeared to be in place. Likely, the pagoda’s administrator had removed the ladder between the first and second floors to prevent children’s mischief or beggars from settling there.

Heiji gazed for a while, then took out a hand towel from his pocket, fashioned a knot at its end, and tossed it with a plop into the wooden framework protruding from the second-floor hole. When he tested it with a pull, the end of the towel caught skillfully, forming a perfect handhold.

A grotesque grimace

The second floor was also heaped high with dust, footprints crisscrossing in chaotic patterns. Heiji, however, paid no mind to such things and climbed up to the third floor, then the fourth, with complete nonchalance. Soon after thrusting his head out onto the pagoda's topmost floor, he found none of those he had anticipated there. What met his eyes were six boxes with stern metal fittings crowding the narrow fifth-floor space—oblong government gold chests far larger than standard thousand-ryō boxes, arranged with careless abandon.

It was common knowledge that each box held two thousand ryō, so with six lined up, they clearly contained twelve thousand ryō in total—but why would the leader of the Six-Man Gang hand them over to Heiji so readily? As a precaution, when he tried moving the nearest box, it shifted effortlessly under his hands.

“Hm?” When he looked, the large lobster-shaped padlock that had been pulled out was left dangling from the box’s lid. Lifting it, he found the interior empty—just as he had suspected. He opened the six gold boxes one after another from the front. Five opened without issue, but the last one appeared to have a different lock mechanism—no lobster-shaped padlock or metal fittings adorned it. On the plain wooden box… near its edge was a hole about two bu wide and two sun long, identical to those on the pagoda’s entrance door.

This hole was likely part of the same mechanism as the pagoda’s entrance door and could be opened with the golden ring in Heiji’s hand. How far were they going to keep up these childish tricks? Heiji seethed, his frustration mounting as he tossed the golden ring into the hole with a clang. But even after pushing at it for some time, the box showed no sign of opening. He lifted the entire box and tried various methods, but its six sides were securely nailed planks of wood with no hidden compartments or mechanisms. When shaken, the golden ring inside merely rattled with a hollow clatter.

“How about it—did you enjoy that toy?” A bold voice resonated mockingly from above Heiji’s head, but when he looked up, no human figure was visible. “Here it is, Boss Zenigata.” “Here it is.” This time, he indeed spotted him. When Heiji peered through the gap where the ornamental panel above the pagoda door had come loose, he saw a man clinging bat-like beneath the uppermost roof’s eaves—wearing a hollow-eyed mask—calling down in a mocking tone.

“You bastard!” Heiji tried to rush out, but it was futile. The pagoda’s door—whatever mechanism it possessed—had been bolted securely from the outside and refused to budge even an inch. “It’s no use, Boss Zenigata—you will not get out unless you smash that door. Should you break it, the priests of Tennō-ji Temple will have your head. Heh, heh, heh... Not even the great Boss Zenigata can stand against temple authorities.” “——” “You would do better to listen to me. What I have to say merits your quiet attention. All this effort to lure you up here to the Five-storied Pagoda—it was to speak privately. I, leader of the Six-Man Gang myself, have particular matters to discuss with you.”

“——”

His voice was oddly muffled—likely because this man wore a hollow-eyed mask. "Who are you?"

Even Heiji could no longer endure these brazen proclamations. He quietly drew his jitte from his pocket, resolved that even if he had to break through this single door in an emergency to capture this villain, steeling his resolve to the utmost, and like a leopard stalking its prey, positioned the gold box as a small shield. “Are you telling me to give my name? That’s impossible. If my name gets out, I’ll be bound within three days!” “—” “So well-known is my face. It wasn’t for some other reason that I lured Boss Zenigata here.”

“I don’t recall being lured out. I came here on my own, you idiot!” “Angry now, Boss Zenigata? But think about it—if I’d told you to come up to Yanaka’s Five-storied Pagoda on a specific date and hour, would you have obediently climbed up here alone? Even if you did come, you’d bring that long-chinned oaf along with twenty or thirty of your dim-witted underlings and lackeys. Then we wouldn’t be able to have a proper private conversation now, would we?”

“——” Perhaps overwhelmed by the suspicious man’s torrent of words, Heiji remained silent and listened. The summer sun had begun to set from the base of the Five-storied Pagoda, and soon this vicinity too would be cloaked in sparrow-colored twilight—yet Hachigoro, who should have gone to summon reinforcements, still showed neither hide nor hair. “It’s precisely because I wrote that child-baiting riddle and even included the precious golden ring that a wise man like you, Boss Zenigata, came trotting all the way up to the top of this Five-storied Pagoda.” “Of course, I won’t just hand over that golden ring for free.” “That thing still has its uses.” “After hiding the sixth gold box and drilling a hole in a dummy one, you let your own cleverness defeat you and dropped the golden ring inside, didn’t you? Ha ha ha! Ha ha! No—such a laughable blunder scarcely ever happens.” “Right before Boss Zenigata’s eyes, but that’s just an ordinary box with no tricks or mechanisms.” “You’d need a saw or hatchet to break it open easily.” “The golden ring you dropped into that box is undoubtedly ours—thinking of tossing it out the window? Your eyes betray you, Boss.” “By all means—toss it from the pagoda’s height! It’ll shatter against the stone monument or paving below without fail. Then my comrades lurking down there will simply take it without so much as a ‘thank you.’” “Ha! Ha! Ha! Did I startle you, Boss Zenigata?”

“——”

Heiji unconsciously bit his lip. To think he'd been outwitted by his own cleverness—he hadn't fallen so completely into a villain's trap in recent times. "Don't get angry now, Boss Zenigata. Luck's fickle—who knows how the dice will fall tomorrow? But let's cut to it—if we sit around idly, interruptions will spoil everything. Let's settle matters promptly—no need for theatrics, Boss. Won't you withdraw from this trifling affair?"

“——” “It’s not for free. “If Boss Zenigata would just withdraw from this case, I’ll hand over two thousand ryō in koban coins—not tomorrow, but tonight—no, right this very moment—neatly prepared for you.” The proposal—that if he withdrew from this case, they would hand over two thousand ryō in neatly stacked koban coins immediately—was an insulting one, and Zenigata Heiji found every drop of blood in his body seeming to boil in response. “You fool! Did you think Heiji would agree to such nonsense?”

“Whoa there—getting angry just shows your youth. See now—if I’d pretended you meekly agreed and then tried handing over the gold when you yelled ‘Under arrest!’, I’d have been done for! Blow your lid from the start… well no offense meant—still wet behind those ears.” “—” Yet gradually, Heiji regained his composure. Though this braggart spun his grand speech about buying him off with gold coins—that very attempt proved how terrified they’d grown of Zenigata Heiji’s investigation. Every scrap of evidence he’d gathered must have backed these rats into their final corner.

“Hold on now—just because I said that doesn’t mean you should get full of yourself. Though it may be presumptuous coming from the leader of the Six-Man Gang, it’s not that I fear some Edo police informant. It’s simply about avoiding unnecessary headaches while conducting my business—that’s just the practical way.” “—” “If we can’t strike a deal, we’ll just say ‘Well then!’ and part ways for good. But listen, Boss Zenigata—you and I weren’t born enemies or anything.” “—”

“Let’s settle this without either of us getting hurt—if we can reach an agreement, why not do it?”

This cunning man—the one with the comical mask who claimed to be the leader of the Six-Man Gang—spoke boldly yet clung stubbornly to Zenigata Heiji, refusing to let go. To cling to the square frame above the door and beneath the roof while remaining this talkative would require either extraordinary agility or mastery of martial arts techniques. His frame was remarkably small—sturdy yet lacking in brawn. The comical mask paired with a spotted hand towel, a shabby workman’s jacket, pale blue leggings, and his bare feet being so petite all struck Heiji as oddly unsettling.

“What exactly do you hope to achieve by picking a fight with me?”

Heiji abruptly asked. "That hits a sore spot, Boss Zenigata." "What’s so painful about that?" "We know you’ve tracked down the twelve thousand ryō in koban coins we seized at Utsunoya Pass all the way to Edo—why else would there be five gold boxes here, each holding exactly two thousand ryō?" “——” “Of those boxes, one—two thousand ryō—did indeed come into my possession.” “Since I’m offering to toss out every last coin of those two thousand ryō for you, Boss, you’ve got to admire the sheer audacity of the Six-Man Gang’s leader.”

“—” “Now, as for the remaining ten thousand ryō—the boxes themselves are here, but their contents have vanished without a trace.” “It’s maddening. The only ones in our Six-Man Gang who knew were Omiya Hanbei and Ishihara Sadagoro—the two I’d ordered to handle the gold disposal. They were supposed to report everything when I returned to Edo… but they got themselves killed just one step ahead of me.” The man in the comical mask who called himself the Six-Man Gang’s leader made claims so preposterous they defied belief.

It was truly hard to believe that the Six-Man Gang’s leader didn’t know the whereabouts of the 10,000 ryō in government gold. Yet seeing the daring of that comical-masked man and his earnest demeanor, he couldn’t bring himself to think it a lie. “Wasn’t it you who killed Hanbei and Sadagoro?” “Nonsense! If Boss Zenigata goes around saying that, people will laugh at you.” “If Boss Zenigata goes around saying that, people will laugh at you!”

The man in the hollow-eyed mask sneered from atop the doorframe. "But both letters delivered to Oyuki in Sakumachō—the first and second ones—were written by the same hand. The bastard who tossed in twenty ryō with that first letter killed Uhatchi at Tennōji that very night—and you're the one who threw in ten ryō and that golden ring with the second letter—" Zenigata Heiji spoke as if muttering to himself. "Hmph... Too soft, Zenigata." "That woman can mimic any voice and forge any handwriting she pleases."

“Are you talking about Oei?” “I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.” “Speaking of which, that long-chinned idiot seems to have rounded up enough men to clean out a well.” “We can’t keep this stalemate going forever.” “What do you say, Boss Zenigata—still not inclined to reconsider?” “Two thousand ryō in koban coins.”

“You idiot!” Unable to endure the man’s sneering tone any longer, Heiji’s anger finally exploded.

“So you’re absolutely refusing, then?”

“Obviously.” “Well then, it’s a shame—but I’ll have to put three or four more people to sleep.”

“What did you say?” “Mark my words. If you don’t want to negotiate with me, I’ll start by taking down those closest to Zenigata Heiji. First off, how about your wife Oshizu?” “—” Even Heiji was startled. That was a beloved wife whom nothing could replace for him. “Then there’s Oei the bitch and Sadakichi. As for Oei the bitch and Sadakichi—they’re in cahoots and the hardest to deal with. And then how about Oyuki, sister of that barrel-collecting brat from Sakumachō that Hachigoro’s been mooning over lately?”

“Damn you! Damn you!” Heiji could only grind his teeth as he shook the fifth-floor door of the five-storied pagoda. The sun sank into the woods of Yanaka, and the surroundings truly began to darken into twilight. The sudden commotion that arose beneath the pagoda around this time was likely due to Gara-Hachi Hachigoro finally having rounded up a large number of men and rushed in.

“They’re here, Boss Zenigata. Looks like twenty or thirty came crawling. They’re just small fry—but even an expert wouldn’t have an easy time dancing through that crowd. If you won’t deal… Pity. I’ll go settle accounts with your precious wife first.”

“Ah, bastard—wait!”

Heiji was indeed in death-defying desperation. When he frantically shook the door beneath his feet where the villain lay hidden—whether from some flaw—the crossbar came loose with a clunk, and the door swung open effortlessly outward. “Ah! You’ve shown yourself at last!” The villain, having lost all escape routes, clambered onto the roof with terrifying agility—effortlessly scaling its surface.

“Bastard!” Heiji gave chase—but couldn’t climb up there. “Boss!” The one who came clambering up through such commotion that the five-storied pagoda swayed beneath him was Gara-Hachi Hachigoro. “Hachi! The villain’s on the roof!”

Heiji pointed at it and could only grind his teeth.

“In that case, there’s no problem,” Hachigoro replied. “I’ve brought thirty men into the pagoda—unless he jumps down from the roof, we’ll catch him without fail.” The roof of the five-storied pagoda was narrow—unfortunately too cramped for staging a Yanagikaku-style showdown—but if they fully secured the fifth floor instead, the villain had no means of escaping from there without wings. “Unless he comes down from the roof, we can’t do a thing, Hachi,” Heiji insisted. “There’s a tactic called starvation tactics,” Hachigoro suggested.

“You’re too patient.” “Then I’ll use the fire pump to spread oil on the roof! No martial arts master—no matter how skilled—could keep their footing on such a steep roof once it’s oiled! They wouldn’t last a moment!”

“Your plan shows promise,” Heiji countered, “but from below, the fire pump’s oil won’t reach the roof. And from the fifth floor, the eaves block any attempt to spread it up there.” “That’s where my clever scheme comes in!” Gara-Hachi Hachigoro tucked his lantern jaw into his collar with exaggerated confidence. As they debated, the sun sank completely below the horizon. On the pagoda’s roof, the masked figure—his face hidden behind a comical hyottoko mask—listened to the chaos below with evident amusement, humming snatches of jōruri ballads under his breath.

“Damn, isn’t that bastard hateful!” “How about I buy up this five-storied pagoda and set it ablaze from below?”

It was Hachigoro who came out with such an absurd idea. “Stop your nonsense—but he’s flesh and blood too. Given time, he’ll grow hungry and tired.” “Staying put here—you’ve no idea how much easier our position is.” “Huh?” “This floor must be better than the roof for lodging.” “I mean to stay five or six days—have bedding and provisions brought.” “Understood, Hachi?” “Right—that’s clever.” “In a waiting game against roof-dwellers, we won’t lose.”

Hachigoro was elated and was about to descend the pagoda to prepare for the siege when—

“What’s that, Boss?”

One of the assistant police informants spoke while peering through the evening sky outside the open door. "Huh?"

Heiji and Hachigoro swiftly stuck their heads outside the door. "Ah!"

It was no wonder they were shocked. It was as though a giant spider had climbed onto the five-ringed finial atop the pagoda and now slid effortlessly down a single long rope hanging from the summit’s roof edge to the eaves below—descending smoothly without the slightest struggle. “Damn! He’s pulling a stunt like that!” Even if they stretched out their hand, they couldn’t reach from the railing to the rope on the eaves. “Zenigata Boss! I’m heading out first. Got no messages for your wife, Mrs. Oshizu?”

“Bastard!” With Hachigoro at the forefront, the thirty companions rushed down the ladder with Heiji bringing up the rear. But they could not hope to match the nimbleness of the spider-like man sliding down from the roof using a single rope.

Oshizu in Peril

With Zenigata Heiji and Hachigoro at the forefront, the large group surged out of the five-storied pagoda with the momentum of Hyōgo Pass’s reverse drop, coalescing into a single mass. By then, the surroundings had already grown dim in sparrow-gray dusk. “Boss! Let’s dash straight to Kanda!” Hachigoro, tucking up his hem as he readied to sprint off—this man worshipped Boss Heiji’s wife Oshizu like a sacred object, carrying the resolve that he’d never hesitate to risk his own body to charge headlong into her peril.

“Wait, Hachi.” “—” Heiji ran twenty or thirty steps before abruptly stopping. “I’ve forgotten something crucial.” “What is it? That’s—”

“You go on ahead. I have to go back to the top of the five-storied pagoda again.” “Is that thing more important than Sis’s life, Boss?” Hachigoro made a face as if he were about to bite. “That ring—the golden ring we put in the new box. If we go off forgetting that and let it fall right back into that grinning bastard’s hands, wouldn’t that be galling?” Heiji could not afford to forget the importance of that golden ring.

“Then I’ll go back.” “No, you’re faster on your feet than I am. But when it comes to scaling the five-storied pagoda, my lighter body will be faster.” “Is that so? Then, Boss.” “I’m counting on you.” Even as they spoke, Heiji had already plunged into the five-storied pagoda and leapt up to the second floor. Seeing him off, Hachigoro hurriedly took leave of the mountain officials and gathered laborers, then raced through the dusk-filled streets toward Kanda Myojin Shita with only five assistant informants in tow.

In the meantime, Heiji climbed from the second floor to the third, then to the fifth, without encountering any hindrance. His footing grew increasingly unsteady, but fortunately, a dim light still lingered at the summit of the fifth floor, allowing the six open boxes to remain clearly visible. The six boxes lay open—Heiji counted them and was startled. Until moments ago, there had been five boxes with their lids open, while the sixth new box—the one they had slid the golden ring into—should definitely have still been shut.

“Huh?” Now, both the five gold boxes with their sturdy metal fittings and the sixth new box without any fittings were clearly open, their interiors—even in the gathering dusk—utterly empty without so much as a speck of dust, a fact that remained unchanged no matter how many times he checked. There was no longer any room for doubt. In the brief moment between when Hachigoro and the others rushed down the five-storied pagoda with Heiji and when Heiji climbed back up, someone must have returned to this fifth floor, opened the lid of the sixth box, and taken away the golden ring.

— Heiji bit his lip at this irreparable lapse. It must have been that grinning scoundrel who slid down from the fifth-floor eaves using the rope—or one of his accomplices—who had seized this sliver of opportunity to return here, open the mechanism's lid, and make off with the ring. And Heiji, scrambling upward from below, had been deftly evaded by someone concealed in the shadows around the second or third floor.

Hachigoro raced like a horse. The six men with jitte at their waists dashing through Edo’s twilight streets like galloping horses made for an unsettling sight—but there was no time to dwell on such thoughts now. Heiji’s residence in Myojin Shita stood deep within the alley’s recesses, a modest house that seemed almost forgotten.

Through black-painted fences, a communal well, lattice doors, and stray dogs—the standard set of fixtures—the six men came rushing in like marathon runners. — Clutching the lattice door, Hachigoro didn’t even have a moment to catch his breath.

“Ah! Help!”

The scream that erupted from within the tightly closed shōji screens was unmistakably Oshizu’s voice. “Bastard!” Hachigoro strained with all his might to pull open the lattice door, but whatever lock mechanism lay within was as secure as the gates of hell—pushing and pulling achieved nothing, leaving it unmoved by even a hair’s breadth. For a while, sounds of struggle could be heard from inside the house, but soon they too abruptly ceased, and an eerie silence pressed in on them along with the gathering dusk.

“Open up! Open up!” Hachigoro struck the lattice door frantically with his fist, but it only reverberated loudly through the tenement building, with no response coming from within.

“Come on, everyone—lend me your hands! It’s fine if we have to break down the lattice door even if we’re wrong!” “Alright, let’s go!”

Six pairs of hands pressed against the lattice door without a gap. With a "Heave-ho!", they forced it open, sending the ring lock clattering to the earthen floor as the lattice door finally gave way.

“There!”

The six of them rushed in as one. They flung open the shoji screens and entered the six-tatami living room. The lantern was lit, and the fire in the long hibachi was blazing, yet not only was there no sign of the intruder, but even Oshizu’s crucial beautiful form was nowhere to be seen.

“The kitchen!” Hachigoro was first to check the kitchen, but though its exit remained tightly shut, the space stood empty—peering behind the hearth yielded nothing. “Could it be the back room?” The six-tatami room beyond served as their bedroom, holding Oshizu’s mirror stand and an old chest inherited from her mother—yet not even a kitten lurked there. Past this lay only the engawa lined with Heiji’s treasured potted plants, a closet, and a toilet—nothing more. Moreover, the engawa’s storm shutters stood doubly secured, closed with utmost care upon utmost care.

“She’s not here!” Tormented by terrible dread, Hachigoro stared blankly into empty space and stood rooted to the spot. “The attic? Or under the floor?” “Light the lantern!” “I’ll check the attic.” The assistant police informants were accustomed to such situations. They took down their official lantern—a tool of their trade—hurriedly lit it, with one man crawling into the attic from the closet and another slipping under the floor via the kitchen hatch, but all they found there was rat droppings.

“She’s not here!” “I can’t see a thing, Hachi!” The two men crawled back with bewildered looks.

“There’s no way something this absurd could happen!” Hachigoro checked the house once more, but with both the engawa and kitchen entrance tightly secured, the intruder and Oshizu had truly vanished like smoke within this box-like sealed home—gone in the blink of an eye. The young woman—Oshizu—due to her husband Heiji’s line of work, was someone who carefully locked up early in the evening, something Hachigoro knew well. The intruder had likely boldly had someone open the front lattice door to enter, seized the panicking Oshizu, and vanished somewhere.

Oshizu’s scream had been unmistakably heard by Hachigoro and his companions outside the lattice door, and before even the time it took to smoke a pipeful of tobacco, the six men came tumbling in as if piling on top of one another. Of course, it wasn’t impossible for someone to slip out through the kitchen entrance or engawa in that brief moment. But after escaping, who on earth could have secured it so thoroughly? The storm shutters had both their upper and lower bars lowered and were even meticulously locked with a ring mechanism, making it absolutely impossible for anyone outside to perform such an elaborate locking while Hachigoro and his six men were rushing in.

“Ah! Boss Zenigata!”

Amidst the commotion, Zenigata Heiji finally returned. "What's wrong? You've got a strange look on your face." "Ah, Boss, I'm sorry."

Hachigoro suddenly plopped down clumsily right where he stood. “What are you apologizing for?” “Huh, Hachi?” Heiji too found himself unable to remain composed under a lingering unease and scanned his surroundings. “Miss Oshizu—it seems she’s been kidnapped, Boss.”

“Huh?” “When we entered the alley and reached the lattice door, I definitely heard a voice—‘Help!’—that had to be Miss Oshizu. But when we forced it open and went in, the house was empty.” “We searched from the ceiling to under the floorboards, but there wasn’t a shadow or shape to be found.”

Hachigoro explained in a frantic rush of words. "Were the kitchen entrance and engawa left open?" "Just like you saw—they were left tightly secured exactly as we closed 'em. No way they could've gotten out unless through some gap in the doors." "Hmm."

Heiji crossed his arms. The six-tatami living room showed some signs of disturbance, but beyond what Hachigoro and the five assistant officers had trampled through in their search, nothing else seemed out of place. The andon lamp's flame wavered quietly, casting an unnervingly lonesome and dreadful atmosphere. "Boss, my legs just weren't fast enough," Hachigoro said. "After you went through the trouble of entrusting her to me... letting Miss Oshizu get snatched away... Only hanging myself would make proper apology."

Hachigoro’s dejection was something to behold. The two had unwittingly entered the kitchen. Above the hearth hung the slack rope of the sliding window. "What a perfect hanging rope, Hachi." Heiji—uncharacteristically making a cruel joke—traced the rope with his eyes and looked up at the still-closed sliding window. "You plannin’ to hang yourself with that, Boss?" Teasingly meeting Hachigoro’s resentful upward glare, Heiji yanked the rope and flung the window open with a snap. A sliver of pitch-black night sky peered eerily through the opening.

“Hachi, stick your hand into the hearth.” Heiji said something strange. “Won’t I get burned?” “If there’s a fire, Oshizu is in the house.” Without understanding what was going on, Hachigoro suddenly thrust his hand into the hearth. “There’s no heat in the hearth, Boss.”

While brushing off the cold ash clinging to his hand, Hachigoro jerked his chin.

“If there’s no fire, Oshizu hasn’t vanished like smoke.”

“Huh?” “They wouldn’t leave the sliding window open if they weren’t using the hearth. When night falls, we close it and tie the rope to the pillar’s hook—that’s our regular routine.” “Huh?” “Leave the window untied, and the door’ll drop shut by itself.”

“—” "The villain kidnapped Oshizu, used the hearth as a foothold, and went out through that sliding window to the roof." "After he left, the window closed on its own—but the rope stayed dangling over the hearth. Got that, Hachi?" When Heiji laid it out like this, there remained no room for doubt.

“Ah—s-so they went out that way?” “Let’s go check it out.” Once Hachigoro made up his mind, he did not hesitate. Without hesitation, he stepped onto the hearth and used it as a foothold to climb up to the window. “How’s it going, Hachi? Need a hand with your backside?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Hachigoro, straining every muscle, somehow managed to clamber up onto the roof. “Even if you go up to the roof now, you won’t see anything.”

Heiji called out from below. “Huh, no matter where I look, it’s nothing but roofs. Which direction did they escape to?” “What an idiot. This isn’t some out-of-season tomcat’s prowling—if you go clambering over roofs like this, the landlord’ll have words with you.” “But it’s so infuriating!”

“You think they’d still be dawdling around here? Get down.” “Huh?”

Hachigoro descended resignedly from the sliding window back onto the hearth. “They wouldn’t stay on the roof forever. While you lot were making a commotion inside the house, they must’ve jumped down from the roof outside the alley and fled somewhere.” “So where’d they escape to, Boss?” “They won’t go far with baggage like Oshizu.”

When Heiji came before the long charcoal brazier, he settled himself onto the zabuton cushion. Perhaps Oshizu—Heiji’s wife who had just vanished—had waited for his return thinking to prepare hot tea, for the water in the iron kettle was whistling at a full boil, and the copper pot had reached just the right temperature to immerse a sake flask. “――”

Heiji took out his tobacco pouch and drew two or three puffs pensively in quick succession. Though he had exposed his wife to danger many times before, her sudden disappearance left him feeling as though the space around him had turned hollow.

“Boss” Hachigoro’s eyes took on a slightly determined glint as he edged closer.

“—”

Heiji did not respond to this and was deeply engrossed in thought.

“Boss”

“Shut up.” “Where on earth have they taken the Missus?” “—” “At least give me some idea! When you get lost in thought like this, Boss, I get so anxious I can’t stand it.” Hachigoro edged right up to Heiji’s knee and began flailing his hands in the air. He probably wanted to jostle his boss’s body like this. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be struggling—but listen, Hachi.”

“Huh?” “Did you have considerable trouble getting out onto the roof from the sliding window?” “You try doing it yourself! Standing on the hearth, you can barely get your head out through the sliding window—hauling yourself up onto the roof with both hands isn’t some ordinary feat!” “Do you think they could carry a person out through that window?” “No way!” Hachigoro waved his large palms about as if to say it was utterly impossible. “But the culprit definitely took Oshizu out through that window—even if she was tied up, carrying a person up to the roof without letting her struggle... What kind of bastard do you think could pull that off?”

“—”

“You know there was someone who slid all the way down from the top of the Five-storied Pagoda using just a single rope, don’t you?” “It’s that bastard, Boss! That masked bastard must’ve come here right before us, snatched the Missus, and pulled off one hell of a stunt jumping out that sliding window!”

Hachigoro slapped his own knee with all his might. He had finally arrived at the same conclusion that Heiji had led him to.

“What kind of person do you think could pull off such a stunt?” “It’d have to be a martial arts master—” “Wouldn’t it be strange for a martial arts master to wear a comic mask and light blue traditional trousers?” “Acrobat.” “That’s right, Hachi.” Heiji sank deeply into thought once more. “Where’s the bastard, Boss?”

Hachigoro was already getting to his feet. With just a word from Heiji, he’d probably fly all the way to Kyoto and Osaka.

“Oei—Oei of the Omiya house—what was the name of that acrobat troupe leader she used to work under?”

Heiji's reasoning leapt forward. "It's Gorohatchi of the Akashi Troupe!" "Is that Gorohatchi in Edo?" "They've set up their theater in Higashi-Ryogoku." One of the lower-ranking informants—a man named Torakichi who patrolled Ryogoku—took over. "Let's go. When we meet Gorohatchi, some good idea will probably come up."

Heiji finally rose to his feet.

Akashi Gorohatchi

Akashi Gorohatchi, a traveling performer, would return to his hometown of Edo every two or three years, set up huts in vacant lots on the outskirts or temple grounds, and put on suitable performances for Edo's audiences. Naturally being traveling performers of low status and standing, the Akashi Troupe would occasionally rent a hut in Edo's liveliest entertainment district, Higashi-Ryogoku, and hold performances for a month or two whenever fortune favored them. Yet this year, they had strangely remained in Edo since the cherry blossom season, opened their show in Higashi-Ryogoku, and somehow managed to maintain their popularity in the city.

Gorohatchi was a middle-aged man over forty whose troupe gathered performers of genuine skill; though their acts carried a somewhat rustic air for Edo audiences, they had managed to keep them entertained for over two months without letting boredom set in.

Zenigata Heiji headed toward Higashi-Ryogoku in the evening, listening to Hachigoro and Torakichi of Ryogoku recount these details as they went. However, due to official decrees at that time, performances typically ended at dusk during the Hour of the Rooster (6 PM), with theaters closing their doors and only the lights of night stalls forlornly illuminating the mud-painted signboards. Gorohatchi’s house was immediately found by asking the hut’s caretaker. At the second bridge’s edge, upon entering the backstreet of Aioi-cho’s Fifth Block, across the alley to the left stood low-ranking samurai retainers’ residences packed tightly together, jostling each other.

“Good evening.” Torakichi of Ryogoku called out with practiced calmness, careful not to startle the other party. “Who’s there?” From the next room of a narrow, shallow house—kept with an artist’s tidy touch—came a slightly slurred response. “Boss, you’re in quite high spirits.” “It’s me.” As Torakichi slid in, the partition’s sliding door swished open with a woman’s hand. “Oh my, if it isn’t Boss Torakichi.” Backlit by the lamplight, Gorohatchi received them with practiced ease.

“I’m going to interrupt here for a bit.”

“Come now, come in,” said Akashi Gorohatchi with a hospitable wave. “I’ve just poured myself a drink—though there’s nothing proper to offer, do join me.” A good-natured smile rippled across Gorohatchi’s flushed face. The woman who promptly stood up with a knowing look—a thirty-five or thirty-six-year-old middle-aged woman likely to be Gorohatchi’s wife—brought a zabuton cushion. “Actually,” interjected Torakichi, “I’ve brought Boss Zenigata here. He’s got some matters he’d like to ask you about.”

Torakichi stepped back and yielded the lamplight to Heiji.

“Oh, Boss Zenigata. Well now... It’s such a humble place, but please do come in.” Gorohatchi stood up to welcome them. With his sake-flushed chest exposed through a yukata donned too hastily after bathing, he looked chilled despite having apparently been enjoying his evening drink—and seemed genuinely flustered at hearing Zenigata Heiji’s name. “You’re being a damn nuisance.” “If Boss Zenigata honors my house with his presence, it’ll be bathed in divine light! —Hey! Clear this mess and bring fresh cups and fish!”

Gorohatchi hurriedly pushed the tray aside, instructed his wife with a meaningful glance, and ushered Heiji to the side of the brazier. The interior of the house was far more meticulously polished than its exterior, and setting aside the lack of aesthetic refinement, it seemed quite livable. “Boss, come now, have one.” Gorohatchi replaced the cups and dishes, then first offered a sake cup to Heiji. He appeared to be around forty-two or forty-three—a man as refined as a performer and remarkably smooth, whose crow’s feet around the eyes, neatly shaped nose, and slightly receding hairline gave even complete strangers an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

The sight of him sitting solemnly with his knees neatly together, the chest of his gaudily patterned yukata left open, was slightly comical yet even evoked a sense of pathos. “We’ll get to that later,” he said. “I came here because there’s something urgent I need to ask.” “Heh, heh, I’ll tell you anything you want to know—but while they’re preparing the fish, how about one drink first, Boss?” Gorohatchi fidgeted with the sake cup, taking it out and putting it back as he awkwardly adjusted his seating. Zenigata Heiji, sitting across from him, showed not a shred of pretense—his air of solemn dignity remained impervious to any attempt at being drowned in liquor.

“To cut to the chase—this concerns Oei who went to the Omiya house.” “Hmm?” “What’s the nature of the connection between that woman and your Akashi troupe?”

“Well, as of now there’s no connection whatsoever. I formally transferred her to Mr. Hanbei of Omiya two full years ago.” “What kind of woman is she? Tell me about her character, habits, and dealings with men.” “With those looks you already know about, she was quite popular in our troupe—but in return, we never stopped having troubles over this and that. During that woman’s time with us, there were more brawls, extortion attempts, quarrels and strong-arm tactics brought to our doorstep than I could count—my wife Oroku here can vouch for that.”

“What about her character?” “She’s just a bit seductive and flashy—nothing particularly bad about her habits.”

“Since the master of Omiya House was killed, no one knows what became of Oei—but you’d know, wouldn’t you, Boss?” “Not at all! I’ve had enough of that woman—even if she came bearing payment herself, I must decline to have her back in the troupe.”

"That’s quite a harsh rejection." "Heh, heh—if someone like that were around, my wife wouldn’t stand for it." With that, Gorohatchi turned to look at his wife Oroku sitting demurely in the corner of the room—a thirty-five- or thirty-six-year-old woman who must have been beautiful in her youth but now bore horrific burn scars stiffening the left half of her face. Her voice, likely ruined from years of gatekeeping shouts, came out as a raspy croak so ghastly one could scarcely tell if it belonged to a man or woman without seeing her face.

“By the way, around what time did the theater in Ryōgoku close today?” “As per regulations, it was around the Hour of the Rooster [6 PM].”

“Then, did you go straight home?”

“Well, I went straight home, took a bath, and was just having a drink when you showed up, Boss.” Gorohatchi said this and pulled his yukata collar together as if feeling a slight chill. His drunkenness and the bath’s warmth both seemed to have completely faded away. “You.” Perhaps sensing this, Oroku, his wife, draped a padded robe over him from behind.

“By the way, you know Omiya Hanbei of Kanazawa-cho, don’t you?”

Heiji changed the subject. Akashi Gorohatchi, his opponent, was smooth-talking and sociable yet shrewdly elusive in some indefinable way, so Heiji had considered various lines of attack and decided to probe in this manner. “Ah, I know him well.” “What a tragedy—I heard he met a tragic end.” The phrase “tragic end”—reminiscent of Jōruri-trained speech—struck his ears oddly. “What kind of connection did you have with him?”

“Three years ago when I was performing in Fuchu, I got into a dispute with a local boss and found myself on the brink of losing my life—that’s when Mr. Omiya Hanbei saved me.” “He was said to be from a samurai family, had considerable skill, and handled negotiations skillfully.” “And that was the end of it?” “No—after we’d received his patronage—at the end of that same year, Mr. Hanbei suddenly brought up wanting Oei, and—”

As if he had recalled that time, there was an oddly unresolved bitterness in Gorohatchi’s expression. “So you handed over Oei?” “Well, I had no way to refuse. There was the debt of him saving my life, and once Mr. Hanbei set his mind to something, he wouldn’t back down an inch. Moreover, given his skill and persistence, even though we knew full well we’d be losing our troupe’s star performer, there was nothing we could do about it.” “Hanbei had passed Oei off as his niece.”

“Since there was too much of an age difference, he had her passed off as his niece for appearances—but, heh-heh, that’s all there was to it.”

Gorohatchi smirked. This man too had likely not been merely in an ordinary relationship with Oei. Zenigata Heiji could not possibly have missed how Oroku, his wife with severe burns on half her face, grew increasingly hostile in expression as Gorohatchi’s story progressed. “Where is Oei?” “You must have some idea where she is.” “Don’t be ridiculous, Boss! Would a woman like that ever come near the likes of me?”

“If Oei were as strong-willed as you claim, she wouldn’t have stayed with Hanbei for three years.” “With an age gap like parent and child between them, and him being nothing but a pawnshop owner these days—” “Even with force or money, he couldn’t have kept a fickle woman like Oei tied down.”

Heiji finally arrived at the crucial question. “Even if I say three years, since it was from the end of the year before last, the actual period amounts to about a year and a half.” “Moreover, Oei must have had some scheme in mind. Whenever we met, she’d say things like—‘How long do you plan to keep living this cheapskate performer’s life, Master? I’ll soon get my hands on something substantial, so I’m just biding my time with that gloomy Hanbei for now’—or so she used to say.”

“What do you mean by ‘something substantial’?” “I don’t know that far, but she was breathing fire about it, I’ll tell you that.” While this alone didn’t provide much clarity, there was no longer any room for doubt that Oei’s presence at Omiya Hanbei’s establishment was likely connected to the twelve thousand ryō official gold shipment. “Boss, are we just going back like this?”

When they left Akashi Gorohatchi’s house, Hachigoro confronted Heiji with evident dissatisfaction. “That cramped house—there’s nowhere you could hide even one person! And Gorohatchi and his wife are acting suspiciously calm, aren’t they?” “Now that you mention it, that must be true—but aside from that bastard, there’s no one else who could dangle a person out through a sliding window and escape.” Hachigoro still appeared unable to resign himself. “The next door is a bathhouse. Go check if Gorohatchi really took a bath there.”

“Huh.” Hachigoro pushed aside the bathhouse curtain with the tip of his topknot and went inside, but soon emerged with a dazed expression. “How did it go, Hachi?”

“He apparently stopped by just a bit ago.” “When you say ‘a bit’—” “He apparently just smoked two or three puffs of tobacco, fastened his hand towel, and left. Though they say he’s the fastest bather around—like a crow’s splash whenever he went in—” “This time, we head for the theater in Ryogoku.” The two quickened their pace. By the time they reached the Akashi Troupe’s acrobat theater in Higashi-Ryogoku, it was likely past the Hour of the Dog (8 PM). Waking Hanji—the doorkeeper guarding the theater—and getting inside took them considerable effort.

“The gate closes at the Hour of the Rooster—that’s the law of the land!” “If you want a show, come back tomorrow!” When Zenigata Heiji and Hachigoro pounded on the back door hard enough to split it, Hanji—his words slurred from nightcap liquor—barked these responses. “Official business! Open up!” Hachigoro, unable to bear it any longer, rapped the door with his jitte’s handle. “Shut your trap! Last time some bastard yelled ‘Official business!’—I open up in a panic, and what do I get? ‘If you’ve got sins weighing on you, turn yourself in tomorrow!’ Then five-six snot-nosed brats go scattering like rats!” “Try that again and I’ll skin a couple brats for stew—mark my words!”

While uttering these threats, the man swung open the back door with a clatter and revealed his intimidating visage to the two—a hulking thirty-seven- or thirty-eight-year-old who resembled a Vairocana Buddha statue given a topknot and dressed in a short coat. “Idiots! What the hell is this?!” “Huh?” The way he hurriedly withdrew his ferocious look made him seem like an uncharacteristically sweet-talking man. “Who’re you?” “I am Hanji, the doorkeeper.” “I didn’t know anything about it, huh? I beg your forgiveness, sir.”

“Who else is in this hut with you?” That had been Heiji. He sent Hachigoro to stand behind him and positioned himself before the hand lantern’s light. “Huh? Just me alone.” “What about that woman?”

“Huh?”

Whether due to impaired mental faculties or sheer ignorance, this man seemed utterly convinced he was the only living being in the hut. "I'll take a look inside the hut." "Huh?" Heiji slipped in, pushing aside the dissatisfied Hanji. "Give me the light." "Huh." Lowering the hand lantern he had taken from Hanji to eye level, Heiji peered inside, but the hut lay in utter silence—not even a decent mouse seemed to inhabit it. The theater in Ryogoku had been built to last, and while it was generally well-maintained, the dread of viewing it by the light of a single hand lantern in the dead of night was another matter altogether. The high ceiling loomed like a cavern sealed in darkness, and who could guarantee that the shadowed corners of the earthen-floored areas beyond the lantern's reach were not the dwelling places of some haunting presence?

However, in the earthen-floored areas, the box seats, the stage, or the dressing rooms, there was nothing unusual; naturally, there was not a single nook or cranny that could hide even one person.

“Around what hour did Gorohatchi return today?” After completing his circuit and returning to the original back gate, Heiji questioned this grotesque doorkeeper. “He returned at the Hour of the Rooster (6 PM), right when we were expelling the guests. “The troupe members then clean inside the theater and return about a quarter-hour later.”

“Has Gorohatchi been performing on stage lately?” “He’s still as skilled as ever, but for the past two or three days he’s been suffering from a touch of gout—he only makes appearances on stage now and doesn’t perform any dangerous stunts.” “Even so, our patrons still enjoy it thoroughly.”

“Is he in pain somewhere?” Heiji suddenly recalled Gorohatchi’s appearance from moments earlier. Though slightly drunk, he had appeared perfectly healthy when putting on the cotton robe his wife helped him into—there had been no sign of discomfort. “He said it’s called forty-year-old shoulder or fifty-year-old shoulder—claims his arm hurts too much for acrobatics now.” “My apologies for disturbing you. Get back to your nightcap.”

Heiji concluded his inspection of the hut based on this line of inquiry. Exiting through the back gate and walking a short distance, there were two suspicious-looking drinking houses facing each other outside an alley resembling a checkpoint, soliciting customers. "Hachi, you’re more likely to have connections in such places. Ask around if anyone left the hut between today’s Hour of the Goat [2 PM] and Hour of the Monkey [4 PM]—but don’t go scaring anyone off." "Huh?" Hachigoro, who had rushed off with full understanding of his task, stuck his head through the curtains of two drinking houses, where he fooled around for a while with the local attraction known for her pale neck before eventually emerging with a smirk.

“Gorohatchi didn’t leave the hut, it seems.” “Who did you ask about Gorohatchi?” “Oh, I thought Gorohatchi had snuck out from here and gone to the pagoda in Yanaka again.” “If Gorohatchi didn’t leave, then who the hell did?” “Apparently, that wife Oroku left alone a little past the Hour of the Goat (2 PM)—you see, these two drinking houses here are flanking the mouth of the alley, keeping watch on each other.” “They wouldn’t miss so much as a kitten passing by.”

“Huh?” “Gorohatchi’s wife Oroku hides her face with a hand towel when passing by, so apparently everyone recognizes her immediately.” “Well, with those severe burns, you couldn’t possibly mistake her for someone else.” “What kind of way is that to talk, you fool?” “Huh?”

Hachigoro seemed not to fully grasp why Heiji had scolded him.

Oei’s Letter

Having left Ryogoku and headed toward Heiji’s house in Kanda Myojin Shita, the two trudged along listlessly, weighed down by a sunken mood as though being dragged into a pit.

There wasn’t much commotion or panic, but for Zenigata Heiji, his beloved wife Oshizu’s sudden disappearance marked the first such incident since the case in *Seven Brides*. Even if his outward appearance hadn’t changed much, his subordinate Hachigoro knew all too well of Heiji’s agitation and torment. No—that Hachigoro, Gara-Hachi himself, was an even more ardent admirer of Oshizu than her own husband Heiji, and indeed her devoted worshipper.

“Hey, Boss.” “What’s all this racket? Pipe down.” When they reached Shinrashi Bridge, Gara-Hachi, unable to hold back any longer, called out. “What do you suppose has happened to the Missus? Until I see her safe and sound, I won’t be able to sleep a wink!”

That was likely Hachigoro’s true feeling. That Oshizu—forever young, fresh, pure-hearted, and even adorable—was not only Boss Heiji’s wife but also the idol of his subordinate Hachigoro. “What nonsense.” Heiji’s outward nonchalance belied the turmoil that must have been seething within him.

“Oh, what’s that?” “That’s Kinta, Sukejū, Wakamatsu, and Konokichi, isn’t it?” They were Heiji’s subordinates—assistant police informants each responsible for their own territories in Kanda. “Ah, Boss! Perfect timing—we’ve found you!” Leading the way, Kinta noticed Heiji as they passed each other and came to a stop. “What’s this? Weren’t you supposed to be keeping watch on Omiya House in Kanazawa-cho?” “Well, while we were staking out Omiya House and keeping watch, a messenger came from you, Boss. Since the four of us were all conveniently free at once, we rushed right over—how did the arrest go, Boss?”

“Arrest?” “They said they’d identified the killer who murdered four people including Omiya Hanbei, but since he’s a tough customer, we should come help right away—that’s what they told us.” “Who told you that?”

“Boss, you’re the one who sent that order, right?”

“This is no joke—I don’t remember saying anything like that, I tell you.”

Heiji was terrified. What on earth had bewildered these four subordinates into abandoning their crucial assigned post and rushing over here? "That can’t be the case, Boss."

“Anyway, I don’t recall summoning any of you,” “and that business about identifying the killer of four people is an outright lie!” “Huh?” “Who told you such nonsense?” “It was a strange lad.” “A lad?”

“A fifteen or sixteen-year-old lad—” “So you left Omiya House empty and came rushing here?” “Uh…” “You’re unbelievable—that’s exactly what the enemy was aiming for. Come on.” Heiji sensed something grave. Driven by anxiety and impatience over what might be happening at the emptied Omiya House, Heiji rushed straight there. Following behind came Hachigoro, Kinta, Sukejū, Wakamatsu, Konokichi...

“Hachi, you take the back entrance.” “Got it.” Heiji and Kinta from the front, Hachigoro and the remaining three from the rear—they all burst in. But inside was deathly quiet, with not even a kitten in sight— “Boss.” In the tearoom where they had met face-to-face, Hachigoro flared his nostrils suspiciously. “Hachi, isn’t it strange we can see each other’s faces?” “There’s no way we’d have left any lights on!” Kinta hurriedly added oil.

When they looked around, they noticed an oil lamp lit in the living room faintly illuminating the house. "Hachi! The chest of drawers!"

Heiji rushed into the next room. The room where the old chest of drawers that Oei had once searched for had been kept—those four suspect chests had all their drawers pulled out, their contents strewn about the entire room. “Was there something in this one, Boss?”

“This is the chest of drawers Oei was desperately searching through.” “The mystery of the twelve thousand ryō or the four murders must be inside this—didn’t I say so?” “Huh?” “It was just a single chest of drawers—even if they’d smashed it to splinters and searched every board, it wouldn’t have amounted to much. But I never thought it would come to that—I let my guard down.” Even as he spoke, Heiji began meticulously examining each of the four drawers one by one with terrifying thoroughness.

“Nothing. There’s nothing at all.”

After a moment, an irrepressible wave of disappointment washed over Heiji's uplifted face. "There's still the main body left, isn't there? Let's search it, Boss." "I can't just start prying off every board." "Try striking it with a hammer." "Right away!" Though they made an enormous racket, their momentary lapse had apparently let some rogue make off with the critical item - even after flipping the chest upside down and combing through it, they came up completely empty-handed.

“This is frustrating, Boss.” Against Gara-Hachi’s seething, “We’re terribly sorry, Boss.” Kinta and Sukejū couldn’t even lift their heads. “You’re giving up? A logical mistake is still a mistake—Oh, Hachi. “The front lattice opened—the visitor’s suspicious, but go check it out.” “Right.” Hachigoro, who had casually gone to the entrance, soon returned carrying something white atop his large palm.

“It’s a letter, isn’t it?” “A boy I’ve never seen before brought it.”

“Has that boy left yet?—Catch him. The boy matters more than the letter.” Heiji stood up abruptly without even looking at the letter.

Hachigoro, along with Kinta, Sukejū, and their crew, burst out in pursuit—but in that instant, the night streets fell utterly silent, leaving no shadow of anything resembling their quarry. “Boss, there’s not a scrap of that boy left to find.” Hachigoro returned blank-faced, his expression drawn long.

“He won’t have gone far anyway. I didn’t hear any running footsteps, and you rushed out right after getting the letter—he must be hiding somewhere around here. Post four men outside the alley and have them watch both sides of the street.” “Right.”

Hachigoro rushed out again, positioned four assistant informants inside and outside the alley, and then returned to his original seat.

“Hachi, who do you think sent this letter?” “I’m not sure.”

“It’s a letter they sent anticipating we’d come back here without fail.” “Every last detail’s gone exactly according to their flawless script—both you and I are dancing to their tune now.”

“Huh?” To Hachigoro, Heiji’s words were only growing increasingly incomprehensible. “Take a look. It’s Oei’s letter.” “Huh? That witch?!” Hachigoro took the letter from Heiji’s hand and stared at it intently— “I can't read this thing. Even if it’s kana, the characters she’s written twist and curl with such affected elegance—I can’t parse them straight through.”

He finally gave up in frustration. “You spineless bastard. If you can’t read a woman’s letter, what do you plan to do when you get a love note?” “I’ll have you read it, Boss.” “You fool—listen up, here’s how it is.” The letter from Oei that Heiji read was more than enough to astonish Hachigoro. Unlike what Hachigoro had called “curving, refined characters,” right from the start: “Please help me. I’ve been confined in a pitch-dark room and am being assaulted by a suspicious man. That man is probably the leader of the so-called Six-Man Gang that Boss Zenigata has been searching for; the location is near Ryōgoku, where the sound of boat oars can often be heard. I beg of you.”

From Oei

It said something to that effect.

“Shall we go take a look, Boss? If we make a round of both the east and west sides of Ryōgoku, we might get some idea.”

Hachigoro was already like an eager knight, ready to charge to Oei’s rescue.

“Wait, Hachi. That woman isn’t the type to panic over being manhandled or confined—after startling us into rushing out with this letter, don’t you think she’s planning some trick?”

Zenigata Heiji was attempting to unravel the hidden enigma within the letter. "That seems a bit too elaborate for her, Boss." “Oei is that kind of woman—these characters aren’t the writing of someone fighting for her life.” “I’m starting to sound like you, but each character here is being written with all the fanfare of a kabuki performance.” “First of all, it’s already 10 PM—even if someone were to rush to Ryōgoku now, what could they possibly see?” “So what does this letter amount to, then?”

Hachigoro seemed to be gradually grasping the deceptive nature of this letter. “If she were locked in a pitch-dark room, there’s no way she could’ve written this letter.” “And both the letter and the ink are perfectly fine, aren’t they?” “So...” “She wanted to get us out of this house.” “She skillfully lured out Kinta and Jūjū, but when they turned back midway, she couldn’t carry out her work as intended. So this time, she tried to drive us away to pull off some scheme.”

“Huh.” “There must be something important here.” “Let’s keep at it until morning and track that thing down.” Heiji settled firmly into position. They should have combed through the house two or three times already with thorough care—what remained couldn’t amount to much now. “But Boss—I’m worried about your wife.”

Hachigoro was still fixated on Oshizu’s situation. If they were to waste even a single night here, he must have thought that something might happen to Oshizu. “Hiding Oshizu was just harassment.” “Leaving her alone for one night shouldn’t be a major concern.” “Instead, aren’t they desperate to get us out of this house?” “Now that you mention it, I suppose that’s true.”

Once their course of action was decided, Heiji did not waste a single moment. The first thing he focused on was the old chest Oei had fixated on from the start—inside it, he reasoned, might lie something critically important to the Six-Man Gang or perhaps even clues hinting at the whereabouts of the missing 12,000 ryō official gold shipment. “Hachi, I’ve pulled out all the drawers of the chest—but I’m going to flip it over. Lend me a hand.” “Right.”

It was just as the two men began this task.

“Halt!”

“Stop!”

A voice shouted "Halt!" from the darkness of the alley, followed immediately by the sound of someone bolting away—the thudding and clattering of a struggle.

“Boss!” “Hold on—if we both rush out now, we’ll just be playing into their hands again. You stay here and hold your ground—don’t move an inch!”

“Right.” Leaving Hachigoro behind, Heiji rushed out into the alley. The struggle had ceased in an instant, but the four assistants were gathered in a group outside the alley, making some sort of commotion. “What happened?” “Jūjū’s been attacked!”

“What?” Jūjū, the oldest among the assistants, had been stabbed in the side by a villain and was now being tended to by three men despite the minor injury. “The culprit?” “He stabbed me after grabbing me from behind and vanished into the darkness.” “He had a small dagger but moved like lightning—a terrifyingly quick bastard.” Jūjū explained.

“You’d better carry him inside quickly and tend to that wound. Even a shallow one shouldn’t be left alone.”

Heiji said brusquely and went out of the alley to look.

Inside the chest.

“Treating the wound comes first.” Heiji was most concerned about the injured above all else. He must have worried they might contract tetanus. “I’m fine, really—it’s nothing serious. The wound’s just a big scratch—more startling than anything—” Jūjū made a bold show of it, but even so, after briefly asking about what had happened before and after, Heiji assigned him an assistant and sent him home.

“Hachi, didn’t you see the face of the lad who brought the letter?” “I saw him. A sharp lad of about fifteen or sixteen.”

“An unfamiliar face?” “I don’t know. “He didn’t seem to be a boy from this neighborhood.”

Upon hearing that, “If you’re talking about the boy who brought the letter to Boss Hachigoro, I know him.”

Kinta interjected from the side. “Where’s that boy from?” “I don’t know where that bastard’s from, but that same boy is the one who lured the four of us out earlier by claiming to be a messenger from Boss Zenigata.” “Hmm”

Heiji groaned. Their schemes possessed unfathomable depth, but the number of people involved didn't seem too large. "By the way, what should we do now?" "We'll just have to search the chest thoroughly." "There must be something hidden inside there." Heiji returned to the old chest like a weary man, but no matter how many times he looked inside, he couldn't find anything suspicious hidden within.

The drawer contained nothing but what appeared to be the everyday clothes of the deceased Hanbei. Even when he examined each garment by undoing their seams, neither anything proper nor improper turned up—such was the state of affairs. He tapped the front, back, both sides, and even the bottom of the drawer panels but detected no significant mechanisms. Then, after nearly half a period of further searching yielded nothing, the night grew deeper.

“Hachi, we’ll have to go through with this after all.” “Huh?” Hachigoro couldn’t quite grasp what Heiji was trying to say. “It’s Oei—even though we’ve come this far, there’s no way we can leave her be now, Hachi.” “That’s it, Boss.”

Hachigoro leaned forward with an expression suggesting he'd endure any sacrifice for a young beauty rushing off somewhere urgent. "No matter what, we ought to go check on her once," said Heiji, his tone blending duty with pity. "Let's head out, Hachi." "But Boss—what about this place?" Hachigoro gestured at their surroundings. "We'll leave Kinta here alone." Heiji's voice carried finality. "There's nothing left in that chest anyway." "You really think that's all there is to it?" Though Hachigoro hesitated briefly, years of being steered by Heiji's will made him abandon Omiya House without protest. Their destination—the watery districts of East and West Ryōgoku—offered too many hiding places where a person might vanish effortlessly.

The assistant police informant Kinta, left behind at Omiya House, hugged a tepid, fireless brazier and did nothing but smoke tobacco to stave off boredom and eeriness. A man slightly over forty, weathered by family life, with a moth-eaten hairstyle and gold-rimmed spectacles, who sat in his side-job antique shop during the day—describe him thus, and you’d grasp his character well enough.

“Damn it, they’ve gone and left this place dead silent.” Grumbling complaints, Kinta scooped the dwindling powdered tobacco with the bowl of his pipe.

“Psst.” From the back door came a woman’s voice, presumptuously familiar in tone. “Who’s there?” “It’s me.” The woman’s voice, sweetly tart, stirred Kinta’s curiosity. “I don’t know who you are.” “Oh my, you’re quite heartless, aren’t you?”

Even amidst this exchange, Kinta—as if manipulated by the bewitching voice—lumbered to his feet and walked toward the kitchen. “Who’s there, at this hour?” As Kinta placed his hand on the kitchen door and flung it open with a clatter, something was thrown over his head in the same instant. “You bastard! What the hell are you doing?!” As Kinta tried to throw it off, he was seized by terrifyingly strong hands at the nape and gently laid down on the wooden floor. Next, they pressed something like a cushion over his mouth and began binding him haphazardly with thin cord—from his head to neck, hands to feet.

As for Kinta—an antique dealer serving as a strategist for police informants with meager pay—he possessed neither significant martial skill nor fortitude; once subdued like this, he could only be rolled about like an insect and subjected entirely to his assailants' whims. The culprits were two. The young woman who had first summoned Kinta and the terrifyingly strong man who later overpowered him. "Do rest here for a while." "Heh." The woman left behind an amused laugh and headed toward the living room with the man.

The target of the two was, needless to say, the old chest. The old chest that Oei had once risked terrifying danger to search through, the old chest that Zenigata Heiji had strained every ounce of his intellect to uncover its secrets mere moments earlier—now stood solemnly exposed before the wavering light of an andon lamp, its form appearing almost eerie in the dim glow.

“Come on—we’ve got to move.” —

When the woman issued her command, the man sprang into action. Though both wore masks, the woman’s voice—thickly nasal yet dripping with honeyed allure—clashed jarringly with the room’s grim atmosphere, creating an undercurrent of restless impatience. “Do you know?” she pressed. “Not exactly,” he replied, “but I’ve heard rumors. After Omiya Hanbee died, nobody could trace the twelve thousand ryō. They say there’s gotta be a note in this chest—one that tells where it’s hidden.”

“Exactly right. We’ve checked every last drawer there is, but what now?” “It’s not in any drawer... Boss.” The woman moved to the front of the chest as if brushing the man aside. “Is it inside this, Boss?”

The large man carelessly pulled out the drawers of the chest. "It’s not in any drawer. Pull out all the drawers and check the body of the chest. The mechanism might be in the upper panel or middle section." The nasal-voiced woman said.

The masked man and woman searched the main structure of the chest for some time— “There’s nothing here,” “No tricks or mechanisms—it’s just solid paulownia wood.” “You don’t get craftsmanship like this cheap.”

The man said in a resigned manner. "You're not searching thoroughly enough—I only recently learned Hanbei put something important in this chest." "Then where's the mechanism, Boss?" "If I knew that, would I be relying on someone like you? I'd come alone and keep it all to myself." "Heh. That's some greeting." "But the police informant might have found it before I arrived—fortunately, since he doesn't know where it's hidden, the important item remains safe."

“That’s how it is, huh?” “Just to be safe, flip that chest over and check. There might be some mechanism at the bottom.” “It’s nothing but a magic trick—first they make a big show of inspecting this contraption… goes and says.” “What do you think will happen if someone hears you making such an idiotic noise?” “Heh, there’s no mechanism at the bottom either. Just to be thorough, shall I give its bottom a good whack for you?” “You idiot.”

The large man and the young woman were in a playful mood and utterly brazen. But the chest had absolutely no mechanisms, and the stark white baseboard showed not even a trace of age. “Just as I said, Boss. Even if you set up some worthless contraption and drive off the police informants, it’s not a good look to just walk away empty-handed.” “Don’t complain—oh, oh—” “What’s up, Boss?”

“This drawer’s lock isn’t just a decoration. There’s one here that doesn’t work with a key.” The woman fiddled with the drawer’s lock—an old-fashioned, oversized metal fitting—when she noticed that not only did one of the locks refuse to work with a key, but it was also loose and rattling. “Nothing strange about that. With all due respect, it’d be a miracle if the locks on our chests actually worked properly.” “But this nail comes out. What’s more, this metal fitting just slips right off! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“What’s with all the ‘Oh! Oh!’?”

“There’s a paper fragment inside this metal fitting! Oh! Oh!”

The woman picked up the small, folded paper fragment that had been placed inside the metal fitting.

“Cut it out—you’re not some kid who gets startled over nothing.” “But you—this is what we’ve been after. Hanbei’s hidden 10,000 ryō treasure—” The woman suddenly closed her mouth. She had noticed a faint clink coming from near the neighboring room.

Kidoban Heiji “Ah!”

When she turned around, the sliding paper door opened smoothly, and there was Zenigata Heiji staring intently in this direction. “Bastard!”

The large man, quickly perceiving the situation, shielded the woman behind him and, the moment he lowered his stance, came charging at Heiji’s chest with a terrifying headbutt. It was every bit as ferocious as a wounded bull. It was an act only possible for someone with absolute confidence in their physical strength. “Bastard!” Heiji dodged and swiftly drew the jitte from his waist. But in the large man’s hand as well, illuminated by the light of the andon lamp in the next room, the dagger glinted menacingly.

“Drop dead!” As the man recovered and lunged again, Heiji dodged once more. Despite his large build, he was a terrifyingly swift opponent. “Hachi! Watch out! The woman’s fled through the kitchen!” While fending off the large man, Heiji called out to Hachigoro, who should be watching the back door. In that split second, Heiji saw through it—the masked woman, twisting her body away from the struggle between her large companion and Heiji, darted into the kitchen.

“Got it!” Hachigoro slid open the kitchen’s shoji screen and thrust his face out. When his long jaw quivered, an unexpected surge of fighting power welled up in this man. In the meantime, Heiji and the large man exchanged two or three blows. Unlike long weapons, daggers are ill-suited against jitte techniques; when entangled with a blade, a single twist should render them harmless, but against a skilled opponent, they rarely comply as expected.

“Damn you!” Dodging the dagger thrust straight at him, Heiji stepped back—only to have his foot caught on the long hibachi that happened to be there.

“Ah!”

Heiji somersaulted and fell; the dagger came thrusting down at him from above— “Take this, you!” It was truly an unavoidable assault. But then, from behind the large man—

“H-help me!” The one who let out a fully coquettish scream was the masked woman being restrained in a winglock by Hachigoro. The large man started and hesitated. In that brief opening, Heiji managed to recover from his desperate predicament. Dodging the listless large man’s dagger, he spun around—took the jitte in his left hand, his right hand diving into his breast pocket—

“Ah!” From Heiji’s hand flew four-mon coins—one, three, five in quick succession—striking the exposed bridge of the large man’s nose beneath his mask, his bared teeth, and finally the fist clutching the raised dagger. “In the name of the law—submit quietly!” When the man faltered, Heiji fully regained his footing. He knocked down the dagger, pried up his chin with the jitte, and entangled his legs to throw him—overwhelmed by this rapid counterattack, the large man reeled back like a rotten tree falling, but upon hitting his head hard on the threshold, he couldn’t rise for some time.

Needless to say, Heiji’s arrest rope tightly bound him up.

In the meantime, Hachigoro firmly pinned down the woman. Delicate and pliant, she seemed ready to vanish like a snow spirit in his arms. With almost indulgent focus, he groped one-handed through his breast pocket for the capture rope. “Don’t move, woman.” The moment he spoke those words, Hachigoro’s hands had completely left her body—now he was pinning only her slender waist face-down with his knees. In the next instant, everything changed. The woman who had been crouching motionless like a tamed cat now sprang up fiercely like a leopardess the moment his hands withdrew.

“Ah, damn it!” By the time Hachigoro’s hands reached out to grab her, the woman’s body had already made a splendid leap—kicking off his shoulder and darting out through the kitchen exit Hachigoro had left wide open—truly like a fleeing hare. “Ah!”

Having landed flat on his backside in spectacular fashion, Hachigoro scrambled to his feet and gave chase. But outside was pitch-black darkness; not even an inch ahead was visible.

Just to be thorough, he circled around the outside of the house—but the pitch-black darkness pressed in relentlessly, leaving him utterly unable to discern anything stirring right before his nose. “What’s wrong, Hachi?” Before Hachigoro, who had dazedly returned to the kitchen entrance, Heiji—having finally subdued the large man—approached with a look of concern. “She got away! An unbelievably quick woman.” Hachigoro vigorously scratched the nape of his neck. “It’s because you’re so sluggish. Letting one woman get the better of you won’t do any credit to your jitte.”

“H-hey...” “You must have some idea what sort of woman she was.” “Well, Boss...” “No helping it now.”

“She was delicate-boned and sort of floating around like this. Like wrestling a cloud.” “Didn’t you see her face?” “I didn’t see it. Though I did catch a whiff of her scent.” “You’re not a dog—you can’t sniff her out just by scent.” “Hey, anyway—could you at least check around the house, Boss? I don’t know if she’s hiding nearby—she probably didn’t get far anyway.” “Probably futile.”

“Wait, I’ll bring a lantern.”

Hachigoro returned inside the house and brought out the single lantern. Fortunately, there was no wind, so this lantern was sufficient for inspecting the alleyways and perimeter of the house. “Not a good look.” While saying so, Heiji had Hachigoro—dangling the lantern—lead the way as they circled around the house and then extended their search beyond to the edge of the alley. But not only was there no trace of the suspicious woman—even the neighborhood’s female dogs were absent from the area.

“Hmm, there’s a strange voice coming from inside the house.”

Heiji strained his ears. “Ah! It’s that Kinta bastard. We left him tied up just as he was.” “But that’s strange.”

The two returned to the kitchen once again. “Ah! Boss!” Hachigoro, who had entered first, inadvertently let out a startled shout. “What’s wrong, Hachi?” Heiji, who had followed close behind, involuntarily groaned upon seeing the completely ransacked chest of drawers. The large masked man who had just been bound by Heiji’s hands and made to bear the pillar now had his own dagger plunged into his neck, dyed crimson, and was letting out a death rattle of agony—wasn’t he?

“Hachi, untie the ropes. I want to ask him one thing before he dies.” “Right.” While Hachigoro untied the ropes, Heiji removed the man’s mask. The face revealed beneath was a dark visage like an ancient Buddha statue—rugged features leaving no doubt this was Hanji, the doorkeeper at Akashi Gorohatchi’s acrobat troupe quarters in Ryōgoku. “Stay with me, Hanji. Who stabbed you?”

Heiji lifted him up from behind. “Water... water...”

With vacant eyes staring blankly, Hanji barely managed to utter this; hearing it, Hachigoro started to rush toward the kitchen— “Idiot! If you give water to a wounded man like this, you’ll finish him off in one go—Hanji! I know it’s painful, but just one word: tell me who killed you!” “Boss lady...” “Boss lady’ isn’t enough—who is she?” “Oei… that wench…” With those words, Hanji let his head drop heavily. Once more, a torrent of blood gushed forth from the wound on his neck.

“One more thing—speak. Where is that Oei now?” “Dunno.” “What did Oei find earlier from the lock on the chest of drawers?” “—” “Who’s the boss of the Six-Man Gang?” “—”

“Oei?” "—" “Gorohatchi?” “Rather than that, please ask about Miss Oshizu’s whereabouts, Boss!” Hachigoro interjected from the side, but that too was a futile effort. Hanji the doorkeeper, having exhausted his last reserves of strength, collapsed in Heiji’s arms like a tattered rag.

“Hachi, he’s at death’s door—once dead, we’re all equal before Buddha. Gently lay him down there.” “Right.”

“Oei will be bound sooner or later.” “—” “Poor thing—he must’ve looked like he was about to have his ropes untied when someone came up behind and went for his neck.” “Making opponents drop their guard—that’s her trick.” “Even so, it’s maddening.” “She kicked off my shoulder to get outside, then doubled back to do something this vicious!” “She wanted him silenced—Hanji knew too much.” “And once she’d gotten her hands on that crucial item, he’d outlived his usefulness.”

“What a big woman!” “Oh—now that you mention it, I thought I heard strange groans—we hadn’t untied Kinta’s ropes yet.”

Heiji looked back at Kinta, who lay rolled up like a straw bale in the corner of the room.

A Hurled Missive

The next day, Hachigoro waited for dawn and rushed into Heiji’s lodgings at Myojin-shita.

“Boss.” “Hachi?” Contrary to his usual habit of sleeping late, Heiji was already up, fumbling through breakfast preparations unused to domestic tasks. "—" Hachigoro swallowed the quip that had risen to his throat and—weakly—felt his eyes grow hot. Heiji and Oshizu, so devoted to each other, had likely never slept under separate roofs unless Heiji was traveling. “Hachi, don’t just stand there gaping—make yourself useful.”

“Right.” “When you make a man do this sort of thing, he loses all his grit. Normally I put on a bold front, but when I try to cook rice myself, not even a single log of firewood will obey me.” Heiji said that and smiled a lonely smile. “Don’t you have any idea what’s happened to Miss Oshizu?”

Hachigoro remained squatting in front of the hearth, disguising his tears with firewood smoke. “I’ve got absolutely no clue. This time I’m jinxed too—the more I rush, the more blunders I make.” Heiji forced out a bitter smile. “Who on earth took Miss Oshizu away?” “You already know that, don’t you?” “Huh?” “They escaped through the latticed window after grabbing hold of a woman. They’re strong, agile, and have nerves of steel.”

“Someone like Oei?” “Don’t be hasty. That woman may have nerves of steel and be light on her feet, but even she couldn’t manage the trick of tucking Oshizu under her arm and slipping out through the latticed window onto the roof.” “After all, even just squeezing your own bulk through caused quite a commotion, didn’t it?” “So Boss—that acrobat—” “Akashi Gorohatchi stinks of suspicion—but it’s not him either. "He was at the Ryogoku hut until the Hour of the Rooster—six o’clock—and I saw him with these eyes taking a bath and having a drink afterward. No room for doubt there.”

“Then—what about Gorohatchi’s wife?” “She left the hut after the Hour of the Ram (2 PM), though.”

“Not a woman.” “Then it must be the work of a demon!”

“No, there’s still one more person—Hanji, the doorkeeper who was killed at Omiya last night.” “Ah! That bastard!” “That man could’ve done it. If he’d left Ryogoku hut and rushed here, he’d have made it in time. What’s more, hauling Oshizu up through that latticed window would’ve been nothing for him. Though mind you—the one who made Hanji kidnap her was an outsider.” “You think Miss Oshizu went out that window on her own?” “She must’ve been knocked out cold or drugged senseless.”

“You have to figure out where they took her after that, Boss!” “It’s all Oei’s devilish handiwork—but just as doctors don’t take their own family’s pulse, I too seem unable to come up with good strategies when it comes to my wife.” Heiji said that and smiled a lonely smile. “Ah, damn it! What the hell are you doing?!”

Gara-Hachi leapt to his feet. As Heiji and his assistant were deep in secret discussion facing each other, someone threw a stone into the house. The stone shattered the veranda’s paper screen, struck the wall, and fell onto the tatami mats with a thud. In the split second after thrusting his face out onto the veranda, all Hachigoro’s eyes caught was the retreating back of a neighborhood boy clattering down the alleyway.

“Let it be, Hachi. “It’s no doubt a job they were hired to do. “Even if we catch the boy, he’ll just say some stranger hired him and slipped him a small coin or something—that’ll be the story.” “At least we should get a description of the bastard who hired him.” “It’s useless. “They’ll probably say something like ‘a woman with two eyes, one mouth, wearing a kimono’ or some nonsense.” While calming the enraged Hachigoro, Heiji picked up the stone and examined it carefully.

“What’s that? Boss.” “It’s a letter.” “Huh, I thought I was gonna have to peel another stone!” “Even if you peeled it, a stone’s not something you can eat—hmm, now this is one elaborate letter.” “It’s identical to the handwriting from the letter that came from Oei last night.” “What does it say?” “Wait, I need to read this Benkei-style—” “We’ll return Miss Oshizu, so hand over what you’ve obtained, Boss. If you have Boss Hachigoro carry it and stand him in the middle of Shohei Bridge, within three hand claps we will take Miss Oshizu and exchange her for that document—”

“So—how about it, Hachi? Shall we try it?”

When Heiji read the letter scrawled like a worm’s squirming trail, he suddenly brightened. “What’s this ‘thing you obtained,’ Boss?” “It’s an item I found in Omiya’s chest of drawers last night. I still can’t figure it out myself, but it seems there’s a serious enigma written here.” “Huh, there was such a thing? Wasn’t it that woman and Hanji who took the paper fragment hidden inside the lock of the chest of drawers?” Hachigoro’s nostrils flared suspiciously.

“There’s no way I’d fail to notice something that woman and Hanji the doorkeeper found.” “Huh?”

Heiji’s tone brimmed with confidence.

“Last night when I turned over the chest of drawers, I found a paper fragment stuck in the lock, quietly pulled it out, and replaced it with a folded white handkerchief.” “Huh, I didn’t notice it either.” “That’s right. I didn’t want to let anyone know.” “That house truly has ears in its walls—you never know where someone might be watching from.” “What was written on that paper fragment?” “It’s strange because there’s nothing coherent written there—well, I’ll show you that later. They must’ve panicked when they realized the paper fragment they took from behind that lock was just a handkerchief.”

Even if it appeared as though he had suffered a crushing defeat, Zenigata Heiji had still been contending on equal terms with his formidable foe. "In that case, hand it over. I'll go to Shohei Bridge and stand there for a while." Hachigoro reached out with his hands in a flustered manner. "What are you trying to get me to hand over?"

“It’s the paper fragment from inside the lock. If they want it that badly, why don’t we take it right away and trade it for Miss Oshizu’s safe return?” “No.” “Huh?” “I don’t want to fall for such a trick.” Heiji’s expression hardened slightly. To resolutely refuse an exchange of a single paper fragment for his beloved wife Oshizu must have been no small feat. “But you’re just going to stand by and let Miss Oshizu—” “It’s not that I don’t care about Oshizu, but they’re people devoid of duty, humanity, compassion, shame, or regard for reputation.”

“Huh?” “What if, while you’re standing there dazed on Shohei Bridge, a black kite swoops down and snatches that paper scrap from your hand?” “No way, Boss!” “Even if we managed to swap the paper for the hostage, if that hostage turned out to be a fake head substitute, we’d have no evidence left to pursue.” “—” “Even if we successfully traded for Oshizu, letting go of this critical evidence would render my jitte worthless—that’s the truth of it, Hachi.”

“But, Boss…”

“I understand what you’re trying to say—‘That’s too heartless’—is what you’re thinking, right?”

“That’s exactly right. Even if your jitte’s honor is upheld, Boss—if something were to happen to Miss Oshizu, you wouldn’t be able to walk the path as a human anymore, would you?” “There, there—no need to glare at me like that. I don’t aim to be some noble man who’d stake his wife’s very life—but make no mistake, even if I have to surrender my jitte and arrest ropes, I’ll save her.” “Is that true, Boss?” “It’s true—but listen here, Hachi. Even so, after going through all that trouble to get our hands on this evidence, if we meekly hand it over to the enemy and end up catching some substitute instead, it’d be a disgrace for all eternity.”

“—”

“Before returning this written thing, I wanted to reread it and solve the riddle first—then return it wouldn’t be too late. I spent the whole night thinking about that and ended up not sleeping a wink.” Upon hearing this, Hachigoro finally noticed the terrible anguish and fatigue carved into Heiji’s face. “There’s still more I need to think through. “Looking at this letter—if you stand on Shohei Bridge holding that paper fragment, they’ll bring Oshizu before three handclaps are struck.”

“—” “Even if it’s a lie—for them to write something like this—Oshizu must be hidden within one chō of that area where Shohei Bridge is visible. I’m certain of it.”

Heiji’s intellect finally began to work in full force.

“Boss.” “What’s this, Hachi? You’re being awfully formal all of a sudden.” Hachigoro, who had grown unusually stiff and was pressing in, found himself gently parried by Heiji as the investigator pulled his tobacco pouch closer. “Are you truly alright with this, Boss?” “With what?”

Hachigoro was thoroughly worked up. The slightly drooping corners of his eyes lifted as he jerked his long chin back sharply, making for a surprisingly earnest expression. “I don’t agree. No matter what becomes of the jitte’s path—if you let Miss Oshizu die, there’ll be no human decency left!” “—” “Hey, Boss—please do something about this. Even the Six-Man Gang’s villains—five out of six are already dead, and the stolen 12,000 ryō of gold isn’t some fund for the poor or honest folks—Lord Owari can go eat shit!”

“Now, now, Hachi.” “Do you really think keeping up appearances for that nonsense justifies killing such a good wife, Boss?”

Hachigoro, completely consumed by his fervor, slapped the tatami mat and pressed closer. The fierce words that had burst from his own mouth were now fanning his rage, blazing out of control. “I get it, Hachi—Oshizu would surely be happy if she heard that.” “You’re awfully quick to take up another man’s wife’s cause—not that I’m calling you jealous or anything.” “Boss.” “So that’s why I’m thanking you on Oshizu’s behalf.” “I want to save Oshizu with every fiber of my being—but there’s a right time for everything.”

“So, Boss…” “Well, that’s fine—just leave it to me.” “They’re not foolish enough to kill a hostage so easily.” “And…” “—” Heiji looked up with a profoundly thoughtful face. He appeared to be deeply pondering something. “And think—if Zenigata Heiji, with all his grand reputation, gets his wife taken hostage and meekly does whatever those villains say, even giving up crucial evidence… Not only would it disgrace all us Edo informants, but it’d bring shame on the shogunate itself! Never mind high-minded principles—wouldn’t that just let scoundrels like them run wild?”

“—” “Just think—if police informants were to meekly surrender to villains simply because their wives were kidnapped, who’s going to restrain thieves and murderers from here on out? Just as those who serve the authorities mustn’t be bought with gold, they mustn’t give in to threats either.” “Boss.” “Shut up and listen, Hachi. The reason I didn’t sleep a wink last night was because I was puzzling over that scrap of paper from Omiya’s lock—this must be Omiya Hanbei’s memo. After he was killed, he’d once hidden 12,000 ryō in gold coins atop the Five-Storied Pagoda, then secretly moved them somewhere else behind his gang’s back. This riddle’s gotta be his reminder of where he stashed it all.”

“—” “Omiya was killed, and there’s no gold atop the Five-Storied Pagoda.” “I don’t know if it’s one villain or two—but regardless, their surviving comrades growing desperate was only natural.” Heiji proceeded to lay out his reasoning step by step in this manner. “What was written on that scrap of paper, Boss?” As Hachigoro’s righteous indignation subsided, he found himself pulled into fresh tension. “Don’t panic—this isn’t some lone house in a field. “The bastard’s comrades who threw that stone might be listening somewhere.”

Heiji remained perfectly composed, blowing tobacco smoke into rings.

“Ah! Wait a moment, Boss!”

Hachigoro abruptly leaped out from the engawa. True to his seasoned reflexes, his movements left no gap—the lad who had bolted from beneath the veranda was like a startled hare, barely clearing the low hedge in his desperation. “Bastard—stand your ground!” Hachigoro gave chase, his footsteps clattering down the alleyway for a time, yet by the time he burst onto the main street, the youth had vanished utterly—though there’d been no greater disparity in their speed than between a terrier and an ox.

“You bastard—next time you show your face, I’ll grate you on a wasabi grater and whip up a snot-nosed brat stew! Mark my words, damn you!”

Hachigoro returned, flaring his nostrils and huffing. “Enough, Hachigoro—they prepared an escape route from the start. What’s more—even earlier, they threw a stone and fled once, but once they saw you go inside the house, they immediately doubled back.” “Huh?”

Heiji laughed. "But you see, Hachi—thanks to you, I've realized their hideout's nearby." "Huh?" "You're always boasting that with those long legs of yours, you don't fall behind anyone when it comes to running." "Huh?"

“When Hachigoro gives chase and exits the alley onto the main street, their figure will disappear.” “That’s right, Boss. When I come out onto the main street, I can see both ways—even if I was five or ten *ken* behind, there’s no way their figure should’ve disappeared, but…”

“Their hideout’s close by. Depending on how this plays out…” “What’s up, Boss?”

“Well, never mind.” Heiji fell completely silent after that.

“By the way, Boss—about what we were discussing earlier—”

“—” “Did you solve the riddle on that scrap of paper, Boss?” Hachigoro once again stuck his neck back into his original interest. “I think I’ve mostly solved it, but there are a few things I still don’t understand—that’s why I couldn’t take your words at face value.” “What are these things you don’t understand?” “When Omiya Hanbei was killed, you must’ve investigated all sorts of things.” “Huh?”

“Was there anything unusual about that man?” “What kind of unusual things do you mean?” “Did he have any habits of going out? Particular things he liked?” “He did—gambling and booze.” “Anything else?” “He seemed to like theater, fishing, and shogi.”

“Theater, fishing, and shogi… Interesting.” Heiji seemed to have hit upon something.

“What’s written in that scrap of paper’s riddle?”

Hachigoro finally blurted out.

Hostage

“This is it, Hachi.”

Heiji picked up a small scrap of paper that had been tossed into the corner of the room. “Huh? In that spot?” “This is the safest spot. Wallets and tobacco pouches aren’t secure, the ash drawer of the brazier and the inside of the tea caddy aren’t safe either, and neither are household altars or mothballs. Last night I stayed up alone, so I had to put it somewhere that no bastard could find even if they snuck in.” “Huh?”

“Take a look—this is what’s written.”

Heiji smoothed out the wrinkles in the paper scrap and spread it on the hearth board of the brazier. “Well, even I can read this!” Hachigoro, with the earnestness of a first-grader, proceeded to read it aloud in a booming Benkei-style voice. Sakura 26 no 3

Iris 3-2 Peony 2-4-3

With just these three lines alone, there was naturally no way to guess their meaning.

“Well? Do you get it, Hachi?”

Heiji peered over the topknot of Hachigoro, who was deep in thought. “Not gettin’ it makes me feel like a stubborn fool, huh? Since Hanbei was fond of gambling, isn’t this something like a flower-matching game?” “Hmm, that makes sense.” “Still, ‘sakura,’ ‘iris,’ and ‘peony’ aren’t useful or profitable.” “What do you think these numbers—twenty-six, three, four—mean?” “Even if I thought about it for a night or two, I wouldn’t get it.”

“You give up too easily.” “So... there’s something I wanted to discuss.”

Hachigoro sat up straight. "Your eyes have gone strange again. What're you s'posed to do this time?" "You must've already memorized these lines by now—given that it's you, Boss." "With phrases this simple, anyone'd memorize 'em by heart after readin' 'em two or three times." "But I still haven't memorized it. Is 'peony' twenty-six or 'iris' two?"

“You’re such a timid fellow. Just to be safe, memorize it thoroughly. If someone gets their hands on what’s written down, it’ll cause problems.” “Now that you’ve memorized it by heart, this scrap of paper isn’t needed anymore, right?” “That’s right—until this morning, I thought about burning it.” “Then give it to me!” “What do you think you’re doing?” “I’ll stand on Shōheibashi Bridge and clap my hands three times.” Hachigoro was still hung up on it.

"It probably won't be much use, but go ahead and try it." "Is it really okay, Boss?" "At first I thought about burning it," he said, "but upon reconsidering—once I'd memorized the text—it became nothing more than an unnecessary scrap here." "Hand this over to the enemy and see who solves the riddle first—might be interesting." "You sure about this, Boss?"

When allowed to proceed like that, Hachigoro found himself growing slightly uneasy. Once the plan was decided, carrying it out proved remarkably straightforward. Zenigata Heiji deliberately stayed behind at home, while Hachigoro alone—clutching that paper scrap like a precious talisman in both hands—walked with the measured gait of a Noh actor exiting the *hashigakari*, out of the alleyway onto Kanazawa-chō Street, and onward toward Shōheibashi Bridge. The summer morning sun was already high, but due to the tension since morning, Hachigoro had yet to eat his breakfast. Yet he had no time to dwell on such matters as he stood atop Shōheibashi Bridge, surveying his surroundings for a while.

To the east—from Sujikai Gate to Hanabatake-chō and Naka-chō—and to the south—from Yatsukōji to the vicinity of Abe Iyo-no-kami’s and Aoyama Shimotsuke-no-kami’s mansions—there were no small number of people coming and going, but neither the vital Oshizu nor anyone likely to bring her could be seen.

Hachigoro, however, was not one to back down over such a thing. He tucked the paper scrap he’d been holding into his pocket and clapped his hands three times—clap, clap, clap—as though standing before a deity, without the slightest hint of awkwardness. The passersby momentarily froze in shock and stopped. A young giant of a man stood in the middle of the bridge, clapping his hands like fatsia leaves while glancing around restlessly in all directions. However, his outlandish behavior was not as eerie as modern people might imagine. This occurred during an era when so-called illicit shrines and cults proliferated unrestrained across Edo—from Inari shrines to suspicious small altars and Jizo statues enshrined in every back alley and street corner.

Hachigoro, too, seemed to be praying for something from atop the bridge—likely perceived as a passing street performer—and the flow of foot traffic resumed smoothly without major disruption. “Boss Hachi.” “What is it?” When he turned around, a boy of about fifteen or sixteen—likely a clam seller or something of the sort—wearing a sedge hat ostensibly to shield himself from the summer morning sun but actually to conceal his face, was calling out to him from a few meters behind. “Did you bring it?” “Yeah.” “Don’t get any ideas about lunging at me all of a sudden. If you pull a double-cross like that, Boss Zenigata’s gonna curse you.”

“What?” “Miss Oshizu’s been brought there by our comrades.” “Take a look—over there behind the rainwater barrel.” Hachigoro instinctively turned his gaze where the boy pointed. At the rainwater barrel on Yushima Yokochō’s corner—half-hidden behind it with her back turned—stood a figure unmistakably familiar to Hachigoro from countless ordinary days: the unlined kimono, obi sash, build, hairstyle, and retreating form of Boss Zenigata Heiji’s wife, Oshizu. “Hold it! Even if you try charging over to grab Miss Oshizu, that won’t work.” “We’ve got our own safeguards.” “You think my comrades’ll just sit still while Boss crosses the bridge and walks up to that barrel?” “If I lift a finger and they realize they ain’t getting what’s promised—pity though it is—Miss Oshizu here won’t live.” “My boys’ve got daggers stashed where nobody can spot ’em.”

“—” “Drop what we asked for on the bridge and go over there quiet-like. If I pick it up and see it’s genuine, Miss Oshizu’ll be handed over safe.” The lad had thought of everything.

Hachigoro ground his teeth in vexation. In that case, I should have dragged Boss Zenigata here without letting him put on airs and split up to take back Oshizu, but now there was nothing to be done about it. “Damn it! Do as you please!” He clicked his tongue once, discarded the paper scrap onto the bridge, kicked it with a *pon*, and hurried off toward Yushima Yokochō—needless to say, after that, the boy in the sedge hat picked up the scrap and dashed off to parts unknown.

The paper scrap was something Boss Heiji had allowed to be handed over to the enemy. Now, all Hachigoro had to do was rescue Oshizu safely and bring her back before Boss Heiji.

Hachigoro crossed the bridge, forgetting his promise with the boy, and broke into a run. “Miss Oshizu!” When he lunged toward the rainwater barrel’s shadow, a lone woman stood facing away. Startled by his booming voice, she whirled around with a gasp—but— “Oh! Boss Hachigoro!” The one who widened her large eyes and smiled sweetly—not as striking as Oshizu but far younger and more endearing—was none other than Oyuki from Sakumacho Town, sister of Motokichi the barrel scavenger.

“You… you?” For a moment, Hachigoro stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing? Boss Hachigoro?” “What about you—what happened? That’s you—isn’t that the kimono of Miss Oshizu from Boss Zenigata’s place, who went missing last night?” “This is—that—Miss Oshizu’s kimono, they say? Oh my, oh my!” “Quit gawking and tell me what’s going on.” Hachigoro glanced around restlessly in all directions, but there was no one around who seemed to have written this farce, and Oyuki, utterly dumbfounded, remained speechless for some time.

“This morning, a woman I didn’t know came and said that since Boss Zenigata would have guests arriving around noon today, I should put on this kimono and come help—well, it’s not like I have any proper clothes anyway, so I did as she said—and we came here together.”

“What kind of woman was she? Young or old?” “She was a beautiful young married woman around twenty-five or twenty-six—when we got here, she said ‘It wouldn’t be good to go now,’ told me to wait awhile beside her behind the rainwater barrel while chatting about trivial things like weather and neighborhood gossip—but just before Boss arrived she hurried off somewhere.” “Didn’t she threaten you—wave a dagger at you or anything?”

"Oh, such a thing—why, it was all just easygoing chatter!" Though this dutiful girl was clever enough in her own way, she naturally couldn't have known what role she'd been made to play.

Hachigoro ushered Oyuki back to Heiji’s house. “Boss, we’ve been completely outwitted.”

Heiji listened calmly to Hachigoro’s dejected report and said this. “I thought it would be something like that. They have no sense of honor or pride—there’s nothing to worry about. If it’s come to this, I won’t hold back—I’ll find those 10,000 ryō in gold coins before sunset and make them eat their words.” Riddle For Zenigata Heiji to say something this combative was truly a rare occurrence. He must have finally been unable to stomach their cowardice and wickedness.

But once he had spoken his mind freely, as if chewing over his own words, he sank into deep contemplation—this was Zenigata Heiji, after all, a man not prone to empty boasts. “Boss, you’ve got to do something about this! If we’re made fools of this much—haven’t we had enough?”

Hachigoro was still in a state of agitation. He must have been struggling to find an outlet for his frustration. He handled the tatami roughly, striking pillars and flailing his fists about, not staying still for even a moment.

“Be quiet—I’m working out the final move now.” Heiji sat cross-legged before the cold brazier, took a puff of his favorite tobacco, blew smoke toward the ceiling in the pose of the Iron-Crutch Immortal, and deeply savored the profound solitude. “Is it Shogi, or is it Go, Boss?” When it came to games and amusements, Hachigoro—a cut above his boss Heiji—likely felt a hint of calmness welling up even within his intensely focused mind upon hearing the term “final move.”

“It’s not that simple—even the remaining villains of the Six-Man Gang are finally being cornered.” “Huh?” “Hiding Oshizu, killing Hanji, trying to snatch those documents from my hands—they’re all just desperate flailing.” “So Boss—what’s our next move?” “We’ll solve that riddle and track down where the 10,000 ryō is hidden. Though we don’t know the Six-Man Gang’s true leader, Omiya Hanbee—the one with the dice pip six tattoo—betrayed his comrades over some scheme, quietly took 10,000 of the 12,000 ryō in gold coins hidden atop Yanaka’s Five-Storied Pagoda, and stashed them away somewhere.”

“Huh?” “When they were down to just 2,000 ryō left, their comrades caught wind of it. The four villains turned on each other, killing one another until only the worst of them—the leader, probably with the dice pip one tattooed on him—remained alive. But even that leader still didn’t know where the 10,000 ryō was hidden. Then I came barging in, which they couldn’t handle—so that masked bastard tried to distract me with money. When that didn’t work, they resorted to kidnapping Oshizu and started pulling all sorts of tricks.”

“…” “It’s proof they’ve all started panicking.” “So what’re we s’posed to do now, Boss?”

“The first priority is to track down that 10,000 ryō in gold and have the authorities seize it. That’ll strip those scoundrels of their purpose.”

“Where is it?” “It’s hidden within that riddle-like phrase on the scrap of paper I gave you earlier.” “So you’ve figured it out?” “I’ve solved the riddle! Gather as many assistant informants as you can and come with me. I’ll track down those 10,000 ryō in gold coins without fail.”

Heiji stood up. He exuded confidence. The fact that Heiji had already solved the riddle sent Hachigoro into such ecstasy. “Where did you hide it, Boss? Will you be all right even without that written clue?”

“You should rest assured. I spent one whole night locked in a staring contest with that scrap of paper. I’ve committed every detail to memory.” “Huh?” “They’ll be making desperate moves too. Round up every available man—we’ll settle this before nightfall.”

Heiji immediately moved into action. He sent Hachigoro rushing to summon nearby assistant informants—Yushima no Kichi—then issued rallying calls one after another, and within half an hour, ten men had gathered at Heiji’s house. “That should be enough, Boss.” “How many did you gather?”

“Exactly ten men.” “If I include you in the count, that makes one thousand and ten?”

“Huh?” “You alone are worth a thousand men—come on, it’s a bit of a walk.” Heiji had already returned to his usual bright self. From Myojin-shita they rushed to Ryogoku; from there, they had a fast boat prepared and made straight for Ayase—. “Where are we going, Boss? Wouldn’t it be quicker to make a run for it?”

Hachigoro, fretting over the slow speed of the boat, was stomping his prized iron legs.

“We’re being followed. If we go by boat, they’ll get flustered—isn’t that interesting?” Heiji pointed with amusement at two or three figures loitering on Ryogoku Bridge. If you go up the Ayase River a bit from Sekiya Village, you’ll reach Horikiri Village, famous for its Japanese irises.

“Here it is, Hachi.” “The ‘iris’ at the beginning of the riddle phrase—” “So it wasn’t a flower-matching game after all—what’s this ‘three-two’ mean, Boss?”

“It’s not three-two—it’s two-one.” “When I handed over that scrap of paper to them, I made a slight alteration to the riddle phrase.” “Add one line each to two-one, and it becomes three-two.” “Ah, right—but what’s this ‘two-one’ mean?” “Likely the fishing spot number or stone wall count.” “Huh?” “When I heard Omiya Hanbei’s hobby was fishing, everything clicked.” “He must’ve used those fishing trips as cover—slowly moving gold coins from Yanaka’s five-storied pagoda to hide them in three locations.”

“It’s quite elaborate, isn’t it?” “He meant to hide the 10,000 ryō from his comrades and keep it all for himself—but those comrades were cunning devils every bit as shrewd as Hanbei. He couldn’t have deceived them so easily.”

“—” While they were having that conversation, Heiji, Hachigoro, and ten assistant informants stood behind Horikiri’s Iris Garden along the banks of the Ayase River, scouring the area.

“Hachi, this is it.” What Heiji pointed to was a stone wall that Hanbee had apparently used as a fishing spot; the first stone in the second row of that wall stood out conspicuously with its moss-worn surface and vaguely unstable appearance.

With many hands working together, the stone wall was removed without difficulty, and they scraped away the soil to peer inside.

Inside was an unexpectedly spacious hole containing a sturdy box made from a single oak plank crammed within. “Should I go borrow tools to dig this out?” Hachigoro was already poised to dash toward a nearby farmer’s house. “No, that can wait, Hachi.” “There are still two more spots. It’ll be trouble if night falls.” Heiji peered into the box within the hole. Noticing a hole on its front panel—three *bu* wide and just over two *sun* long—he reached into his robe with a look of realization and produced an iron ring identical in size to the one he had used to open Yanaka’s five-storied pagoda door.

“What a strange thing—when did you prepare this?” Hachigoro flared his nostrils as he stared. “When I received that golden ring, I immediately took its measurements and had a local metalworker make one for me.” “It sure came in handy.” “Of course, that one was solid gold, but since I’m poor, I made do with iron.” “To tell you the truth, this is just a bull’s nose ring. That a golden ring could be replaced with one—the Six-Man Gang’s leader probably never realized.”

Heiji slid that iron ring into the box’s hole with an amused laugh. There was a faint click inside—though what mechanism caused it remained unclear—and at Heiji’s pull, the buried box’s lid opened effortlessly. Hachigoro thrust his arm inside and began piling gold coins wrapped in an astonishingly sturdy cloth onto the riverside grass, forming mounds like small hills. “That’s all of them, Boss.” “Well done—there must be two or three thousand ryō here.” Heiji clicked his tongue in admiration. “Wrapping them for easy carrying and tossing them into a box buried deep in the stone wall... Now that was clever.”

Heiji marveled at Omiya Hanbee’s ingenious craftsmanship. “By the way—are we taking this with us?” “We’ll transport it to the boat.” “This time we’re heading down the Sumida River.” “Let me solve the next riddle, Boss!”

Hachigoro was also getting terribly fired up. “Go ahead and try.” “Sakura twenty-six two—you count the cherry trees in Mukojima and dig under the twenty-sixth one, right?” “What’s this ‘two’ about?” “Dig two shaku or something like that.”

“I feel uneasy…”

While they were saying such things, the boat came from Mimeguri through Takeya no Watashi and arrived before Mito-sama’s lower residence.

“Whoa, this should do.” “Exclude Lord Mito’s lower residence and count the cherry trees along the embankment.” “One, two, three, five, ten—”

Just as Hachigoro had said, when the boat rowed quietly up to the twenty-sixth cherry tree along the embankment, two or three men—who had even brought hoes—could clearly be seen from the river, diligently digging around that cherry tree. “Ah, Boss—we’re one step too late,” said Hachigoro. “They’ve also figured out Mukojima and are digging under the twenty-sixth cherry tree!” Unable to contain his impatience any longer, Hachigoro strained upward in the boat and brandished his jitte.

“Hachi, what’s gotten into you?” Heiji said.

"So we storm in and tie up every last one of them, eh?" "It's local farmers from the neighborhood digging around that cherry tree's roots. You think the Six-Man Gang leader you've been chasing would be among that lot?"

“?”

“Just leave them be. No matter how much they dig, they’ll only find gravel.” “But that’s the twenty-sixth cherry tree, right, Boss?”

Hachigoro was still watching the gold-digging operations with a look of frustration. “Didn’t I tell you earlier? I altered the riddle on that paper scrap.” “Huh?” “All I did was add the character for ‘two’ above where it said ‘sixteen’. The real gold box lies ten cherry trees back toward Lord Mito’s residence.” “Huh?” “There—this marks the sixteenth tree. The ‘two’ beside sixteen doesn’t mean digging two shaku forward. You move the second stone in the fishing spot’s stone wall. Remember—Hanbei only carried fishing gear. He hid the coins where no eyes would linger.”

As he said this, Heiji shifted a suitably sized stone slightly, and it rolled away effortlessly. Immediately, a hole just like the one they had seen earlier in Ayase opened up in its place. Deep within the hole lay a large box, solemn and still, its surface showing a slot where a golden ring could be inserted. The iron jitte proved useful here once again. The gold coins wrapped in cloth that they had taken from the box amounted to roughly two to three thousand ryō here as well. Once the box was emptied, they closed its door as before and restored the soil. Then, the boat loaded with the gold coins and people headed down to Ryōgoku.

“The next one’s the fourth peony, right Boss?” Hachigoro ducked forward. “If even you can figure it out, those villains will too. “Tweaking the riddle phrases bit by bit might seem mean-spirited, but it proved unexpectedly useful.” “This time—peony 2-4-3—gets a bit tangled, eh?” “Fourth embankment, fourth face of the second block’s stone wall, third from the bridge—that’s what I let the Six-Man Gang’s leader read. The real spot’s under first block’s bridge.”

Heiji was laughing. "So all those were your additions, eh Boss?"

“Exactly. “There—look under that stone.” The stone placed beneath the fourth bridge—though it appeared to be nothing more than a fisherman’s seat—when moved revealed a large hole beneath it. Deep within this hole lay a wooden box, following the established pattern. Upon opening it, they found gold coins amounting to nearly five thousand ryō, each bundle of fifty or one hundred coins tightly wrapped in various cloths and crammed inside. The ten thousand ryō and forty kan of gold coins sank heavily, deepening the boat’s bilge.

“Right, let’s head back.” “Where are we going, Boss?” “The enemy’s grown desperate too—going ashore now would stir up trouble. Let’s have them row straight to the Hatchōbori compound.” Zenigata Heiji made this declaration while tallying shadowy figures darting across the twilight shore.

Oshizu’s Life

The 10,000 ryō of gold entered the Hatchōbori compound that day. Once stored here, it was truly an impregnable fortress.

“Hachi, shall we go home?” Zenigata Heiji had no choice but to return forlornly to his own home, where no one awaited him.

“I don’t mind staying at your house for the time being starting tonight, Boss.” Hachigoro was feeling that way. “I appreciate the thought, but there won’t be any decent meals.” “I know. As long as I have them deliver one shō from the corner liquor store, I won’t ask for any luxuries.” “The fact that you don’t consider that a luxury is exactly what’s unbearable—you’re welcome to come, but stop yammering all night without even a side dish to go with it.”

“Are you still thinking about riddles or something?” “There’s plenty I need to consider. Who’s the Six-Man Gang’s leader?” “Where’d Oei go?”

“What’s the true identity of the man with the comical mask?” Heiji asked. “Ah, right…” Hachigoro acknowledged.

While talking about such things, the two of them returned to Heiji’s house. It was already well past 6 PM, and after a day of activity, even Hachigoro—for all his prodigious stamina—was utterly exhausted from hunger and fatigue. After lighting the brazier, igniting one stick, and preparing cold rice, Zenigata Heiji and Hachigoro somehow managed to complete their clumsy kitchen tasks. For the first time that day, they sat around the long brazier and exchanged looks that seemed to console each other. "Preparing meals sure isn’t easy, Boss."

“Can’t manage it like a woman, eh, Hachi?”

Exchanging wry smiles, they poured a cup of something to wet their empty stomachs, and somehow managed to regain their human composure. They quickly finished off the cold rice with hot water, “Once this case is settled, I’ll treat you to a feast that’ll make your head spin—but for tonight, bear with this.” “——”

When told this, Hachigoro choked on the lukewarm water and began coughing violently. He had inadvertently teared up and failed to disguise it with a cough or something.

“Hmm, didn’t you hear a strange noise?”

Zenigata Heiji pricked up his ears. “It’s just a stray dog brushing against the lattice door.”

Hachigoro was calmly yet lingeringly sipping from the sake bottle. “No—that was something being thrown in.” “I’ll check.” Even drunk, Hachigoro remained lighthearted. He slid open the shoji and peered around the entrance, “Ah! Someone threw something in here. A letter—wrapped around a pebble.” Flustered, he picked up something white and brought it over. “What’s this? The same woman’s handwriting as before.” Heiji spread out the letter—folded into eighths on Japanese paper—across the writing board and read it through, but even he caught his breath at the case’s severity.

"You may have taken the 10,000 ryō, but I'll repay this debt in full. Mrs. Oshizu won't see tomorrow—my condolences. Dice pip one Mr. Heiji" "Damn it!" Hachigoro burst out, rattling the lattice door as if to kick it down, but the culprit had already vanished into the alley's lacquer-thick darkness, leaving him to wander aimlessly through the void. "It's no use, Hachi."

Heiji stuck his face out through the lattice. How much effort it must have taken for Heiji to call Hachigoro back inside—Hachigoro, who was gnashing his teeth and spitting, burning with fighting spirit like a wound-up hunting dog! “But we can’t just leave it be! They’re demon-like bastards!” The letter stating that Mrs. Oshizu’s life would end tonight did not seem like an empty threat at all; given their previous methods, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t quietly dispose of her like a bothersome pebble.

“Enough—get inside.” “The culprit’s not skulking around here.” “I figure their hideout’s in Ryogoku or Yanaka—either way, it’s nowhere near.” “Hmph.”

Hachigoro reluctantly went around to the kitchen entrance and wiped his feet with a rag. From the cupboards to the earthen stove to the floorboards, seeing how every humble furnishing gleamed with meticulous orderliness, Hachigoro found himself strangely overcome with emotion, utterly unable to hold back his tears.

Even though she had once been a tea server at a roadside teahouse, Oshizu—who had come to be with Heiji through some strange twist of fate—what an exemplary wife she was! Shy and quiet, yet immaculately clean, cheerful, and earnest—with an inexpressible kindness that seemed to warmly envelop those around her. This, Hachigoro was convinced, was truly "the foremost woman of Edo," and in his heart he secretly revered her like his own Beatrice—a guardian deity of his devotion.

That Oshizu had been kidnapped by villains and given a death sentence with no conditions or reprieve—her life declared forfeit by tonight—yet Heiji sat there deep in thought with such composure; this was something Hachigoro couldn’t stand. “Boss, please do something! I’ll plunge into fire or flood if I have to!” Adjusting his knees that poked out from his narrow summer kimono, Hachigoro pressed in on Heiji. “Don’t push me, Hachi. I don’t want to let my wife die either.” “But if you lose your head now, no good plans will surface.”

“—” “There’s no other way—we track down their hideout right here and now, rush over before they devise a new scheme, and rescue Oshizu. Where do you think we should start first?” Heiji, true to form, pressed relentlessly. Beneath the lonely andon lamp—its accumulated cloves unstirred—and even his habitual powdered tobacco untouched, he sat knee-to-knee with Hachigoro. “You just said Ryogoku or Yanaka—didn’t you, Boss?”

“That was a ruse, you see,” said Heiji. “While you were kicking up a fuss in the alley, the culprit might’ve been hiding somewhere watching it all play out. You think I’d blurt out the truth carelessly?” “So, Boss—” Hachigoro began. “Wait, Hachi.” Heiji stood up and peered through the narrow garden’s darkness from the veranda. Outside, an evening storm brewed. Raindrops began pattering down from an ink-black sky unnoticed, and a briny wind swept in suddenly—as if summoned by distant lightning flickering on the horizon.

“Hachi, come here.”

Having returned to his seat, Heiji once again lowered his eyes to the letter on the writing board. “This letter wasn’t written by Oei.” “Oei’s handwriting is all wobbly like earthworm trails, but this one’s got an unnatural upward slant—stiff and angular.” Hachigoro made his own valid point. “Nah, she just changed how she writes—that’s why it’s slanted weird.” “Still a woman’s handiwork.” "—" “A man wouldn’t write ‘Mrs. Oshizu,’ now would he?”

“Ah… I see now.” “And another thing—you might’ve missed this, but when I brought it here earlier, I made sure to drop this letter right over the brazier.” “Huh?”

“I hurriedly picked it up, and when I smoothed it out on the writing board, ash ended up clinging to the ink of the letter’s text like this.” “Huh?” “If it had been brought from far away, the ink would’ve dried by now, so ash wouldn’t stick to it.” “Even accounting for horse dung-based ink drying slowly, this isn’t a letter brought from Ryogoku or Yanaka.” “Boss.” Hachigoro once again strained like athletes lined up at the starting line. “From this, you can see both that the culprit is a woman and that she’s keeping watch not far from here.”

“Huh?” “By the way, there’s something else I’ve noticed—you’ve chased that brat three times now, but whenever you reach the end of the alley, he vanishes into thin air as if swallowed by the earth.” “Huh?” “Outside the alley is a wide-open main street. “Yet this brat who’s been throwing letters and stabbing Jūjū and acting all high and mighty—even when you’re chasing him like you’ve got a grip on his hair—you just can’t catch him.”

“Huh?” “Especially when Jūjū was stabbed—they escaped with terrifying skill from a place with no escape. Not only that, but when you took the letter to Shōhei Bridge, even though there was no prior arrangement of the time, they’d properly brought Oyuki out behind the rainwater barrel and were waiting for us to show up.” “I see—” “This would require clairvoyance or something to pull off—but since our cunning opponent is undoubtedly human, I concluded at the time that their hideout must be nearby.”

That was something Heiji had already said three days prior.

“So, where is their hideout, Boss?” “In the alley.” “Huh?” “They’re watching us from within the alley.” “A house they can reach from here by moving along the rooftops—carrying Oshizu and slipping in from the second-floor drying area—without any trouble.” “Even though we had men posted outside that whole night, the bastard who kidnapped Oshizu never showed their face, did they?”

Zenigata Heiji finally began to desperately exert his wisdom.

Just then, as thunder drew near, accompanied by the sparse pitter-patter of large raindrops striking the eaves, a fierce bolt of lightning flashed blindingly from beyond the lattice door, searing into their eyes.

“That house.” “Boss, let’s storm it!” “Don’t rush, Hachi.” “Now that we know Ōeyama’s close by, we need to craft a plan with not one flaw in ten thousand—without tipping them off.” Amidst tension burning like wildfire, Heiji finally regained his ice-cold composure. “So what’re we s’posed to do then?”

Hachigoro’s frustration, “We are indeed heading to Ryogoku.” “Listen up. You’re to summon Yushima no Kichi and gather Kinta and Minokichi in a way that echoes through the whole neighborhood—march them out like you’re launching a night raid and have them wait around Ryogoku Bridge.” “What about you, Boss?”

“I’ll come after you. Count on me, Hachi.” “What about Ōeyama in the alley?” “Forget it completely. Don’t even glance sideways till you’re out of this alley.” “You sure about this?”

Despite being thoroughly warned, Hachigoro exited the alley exactly as Heiji had planned, bellowing randomly through the newly falling rain. Someone was certain to follow him afterward, and that pursuer would be watching foolishly as Hachigoro summoned Yushima no Kichi, rounded up Kinta and Minokichi's lot, and headed toward Ryōgoku with a commotion matching the Fuji hunt.

The work that remained for Heiji began from there. After seeing to fire precautions and checking the door latches, he calmly opened his umbrella and exited the alley, heading straight to the home of Wakamatsu—an assistant police informant in Kanazawa-chō who supplemented his income as a clog maker. He knocked on the front door, exchanged some words with Wakamatsu’s wife, then slipped smoothly inside. After a short while, he emerged unchanged in appearance and—without any particular urgency—began making his way through Yanagihara’s darkness toward Ryōgoku amid the thunderstorm.

Not long after that, it was Wakamatsu, the assistant police informant, who casually stepped outside from the kitchen door of the clog maker’s house. “You should hurry back home. No one goes to the bathhouse this late—how utterly ridiculous!” Hearing his young wife’s voice behind him, Wakamatsu—wearing a shabby yukata with a hand towel slung over his shoulder and holding up an oil-paper umbrella—headed through the evening shower toward the neighborhood bathhouse, humming a tune.

However, Wakamatsu’s figure, having exited the alley, casually passed by the front of the bathhouse and picked up his pace slightly toward Myojinshita—it was a truly masterful infiltration. When he saw that no one was following him, he nimbly slipped into the alley where Heiji lived and took shelter under the eaves of the second house from the left—a modest but well-kept tenant house.

“Good evening.” Wakamatsu called out in a slightly muffled yet high-pitched tone. “Who’s there?” It was a sultry woman’s voice. “From the corner liquor shop. I’ve brought what you ordered.” “I didn’t order nothin’. You got the wrong place, ain’t ya?”

The woman said this while removing the latch and casually opening the entrance. “In the name of the law!” It was a split-second, ferocious cry. But the woman who had opened the entrance door was even more agile. She smashed the handheld candle against her opponent’s face, flipped around to kick over the lamp, and vanished into pitch-black darkness like a monstrous bird. The man who had rushed in—wearing a yukata with a hand towel slung over his shoulder—was none other than Zenigata Heiji, and needless to say, the one who had exited from Wakamatsu’s front door was Wakamatsu himself, now clad in Heiji’s borrowed attire.

Zenigata Heiji—having sent Wakamatsu the clog maker, who closely resembled him in both height and age, to Ryōgoku as his decoy to lull the villains into complacency—struck at the enemy’s stronghold by exiting through Wakamatsu’s back door under the pretense of visiting the bathhouse. It was a truly impeccable tactic. However, though the woman had fallen for the ruse, it remained true that she possessed a criminal’s instinct—always primed with evasive maneuvers to ensure her safety regardless of time or circumstance. She smashed the hand candle against Heiji’s face and kicked over the lamp—movements carried out in an instant—and in the next moment, the house fell deathly silent, not a single sound remaining.

In the lacquer-black darkness, Heiji listened intently. Not knowing from where or what might come flying, he pressed himself against the wall and flattened himself like a bat, “――”

For a while, all light vanished save for lightning seeping through gaps; all sound ceased except for roaring thunder. However, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, lit by the lightning seeping through the open entrance, he began to make out the vague outlines of objects gradually coming into view.

The opponent must have also noticed this. After a short while, it became clear that the opponent—apparently sensing the danger—had gradually begun to move. As an apparition shifted before his eyes, though barely perceptible, there came a faint sensation of something brushing against the tatami and the rustling whisper of silk. "--" Heiji gulped and held his breath. Never before had he felt the value of silk as acutely as he did at this moment.

Before long, there was a creak. She must have stepped on a ladder rung. She climbed to the next rung, then the third. When she reached that point, she seemed to find it difficult to muffle her footsteps and abruptly changed tactics, stomping on the ladder rungs with all her might and thudding her way upward!

“Wait!” Heiji pursued. Had he lacked composure in that moment, his skull would undoubtedly have been shattered. From atop the ladder, the woman violently hurled an object at Heiji as he followed below. Clatter-clatter-clatter—the sound was truly dreadful. As she fled, she must have snatched the iron kettle from the brazier, rushed upstairs, and flung it at Heiji in pursuit. A terrifying display of quick wit. It was an assault that would have struck true nine times out of ten. Heiji, having anticipated this early on, crawled up the ladder with hands and feet pressed close like a gecko clinging to wood—allowing the kettle to merely graze his back before crashing thunderously below.

In the meantime, the woman seemed to have leapt to the second floor, and needless to say, Heiji followed her. The second floor was even darker than below, and for a while, nothing could be discerned. But desperate danger was drawing closer with each passing moment. The woman who had leapt to the second floor was either going to pull out Oshizu—who was confined there in that instant—and skillfully move her outside, or else end her life in one stroke and make Heiji gasp in shock. Who was the leader?

One moment, two moments—a deathly silence stretched on.

For a while, the thunder moved into the distance, and the rainfall appeared to subside somewhat.

But in the grip of extraordinary tension, Heiji could do nothing to quiet the pounding of his own heart. Was it some instinctual warning? He heard Oshizu’s whisper near his ear and suddenly sensed the alluring scent of cosmetics right before his nose. It was somehow a ‘grave’ tension. Though Heiji had plunged into life-and-death situations countless times, he had never before felt anything as uncanny as this. Perhaps it was because his wife Oshizu’s life was about to be severed just a few feet before his eyes that his instincts were provoked, mobilizing every one of his senses.

Be that as it may, the fully tense situation—with heartbeats as its gears—marked each passing moment as if carving through a century. Heiji transferred the jitte from his right hand to his left and reached into his pocket with his right hand. Two well-worn four-mon coins emerged through his fingertips' probing and were secured in his palm, prepared for any contingency. A sudden flash of lightning—unexpectedly leaking through a door gap—bathed the entire room in instantaneous illumination. “Ah—” Heiji’s shock was hardly unreasonable. About two ken from where he stood, in the room’s far corner, what glinted unmistakably was a dagger brandished in a woman’s pale hand—beneath it lay another woman brutally trussed with an obi sash and thin cords. Beyond all doubt, it was the profile of his wife, Oshizu.

Before the dagger could strike Oshizu’s neck—seizing the critical moment—the four-mon coins in Heiji’s palm went flying.

“Ah—” One struck the woman’s fist; another struck forcefully near her cheek. But she was not one to falter from such a thing. Having barely regained her grip on the dagger, she instantly prepared for another assault. “What—?!”

The scream was Oshizu's. The second dagger, its grip slightly faltering, must have merely grazed Oshizu’s shoulder.

“Halt! Official business!” Heiji slammed his entire body forward, barely managing to shield Oshizu from the woman’s dagger.

“Damn you!” The woman snarled a shockingly base curse, twisted away from Heiji’s grasping hand, and vanished like a bird taking wing. The thunder closed in again, crashing over the roof with a deafening roar—then came two strikes, three strikes of platinum-white lightning that scorched their vision.

The room was already empty. The suspicious woman had vanished without a trace, and beneath Heiji's legs lay Oshizu—still bound and collapsed like a corpse. Startled by the sudden downpour, the dagger, and Heiji's voice, she must have lost consciousness on the spot.

Heiji managed to undo Oshizu's bindings half by feel in the darkness. Carrying a bound person would inevitably restrict any freedom of movement. "Oshizu, steady yourself." He lifted her up just as lightning flashed outside. Oshizu, who had barely regained consciousness, "Oh... it's you..."

Forgetting all shame and decorum, she clung tightly to her husband Heiji's neck and began to sob quietly. For the shy Oshizu, this was an unprecedented, tormenting surge of emotion.

“Enough already—you’re not a child.” Heiji pulled his wife Oshizu slightly away from his neck. “But I really thought I was going to be killed—this was the first time I’d ever been so terrified in my life.” Oshizu tried to mask her outburst of emotion with an awkward laugh as she fixed her disheveled hair and adjusted her rumpled clothing. Oshizu had faced danger multiple times before and had even assisted her husband Heiji, but when suddenly rescued by his hand in a place with no one watching, she couldn’t help but feel like a young girl.

“To them, you’re an important hostage—they won’t kill you without good reason. But now that things have come to this, I can’t just leave you alone here. I’ll ask the landlord to look after you for a while.” Outside the alley lived Kichibee the landlord. After leaving Oshizu there temporarily, Heiji headed straight to Ryōgoku. “Oh, you… Looking like that…” It was only natural for Oshizu to fret. What Heiji wore was a hand-me-down yukata borrowed from Wakamatsu, his subordinate police informant. By pulling the collar up over his cheeks and tucking the hem at the back in a seven-three ratio, he achieved a desperate disguise that looked custom-tailored.

“Nah, my outfit’s being worn by Wakamatsu, who’s waiting in Ryōgoku. Don’t worry.” He burst out with a pop, and though the thunder had retreated into the distance, the rain intensified all at once, mercilessly drenching the hand-me-down yukata.

From there to Ryōgoku, Heiji hurried headlong. He intended to carry out every necessary move before his opponents could regain their footing and overwhelm them in one fell swoop. “Hachi?”

“Boss.” In the deluge on Ryōgoku Bridge, through rain-veiled gloom moved a single figure—that gangly silhouette which Heiji’s instincts identified as Hachigoro. “Where’s everyone else?” “I got ’em sheltering at the bridge guardhouse.” “But figured someone oughta keep watch here—else how’d we spot you coming?” Thus Hachigoro stood drenched to his navel on the bridge. “Idiot! If nobody’s on the bridge, I’d check the guardhouse or even a piss-stinking alley toilet!”

Even as he said this, Heiji showed no sign of being entirely displeased by Hachigoro’s naive honesty. “Where should we go now, Boss?” “Anywhere’s fine—follow me.” “Heh—they’re listening at the railing! Hey, everyone—out you come!” When Hachigoro called out loudly, the companions who had been taking shelter from the rain in the bridge guardhouse came out into the downpour without hesitation. Yoshida of Yushima, Kinta, Minosuke, and Wakamatsu wearing Heiji’s kimono.

“Oh, feels good!” Drenched by the rain, they were grumbling begrudgingly. “They’re tough customers, got it?”

“What’s there to worry about? The Boss is with us.”

Hachigoro stomped on the bridge planks. From there to Aioi-cho 5-chome, Heiji and the five men raced like thunder beasts themselves. That was, needless to say, the house of Akashi Gorohatchi, leader of the Akashi troupe. "Hachi, you and Yoshi go around to the back. If anyone tries to flee, bind them—I don't care who." "Right!"

After seeing off Hachigoro and Yoshida no Yoshi as they circled around to the back—battered by the waterfall-like rain pouring from the eaves—Heiji knocked on the front door. “Good evening—is the Master in?” “——”

“It’s Heiji here—open up.” Even to this direct announcement from Heiji himself, there came no response from within.

“Shall I try opening it, Boss?” “Do it.” When Kinta, who prided himself on his strength, placed both hands on the door and pulled forcefully, the wet rain shutters slid open smoothly—as if oiled—without any resistance. “Ah!” Heiji stood frozen for a moment, gripped by a terrible suspicion. But the next instant, when he regained his composure, “Wake up the neighbor and bring a light here.” “Even if we storm in, there’s no way to handle things as they are.” Given the suddenness of it all, they had no official lantern prepared; even if they had carried such a thing, there was nothing they could do in this downpour.

Before long, Minosuke roused the neighboring sundries shop and borrowed an Odawara lantern. “Will one be enough?” “That’ll do. There’s probably no one alive left in this house.” Heiji took the lantern and was the first to rush into the house. At that exact moment, Hachigoro and Yoshida no Yoshi, who had somehow pried open the back door, came in through the kitchen entrance.

“Boss.” “Is there no one here, Hachi?” “There’s not even a kitten here.” “It’s the next room.” Heiji and Hachigoro rushed in as if pushing down the sliding paper door. It was the six-tatami room where, just two nights prior, Gorohatchi had been sharing an evening drink with his wife, Oroku. “Ah!” It was only natural that Hachigoro stood frozen. The place was a sea of blood—there, before the long brazier, Akashi Gorohatchi lay dead like a balled-up rag, soaked in blood. “A step too late.”

Heiji looked vexed. When they lifted him, his body still held warmth, and vivid blood gushed from the wound on his right neck. "It’s their usual modus operandi, Boss." “—” Heiji stepped back from the corpse and surveyed the entire room while holding the lantern high. This way, he first precisely grasped his initial impression before scrutinizing both the room’s object placements and any spatial discrepancies. “He was attacked mid-drink, Boss.”

“The sake bottle’s overturned and the cups are scattered—there’s no mistaking that. But he’s wearing a woman’s coat with only his right arm through the sleeve.” “——” “Back when we came before, Oroku probably put a coat on Gorohatchi too—when the evening shower came and it got chilly, he must’ve had her put that woman’s coat that was there on him.” Heiji’s reason began working with cold precision.

“So was it that burned wife who killed Gorohatchi?”

Hachigoro’s imagination leapt. “Wait, Hachi—it’s not necessarily always his wife who puts the coat on Gorohatchi.” Heiji held up three fingers as he paced around bloodstained tatami mats. “The culprit’s undoubtedly a woman—one who came here drenched through.” His jitte tapped against an overturned sake cup for emphasis. “That cushion before the long brazier? Soaked through.” Hachigoro swallowed audibly. “She pretended to help him into his coat from behind.” Heiji mimicked stabbing motions with an imaginary dagger under his own collar bone. “One thrust through neck tendons with her blade hidden beneath fabric.” His voice hardened like Edo magistrates’ seals striking parchment orders. “Same method every time.”

“So Miss Oei—”

Heiji did not respond to that. He lifted Gorohatchi’s corpse and hurriedly rolled up its sleeve to examine it. On the right arm there was nothing, but on the left upper arm was drawn a large die in jet-black ink, with a single black star about the size of a bean. “Boss, isn’t this guy the leader of the Six-Man Gang?”

Hachigoro arrived, bringing the lantern along with his long jaw.

“Don’t panic—this isn’t a real tattoo. It’s a prank drawn with ink.” “Huh?” “When they killed Osato, they tattooed the corpse, but this time they didn’t have such an opportunity, so they drew it with ink to mock us.” As he said this and brought the lantern he had taken from Hachigoro closer, the die pip on the corpse’s left upper arm was unmistakably drawn with a brush—moreover, appearing to be recent handiwork. Rubbed against the kimono, the still-damp die’s upper corners had blurred, making the absurdity utterly complete.

“Damn it! They’re mocking us!” Hachigoro stomped the floorboards with a heavy thud, though there were no mice left there to startle now. “Don’t make a fuss, Hachi. They’re cornered too.” “With us having snatched their 10,000 ryō in gold coins, they probably need petty acts like this to vent their frustration before they can quit.”

“—”

“But what was the motive for killing Gorohatchi?”

Zenigata Heiji crossed his arms imposingly before the corpse. If the 10,000 ryō in gold coins were safely in Heiji’s possession, the cause of conflict between the Six-Man Gang’s leader and Gorohatchi would disappear—yet no matter how he considered it, there seemed to be no reason for killing Gorohatchi. “The official gold shipment stolen at Utsunoya Pass was 12,000 ryō—so doesn’t that mean there’s still 2,000 ryō left?” Hachigoro flexed his thick fingers demonstratively.

“Subtracting 10,000 ryō from 12,000 ryō leaves 2,000? That’s arithmetic not even found in the Jinkōki—but their killing each other isn’t over something so trivial.” “Huh—?”

“The mountain’s much bigger—a gang like the Six-Man Gang, who spent years piling up misdeeds along the highways, wouldn’t have just that much stolen gold stashed away. Even before targeting the Owari Domain’s official gold shipment, they must’ve committed plenty of crimes over the years.” “—” “What’s more, Oei was too beautiful. If even you got that infatuated, she might be committing unimaginable crimes elsewhere.” “So Boss—who’s this gang’s leader?”

Hachigoro finally posed the last question. “Who’s the leader—you ask? The trouble is, I don’t know either.” “Huh? Even you, Boss?” The way Heiji stated this without any reservation left Hachigoro looking unbearably frustrated. “Isn’t this Miss Oei’s doing? That woman keeps turning up everywhere we go!” Hachigoro stroked his chin. “What a stunning female outlaw she is—but even so, there are countless things that don’t add up.”

Heiji was probably still thinking. He would not easily indulge Hachigoro’s hunches.

“Isn’t this that hunchbacked bastard we met at the five-storied pagoda? He was one sneering son of a bitch who looked down on folks—”

“That’s Gorohatchi.”

Heiji was nonchalant. “Then why didn’t you tie him up sooner? And you call yourself the Boss!” “Don’t get angry, Hachi. Even someone like me didn’t realize until now that that hunchback was Gorohatchi.” “Huh?”

“While that hunchbacked man was mocking us at the Five-Storied Pagoda, we had simply assumed Gorohatchi was in the shack in Ryogoku.”

“—” “But when we came here and saw the corpse—as you can see, Gorohatchi had threaded one arm through his wife’s haori—and since he was petite and slender, wearing a woman’s haori didn’t look particularly odd—in fact, it suited him rather well. If you were to drape a hand towel like a flowing streamer over his head, he’d make quite the dashing middle-aged matron.” “Huh?” “That day, a little past noon—around the Hour of the Ram at 2 PM—you must have heard at the tavern in front of the alley that Oroku came out from behind the shack in Ryogoku and returned home alone.”

“Huh?” “Oroku always wears a flowing headscarf whenever she goes out to hide the severe burns covering half her face—the one we saw at the tavern back then must’ve been Gorohatchi in disguise.” “Huh?” “Gorohatchi threw on his wife’s haori, wrapped a hand towel around his head like a kabuki actor’s scarf, slipped out the back gate, and rushed to the Five-storied Pagoda in Yanaka where we’d been summoned. Meanwhile, his wife Oroku disguised herself as Gorohatchi—complaining of a headache or some such nonsense—and holed up in the dressing room to avoid prying eyes.”

“That’s shocking—why on earth did Gorohatchi summon you to the Five-storied Pagoda, Boss? I don’t get what his angle was, but—” “He wanted to show me that box with the official gold—telling me to back off was just a bluff.”

“Huh?” Hachigoro could only be astonished by everything, while Yushima no Kichi, Kinta, Minokichi, and their ilk listened with their mouths agape. “Anyway, we can’t keep at this forever. Minokichi—go call the town officials. Kinta and Wakamatsu—help deal with the corpse for now. Leaving it unattended would be disrespectful to the deceased.”

Heiji temporarily cut off the conversation and had them handle disposing of the corpse and carrying out subsequent procedures. “Isn’t it strange, huh, Boss? Why on earth did Gorohatchi summon you to the five-storied pagoda?”

That evening, after entrusting Gorohatchi’s house in Aioi-cho to the local town officials and lower-ranking informants, Zenigata Heiji returned to his own home in Myojin-shita—only for Hachigoro to doggedly follow him there and pose this question. Oshizu, having been retrieved from the landlord’s residence, produced dry unlined kimonos for her husband Heiji and his subordinate Hachigoro—both soaked through—and made them change clothes. She then affixed an anti-damp charm reaching up to their navels before occupying herself with preparing sake accompaniments in the kitchen.

It was already late at night, and the rain seemed to have stopped, leaving the surroundings eerily silent. “Well, I’ll pour you a cup—that’s fine. Drinking like this without food is poison.” “While you’re at it, let me stay over tonight, Boss! I’ll be your bodyguard!” “I appreciate the offer, but once you have a drink, you start snoring like a giant snake and pass out, so you’d be about as useful as a doorstop rather than a bodyguard.” “Heh, you’re not wrong.” Hachigoro sharply slapped his own cheek. After gulping down five or six cups in quick succession, his complexion had already taken on the mottled red of a Japanese rat snake’s underbelly.

“By the way, you said you wanted to hear why Gorohatchi summoned me to the Five-storied Pagoda.” “Heh, that’s it. I just can’t wrap my head around what villains do. If he’d just kept quiet, he could’ve gotten away with it—so why’d someone like him go and call out Boss Zenigata, practically putting a noose around his own neck?” “They’re all conceited. When villains grow arrogant and become complacent with their own wit and skills, they start wanting to mock this Heiji. However, Gorohatchi had another aim in summoning me to the Five-storied Pagoda.”

“Huh?” “He wanted to lure me to the top of the Five-storied Pagoda and show me those empty boxes from the official gold shipment.”

“The boxes are all completely empty. After having that flaunted in my face, I can’t just stay silent and back down.” “Huh?”

“To put it simply, it’s like this. The Six-Man Gang leader and Gorohatchi must’ve been competing to find the 10,000 ryō of official gold that Omiya Hanbee had hidden. When they couldn’t figure it out no matter what, they decided to lure me out and make me solve the riddle.” “Makes sense.”

At the villains' cunning scheme to exploit Zenigata Heiji's intellect, Hachigoro was left utterly speechless. "The 10,000 ryō in gold coins were found immediately, as you know. But as for shuffling them from hand to hand and trying to take them straight to the Hatchōbori magistrate's office—I doubt even those villains would've thought of that." "They're horrible, aren't they?"

"In the end, another was killed." "What remains is the Six-Man Gang's leader and the gold they've stolen and stashed away." "Where's that at, Boss?"

“How should I know that? We’ve got no choice but to wait for them to make their move—but mark my words, the Six-Man Gang’s leader will show their true colors before us eventually.” When Heiji finished speaking, Oshizu quietly set down the second sake bottle on the cat-shaped serving board.

The Fruit of Forbidden Passion

The Audacious Challenge “T-Terrible, Boss!”

“Well, there he is.” “I thought there was a strangely lukewarm wind blowing—looks like that Hachi bastard came flying in.” “Put that tobacco tray away properly—I can’t have you tripping over the brazier again.” Zenigata Heiji smirked repeatedly and began tidying up the entire area with exaggerated solemnity. “Well, Mr. Hachi is as lively as ever.” Oshizu, his wife, was also watching with amusement. “Headbutting the lattice door, spinning around sharply, and bursting in like that—it’s a feat only someone truly spirited could pull off.”

“Boss, you can’t stay calm! Hatchōbori’s in a boiling uproar!” Hachigoro wailed heedless of details. “Well, if Hatchōbori boils over, Tsukiji’s bound to overflow.” Heiji kept sipping his tea.

“The surviving leader of the Six-Man Gang delivered a challenge letter to the Hatchōbori magistrate’s office—this’ll shock you, Boss!” “I’m surprised, Hachi.” “Since I’m surprised, spare me from punching that shoji screen.” “The ventilation’s improved so much you can see tonight’s dinner clear from the street.”

“Heh, I’m appalled, Boss! When you solved that riddle and finally tracked down those 10,000 ryō in gold coins, and the magistrate’s men notified Owari’s envoy—they came back with ‘We are not so shameless as to refuse. We shall come to retrieve it tomorrow at noon (twelve o’clock).’ That’s a shockingly cheap response, I tell ya!”

“That may be so, but they’re simply reclaiming what belongs to them.” “That gold was originally the Owari Domain’s official shipment—stolen two years ago at Utsunoya Pass on the Tōkaidō. Doesn’t this mean we’ve finally recovered it?” “It’s regrettable that 2,000 ryō out of the 12,000 remain unaccounted for—”

Heiji said such things. "But it's 10,000 ryō, Boss! There isn't a soul in all of Edo who doesn't know how Boss Zenigata here risked his life getting Sister Oshizu back after she was kidnapped!"

“Quite the reputation I’ve got now.” “At the bathhouse, the rumor came up—I got into quite a situation.” “Couldn’t just recklessly show my face and plunge into that gossip.” “Ended up soaking for a quarter-hour in the bath, staying still and enduring it—” “You’re too timid, Boss.” “You’re a bit too bold yourself.” “Doesn’t matter what—with all this public talk, there ain’t a chance word of Boss Zenigata’s achievements hasn’t reached their ears. Before taking that 10,000 ryō, those Owari big shots should’ve at least brought over some rotten yōkan and a stalk of something, saying ‘Thank you kindly for all your trouble this time—’” “‘We’ve put you through hell—’”

“Cut it out—this is ridiculous.” “I hate rotten yōkan and dealing with daimyos.” “So, Boss—” “I get it already.” “But we’re only halfway through the story!” “Enough about the rotten yōkan already!” “No—right after we got that stiff formal greeting from Owari’s envoy, a letter from the Six-Man Gang was thrown into the entrance of Magistrate Sasano Shinzaburō’s residence at the Hatchōbori magistrate’s office! Isn’t that shocking?”

“Who brought it?” “It was a boy, I tell you. When they thought he was just a liquor store’s errand boy, he threw in a letter wrapped around a stone and disappeared without a trace, they say.” Hachigoro’s report turned out to be unexpectedly eerie. Even the usually unflappable Heiji set aside his quips for a while and listened solemnly.

“What was written in that letter?” “I borrowed it. This here.”

Hachigoro searched his inner pocket and pulled out a sheet of Japanese writing paper folded into sixteen from a terribly gaudy wallet.

When he smoothed out the creases on the tatami mat, there it was—the same feminine handwriting as always, scrawled like squirming earthworms.

From the Six-Man Gang: The 10,000 ryō in gold deposited at the Hatchōbori Magistrate’s Office is urgently required by our side. We shall come to retrieve it tomorrow at noon. As the act of delivering it to the Owari Domain is entirely improper, you are hereby strictly instructed to refrain from doing so. Respectfully submitted. [Month] [Day] Leader of the Six-Man Gang It had been scrawled in this twisted manner. “—” Heiji pressed his tobacco against the wind blowing from the eaves as if using it for divination, unconsciously crossing his arms. “Aren’t you surprised, Boss?” Hachigoro boasted about the self-proclaimed Six-Man Gang leader—this rogue—as though it were his own triumph.

“I’m surprised—no, I should be shocked just having to put up with you—then what happened?” “Hatchōbori’s seething and Tsukiji’s about to boil over!” “Stop parroting me.” “Anyway, since we need to settle our plans by day’s end—‘Bring Heiji here!’ That’s Magistrate Sasano’s voice I’m doing, see?” “Right—if that’s how it is, I’ll face them myself.” “Heh! Now that’s more like it!”

Hachigoro became thoroughly delighted.

After preparing, Heiji and Hachigoro arrived at Sasano Shinzaburō’s official residence in the Hatchōbori Magistrate’s Office by evening.

“Heiji, you’ve done well.” Sasano Shinzaburō—though young, he was reputed to be the most capable among the forty-six yoriki under the South and North Town Magistrates’ Offices—greeted Heiji courteously despite the tense atmosphere. “It seems quite a troublesome matter has occurred.”

Heiji aligned his knees at the edge of the threshold. “Well, come in over here—Hachigoro’s with you too—good, good. I suppose you’ve heard most of it from Hachigoro.” “I don’t know how many survivors the Six-Man Gang has left, but they’re making us work our bones to the marrow.” “That is precisely the matter.”

Heiji edged forward on his knees. While it was common for Hatchōbori magistrates of that time to maintain residences as extravagant as a daimyo's secondary villa, Sasano Shinzaburō—true to his reputation for integrity—kept furnishings around him and a lifestyle that differed little from those of impoverished retainers or minor hatamoto. “Are you saying you’ve thought of something?” “I cannot say I have any concrete leads, but judging from their methods of operation and the escalating wickedness, it seems to me that while five of the original six villains in the first Six-Man Gang perished, their surviving leader has gathered new subordinates to form a second-generation Six-Man Gang.”

Heiji’s words constituted a leap of imagination, but, “Exactly, Heiji! I’ve been thinking the same thing. Otherwise, there’s no way they could make such an outrageous claim against the shogunate officials—the South and North Town Magistrates.”

Sasano Shinzaburō slapped his knee and leaned forward. "As for that matter, we have made sufficient necessary preparations," said Heiji. "That’s precisely it, Heiji. This time they’re practically walking into our trap themselves. I meant to put you in command—have you duel the Six-Man Gang head-on, use those 10,000 ryō coins as bait, and round up every last one of those rogues in a single sweep. But now that won’t do."

“Huh?”

Sasano Shinzaburō drooped his shoulders. “We had laid out thorough plans here and sent for you, but then a messenger arrived from Lord Owari’s caretaker.”

“―” “The message reads as follows: ‘We concede that the reduction of 2,000 ryō from the 12,000 ryō official gold shipment is unavoidable. However, should further discrepancies arise, it would constitute negligence on our domain’s caretaker. Therefore, we wish to handle all matters pertaining to the retrieval of the remaining 10,000 ryō entirely within our domain’s authority. We request that the town magistrates refrain from issuing directives.’ That is their statement.” “Damn them!”

The one who had blurted out such an outrageous jeer from the back was none other than Hachigoro, having reached his limit of patience. "Hachi, watch yourself." "Huh?" When scolded by Heiji, Hachigoro pressed his shaved forehead and quietly stuck out his tongue.

Sasano Shinzaburō continued speaking with an innocent expression. Even during that era of rigid class hierarchy, there were many reasonable people among the Hatchōbori magistrates. "The other party is a major domain producing 620,000 koku." "Since it is not our place to make demands here, we have no choice but to humbly withdraw as per their orders."

“And so?” “The 10,000 ryō in gold coins are to be handed over to the Owari Domain’s envoy within the gates of our magistrate’s office.” “Though we went through the trouble of summoning you, there’s nothing for it but to have you withdraw as matters stand.” “You’ve done well.” Sasano Shinzaburō inclined his head slightly.

“Not at all—if anything, I’m humbled by your kind words. By the way, am I to be present tomorrow at the gate of our magistrate’s office to witness the handover of the 10,000 ryō in gold coins to Owari’s honorable retainers?” Heiji asked quietly. “Indeed.”

“Or should I discreetly watch over the whereabouts of the 10,000 ryō from the shadows?”

“That’s unnecessary, Heiji.”

“Huh?”

“Lord Owari’s caretaker has made this earnest proposal; upholding their dignity must take precedence.” “You should stay confined at your house in Myōjinshita as before.” “With your recognizable face, having you prowl about this area would be most inadvisable.” “Is that indeed how it must be?”

“There are limits to the work of the town magistrates. There’s no helping it, Heiji.”

“Then, I shall take my leave here.”

Heiji quietly left the magistrate’s office.

From there to Heiji’s house in Myōjinshita, Hachigoro did everything he could to keep from boiling over with anger. “Tch, I’m too stunned to even speak! This ain’t just some rotten bean jelly—they’re tellin’ us to back off ’cause we’re in the way, the bastards!” “Now, don’t fret, Hachi. We’re up against tough opponents,” Heiji said calmly. “Since Lord Sasano’s laid it out so clear, I’ll bite my tongue and stay put—but there’s no reason you can’t move about.” He gripped Hachigoro’s shoulder. “Go from Hatchōbori to the Owari mansion in my stead. Keep your eyes peeled—every shadow, every whisper.”

Heiji's plan was the best he could muster.

Storehouse Compound

On the following June 1st, the Hatchōbori Magistrate's Office secured its gates from early dawn, mobilizing all available magistrates and their subordinates to form a truly impenetrable human wall. Needless to say, among them was Hachigoro’s long face, but due to Chief Magistrate Sasano Shinzaburō’s instructions, the absence of Zenigata Heiji carried a tinge of loneliness.

As if signaled by the clock striking noon, three envoys from the Owari Domain stood at the entrance of Sasano Shinzaburō’s official residence: Ōhashi Kaneto, Tsuda Magotarō, and Suzuki Kuranojin. “Well now, what an honor!” Sasano Shinzaburō himself rose to greet them personally. Among the three envoys, Ōhashi Kaneto—a forty-year-old man—was the one who had previously visited Sasano’s residence to convey the Owari caretaker’s message; Tsuda Magotarō was a famed spearmanship master, while Suzuki Kuranojin served as Owari’s jujutsu instructor—all three were martial artists whose reputations thundered through Edo’s mansions at the time. Once ushered inside and through an exchange of formal greetings,

“Regarding the official gold shipment of 10,000 ryō from the House of Owari Chūnagon that we requested previously, I, Ōhashi Kaneto, have come to formally receive it.” “This document from Caretaker Yamasumi Awajinokami-sama—I humbly request you examine it thoroughly.” He respectfully produced the large box and ceremoniously presented it before Sasano Shinzaburō.

“Indeed.” Sasano Shinzaburō took out the document from the document box and briefly examined it. After tying the box’s ornamental cord back as it was and returning it, he said: “The 10,000 ryō in gold coins have been deposited here.” “Please inspect them at your convenience.” He was pointing to five 2,000-ryō boxes stacked like cedar in the alcove. Each one must have weighed roughly ten kanme. In an era when a single gold coin contained a full four monme of pure gold, 10,000 ryō was an extraordinary sum.

“Very well.” When Ōhashi Kaneto gave the signal, the officials in charge who had been waiting in the garden carried out the five 2,000-ryō boxes to the veranda and began conducting a meticulous inspection of each one. This was completed around two in the afternoon, just past the Hour of the Goat. With the handover concluded without incident, the five 2,000-ryō boxes were placed into five palanquins belonging to the Owari Domain. Atop each palanquin stood one of five elite samurai—sashes tied across their chests, formal overcoats worn despite the sweltering heat—their eyes sharpened for combat as they glared in all directions while exiting the magistrate’s compound.

If by some chance nameless bandits were to attempt seizing this 10,000 ryō, even a hundred of them would be dispatched with a single brush of an armored sleeve. Indeed, as the foremost of the Three Great Houses with their 619,000 koku, their prestige was truly awe-inspiring.

At the vanguard was Ōhashi Kaneto, at the rear Suzuki Kuranojin; between them were five palanquins, deeply draped in oilcloth and guarded by five elite warriors, quietly crossing Nakano Bridge. When the procession had reached the middle of the bridge, Rumble... BOOM—a deafening roar erupted as swirling smoke from beneath the bridge enveloped the five palanquins loaded with 10,000 ryō of cargo. “There!” “Don’t let your guard down!” The twenty-five stalwarts drew their swords and assumed defensive stances. But the explosion ended abruptly without continuation, and the smoke drifted away into the sky.

“Do not panic! I’ve seen through their scheme! This show of numbers means nothing—keep the procession moving!” True to form, Ōhashi Kaneto boomed his rebuke, having pierced through the depths of his opponents’ ploy. “Fools!”

A high-pitched boy soprano voice resounded loudly at that moment from across the bridge, near Ii-sama’s mansion. “You knave! Stop!”

Ōhashi Kaneto dashed out with his sword drawn, but catching up was never a possibility from the start. “Mr. Ōhashi, this lacks dignity—rather than that, you should concentrate on depositing the 10,000 ryō in gold into the storehouse at the earliest possible moment.”

Tsuda Magotarō, who possessed some degree of prudence, stopped him. Under the blazing June sun pouring down on Edo’s rooftops, the procession carrying 10,000 ryō crossed Nakano Bridge, passed Kurumago Bridge on their right, traversed Kazuma Bridge, and proceeded from Minami-Odawara-cho toward the backstreets of the Owari Domain storehouse compound. “Ah! What is that?”

It was only natural that the procession carrying 10,000 ryō hesitated for a moment.

Before and behind the procession, an eerie haze rose as countless silver arrows were shot ceaselessly from all directions—right and left, front and back. “Do not panic! They’ve fired fireworks into our procession,” Tsuda Magotarō declared in a composed voice. “Keep moving—take them through the back gate.” He had already discerned the enemy’s diversionary tactic. Launching fireworks at the procession just as they relaxed upon nearing the back gate showed remarkable cunning. Yet Tsuda’s calm judgment—surpassing even that ingenuity—averted chaos at the critical moment.

As the countless battle arrows ceased and the lingering haze dissipated, the procession carrying 10,000 ryō passed without incident through the back gate of the Owari Domain’s Tsukiji storehouse compound and quietly entered. What remained were Tsuda Magotarō, Suzuki Kuranojin, and six other warriors confident in their martial skills; gazing far out to sea where the fireworks had presumably been launched, they spotted two barges of that sort. “Hah! Look at you now!” Leaving behind booming laughter, they rowed far out to sea. Having neither anticipated an attack from the sea nor had boats ready to give chase in the heat of the moment, the Owari stalwarts could only retreat while stomping their feet in frustration.

The proper course would have been to bring the immense fortune of 10,000 ryō to the Owari Upper Residence in Ichigaya and secure it within a vault fortified to the utmost. However, transporting it from the Hatchōbori magistrate’s compound risked an overly long journey—one that would invite mockery from sharp-tongued Edo townspeople for its ostentatious security. Such ridicule might even spawn satirical verses reaching the ears of the domain lord back home. To avoid this nuisance, the senior retainers in charge deliberated and opted instead to route the gold through the less frequented area behind Honganji Temple, depositing it in an earthen storehouse at the nearby Tsukiji compound. This decision proved a timely measure indeed.

When the 10,000 ryō in gold coins were safely stored in the storehouse compound, Ōhashi Kaneto, Tsuda Magotarō, Suzuki Kuranojin, and the other twenty-five stalwarts were at last relieved of the heavy burden on their shoulders. “Honored executives—this gathering has been permitted, most notably by Lord Yamasumi Awajinokami himself. You may all relax and enjoy yourselves.” “The 10,000 ryō official gold shipment has undoubtedly been stored in the Owari Domain’s vault.” “Even if that so-called Six-Man Gang wrack their simian brains, the best they can manage is launching fireworks.” “Even if those street rabble were numerous, how could they possibly stand against the Owari Domain—foremost of the Three Great Houses with 619,000 koku?”

Ōhashi Kaneto seemed to be in rather high spirits.

The banquet lasted from dusk until midnight. In the dreary storehouse compound, geisha—summoned by someone—moved among the guests, and the banquet through the long night continued without end.

From the Ichigaya Upper Residence came praise for today’s success, with shipments of extraordinarily lavish delicacies and sake arriving not once but twice. “Lord Yamasumi Awajinokami is also exceptionally pleased.” “The return of the 10,000 ryō official gold shipment was, above all else, thanks to the prestige of the Owari Domain—foremost among the Three Great Houses with their 620,000 koku.” “Now, there’s as much drink as you want!” “Everyone, there’s no need for restraint—please enjoy yourselves to the fullest.” Ōhashi Kaneto took the lead and proclaimed. The more they drank, and the more they were plied with drink, the Jade Mountain crumbled—the twenty-five stalwarts dropping one after another like tuna on a riverbank—a truly inevitable outcome.

“This won’t do. Mr. Tsuda, do take care.” “What need is there for this one?” Even as they spoke thus, the three warriors—Ōhashi Kaneto, Tsuda Magotarō, and Suzuki Kuranojin—collapsed in a heap.

The storehouse guards, too, could not possibly have remained unharmed until that time. "No, this is some feast!" "The sake's really strong tonight, everyone!" While saying such things, the three guards stationed before the storehouse also began to slur their words quite severely. "From the honorable Ichigaya Upper Residence—a celebratory feast." "Please enjoy yourselves." "No more... I can't take it... Forgive me." "Huh? That's no way to act!" One of the geisha who had come here was a woman in her early twenties—already past her prime yet alluring, skilled at her craft, and utterly charming.

The guards, without particularly intending to get swept up in the revelry, inadvertently drank too much and ended up lying side by side with their pillows lined up before the storehouse door. “Boss, how did it go?”

From the darkness emerged the face of a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy. “Shh, you’re too loud,” she said. “They’ve all fallen asleep like logs, but without the key we can’t open this door.” “You think we’d overlook that?” he retorted. “Boss Oei pulled this right from Ōhashi Kaneto’s waist.” “Well now, that’s some fine work,” she murmured. The woman—a middle-aged female disguised as a geisha—drew the boy close, slipped her hand beneath his arm, and squeezed him tightly.

“Ah, that’s too tight!” “Well, you’re truly hopeless. If you keep acting like this forever—”

The woman pushed the boy away, then inserted the key she had received into the sturdy lock of the storehouse.

“What about the others?” “They’re waiting.” “Since each box weighs ten kanme, two men should carry one together.” “Luckily the sea’s right at our doorstep—once we load them onto the ship, we’ll have them in Kazusa and Bōshū in no time.” “Don’t let me down.” “Righto.” Five or six men materialized from the shadows—faces meticulously covered despite the oppressive heat—and silently extracted five gold-laden chests from the storehouse. They moved with ant-like precision, each pair bearing their heavy burden toward the waiting vessel.

“Nah, it's just too funny, Boss!”

It was just before 7 AM—the hour of the Rabbit—on the following morning when Hachigoro came bursting into Heiji's house at Myōjin-shita. "You're blessed with auspicious news! Bringing such an outrageous tale first thing at dawn." Zenigata Heiji stood on the veranda with sleep-deprived eyes, a Saruya bristle toothpick clamped between his teeth as he absently surveyed the narrow garden bathed in morning light. "No, truly Boss—it's utterly preposterous! What manner of trickery do you suppose they employed, Boss?"

“I spent all last night thinking about it. Unless they did the job inside the Kumiyashiki compound’s gates, it must’ve been after the shipment reached Lord Owari’s upper residence in Ichigaya.”

“It wasn’t the upper residence in Ichigaya.” “The 10,000 ryō was safely delivered to the Tsukiji storehouse compound.” “Then that settles it.” “On such a short route, even Zhuge Liang or Kusunoki couldn’t have worked any miracles.” “Exactly, Boss.” Hachigoro launched into his explanation. His storytelling proved remarkably vivid—from how the massive gold shipment left the Kumiyashiki compound and chilled their spines with a trap at Nakano Bridge, to the double shock of fireworks shells fired from the sea as they entered through the storehouse’s back gate.

“Then the drinking party began – with maids from the Ichigaya Upper Residence and some no-name town geishas – till everyone in the storehouse compound was completely passed out.” “And that’s not even counting all the sake they’d sent over from the Upper Residence—” “If they’d slipped sleeping drugs or paralyzing agents into that liquor, it’d be a scheme ripped straight from a yellowback novel.” “That’s just it, Boss! “Don’t know what they spiked it with, but the whole damn storehouse crew got drunk as ditchwater – passed out cold till morning without knowin’ their heads from their asses.” “Some used the threshold as a pillow, others slumped against the storehouse doors – looked like a whole haul of tuna laid out on the docks.” “With ’em like that, you coulda chopped off their noggins and they’d never’ve noticed – not that I saw any of that myself, mind.” “That wispy old gardener – one good gust coulda blown him away – couldn’t drink on account of his hernia. Hid behind the shed and saw the whole damn show.”

“Then what happened?” Heiji too seemed thoroughly engaged; he unconsciously leaned forward. “There’s no way around it. “That big shot Ōhashi Kaneto—looked tough as nails—was snoring away on a geisha’s lap when someone swiped the storehouse key dangling at his waist. Then poof! The whole 10,000 ryō they’d just stashed in the storehouse vanished like smoke—all within half an hour!”

“That’s disastrous!” “It’s a farce! The same bunch who strutted around declaring they’d never need help from town officials are now wilted like spinach, holding a grand council since morning over whether to slit their bellies, scramble to borrow from eight lenders to gather 10,000 ryō, become monks, or make a midnight escape.”

Hachigoro was utterly overjoyed, but when Heiji heard this, he sank into an unusually deep thought. “The 10,000 ryō might not mean much to Lord Owari, but if harm comes to those twenty-eight handpicked young samurai, there’ll be no undoing it.” “Let’s go take a look, Hachi.” “Where we goin’?”

“It’s the Kumiyashiki compound in Hatchōbori.” “By now they must’ve gone crying to Magistrate Sasano.”

Meanwhile, Heiji was making his preparations.

Heiji Springs into Action

For the sake of twenty-eight young lives and to prevent any mishap, Heiji cast aside his pride and dignity to go to the Hatchōbori Kumiyashiki compound. "So Heiji has arrived? That's perfect timing."

Sasano Shinzaburō looked relieved. He had been badly cornered by the three—Ōhashi Kaneto, Tsuda Magotarō, and Suzuki Kuranojin—and was in a dire predicament. “Allow me to make the introduction. “This is the renowned Heiji.”

Shinzaburō pointed at Heiji from a distance—Heiji who had knelt on the veranda.

“Well, well—so this is the renowned Mr. Zenigata?” “I am honored to make your acquaintance for the first time. I am Ōhashi Kaneto of Owari Domain.”

“I am Tsuda Magotarō.” “I am Suzuki Kuranojin.”

In this manner, the three samurai slid from their cushions to greet a mere police informant. When Hachigoro, seated behind Heiji, heard “Mr. Zenigata,” he couldn’t help snorting—which prompted Heiji to jab him with an elbow. But though Heiji glared back over his shoulder, his eyes were undeniably laughing. “I hear you’ve suffered a terrible misfortune—it must weigh heavily on your minds.”

Heiji responded nonchalantly. “That is precisely why I have a request for you, Mr. Heiji.” “Hmm.” “Just now, I made an unreasonable request to Magistrate Sasano as well, but he stated—‘Once gold has passed through the gates of the Owari Domain’s storehouse compound, it no longer concerns town officials.’” “But when facing a thief who shows no face, we cannot confront them with bow, horse, spear, or sword—we are utterly at a loss. What say you, Mr. Heiji?” “——”

“If this matter becomes public, even if we twenty-eight are not forced to commit seppuku, we cannot avoid severe punishment.” “Moreover, it would bring shame upon the entire Owari Domain.” “—”

“I have an earnest request, Mr. Heiji. Could you not recover the stolen government funds of 10,000 ryō and thereby save the honor of us twenty-eight? As you can see—”

Ōhashi Kaneto and the three samurai under him pressed their hands to the tatami and earnestly pleaded with Heiji. “Heh, I’m overwhelmed by such formalities.” “Please raise your hands.” “Mr. Heiji, will you grant my request?” “This isn’t about agreeing or refusing.” “The reason I came here was because I worried about your thick skulls—” “Thick skulls?” “Well, I’ll do what I can.” “After all, this mess started when fine gentlemen like you tried matching strength and wits with shady thieves.”

“?” “No matter how much folks strut about acting high-and-mighty—when it comes to a footrace, they can’t outrun horses or dogs.” “Get mixed up in thieves’ dirty schemes, and all your fancy military classics like Six Secret Teachings or Three Strategies turn downright useless.” “I see.” “Even if you great lords managed to beat some two-bit burglars—that’d be no honor worth bragging about.” “Rice cakes belong to rice cake makers—if you’d handed this 10,000 ryō job to us townies from the start, we’d have delivered it safe to Ichigaya Manor without breaking a sweat.”

Heiji seized the perfect opportunity to vent his long-held frustrations.

Once he had said that, Heiji’s mind was settled.

After hearing this, the three samurai briskly departed, and then Sasano Shinzaburō spoke in an earnest manner.

“Heiji, there may be unpleasant developments ahead, but you must by all means bring this matter to a close.” “Hmm.”

“If things go awry, it would mean the lives of twenty-eight young samurai.” “While the Owari Domain’s honor is at stake, what is far more alarming is the sheer audacity of these villains—to infiltrate the storehouse compound of Owari’s 619,000-koku territory and brazenly steal 10,000 ryō in gold.” “If we leave this unaddressed, the laws of the land will crumble.” Sasano Shinzaburō’s tone overflowed with the earnestness characteristic of a sincere, good official.

“I fully understand.” “I cannot promise whether we can reclaim it to that extent, but I will certainly do everything within my power.” That was Heiji’s unassuming state of mind.

When he promptly went to the Owari Domain’s storehouse compound, Ōhashi Kaneto himself came out to guide him, “Mr. Heiji, Mr. Heiji.”

He treated him with utmost deference.

Hachigoro, who had come along with them, was in high spirits—humming a tune, whistling, straightening his clothes, and stroking his elongated chin. "The celebratory food and drink prepared at this residence were merely a token of our sincerity," "The sake and dishes kept pouring out endlessly." "When we inquired, we learned they had been specially sent by Lord Yamasumi Awajinokami from Ichigaya Go-kamiyashiki to celebrate recovering the 10,000 ryō—and they just kept coming—!"

Ōhashi Kaneto made a shamefaced expression. However, this man was unexpectedly frank; he made no attempt to hide his own faults, and his open attitude in entrusting matters to Heiji was admirable. He was the type of man whose only fault was his arrogance, and once broken, such people surprisingly reveal their good true nature. “What kind of people were the ones who brought that food and drink?”

Heiji calmly responded. “When we checked later, each and every toolbox bore the seal of Minami-Odawara-cho’s restaurant ‘Seigetsu,’ indeed.” “First thing this morning, we went to Seigetsu and inquired—they said it was an order from this storehouse compound, and the bill hasn’t been paid either.” Ōhashi Kaneto looked thoroughly bitter, but Hachigoro seemed to find the idea of making the thieves pay up amusing, looking as though he could hardly contain his laughter.

“Regarding the geisha who came—since it was your esteemed side that summoned them—”

“Not at all! We simply assumed those too had come from the upper mansion.” “A whole lineup of beauties—I think there were about five of them—and then a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy with a forelock carrying lunch pails and barrels, plus two young men who heated the sake for us.” “That was quite an elaborate operation.” It was an all too ingenious scheme—there’s nothing left but to lament. “I never thought they’d scheme so masterfully.” “Under normal circumstances, we three would have committed seppuku to atone, but the twenty-five young samurai insist that since the oversight was mutual, they refuse to listen and demand to share our fate.”

“That is most reasonable.” “Let’s somehow do everything in our power to recover the 10,000 ryō.”

For the sake of this intensely responsible and honest man, Heiji found himself inclined to readily agree.

“I hear there was one person last night who did not drink any sake, was there not?” “I would like to meet that person.”

“A manservant called Yoji.” “He’s old—his wits and judgment are questionable. Not exactly reliable.” In response to Heiji’s question, Ōhashi Kaneto wore an unenthusiastic expression. “But Lord Ōhashi—besides the twenty-eight men who transported the 10,000 ryō from the row-house complex, there should also be people from this residence present.”

“Indeed, I would estimate there are twelve or thirteen permanent residents here. In total, approximately forty people altogether, I should think.”

“Don’t you find it odd that all forty became inexplicably drunk? Among them would’ve been both heavy drinkers and lightweights, not to mention women in the mix. Whether someone downed five gō or a whole shō, or just took a sip from an ochoko cup—for everyone to end up equally insensible seems anything but normal, wouldn’t you agree?” Heiji’s question struck home.

“Indeed.”

“Whether it was a sleeping drug or a paralyzing drug—I don’t know if such things even exist in this world—but there must have been something added to that sake.”

“Hmm.” “Shall I present that evidence, Lord Ōhashi?”

“?” “I believe the hostesses and geishas who attended to all of you last night performed their duties quite diligently, but they should not have drunk a single sip of sake.” Heiji’s words were oddly overflowing with confidence. “Wait, Mr. Tsuda, Mr. Suzuki—what do you think? I cannot afford to make a mistake alone.” “Did those women drink last night, or didn’t they?”

Ōhashi Kaneto hesitantly called for backup. “Now that I think about it,” said Tsuda Magotarō, “they pretended to drink and poured it into the cup washer.”

Tsuda Magotarō responded. "That woman called Oei was leaning against Mr. Ōhashi’s knee and putting on quite a drunken act, but come to think of it, there was no sign she’d actually drunk any sake." Suzuki Kuranojin too now belatedly came to realize something strange. The women who had feigned drunkenness without drinking alcohol—when you thought back on it, every aspect of it was strange.

“I see, it seems such a thing did occur.” “But――” Ōhashi Kaneto kept rubbing his head. He struggled to believe a drug capable of making people sleep so freely could exist at all. “In any case, let us meet the old gardener who didn’t drink the sake.”

“Then allow me to guide you,” said Ōhashi Kaneto.

Ōhashi Kaneto guided Zenigata Heiji and Hachigoro to the servants’ quarters that stood in a corner of the estate like some forgotten object. The storehouse compound—with its 619,000 koku yield and bearing Lord Owari’s prestige as foremost among the Three Tokugawa Houses—stood magnificent indeed. Yet unlike the upper mansion, this place housed no men of discernment; here dwelled those like old gardener Yoji, left to rot his life away in a hut at the garden’s edge. “Here we are—Yoji! You in there?”

Ōhashi Kaneto opened the door with a creak. It was only natural he thought it strange for [the door] to be shut tight against midsummer’s heat. “Ah!”

What on earth could have been inside that peered-into hut?

Heiji peered into the servants' quarters as if shoving Ōhashi Kaneto aside. "Ah!"

At a glance, even Heiji could not help being shocked—and understandably so. The sole living witness—the old gardener Yokichi—lay dead, clutching at nothing. The disheveled, salt-and-pepper hair of the old man over sixty and the thread of blood drawn from the corner of his lips were unmistakable evidence of poisoning, yet there was no trace of anything he might have eaten. Likely, an inhumanly cunning villain had come here after the old man died and erased every trace of evidence.

“Quickly, Hachi—have them close the front and back gates!” “And then, investigate the names of everyone who entered this mansion.” “Right!”

Hachigoro flew off like a whirlwind. In times of crisis, Hachigoro’s defining quality was his willingness to act without holding back—this was his distinctive strength. “This is a grave situation, Lord Heiji.”

Ōhashi Kaneto was utterly incompetent in this situation. “We’ll soon uncover the villain’s true identity—but attending to the old man takes priority.”

Just to be thorough, Heiji picked up old man Yokichi and tried every possible measure, but he had already grown cold, and there was no hope of reviving him. “Boss, I’ve got it!”

“――”

It was Hachigoro who came rushing in. "Besides us, the only ones who entered here this morning were the maids from Seigetsu in Minami-Odawara-cho!" "That's it!" "They say two young, pretty maids came and took back those stacked food boxes and dishware they'd brought in last night." "That's it!"

Heiji stamped his feet in frustration, but there was no catching up now. The opponent's relentless preemptive strikes—each maneuver executed with agile precision—left Zenigata Heiji lagging one step behind through every twist and turn, grating on him with bitter vexation.

“But Boss, there’s something I can’t figure out—” What on earth could Hachigoro have thought of? “It’s only natural that you can’t make sense of it. What exactly doesn’t make sense to you?” “When you say ten thousand ryō, that’s roughly forty kan in gold coins, right?” “A single gold coin weighs four monme, so ten thousand ryō would undoubtedly amount to forty kan in weight alone.” “How did they carry out forty kan of gold coins? —The front gate was closed at the Hour of the Rooster (6 PM) yesterday evening and hasn’t been opened since.”

“Huh?” “They say the maids and geishas from Seigetsu who left through the back gate last night weren’t carrying anything at all.” “Even two or three men carrying large luggage wouldn’t get through the back gate checkpoint.” “Didn’t the back gate guard drink any alcohol?” “Instead of drinking, he never budged an inch from the gate, so he doesn’t know a thing about what happened last night.” “Then he must have seen people coming and going—let’s ask all present and go to the back gate.”

Heiji, having judged there were no leads left to investigate here, took Hachigoro and headed to the back gate.

Two Pass Tokens

The old gatekeeper was a stubborn and inflexible man, but precisely because of that,

“From here, those who entered yesterday were five women, two men, and one boy only.” “What was in the stacked boxes was only dishes—there’s no mistake about that.”

There didn’t seem to be even the slightest error in these words.

“Not just anyone can enter through this gate, I presume.”

Heiji asked in return. “Needless to say—apart from those affiliated with this storehouse and Owari Domain personnel—townspeople require a pass token to enter or exit. This is how it works.” The old man brought out a single pass token from the gatekeeper’s waiting room and showed it. It was a koban-shaped pass token made of hinoki cypress, stamped with a brand mark. On its reverse side, “pine number eight” was written in ink.

“The five women and two men from last night must have had those as well, I presume.”

“There’s no way I’d let anyone without a pass token through here. Security is particularly tight during nighttime.” “So…?” Heiji fell silent. As for how the villains had obtained eight pass tokens for merchant access, even Heiji couldn’t figure it out for quite some time. For one or two pass tokens, someone might have borrowed them, found them, or perhaps there had been mistakes over time—but eight tokens in such quantity? No matter what schemes the villains devised, they couldn’t possibly have obtained them so easily.

“Could there be someone inside the mansion who assisted them?”

Hachigoro whispered into Heiji’s ear.

“There must be.” “No, there’s definitely someone.” “But unlike a townsman’s house, a daimyo’s mansion can’t be investigated.” “But it’ll come to light in time.”

While saying such things, Heiji’s investigative steps extended—centering on the back gate and weaving between the plantings and buildings to the right and left. “Mr. Heiji, there’s something strange—”

Ōhashi Kaneto emerged from the shrubbery and showed his face.

“What strange thing do you mean?” “When they cleared away gardener Yoji’s body, fifty ryō in gold coins were found under the floorboards. But even if he’d saved every bit of his four ryō annual salary, it would’ve taken over ten years to accumulate fifty ryō.” “Doesn’t that seem rather implausible?” Ōhashi Kaneto flared his nostrils suspiciously. “That’s precisely how I knew, Mr. Ōhashi.”

“What do you mean?” “I thought if I were to mention this, it might upset you, which is why I’ve kept silent until now.”

“—” “There was someone within this honorable mansion who colluded with the villains.” “Collusion?” “Every detail of the mansion’s interior had been laid bare to them. Furthermore, someone must have stolen the gate pass tokens from the gatekeeper’s waiting room and sold them to the conspirators. Let us inquire how many are missing.” Heiji, Hachigoro, and Ōhashi Kaneto promptly questioned the gatekeepers at both gates. The storehouse compound’s gate passes—the tokens entrusted to townspeople for entry—numbered thirty in total. While this count remained fixed, fluctuations in merchant traffic meant twenty-five or twenty-six were typically issued out. The remaining five or three always stayed in the gatekeeper’s waiting room as reserves.

By cross-referencing the ledger with the number of tokens, it became immediately apparent. “Two are missing—Plum Number Five and Bamboo Number Seven.” Even the stubborn gatekeeper turned pale at this moment. Losing gate passes had always been—both now and in the past—a grave blunder, and should things go awry, those responsible could very well be relieved of their positions. “But with just two passes,” Ōhashi Kaneto interjected, “there’s no way eight villains could’ve gotten in.”

Ōhashi Kaneto offered a token gesture of assistance. This samurai was unexpectedly compassionate, likely trying to somehow save the honest gatekeeper from his oversight.

“So, did last night’s eight villains enter through the gate all at once?” “No, I think they carried the meals one or two at a time over four or five trips—”

In response to Heiji’s question, the gatekeeper began counting on his fingers.

“That’s how I figured it out, Mr. Ōhashi.” “Please take a look at this.”

Heiji continued, leading Ōhashi Kaneto to the shade of the plantings on the back gate side.

“—From inside the mansion, there’s a kite string caught on this chinquapin tree branch overhanging the wall—but what do you make of this?” “Isn’t this just a child’s prank? They must have caught the kite on the chinquapin tree and torn it off, leaving only the string behind.” “Don’t you think it’s strange to have a kite after the rainy season?” “Indeed.” Ōhashi Kaneto grunted. In reality, Edo’s annual customs weren’t as disorderly as in modern times—the notion of town children flying kites come May or June, long after March had ended, was utterly inconceivable.

“This was done by criminal accomplices slipping past the gatekeeper’s notice—they threw a thread weighted with a small stone onto a chinquapin tree branch from outside and left its end hanging inside the wall.” “—” “Last night’s first two criminals who entered through the back gate using two pass tokens likely hung those tokens from the kite string’s end and tossed them over the wall to two others waiting outside.” “By repeating this four times, two pass tokens let eight people through the gate.”

“—”

Perhaps having yielded to Heiji’s superior insight, Ōhashi Kaneto fell silent. “They could’ve thrown the passes from inside the gate to those outside,” Heiji continued, “but these dried hinoki wood tokens—toss one wrong, and they’d hit the gravel beyond the wall with a clatter loud enough to wake the dead.” “And in that pitch darkness,” he added, “a single miscalculation would’ve sent them plopping straight into the river.” “I see,” Ōhashi conceded. “That detail escaped me.” “No child tangling a kite string would’ve weighted it with a stone.”

Ōhashi Kaneto had finally come to understand this much. "With a scheme this elaborate, no one guarding the gate could’ve withstood it." "It can never be called the gatekeeper’s oversight." Heiji took this moment to offer a brief defense for that stubborn gatekeeper.

Exiting from the back gate, Zenigata Heiji carefully surveyed his surroundings as he made his way toward Minami-Odawara-cho. “Where are you going, Boss?”

To Hachigoro, who had followed from behind, Heiji's investigative behavior—gazing at the seawater and peering into Inari shrines—was impossible to comprehend.

“I thought they wouldn’t discard it near the compound.” “Take a look, Hachi.”

What Heiji pointed to lay beneath Honganji Bridge—back when these waters were still pristine—where high tide had deeply submerged cups, sake bottles, plates and small bowls, a tiered lunchbox containing leftover food, and chopsticks and sashimi garnishes drifting untethered by the current. “You got this one figured out too!” “It’s the work of two women who came to the storehouse compound this morning and killed Yokichi the gardener. If they’d brought these things to Seigetsu, their disguises would’ve been exposed immediately—so they probably tossed them here to cover their tracks.”

Heiji had foreseen everything. "Why on earth did they kill Yokichi? They invested fifty ryō in him—if they'd kept him alive, he might've been useful for something."

“You might think that at first glance,” said Heiji, “but that old man knew too much. He must’ve seen everything from last night too—if they’d pressed him, he wouldn’t have kept quiet about where the 10,000 ryō was hidden.” “Where do you think the 10,000 ryō is, Boss?”

“That’s why I came out here—to investigate it.” “Let’s head back outside the storehouse compound once more.” “Huh?” Heiji and Hachigoro headed back to the storehouse compound once more. Heiji made a full circle around the three- or four-block-long outer wall, “Take a look, Hachi.”

He came to an abrupt stop in front of a small floodgate—built up with stones—that drew water into the tidal pool. “This here’s right in the demon gate direction, Boss.” “I’m not checking the house’s orientation. Though you might not argue against this—the 10,000 ryō in gold coins escaped through that floodgate.” “Huh?” “The walls are high, the security’s tight, and if we assume the eight who left through the back gate weren’t carrying anything—then sending the 10,000 ryō in gold coins through this floodgate into the sea is the only way they could’ve gotten them out of the compound.”

“Huh?”

“The floodgate’s too narrow for humans to slip through, but gold coins would pass right through,” “One person inside the mansion could send them out in a ladle or something for their comrades outside to catch.” “It’d take a good two hours to move ten thousand coins, but manageable for a single night’s work.” “Makes sense. Though for all that trouble, hardly seems worth it.” “Transport it by boat from here, and they could reach Ayase, Katakawa—hell, even the Kanda River by my house before dawn.”

“Wow, I’m astonished, Boss.”

“It’s awkward when you act so surprised.” “Even if we’ve uncovered how the gold was taken out, we still don’t know where it went or who actually stole it.” “—” “Anyway, let’s take these findings and withdraw for now.” “I’ll mull over the rest during an afternoon nap.”

Heiji had a resigned demeanor. Even if he pushed himself, it didn't seem like anything more would come to light easily.

Oshizu’s Guest

“Boss, isn’t this strange? Missus isn’t the type to leave the house open when you’re away, Boss, but…”

When they entered the alleyway, despite the sun still being high, all the shutters of Heiji’s house were securely closed. Even when they knocked and called out, there was no response.

“She must’ve gone to her mother’s place to dawdle around or something.” “There’s a hidden key at the kitchen door—don’t worry.”

Heiji went around to the back, slipped his hand through the latticework to unfasten the kitchen door’s latch without any trouble, and with Hachigoro’s help opened the storm shutters. “Should I run over to your ma’s place in Sakumachō?” “No need—she’ll come back once her business is done.” “There’s cold rice left, and I can manage heating sake at least.” “Sorry ’bout this, Boss—makin’ you handle such things.” “Quit sweet-talkin’ and get a fire goin’. Though I shouldn’t be orderin’ guests around like this.”

“Heh, ain’t wrong there.” Heiji and Hachigoro somehow managed to prepare the meal. With work ill-suited for men’s hands, it was already growing dim by the time they found themselves sitting face-to-face with sake cups before them.

“Missus is late, isn’t she? You just went to pick her up earlier today, didn’t you?” “Leave it be. Once it gets dark enough, her mother’ll send her back.” Heiji said this casually enough, but contemplating Oshizu—who never went out while he was away—made his sake taste faintly bitter. Even the normally carefree Gara Hachi had grown uncharacteristically quiet. To Hachigoro, Boss Heiji’s beloved wife Oshizu was his eternal Beatrice—such was his resolve that he’d gladly throw away his life should any harm come to her.

Shy, kind, and eternally girlish—Oshizu's pristine beauty and meticulous care as a housewife, which established an impenetrable barrier as the Boss's beloved wife, became the very object of Hachigoro's worshipful admiration. What possible issue could there be? The bitter-edged sake bottles stacked up one after another. In terms of quantity, it was more than Heiji would normally consume, but even as they exchanged banter, there was no sign of drunkenness. Yet even that banter gradually waned, and as the night deepened, the two—each lost in their own thoughts—found themselves lapsing into silence more often.

“What time is it?”

Hachigoro raised his lackluster brows. "The one that just struck was Ueno's boar hour (ten o'clock), maybe." "Isn't it getting a bit too late? Maybe we should make a quick run over there after all."

Hachigoro couldn’t bear it any longer and stood up. At that time, if Gara Hachi were to dash to the house of Oshizu’s mother—who lived in Sakumachō—he could make it there and back in a quarter-koku (about half an hour). “Well, thanks for the trouble—”

Now that things had come to this, Heiji no longer felt inclined to forcibly stop him. No—rather than that, a faint regret that *he should have sent someone to fetch her a little earlier* ached dully in his unclouded chest.

After Hachigoro had left, the loneliness inside the house felt particularly acute. In the corner of the room dimly lit by two lamp wicks fixed with cloves, Oshizu’s everyday summer kimono—hastily folded with sleeves tucked in her rush to depart—lay with a thin cord tossed carelessly over it, all of which inexplicably stirred Heiji’s unresolved sentiment.

“――”

Heiji clicked his tongue once and stretched widely—as if it were a signal—when the clattering footsteps of a woman came rushing down the alleyway. “Ah! You’re safe!” Who else but Oshizu would have opened the lattice, rushed in, and clumsily stumbled onto the entrance step? “Oshizu, what happened?” In midsummer, Heiji—as though drawn—leaned out through the entrance where the shoji screens had been left open. “You really didn’t do anything?”

“What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine as you can see—but you—” “Oh? You’re injured. Let me see your face.” Heiji dragged her inside Asama’s house. When he brought the lantern closer, blood flowed from Oshizu’s left temple, drawing two or three crimson lines across her painfully flushed yet full cheek. “My injury isn’t serious,” she said. “But what about you?” “What nonsense are you spouting? I’ll live to see a hundred.” “Rather than worrying about me, we need to treat that wound.”

“But they said you were cut by a villain and might not survive—” “Who said that?”

Heiji was also surprised. Oshizu’s story was far too outlandish. “It was a boy about fifteen or sixteen years old—he said you and Mr. Hachigoro went chasing after 10,000 ryō in gold coins to Yanaka’s Five-Storied Pagoda, but villains ambushed you—Mr. Hachigoro was cut down and killed, and you were seriously injured—” As if to say “How inauspicious—” Oshizu waved her hand near her face. “Hachi being cut down—that’s a good one. If he heard that, it’d scare the life out of him—Oh! Speaking of which, looks like a ghost with legs has come back.”

The lattice that Heiji pointed to—Hachigoro appeared at the entrance, which Oshizu had left wide open after entering, with a worried look on his face. “Boss, Sis hasn’t gone to her mother’s place in Sakumachō either.” “Thanks, thanks, thanks.” “She came back just as you left—looks like she’s got a bit of an injury, but it’s nothing serious.” Heiji washed Oshizu’s wound with shochu and applied an improvised plaster.

The sight of even a hairline wound marring her flawless, beautiful face was painful enough to make Hachigoro squirm—but fortunately, the injury itself was minor. Now fully reassured, she looked back and forth between her husband Heiji and Hachigoro as if seeing them anew. “Where did you get that injury?” “I heard that you and I were surrounded by villains in Yanaka—that you were gallantly cut down, I was injured, and it was unclear whether I’d live or die—so I rushed out.”

Heiji explained instead. “Huh? Me bein’ killed in battle—well, I don’t really get that vibe,” Gara Hachi began stroking his own neck.

“By the way—when you went to Yanaka, what happened?”

Heiji asked his wife Oshizu again after he had finished treating her wound.

“—I hurried to Yanaka with the lad.” “It was still broad daylight, so I didn’t think it would be particularly risky.” Oshizu had finally calmed down and was now ruminating on the terror of her own adventure. “Then what?”

Heiji impatiently urged her to continue. “The young boy guided me into the Five-Storied Pagoda.” “Since I’d heard something had happened there recently in the Five-Storied Pagoda, I didn’t find it strange at all. When I followed the boy inside, someone suddenly struck me on the head from the side, and I lost consciousness.”

“The wound on your temple must’ve come from then—and then?”

“When I came to after some time, I found myself in a hollow, dimly lit space—my hands and feet tied up, a monkey-gag stuffed in my mouth, left sprawled on the ground.” “My head pulsed with pain, the air reeked of dust, and as I lay there moaning like I might die any moment, didn’t someone go and quietly slide open the door?” “Who was it?”

“That person.” “Ah—I wonder if that person has gone back.” “...the woman who brought me all the way here.” Oshizu suddenly looked as though she were about to rush outside.

“Where are you going, Oshizu?” “The person who rescued me from the Five-Storied Pagoda brought me all the way here. Hachigoro, wasn’t there a young married woman around here?”

Oshizu’s memory had returned.

“Now that you mention it, there was a self-important middle-aged woman standing alone in the alley, looking troubled.” “If she’d been on a bridge or under a pine tree, I couldn’t just leave her there—but in an alley, there’s no good spot for hanging oneself. Figured it was probably just a lovers’ spat or something and didn’t pay it much mind—”

“That’s the person, Mr. Hachigoro.” “For my sake, please guide my lifesaver here properly with courtesy.” “I want to express my gratitude sincerely.”

“Alright, here we go!” Hachigoro dashed out. After that, for a while, there was some commotion and scuffling in the alley, but eventually, he returned leading a young woman—a radiant twenty-one- or twenty-two-year-old who seemed to bloom fragrantly even in the dark—grasping her bare hands and wrists as if taking her into custody. “Hey there, Boss Hachigoro.” “If you keep yanking me like that, you’ll pull my wrist right out of its socket!” Her voice carried a slightly coquettish nasal tone. “If your pretty arm gets pulled out of its socket, sawdust’ll come spilling out—just relax and come with me.” “I’ll have Boss Zenigata himself give you his heartfelt thanks.”

“But I feel awkward.” “What’s there to be shy about?” The one who had been dragged into the latticework amid all the commotion was a striking middle-aged woman with a vivid bluish scar on her eyebrow—Ogin, the wife of the teahouse that sold flowers forlornly beneath Yanaka’s Five-Storied Pagoda. “Oh—it’s you.” Taking a single glance at the middle-aged woman’s face, Heiji faltered slightly in his demeanor. Some time ago, Heiji had been told by Hachigoro about how this beautiful wife had been nursing an unrequited affection for him, pestering Hachigoro to bring him along whenever she caught him.

“Boss… I’ve done something terrible.”

“Something terrible?”

Hachigoro parroted back the question. "I saw Miss Oshizu being tricked by villains and taken into the Five-Storied Pagoda—as you know, from my shop it’s practically within spitting distance of the pagoda." “—” Heiji’s eyes silently urged her onward. A hydrangea-hued unlined kimono, brows like fresh ink strokes, skin so pale it seemed almost translucent—one incisor missing, cheeks so full they bore a solitary dimple even without smiling—this woman’s allure possessed an otherworldly mystique that defied earthly measure.

If not for her slightly nasal alto voice and that strangely sensual allure, this woman—in the living flesh—might have been mistaken for a spirit of legend. “Then a large blue-bearded samurai came to my house—‘What did you see just now?’—‘No need to hide it. Now that you’ve seen it, there’s no use making excuses.’” “In exchange, I’m putting you in charge of watching that woman. If by any chance you let her escape, I’ll crush this shop and wring your scrawny neck—remember that.”

“――”

Ogin’s story gradually grew more serious.

“That terrifying samurai kept watch over the Five-Storied Pagoda for a while, but then he vanished somewhere.” “For a time, I froze in terror—but when I thought of Miss Oshizu—Boss Zenigata’s wife—being slaughtered right before my eyes, I couldn’t just cling to thoughts of my own safety.” “Once the surroundings grew dark enough, I slipped into the Five-Storied Pagoda, untied Miss Oshizu’s bonds—she was half-dead by then—and brought her here.”

Ogin let out a relieved sigh after finishing her account. “Thank you. This is belated, but I’ll give my thanks. If I’d left her alone, there’s no telling what kind of trouble my wife would be in by now.” “Oh, Boss… When you put it that way—” “By the way, what do you intend to do now?”

Heiji pressed further with his questioning. "That's why I couldn't bring myself to leave the alley. If I return to Yanaka, they'll surely realize I rescued Miss Oshizu from the Five-Storied Pagoda—that blue-bearded samurai would never let me go unpunished." "――" "But even so, with nowhere to turn, Boss Hachigoro caught me while I was at my wit's end." Ogin finally managed to say everything and bowed her head bashfully. With every slight movement, the scent of her incense sachet wafted up abruptly, her faintly visible cheeks hazing beneath her large chignon.

“What will become of the shop in Yanaka?” “Since there’s an elderly uncle there, we’ll manage somehow.” “Having been married off elsewhere only to return after a failed union—my uncle doesn’t rely on someone like me.” The woman from Yanaka—Ogin, niece of the flower shop owner or more precisely a returned divorcee—had once helped Oshizu but lacked the courage to return to her former life in Yanaka. Wandering through back alleys aimlessly, she ended up being apprehended by Hachigoro.

“But I should go back. Even if that samurai says such harassing things, it’s certainly just a threat. What would come of taking further revenge on a weak woman like me?” Ogin, judging the opportune moment, quietly stood up. “Oh, you—if you go back now, the night roads are dangerous, and besides, that samurai might take revenge on you.” Oshizu involuntarily blocked the entrance and stopped Ogin from leaving.

“Thank you very much, Miss Oshizu. Your kindness truly warms my heart, but I still must return to Yanaka—well then, Boss.” Ogin greeted Heiji and, without any hesitation, began searching for her wooden sandals in the dimly lit dirt-floored entryway. “Boss.”

Hachigoro was in a strangely unsettled mood. If Boss Heiji had just uttered a single word of approval—"Alright then"—Ogin might have found the resolve to brave the perilous night road back to Yanaka. But seeing Heiji’s face twisted as if chewing on a bitter bug, Hachigoro felt it wasn’t his place as a mere underling to interfere here. “Alright then, I’ll escort you.”

A careless remark escaped Hachigoro’s lips. This peerless “feminist” was perhaps a tad too soft-hearted to silently watch Ogin’s distress without intervening. “Well, my apologies—I’ll accept your offer then.” “Boss Zenigata, Miss Oshizu.”

Ogin politely made her farewells and stood in the starlit alley with Hachigoro urging her on.

“Wait, please, Boss Hachigoro.”

From behind Hachigoro, who strode briskly ahead, came the fragmented scent of a powdered incense sachet. "This ain't no joke—you're scheming to shack up next to Boss Zenigata, ain't ya? Don't think I don't see through it—not to overstep, but I've got the whole picture clear as day." "Didn't you blab once 'bout having some hopeless crush on the Boss? Rescuing Miss Oshizu and slithering your way in—gotta admit it's a slick move, but it won't fly with someone like him." "Oh."

Ogin hurriedly approached and stood side by side with Hachigoro. “Boss Zenigata has learned his lesson from that mess with Oraku’s scheming—detailed in *Heiji’s Woman Troubles*. Trying to sneak into that house? Hopeless.” Hachigoro blurted it out bluntly.

“That’s not my intention, Boss Hachigoro.” “That’s why I took on this tactless job and dragged you out here.” “No hard feelings—just point your snout north and trudge straight to Yanaka Forest.”

Hachigoro seemed to be in a good mood. “Oh,Boss Hachigoro.” “Oh no,Hachi,I don’t have any such intentions.” “Please take me to your house.” “Alright right? Right?”

An astonishingly bewitching nasal voice—when Hachigoro heard it, he felt dizzy and unsteady.

Ogin's Lodging Despite being spoken to bluntly by Hachigoro, Ogin silently followed along. The darkness of the night road made it hard to see clearly, but her figure—with darkened eyebrows downcast, trudging as if dampened by the night dew—evoked a strange sense of melancholy. Hachigoro, the self-styled feminist, wasn’t entirely oblivious to this. Yet his struggle to break free from her strange allure might have driven him to voice harsh words he didn’t truly mean.

In the depths of a back alley in Mukouyanagiwara, at the home of his aunt Oasa, who made ends meet through sewing and other odd jobs, Hachigoro finally arrived. Hachigoro, who had long been lodging at Heiji’s house, was taken in by his aunt two or three years ago when he became the sole wielder of a jitte, with the intention of marrying and starting a household. However, due to his innate carefree nature—saving no money, securing no wife, and having no one to arrange a marriage for him—he remained a carefree drifter, flying all around Edo as ever.

“Aunt, I’m back now.” When he struck his fist against the storm shutter with its mesh-like gaps, “Don’t get fresh knocking on the front door like that. Where have you been wandering until this late hour?” In this manner, the light inside flickered.

Hachigoro’s aunt Oasa was fifty-two—a woman of formidable willpower yet prone to tears, kindhearted, and a sharp-tongued old woman. She would briskly scold this thirty-year-old man, yet doted on him as if he were her own child.

“We have a guest—just open the front door without any fuss.” “Oh.” Upon hearing “guest,” she swallowed the scolding that had risen to her throat and, holding a hand candle in one hand, swung open the firmly closed front door with a clatter. “Sorry about this, Aunt. I’m back late.” “I thought it was strange how smooth-talking this kid was being, and now you’ve brought home some suspicious guest, haven’t you?” When his aunt saw Ogin following behind Hachigoro, she became fully wary and stood blocking the entire entrance.

“Aunt, there’s no such thing as a ‘strange guest’—she’s a guest from Boss Zenigata’s place.” “She helped Miss Oshizu out of a dangerous spot.”

“Oh.” Hachigoro strained to explain himself. “Step aside there and let us in, Aunt.” Hachigoro’s hand twitched as he tried to shove past his gaunt aunt barricading the doorway. “No good—you think I’m blind or somethin’?” “―”

Aunt scrutinized Ogin with the zeal of a Hon'ami appraiser, from the crown of her head down to the tips of her bare toes fading into the darkness. "If someone helped Miss Oshizu," she said, "Boss Zenigata wouldn't have neglected them, would he? You've concocted some clever scheme to bring that woman into our house, but it won't work." "This is troublesome, Aunt." Hachigoro was completely flummoxed—for once, neither his jitte nor his arresting rope could solve this problem.

It was only natural that Aunt Oasa had set up a checkpoint and refused to let Ogin through. Holding up a hand candle, the mysterious allure of this woman floating in the darkness was truly unparalleled. Drops seemed about to fall from her voluminous hair; the contrast of her faintly shadowed face with indigo-dyed eyebrows and crimson lips—what a captivating sight it was. The hydrangea-colored unlined kimono flowing from her slender shoulders possessed an ethereal beauty like that of a spirit.

“Go on, get out of here.” “If you’re going to bring someone home anyway, at least make sure she hasn’t shaved her eyebrows and kept her teeth white.” “You’re really taking people for fools!”

The act of bringing home a woman clearly recognizable as another man’s wife must have been Hachigoro’s greatest blunder. Aunt Oasa—who had spent half her life enduring bitter struggles against stubbornness and poverty—could not bring herself to be magnanimous enough to accept her dear nephew smuggling home a shaven-browed beauty at midnight, no matter what excuses he might have prepared. “Aunt—it ain’t like that! It was really Boss Zenigata who—”

“That’s enough! If you’re going to drag someone home anyway, you might as well find a streetwalker with some class—damn it!”

Aunt slammed the front door shut and began noisily fastening the latch with metallic clanks. “Boss Hachigoro, I should return to Yanaka after all.” The woman turned her back sharply like someone fleeing an uncomfortable situation. “This is no joke. If you go back to Yanaka like this, your life’ll be in danger!”

“But,”

Ogin, as if aware of Hachigoro clinging to her, dashed out into the main street from the dark alley without hesitation.

“Wait. Aunt’s stubborn as you saw—no matter how much you reason with her, she won’t suddenly give in. If you’ve got relatives or acquaintances somewhere, settle there awhile. Then later, we’ll have Miss Oshizu come plead with Aunt—how’s that sound?”

Hachigoro stepped closer and closer to Ogin, about to pat her shoulder, but suddenly caught himself and withdrew his hand. Ogin’s shoulders shrank pitifully, exuding an air that invited his caress, but Hachigoro—recalling what his aunt had just said—managed to stop himself in the nick of time from acting improperly familiar with this black-toothed woman.

“I was raised an orphan—done in by a bride who only wanted my money.” “The uncle in Yanaka wasn’t blood kin either—just a foster relative I’d been passed to.” “―” “And then I went and left my husband’s house of my own stubbornness—that’s the kind of woman I am.”

“―” “I’m truly sorry for angering Aunt like that...”

Despite her somber words, Ogin’s feet began moving back toward Myojinshita. “So where do you intend to go?” “I just remembered there’s one house in Myojinshita where I know someone—right in Boss Zenigata’s neighborhood.”

Ogin stopped and let out a relieved sigh.

The place Ogin led Hachigoro to was a modest nagaya in the back alley behind Heiji’s house, seemingly forgotten at the edge of Daidokoro-cho.

“――” Ogin pressed close to the front door and knocked lightly two or three times in an odd rhythm. After some clattering inside, the door soon opened from within.

“Oh! You—what are you doing here at this hour?” A woman who appeared slightly older than Ogin—and equally beautiful—emerged holding a lantern, dressed in nightclothes.

“I was sent here by Boss Hachigoro.”

“Oh!” “Could you let me stay awhile? I can’t go back to Yanaka anymore.” “Had another fight with your uncle, did you? You’re both so stubborn.” “It’s not that simple.” “Well now, come in. I’ll hear the full story later—but Boss Hachigoro, you come too. Might feel odd being a women’s household, but there’s no shady business with face powder here.”

As if brushing aside the woman’s words with his large palm,

“In that case, I’ll head back.”

Hachigoro turned his back. “Hey, Boss—even a women’s household keeps some sake around.” “After you went through the trouble of bringing my sworn sister Miss Ogin here, it’d be rude to send you off from the doorway now, wouldn’t it?” The master’s woman jammed her feet into clogs and clattered outside, then tugged at Hachigoro’s sleeve from behind.

Pungently, something wafted on the night wind—it felt like the Akasaka lodgings along the Tokaido highway. “Sis, please keep Boss Hachigoro here. He’s done so much for us.”

From inside the house came Ogin's nasal voice, suggesting she had already entered. "I won't let go even if thunder cracks. Right, Boss? Take a peek at our women's household—if you're willing, we'll let you sleep right between Miss Ogin and me and pamper you all night long." The woman went so far as to say this while pressing against Hachigoro's shoulders. The soft warmth of her hands couldn't help but stir his youthful impulses.

“All right then, just for a little while.” Hachigoro spinelessly turned on his heel.

“I won’t keep you for a month or even a year. Just a short while—five or six days.” “Enough with the jokes.” Having been invited inside, Hachigoro suddenly drew back. For a household managed by a single woman, it was surprisingly opulent. The mistress of the house appeared to be twenty-four or twenty-five—a dark-complexioned woman of striking features who, compared to Ogin, lacked sensual allure. Yet her deft handling of affairs and spirited demeanor were remarkable, lending her a beauty that transcended mere physical appearance.

While the young Ogin was dressed in coming-of-age attire with shaved eyebrows and blackened teeth, the mistress—in a mature maiden’s appearance rare for these times—efficiently adjusted her attire, scattered burnt charcoal, and promptly dropped a stick into the iron kettle.

As Ogin explained the night's events, [the mistress] listened with compliant hums— “Boss Zenigata is quite underhanded, isn’t he? You’re just too beautiful—he held back out of respect for his holiness, didn’t you?” she said pointedly.

The next morning—though it was said to be morning, with the summer sun blazing down directly overhead and the eaves’ shadows having shrunk to their smallest, it was nearly noon.

“Heh heh heh! Boss, things have gotten interesting!” Hachigoro entered while letting out an uncontrollable, idiotic laugh—like a barrel with its hoops off—that defied any attempt to rein it in. “What a way to greet someone. Why don’t you try keeping your face a bit more composed when you walk?” “This is all I can manage. After all, I was kept up all night by two lively women—hardly got any sleep, heh heh.”

“What nun tenement did you hole up in, you ridiculous fool?”

“It’s not some nun tenement or anything.” “Two proper beauties with all their hair—total amateurs.” “We drank, ate, cried and laughed, posed riddles and played rock-paper-scissors—before we knew it, dawn broke. Heh!” Garappa no Hachigoro had escorted Ogin to a certain tenement in Daidokoro-cho—a mysterious all-female household located just behind Heiji’s own home—where he ended up being persuaded to stay through the night, drinking until daybreak, and now had arrived at Heiji’s house in a daze.

“As for why it was so fun—well, there were two beauties, you know?” “You idiot!” Heiji barked a rebuke. “But Boss, Auntie’s in such a foul mood I can’t even get near her. So I asked that woman if she knew anyone nearby—she said there’s someone named Miss Oraku right behind your house. Ended up feeling like I had to escort her there.”

“You did say Oraku, didn’t you?”

Heiji asked back. “It’s definitely Oraku. She was a middle-aged woman of about twenty-four or twenty-five with white teeth who seemed never to have tasted hardship. She could hold her liquor, knew how to banter, was generous, and downright alluring—”

“So you went in there, took their invitation to stay, and spent a whole night making idle chatter between two women—is that it?” “Heh, that’s just how carefree I was.” “For a woman, she didn’t mention household chores or rice prices even once.” “We drank, ate, talked ourselves hoarse—cracking jokes from riddles to rock-paper-scissors—”

“I’ve already heard that—now then, Hachi.” “Heh.”

“When I think about it, that Ogin is my wife’s lifesaver.” “Heh.” “Last night, my timing was off, so I let her go without detaining her—but now that I think about it properly, that’s inexcusable as a human being.” “Right, Hachi.” “Heh… Is that so?” Hachigoro was somewhat taken aback by the splendid suddenness of Heiji’s change in attitude. “I feel bad for you, but could you guide me to that Miss Oraku’s house in Daidokoro-cho one more time?”

“Heh, you’re going yourself, Boss?” “I’ve got to give proper thanks—it’d weigh on me otherwise.” “Well color me shocked! Heh.” Hachigoro stood utterly flummoxed, yet Heiji continued readying himself to depart regardless.

“I’ve got a request—a humble request—the sun’s still high, you know. What are you doing closing up shop this early—? The magistrate’s envoy is here—hey!”

When Garappa Hachigoro arrived in front of Oraku’s house in Daidokoro-cho, he left Heiji waiting and bellowed at the top of his voice. Basking in the blazing midsummer sun that had shifted westward, the tightly shuttered front door was an unheard-of sight among the townhouses in this area—but Hachigoro was hardly the type to care about such things.

“Who is it? “If you have business, come back at night.” “I’m right at the edge of sleep here—this isn’t a joke!” The voice that answered from inside was that of the mistress, Oraku. “What’s with the attitude? The sun’s still high.” “Even high-class courtesans are waking up around now—it’s time they start putting on their makeup.”

“Oh~ Boss Hachigoro. Still thirsty for more drinks?” The door opened two or three inches, revealing Oraku’s tanned—yet shrewd—face peering out. “What’s with the attitude? If you’re that desperate to drink, just go straight back to your place.” “There’s a straw mat cover plopped down at the main entrance!” “What straw mat cover?” “Goddammit! That straw mat cover means Nada’s pure-brewed sake—anyway, can’t you see who’s standing behind me?” “Boss Zenigata came all this way to thank that ‘Miss Oraku’ of yours!”

“Oh~ So Boss Zenigata’s staging an exhibition, huh? — Hey, Miss Ogin! Looks like your heart’s desire might finally be fulfilled.” “Do wake up now! They say Boss Zenigata specially came all this way for you.”

When Oraku’s face withdrew, the house erupted into a thudding, clattering commotion. They folded bedding, swept floors, changed clothes, and fixed their makeup—a frenzy rivaling the seven quick changes of a country play.

“Please, come in.” When Oraku reopened the front door, her face—struck full-on by the resplendent evening sun—flared crimson as though set ablaze.

“What an unwelcome intrusion.”

Heiji followed Hachigoro and slid inside. "Oh now, Boss—such talk!" The two women briskly guided Heiji to the six-mat living room. Even Hachigoro's dulled senses registered furnishings so opulent they practically hummed—if one ignored their garish taste, every detail from door fittings to decorative items clearly bore extravagant costs. "Oh Boss—have a cup." Ogin seated Heiji before the long hibachi and poured his first tepid serving.

Where she had managed to change into such a gaudy yukata was a mystery, but when she leaned forward to offer the sake flask with her posture relaxed, the faint waft of perfume she let drift was a masterful touch. “My apologies, Miss Ogin. Last night, in front of my wife, I had no choice but to act that way. Oh, come on—cut me some slack.” “Oh, Boss.” Ogin seemed driven by an impulse to hold Heiji—who had slumped his head before the long hibachi—suspended in midair. So sincere was Heiji’s demeanor, and so thoroughly coquettish remained Ogin’s manner.

Oraku and Hachigoro

“I never even dreamed there’d be such a stylish house in this area.” “Oh, Boss—it’s not exactly stylish, but if it suits your taste, won’t you visit us now and then? As a woman living alone, I get nothing but scornful looks wherever I go—it’s terribly lonely. Just knowing I’m under Boss Zenigata’s wing gives me more courage than I can say.” Oraku’s demeanor turned solemn. Though lacking Ogin’s beauty, she possessed a spirited wit and peculiar charm—vulgar yet tinged with unexpected refinement.

“The sake's finally heated. Come on, Boss.” Ogin pulled a sake flask from the copper pot, deftly wiped it clean, and brought it over to Heiji. Her slightly slouched posture—one sleeve held between her teeth—combined with that husky nasal voice to create an irresistible allure. Yet what drew attention was the stark contrast: her smooth, radiant face suggested pampered beauty, while her hands bore the rough calluses of someone who'd endured hard labor in youth. “I'm sorry about last night, Miss Ogin. Sending you home without proper hospitality.”

“Oh, that’s nothing. “Oh, Boss, I’d already forgotten all about that. “And besides—” “—” After pouring sake for Heiji, Ogin adjusted her posture slightly and continued speaking.

“Moreover—I’m used to hardship. Times when I had nowhere to stay or couldn’t even get three meals a day—I can’t tell you how many there’ve been.” “Well, that’s—”

Heiji was at a loss for a response. Hearing such tales abruptly soured the mood, making even the wine taste bitter—yet Ogin appeared so immersed in her memories that she seemed unaware of it all. "I was raised in Atsugi, Sagami Province." "I was likely born from some illicit affair or such." "Sent to foster care as an unwanted child, I grew up poor—but when I turned seven and the payments from my parents ceased, my foster parents proved heartless. From that day on, they put me to work—first babysitting and running errands." "By the next year, they had me doing farm work."

“Hmm, hmm, go on.” Though the story was not at all interesting, Heiji became thoroughly engrossed, frequently tilting his sake cup as he urged Ogin to continue her reminiscences. “I did most kinds of farm work. Even though I look like this, I can carry a four-to rice bale, you know.”

Ogin, perhaps ashamed of having said such things about herself, suppressed a giggle behind the sleeve-shaped fence. "That's impressive. Even I or Hachigoro probably couldn't lift a four-to rice bale." "That wasn't strength but technique, you know—when I came of age, since I was fortunately neither disabled nor broken-nosed, marriage proposals started coming in from all over."

“Now, Miss Ogin—that’s quite something to boast about. You even sent the young master of the village’s top landowner packing, they say. If you’d really wanted to, you could’ve even become a daimyo’s concubine—quite the load to carry, isn’t it?”

Oraku launched into a tirade, heedless of her surroundings. Ogin, who had fully embraced the role of a farmer’s daughter, was asked to marry into Edo—but the 100 ryō preparation money she received was entirely pocketed by her foster parents, leaving her with a fifty-three-year-old balding man who had three grandchildren that made even the title “son-in-law” seem shameful. “Enduring that for a whole year—that’s no small feat of austerities and hardships, is it?”

Oraku cut in as if snatching the words from Ogin’s mouth, “Miss Ogin is so young and beautiful—it’s a shame to leave her as a human sacrifice like this.” “Was it so wrong of me to keep needling my friends till they ran off, Boss Zenigata?”

Oraku cheered her on from the sidelines. “But please spare me from mentioning the name of that marriage prospect. No matter how you look at it, I’d be too embarrassed, Boss.”

Ogin said this and, as if to hide her embarrassment, replaced the sake flask. Eventually, the lights were lit. Hachigoro, perhaps finally worn out from the relentless feasting since the previous night, kept squirming restlessly in his seat, while the ever-crucial Heiji sat composedly, looking as though he wouldn’t budge even if pried with a lever. “Hey there, Boss Hachigoro.” “What’s this? If you’ve got business, say it there. Don’t go beckoning me through the shoji screen like that—isn’t that creepy?”

“So, since I might be trying to seduce you, could you lend me your ear for a moment?”

That was Oraku. Her brisk tone carried a manner that left men no room to refuse. “What’s the matter?” “Oh, what a face! When a girl calls you, you should give a smoother reply.” “Even if you try to seduce me, it won’t work. The mouthpiece is clogged.” “Just like Boss Hachigoro’s pipe, isn’t it?” “What’re you griping about?”

Hachigoro hurriedly stowed away his pipe, slick with grease. He simply couldn’t hold his own against this woman. “So come here for a sec—hey Boss Hachigoro, don’t you get what Miss Ogin’s feeling toward the Boss?” “Huh?” “Miss Ogin has been saying like a mantra lately that she wants to meet Boss Zenigata.” “Well, well.”

“From a woman’s lips—though stained with ohaguro—she’s barely twenty-two.” “For such words about pining after Boss Heiji to come from that young mouth—isn’t that remarkable?” “Huh?” Hachigoro looked utterly confounded—mouth gaping then clamping shut, eyelids fluttering as he blew his nose. “Not just pining—a full-blown inferno of passion!” “Damn it all! What’s a man to do?!”

“Ow! Pinching me won’t get things started.” “I’m telling you—it’s exasperating! They say matchmakers ought to come by nightfall, don’t they? Once you bring Boss Zenigata here, there’ll be no need for Boss Hachigoro anymore—that’s what they’re saying. If you don’t vanish from these parts right now, you’ll end up dog food—but don’t you dare throw a fit over it. Miss Ogin must be thinking exactly that deep down.” Oraku’s maneuvering was nothing short of masterful.

“Hey! What’re you griping about?” “Boss Zenigata ain’t some skirt-chaser who’d mess with a random widow!” “You misjudged him, you bastard?!”

Hachigoro suddenly flew into a rage. In the flimsy house, the sound would carry straight through to Heiji’s room, but such a thing wouldn’t make Hachigoro hesitate. “My, how scary—but you know, Boss Hachigoro’s words aside, that guy’s acting rather odd.” “Even so, I’m trying to play the proper wife here.” “The results aren’t exactly great, but please call me Ama or something.” “What the— Ama?!” “I’m delighted—that’s the knack!”

Oraku clung to Hachigoro on the veranda. “Let go of me—hey—damn you!”

“Oh my, now you’re calling me ‘damn you’—how vulgar.” “Boss Zenigata has Miss Oshizu—a truly chaste and devoted wife—by his side, you know!”

“So what’s your point, Boss Hachigoro?” “The Boss isn’t the kind of man who’d make the best wife in Edo cry and then go making passes at some shape-shifting cat like Ogin!”

Hachigoro struck a dramatic pose with all his might. As had been mentioned several times, for Hachigoro, Boss Heiji’s beloved wife Oshizu was a sacred Beatrice not to be violated. “My, my, what strange things you’re saying,” said Oraku. “I thought you were a proper investigator entrusted with the jitte and arrest ropes, but it turns out you’re just Miss Oshizu’s guard, huh?” “What the—” “Or has some grand official decree been issued that no other woman may try to seduce Boss Zenigata, huh?”

“Wh-what’re you whining about?” “First of all—whether Boss Heiji actually wants you clinging to his side like some botched shrine guardian lion-dog statue—why don’t you just ask him and see?” “——”

“Isn’t Boss Zenigata sitting there so calmly with Miss Ogin pouring his drinks, looking perfectly content as he drinks?” “So what?”

Hachigoro was still persisting in his flustered state, but Oraku changed her tactics and clung to him obstinately.

“Hachi.” “Huh?” The one who suddenly called out from the next room was Heiji.

“Go home, go home. You’ve got no business left here.” “Huh?” Hachigoro’s unimpressive response. “Look at that—you’ve finally been scolded by Boss Zenigata, haven’t you? Well now, deliberation and planning all depend on timing. The more you persist, the more Boss Hachigoro looks like a fool, doesn’t he?”

“What?”

“Don’t be so prickly—let’s slip away together.” “In exchange, I’ll tag along—even if it’s beneath my station, I’ll follow you anywhere.” “Try to sweet-talk me or latch onto me all you like—heck, maybe I’ll even let you finish me off.”

Oraku latched onto Hachigoro’s neck once again.

The Leader’s Wife

After Hachigoro and Oraku had tussled their way out, the silence that followed was like the calm after a storm. The sound of the andon lamp’s wick hissing as it drew up oil could be heard, and in the garden, summer insects were singing their hearts out for their one-night love. “Well, what a commotion that was.” Ogin finally lifted her face. She looked as though she wanted to vanish from embarrassment, but as the sound of the two’s departing footsteps faded away down the alley, a sense of relief washed over her.

“——”

Heiji silently took the sakazuki cup. The strange awkwardness could only be dispelled by such an act. “Has it cooled a little now, I wonder?” The hand with which Ogin had taken up the long-handled sake decanter was indeed trembling. Her translucent face—vivid indigo eyebrows, expressive large eyes, lips like ripe silverberries—formed a mysterious collision of enigma and allure. Yet the pitiful absence of one ohaguro-blackened tooth stirred an oddly carnal sensuality.

“Now then, having gone to such lengths to prepare this elaborate setup, what exactly are you planning to discuss?”

Heiji, sensing this woman harbored some deep scheme, had nonetheless ended up facing her one-on-one exactly as per the plan. “Boss, I have something grave I’d like you to hear—I wish to borrow your wise counsel—” Ogin’s face—a face where passion and mystery intertwined—drew close to Heiji’s side, her blue-tinted eyebrows brushing near his shoulder. “Wisdom—I’m afraid I don’t have any of that—”

Heiji responded in his usual bantering tone with Hachigoro, but seeing the terrifyingly focused intensity in Ogin's expression, even he couldn't sustain the teasing and nodded with a grave face.

“It is none other than—the one I formed a connection with in Edo.”

“—”

Ogin began to speak but then looked around in all directions. “Earlier I couldn’t bring myself to say it—but why hide it now? He was Ōhashi Denden, a rōnin who led the Six-Man Gang and was known throughout the highways as a notorious bandit.”

“Did he live in Shibahachō?”

Zenigata Heiji was also surprised. That was the name of the rōnin who had once been the clerk at Omiya in Kanazawa-chō—Uhatchi, who later met his end at someone’s hand—and who had visited on the night Omiya Hanbee was murdered. “—Whether Ōhashi Denden was his real name or not, I cannot say. But he gathered subordinates—Omiya Hanbei, his clerk Uhatchi, Sadagoro of Honjo Ishihara, and Akashi Gorohatchi’s troupe couple—and carried out audacious robberies along the highways, amassing thousands of ryō. Then, years ago at Utsunoya Pass on the Tōkaidō Road, they stole Owari Domain’s official gold shipment of 12,000 ryō. That marked their final job. They cleaned their hands, entered Edo, scattered to find legitimate work individually, and waited for the heat to die down—with a pact to split 20,000 ryō three years later.”

At the sheer absurdity of Ogin’s tale—and yet its undeniable, irrefutable truth—even Zenigata Heiji found himself holding his breath.

“And then what happened?”

Ogin continued speaking quietly. “Just when we were about to wait another year and distribute 20,000 ryō among the four surviving members of the Six-Man Gang and the two or three outside helpers, an unexpected rift formed among the comrades, and each of the four began scheming to monopolize this vast sum for themselves.”

“——” “From that point onward, as you know, a brutal killing spree began.” “Who killed whom? None of it makes sense to me.” “Uhatchi killed Omiya Hanbee, then he killed Sadagoro. And Uhatchi, Akashi Gorohatchi, and Orie were killed by Ōhashi Denden.”

“What kind of man is this Ōhashi Denden?” “He has three grandchildren and is called ‘Old Teapot’ at fifty-three—but that’s Miss Oraku’s joke. He’s actually still in his forties, and oh…what a terrifying man he is.” “——”

When Ogin spoke of Ōhashi Denden—the notorious bandit who had once been her spouse—her expression took on a peculiar quality. It was certainly not accompanied by feelings like fear or disgust, but it was equally true that there was no trace of sweetness—the kind one might have when speaking of a lover or husband. “I ran away from that terrifying man.” “For a while, I stayed with my uncle in Yanaka and helped out, but it seems my former husband has tracked down even that hideout in Yanaka, so now I can’t live in peace for a single day more.”

“——” “As one targeted by Ōhashi Denden, leader of the Six-Man Gang, what better plan could I have to save my life than to throw myself into the arms of Boss Zenigata—the man who could make even a flying bird drop from the sky in Edo?”

“——”

Finally, the conversation had reached its inevitable conclusion. Zenigata Heiji sat with his arms crossed, staring at the chilled cup as he sank into silent contemplation. “I implore you, Boss Zenigata.” “Now that I’ve no one left to turn to—won’t you take pity on this wretched soul? Hide me beneath your wing, I beg you.” “——” “In return, I’ll tell you everything.” “If you desire it—Ōhashi Denden’s hideout, the hiding place of twenty thousand ryō—all of it.”

“——”

“Boss.” Ogin drew close to Zenigata Heiji’s side as if clinging to him, then gently placed her hand on his knee and began shaking it like a child pleading with their mother for something.

“Where is this Ōhashi Denden rōnin?”

“He is not in Edo at present.” “But he will return soon to transport the stolen 20,000 ryō somewhere far away.” “Where?” “I don’t know that detail, but I do know precisely where the 20,000 ryō in gold is hidden.” “If you wish it, Boss, I can guide you there this very moment.”

Ogin’s story had become terrifyingly specific.

The 20,000 ryō in gold that the Six-Man Gang had stolen and hoarded—even just the 12,000 ryō of Owari Domain’s official gold among it was cursed wealth that had cost seven or eight lives—and Ogin’s offhand remark about showing that very 20,000 ryō here and now left Heiji astonished.

“Is that true—where have you hidden that 20,000 ryō?”

“It’s nearby, Boss.” Ogin calmly reached for the sake flask. “Let me see it then.” “Oh, let’s take our time talking, Boss. While you drink, Miss Oraku has taken Boss Hachigoro out—there’s no worry about interruptions until daybreak.”

Ogin’s attitude brimmed with confidence. With this much bait laid out, she must have thought that even Zenigata Heiji—the famed informant said to have been unmatched since Edo’s founding—could be maneuvered like a wooden puppet. "But…" Heiji parried the verbal thrust. To apprehend the Six-Man Gang’s leader and recover the 20,000 ryō in gold—for those bearing the jitte and arrest rope, there could be no greater honor.

“You know, Boss. You do understand I’m risking my life for this, don’t you?” “——”

“If my former husband Ōhashi Denden were to learn of this, I couldn’t survive unharmed for even half a moment longer. —You of all people should know how terrifying that man is.” “——” “What do you suppose I’m risking my life to please you for, Boss?”

Ogin’s hand came softly to rest on Zenigata Heiji’s knee, and from below, her teary eyes gazed up at him with a pleading intensity. Before the swaying bangs, the faintly pale and misty forehead, the burning eyes, and the crimson lips, Zenigata Heiji closed his eyes and silently crossed his arms.

“——”

That was a great temptation. “Well, Boss, what am I supposed to do?” “If I remain silent like this, should I just return to my spouse’s arms?” “Or should I guide you to hand over the 20,000 ryō in gold to the authorities, only to be killed like an insect without seeing tomorrow’s light?” “——” No sooner had the fragrance—warmed by the woman’s body heat—softly enveloped Heiji’s body than Ogin rose to a half-crouch and pliantly leaned against his shoulder.

It was a magnificent display of coquetry. But Heiji still sat with his arms crossed, eyes tightly closed as if in deep meditation. “Boss… I’ve already—” The woman’s arms, which had wound around Heiji’s neck like creeping vines, were quietly loosened by his hands.

“Ogin—from your perspective, men must look like utter fools. But I’m Zenigata Heiji—it’s not like I’ve got no clue where that 20,000 ryō’s hidden.” “Huh?”

“It’s hardly skillful to let you do all the talking.” “For once, I’ll try searching based on my own deductions.”

Heiji declared something momentous.

Underground Gold

“Well, as expected of Boss Zenigata.” “Then would you kindly guide me to where that gold is hidden?” Ogin reverted to her original cold demeanor and, stepping back slightly, watched Heiji’s movements.

“The Owari Domain’s official gold of 12,000 ryō was first hidden at Omiya’s place in Kanazawa-machi, but when infighting broke out among them, they moved it to Yanaka’s five-storied pagoda.” “—” “After being placed once in the Owari storehouse compound only to be stolen again, the criminals must have kept it close at hand this time.” “A thief’s nature won’t let them keep stolen gold far from their grasp.” “Omiya hid it in his own house, and when it was at Yanaka’s pagoda, you kept watch from that flower shop right beside it.” “When they tried moving it out to the Sumida River last time—their scheme was too elaborate, so I tracked it down straightaway—”

“—”

Heiji's deductions, ignoring Ogin beside him, proceeded to solve this equation.

“This time it’s not Omiya’s place—by watching your eyes since earlier, I’ve already uncovered where that gold is hidden.” “Shall I show you, Ogin?” Heiji suddenly stood up and picked up the lantern with one hand. “——”

Ogin silently watched this.

“Lend a hand already—you’re no princess.” As he said this, Heiji casually lifted the three-foot-high platform in the corner of the room. Beneath it lay another single plank, this one equipped with a meticulously attached handhold ring. “Enough, Boss—I never underestimated you, but I overestimated myself.” “Let me show you instead—hand me the lantern.” When they raised the floorboard, a gaping black void appeared below; holding the lantern close revealed a ladder slanted downward into the darkness.

“Now, get in.”

From behind came Heiji.

“There might be spiderwebs.” “After you.”

Ogin neatly tucked up the hem of her kimono and, holding the lantern in one hand, skillfully stepped onto the ladder and descended into the pit. Needless to say, Zenigata Heiji followed after her. The underground vault was unexpectedly spacious, with dried planks laid across the floor, roughly spanning about four and a half tatami mats in size. Boxes were stacked along three sides of the underground vault, each one a hastily made thousand-ryō chest. That this enormous sum of 10,000 ryō lay concealed within them required no investigation to confirm—the ominousness of the surroundings, the chill air, and Ogin’s uncharacteristic expression made it plain.

The two had placed the lantern aside and now found themselves facing each other on opposite sides of the underground vault. "By the way, Oei."

Zenigata Heiji suddenly called her by her old name. “Huh?” “No need to hide it, Oei. Plucking your eyebrows, dyeing your teeth, even breaking a tooth—that’d generally change your appearance, and altering your voice is your greatest specialty. But no matter how much effort you put in, didn’t you notice there’s one thing that hasn’t changed at all?” In the past, this was likely a koji room or similar—a basement constructed without any ill intent. It was the cunning of the villains that discovered this and turned it into a hiding place for their stolen treasure. Even someone as sharp as Heiji had never dreamed that such a place existed right behind his own house.

Putting that aside, within the narrow underground vault—sandwiched between stacks of 20,000 ryō in gold coins and the feeble glow of a solitary lantern—Zenigata Heiji and Oei’s Ogin faced each other. The woman’s eyes, ablaze with wicked love and fierce hostility, snapped a challenge at Heiji, but he coldly met her gaze, watching to see what move she would make. “The fact that you’re Oei—I didn’t realize it when I saw you under the five-storied pagoda. That was my grave mistake.” “But no matter how I think about it, Oei has to be alive. If she’s alive, she’ll undoubtedly come near the 10,000 ryō in gold.”

“―” “That’s what I was waiting for.” “The flies drawn to the 10,000 ryō in gold―I realized at the Owari Domain’s storehouse compound that they were a woman named Oraku, a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old youngster, and that middle-aged woman with plucked eyebrows and blackened teeth clinging to the boy.” “―” Heiji continued this strange argument in a tone that brooked no retreat. “The woman who plucked her eyebrows rescued my wife from inside the five-storied pagoda.” “The story unfolded too smoothly―I knew it was fabricated from the start. But upon closer inspection of that woman―though her face and voice were different―there was one thing that undeniably marked her as Oei: her hands.”

“You can alter your face and appearance however you like, but a person can’t change their own hands—and yours, trained through acrobatics, are as rugged as a man’s, unlike your face or figure.” “—”

Oei’s Ogin looked startled and hid her hands behind her back. "When I noticed those hands, you panicked and started spinning that plausible tale about being sent away as a foster child in your youth and made to do farm work. But hands roughened by farming and hands toughened by acrobatics must be different."

Heiji's accusation was flawlessly structured, leaving not a single chink in its logic. "So what?" Oei retorted. "Boss Zenigata." Her defiance wavered into resignation under this relentless scrutiny. When cornered with such meticulous precision, she could no longer sustain the mask of composure. "That settles everything," Heiji stated coldly. "As long as you're Oei - the woman who claimed to be Omiya's niece - nothing more need be said."

“Boss, that’s not all there is to it.” “If I were Oei, wouldn’t I still have something to say?”

“That’s right. If you’re Oei, then by the authority of the jitte and arrest rope entrusted to me, I have no choice but to bind you here.” “You’d bind me?” “You had that boy Sadakichi help you—though he looks fourteen or fifteen, he’s actually older. Sixteen? Seventeen? You used that youngster as your tool to commit one crime after another.” Heiji pressed on with his accusation. “You deceived your comrades into moving the gold from Omiya to Yanaka’s five-storied pagoda, no doubt promising to split it there. But then you reconsidered—couldn’t bear to part with that gold. So you had that hormone-driven boy Sadakichi help you murder Omiya Hanbee first.”

This deduction of Heiji’s was something he had previously explained to Hachigoro—even at the time of the Omiya incident, Heiji had already seen through these circumstances. “And then?”

While overwhelmed by Heiji’s accusations, Oei leaned against the stacked gold boxes and mustered a faint resurgence of defiance.

“Uhatchi the clerk found out about that and threatened you.” “But Uhatchi was a man completely under your control—someone you could bend to any purpose.” “After silencing Motokichi the barrel-collecting apprentice, you had him kill Sadagoro of Honjo Ishihara—that Sadakichi’s father—but then he himself was lured to Yanaka and killed by you and Sadakichi.”

“—” Heiji had already seen through all of this at the time, but the developments that followed required new deductions. “You are a woman as terrifying as a demon or a snake—indescribably fearsome.” “After killing off your old troublesome comrades one by one, you gathered five or six cheap new accomplices—low-grade ones like Oraku who wouldn’t complain even over a paltry share—had them carry out the gold coins from Yanaka’s five-storied pagoda and hide them in three spots along the riverbank. But still uneasy, you went and killed Akashi Gorohatchi too.”

“There’s still more, isn’t there, Boss?”

Oei calmly responded to it. “Osato, Sadagoro’s mistress; Oroku, Gorohatchi’s wife—they’re among those you killed. And then there’s Yoji, the gardener at the Owari Domain’s storehouse compound; Hanji, the ticket taker at Ryōgoku’s acrobatics troupe—”

“—”

“Before your eyes lies a mountain of corpses you slaughtered with your own hands, does it not? Your hands are soaked in blood—look! Behind you, the vengeful spirits of Hanbee, Uhatchi, Sadagoro, Osato, and Hanji materialize like smoke, pointing at you and cackling mockingly!” Zenigata Heiji raised his hand and pointed behind Oei. When she looked back, a swaying nocturnal miasma seemed to rise between the damp black earth and starkly piled gold boxes, threatening to engulf her resplendent figure.

“Stop… That’s enough.” “Won’t you stop, Boss?” Oei paused slightly, then summoned courage fierce as dragon against tiger before resolutely confronting Heiji. “No—binding a woman like you with ropes and hauling you to the execution platform won’t begin to atone for those unbearable sins you carry.” “For your own greed, you slaughtered lives like crushing insects—now those countless spirits will drag you living into Avīci Hell’s deepest pit!”

Heiji's tongue, whipped into a frenzy by his sense of justice, lashed out unflinchingly at Oei—a murderous demon whose face and form were of unparalleled beauty in this world.

The Final Dice Pip "No, no! It's all lies!" "Everything is a lie!" Oei regained a measure of composure through sheer force of will. "What's different? Trying to squirm out of your own guilt now that it's come to this is cowardly!"

Heiji rebuffed her. “You don’t know a thing, Boss—it was me! I killed Omiya Hanbee. I had Sadakichi help me crucify him—that was to make him feel the full weight of my parent’s grudge.” “Your parent’s grudge?”

“Listen, Boss. I am the daughter of Ōhashi Denden—the leader of the Six-Man Gang.” “What?”

That was an utterly unexpected statement. The woman who had just claimed to be Ōhashi Denden’s wife became his daughter in less than a moment.

“My father, Ōhashi Denden, was ambushed and killed by Omiya Hanbei not long after smuggling into Edo the 12,000 ryō in Owari Domain’s official gold he’d stolen at Utsu-no-Tani Pass. After that, Hanbei—that petty lieutenant—started playacting as the Six-Man Gang’s chief, dragged me out of the Akashi troupe by force, passed me off as his niece to keep up appearances, all while baring his fangs to make me his mistress.” “—” “He hounded me from dawn till dusk—it became unbearable. So I conspired with Sadakichi the apprentice and had him killed. What of it, Boss?”

“—” “After that, if we’d just distributed the stolen gold among our gang and quit, everything would’ve been fine. But Uhatchi the clerk kept pestering me with his advances—went out of his way to pull unnecessary stunts without being asked—all so he could make me take sole possession of twelve thousand ryō in gold. In the end, he killed Sadagoro and Osato in some misguided show of loyalty.” “Sadagoro’s son is that apprentice Sadakichi.” “Though small in stature, he’s already eighteen and unnervingly sharp-witted.” “Moreover, since that boy was infatuated with me, he’d do anything for my sake.” “After he took revenge on Uhatchi for killing his own father, Gorohatchi, Oroku, and Hanji tracked down the ten thousand ryō in gold coins and started hounding him—so he dealt with them too.” “That boy is utterly terrifying—like some kind of vermin.”

“―”

Heiji wavered about how much of this to believe. Oei was cunning beyond measure and dreadfully vain—half her tale might well be lies—yet it remained true that there was little contradiction in claiming most murders after Omiya Hanbee's had been committed by Uhatchi and Sadakichi. "You might not believe me, Boss," she said. "I don’t blame you—but go to Shibahachō tomorrow. Visit the house of Ōhashi Denden, a ronin. There you’ll find only an old servant named Tomozo who’s been there for ages. Tell him you heard it from me, and he’ll spill every secret."

“—” “Rather than listing proofs this isn’t a lie, doesn’t bringing you—Boss who serves the authorities—to this vault itself show my sincerity? I—Boss—got dragged into the Six-Man Gang’s whirlpool of evil, and even while struggling...it was only because I couldn’t forget you—” Oei’s words veered unexpectedly. “Boss.” “—” “What cursed fate—that a thief like me would stake her life falling for none but Boss Zenigata Heiji, Edo’s famed wielder of jitte and arrest ropes!”

“―”

That was truly an astonishing confession. In the underground vault—a hellish pit stacked with 20,000 ryō in gold coins—Oei, a female thief of unparalleled notoriety and unearthly beauty, cast aside all shame and reputation to make this declaration.

“For that reason, I devised all sorts of schemes.” “I even had Miss Oshizu lured out twice—and yet I lacked the strength to force my way to you, Boss, nor could I bring myself to kill Miss Oshizu.” “Like a mere sixteen-year-old girl, I burned with longing until my very body wasted away.” “Boss.” Oei slumped to her knees on the floor and clung to Heiji’s hem as she sobbed uncontrollably. “You fool!”

Zenigata Heiji—a man said to be unparalleled since the founding of Edo—had never been more troubled than at this moment since taking up the jitte.

“Boss, what should I do?” “The 20,000 ryō in gold stolen and hoarded by the Six-Man Gang—please present this to the authorities with your own hands, Boss, and make it at least some measure of achievement.” “Even though I didn’t need to steal 10,000 ryō from the Owari Domain’s storehouse, I took it out solely to bring you here, Boss, and let you claim the credit.” “Now, I don’t want 10,000 ryō or 20,000 ryō—let alone those—I don’t even want a hundred coins.” “―” “I’ve arranged for all my subordinates to leave their life of crime, but the only one I’m worried about is Sadakichi.” “That boy is like a hornet let loose inside a mosquito net—you never know what he’ll do next.”

“―” “Given these crimes I’ve committed—crimes too heavy to bear—even if you bind me with your own hands and turn me in, Boss, I won’t hold any grudge.” “But in return… if you’d just keep me by your side for three days… if you’d dote on me to your heart’s content… I’d die without regrets—”

It was truly a terrifying obsession. Oei pressed her wet cheek against the top of Heiji’s foot and threw a tantrum like a baby.

“Haven’t you had enough? This is absurd.” However, Heiji was not the sort to lift this woman into his arms and offer even a single kind word; for a time, he could only stand utterly perplexed and listen to her frenzied confession.

“I could have escaped from the very beginning if I’d truly wished to.” “Had I loaded that 20,000 ryō in gold onto a ship and fled, I might’ve taken it all the way to Kyoto or Osaka.” “The only reason I remained in wretched Edo—piling sin upon sin—was because I longed to glimpse you from afar, Boss.” “—” “For that alone I shaved my brows, applied that loathsome black tooth dye, and when even that proved insufficient—I chipped away one of my front teeth.”

“―” “Boss, I understand full well how you cherish Miss Oshizu.” “Though I despise her so—that Miss Oshizu whose loveliness stayed my hand from killing—I can’t fault your feelings. But just once in a man’s life—a single dalliance—if you’d cradle me gently and at least… at least… murmur something like ‘poor thing’…”

Oei crawled about the floor, weeping bitterly. Oei’s body, like a bluish-purple snake, crawled about the narrow floor for a while. Zenigata Heiji stood motionless, his arms folded in silence. Once one’s eyes adjusted, the light of the twin-wicked oil lamp illuminated the underground vault with unexpected clarity, laying bare every detail—the disheveled black hair of the woman consumed by twisted passion, her pallid face, crimson lips, and pulsating limbs—without reservation. “Boss… You must have thought it all terribly absurd, haven’t you?”

Oei, who had suddenly stood up, leaned against the original gold box as she faced Heiji, appearing to rapidly regain her former self-respect.

“—”

Heiji remained silent as ever, watching the shifting emotions play across the woman’s face. The woman’s heart—a tempest of wildness and shame, pride and passion, folly and wisdom—swung from one extreme to another, making for quite the spectacle even for Heiji. "I won’t cause you any more trouble." "Please forgive me, Boss." "But there’s just one thing I want you to see." "—"

Without waiting for Heiji’s response, Oei began removing the hydrangea-colored undergarment of her unlined kimono with a casualness devoid of sentimentality—as though merely preparing for a bath. Like alabaster skin sprinkled with silver dust, like peach-hued coral wrapped in sheer silk—it was truly a magnificent body.

“Please look at this.”

Oei pointed to her own chest. Two powerfully rounded breasts swelling into perfect semicircles, rose-hued nipples—within this dazzlingly beautiful cosmos of flesh lay a vermillion dice-pip tattoo carved roughly five bu in size. And at its center, that crimson point—what else could it be but the mark of the Six-Man Gang’s leader? “What is that?” “The pip of the dice—isn’t this the mark of the Six-Man Gang’s leader you’ve been searching for all this time, Boss? Of course, my father Ōhashi Denden had the usual black tattoo on his upper arm, but when I inherited his legacy, I had mine done in vermilion between my breasts—a woman’s stylish touch.”

“—” “Both the one carved on Miss Orisato’s corpse and the one drawn on Gorōhachi’s arm—those were all Sadakichi’s pranks. I knew nothing about them.” “—” “Boss Hachigoro seemed convinced this tattoo was on my thigh—surely not, Boss?” Freed from her all-consuming passion, Oei at last seemed to regain her self-respect as a female bandit. “Now that I’ve shown you this dice-pip tattoo, you must know what comes next.”

“There’s no longer any need to run or hide.” “Go ahead and have your fill.” “But surely Boss Zenigata doesn’t intend to bind a woman while she remains naked?” “You may cover yourself.”

Heiji’s words sounded cold and even professional. “I have lost—I no longer have any lingering attachments to soothe. At least tell the world that Ōhashi Denden’s daughter Oei—leader of the Six-Man Gang—went on a wild rampage and was captured in the end.” Oei was fastening the bluish-purple unlined kimono against her skin when she suddenly pricked up her ears. “Hm? What’s that?”

In the flames, It was the sound of something bursting. No—perhaps it would be better to call it the dreadful sound of things burning. Intertwined with that, the barking of dogs gradually grew louder.

Suddenly, the underground vault’s lid opened, and a scorching-smelling wind rushed down from above the ladder. “Fire! Hurry!”

Heiji pulled Oei’s hesitating hand toward him, cradled her, and tried to reach for the ladder—but in that same instant, the ladder was swiftly yanked upward from above.

“You’ll die right there.”

“Ah—” The face that peered down from above, showering them with a cursed sneer, belonged to none other than Sadakichi—the former errand boy of Omiya, Sadagoro’s son—with his round, cute yet fierce features.

“Isn’t that you, Sadakichi? Cut it out with the jokes.”

From below, Oei admonished him in a sisterly tone. “Tch. You call this a joke? I’ve been straining my ears listening to every word you two said—how I’ve been Miss Oei’s plaything all this time, even helping her kill people… how she’s been sneering at me behind my back while drooling over that cop bastard… and now I know it was none other than Miss Oei who ordered Uhatchi to kill my old man!”

“Oh, you…” Blocking the underground vault’s exit, Sadakichi’s small face shone with the joy of revenge and the intoxication of wickedness. “When I heard that talk, I set fires in three places here—the fire bells are already clanging somewhere.” “The bucket brigades’ll come running, but by then this house’ll burn down real good—and you two moles in the vault’ll be nicely steamed to death.” “Wait, Sadakichi!” Oei craned her neck toward the vault’s opening and called out with all her might, but nothing could soothe this monstrous youth’s vengeance—warped through layers of distortion—nor the serpentine jealousy of Sadakichi, an eighteen-year-old malformed paranoiac.

“The fire’s already spread through the whole house!” “Too dangerous to stick around—see ya, Sis!”

Sadakichi left behind a final sneer, pulled back from the opening, and—the heavy lid— “Boss! Once that lid’s shut, there’s no opening it from below! Hurry—use me as your step!” Oei urgently signaled Heiji before turning her back to the wall and making her own body into a ladder. “Hold on just a bit longer.” Heiji gripped her shoulder, stepped onto the edge of her obi, and launched himself upward with a powerful leap. “Drop dead, you bastard!”

As Sadakichi was halfway through closing the lid, Heiji lunged at him. Though knocked backward once, Sadakichi quickly regained his footing—already brandishing his dagger. "You idiot!" Heiji—his unlined kimono's shoulder torn—narrowly dodged the blade's tip and reached into his pocket. Two or three well-practiced thrown coins sliced through flames and smoke to strike Sadakichi's forehead, lips, and fist.

Meanwhile, the flames that had encircled them from three directions now transformed into a fiery chariot, closing in from the right, left, and behind with a roar. When Heiji knocked the dagger from his grasp, Sadakichi vanished into the flames.

Flames closing in from all directions, swirling smoke—whether there was any prospect of escaping unscathed from here or not—paying no heed to such concerns, Heiji brought his face to the entrance of the underground vault.

“Oei, it’s dangerous! Hurry—grab my hand!” Far from Heiji’s outstretched hand at the vault’s entrance, Oei gazed up at him from the far corner, her eyes brimming with resentment. “Boss, please leave me. Even if I survive this, the execution block awaits me.” “Don’t be absurd! Hurry!” “No—you escape alone. Don’t mind me... If you ever remember me... just burn a stick of incense...”

“You fool! You think I can just leave you in this fire and be saved? Wait—wait!”

That was truly an astonishing feat. Amidst flames blazing against both cheeks and his sideburns sizzling down to the roots, Zenigata Heiji grabbed the ladder Sadakichi had pulled up, propped it against the vault’s entrance, and plunged headlong into its depths. “Oh… Boss.” “Come on! Get over here!”

That Heiji, cradling the woman in his arms once more, managed to climb the precarious ladder, slip through the smoke and flames, and leap outside was truly a splendid feat—a one-in-a-thousand chance seized.

Heiji lowered Oei’s body onto the cold ground and truly felt relieved from the bottom of his heart. “You’re really making me go through a lot of trouble,” he said. “But Boss… I can’t go on living,” she replied. “What nonsense!” he snapped. “Boss… I want to thank you,” she said. “Please live happily with Mrs. Oshizu.” “Farewell.” The leap of Oei—the former acrobat girl—was splendid. Kicking off the ground, she latched onto Heiji’s neck in one swift motion, pressed her burning cheek against his for a final moment—and in the next instant hurled herself back into the raging flames.

It was truly an unstoppably swift maneuver.

A large hydrangea-colored flower seemed to burst into bloom within the flames—but that vision lasted only a moment.

“Oei!”

The only response to Heiji’s scream was the roar of flames spinning like a wheel’s axle beneath the collapsed roof.

By the time they realized, voices were rising from all directions. The tolling of fire bells—the town of Edo, stirred by the midnight conflagration—continued its eerie upheaval for a time.

“Boss, was it here?” “I was surprised—no, I wasn’t—but I’m just relieved you’re safe.” “What happened to Oei?”

The one who came running was Hachigoro. Heiji did not answer him. Instead, he pointed to the raging flames before his eyes and quietly pressed his palms together.

×　　　　×　　　　×

The next day, two corpses were excavated from the burned ruins. One was, needless to say, Oei, but when they realized the other belonged to the small-statured boy Sadakichi, even Heiji turned his face away in horror at the dreadful tenacity it revealed. The 20,000 ryō in gold recovered from the underground vault in the burned ruins was appropriately returned to the affected parties, starting with the Owari Domain and those plundered by the Six-Man Gang. However, mysteriously, Oei and what were believed to be her underlings in the New Six-Man Gang vanished without a trace.

And the question of how much of what Oei had said was true and where the lies began would trouble Heiji for a long time to come.