Pathway to Japanese Literature

The murder demon had finally reached this village!

“Uncle, it’s terrible! This article is unbelievable!”

Yūkichi burst into the room with enough force to kick down the door, waving a newspaper in one hand,

“The murder demon Gonroku!
“He’s infiltrated this area! Banker Miyahashi Tahei has been threatened! The extortion letter demands five thousand yen! Local residents are thrown into terror and panic! Police authorities are maintaining extreme vigilance!”

“Quiet! Quiet!”

Mr. Hirano Daizo waved his hand to silence him.

“I’m listening to Kyōtarō explain his research problem right now. Cut out that trivial newspaper nonsense!”

“But when you mention the murder demon Gonroku…”

“Shut up! You’re always going on about burglaries and murders—don’t you only care about detective nonsense? Think you’ll become a proper doctor like that? You’d do well to learn from Kyōtarō! You’re hopeless!”

“Then I’ll shut up!”

Yūkichi, sulking, flung his body onto the sofa in the corner of the room with a thud.

This was Ōkusu Village in southern Izu—a picturesque land nestled between peninsulas that had been gradually developing in recent years as a villa district for wealthy individuals from Tokyo and Osaka, as well as foreigners.—Mr. Hirano Daizo was a retired industrialist said to possess assets of ¥500,000. A lifelong bachelor with neither wife nor children, he had built a comfortable Western-style house in this Ōkusu Village five years prior and now spent his leisurely retirement attended only by a cook and two manservants.

Kimura Yūkichi was a second-year medical student; Taneda Kyōtarō worked at a natural sciences research laboratory. Both were nephews of Mr. Hirano, and it had been nearly settled that the ¥500,000 fortune would be inherited by these two in the future.
This time, both had come to this house to write their theses, but whereas Kyōtarō stayed at a hotel on the coast and visited his uncle whenever he had free time from his studies, Yūkichi—who was staying in the house—pushed his thesis aside and spent his days dashing about outside from morning onward.

The mild-mannered Kyōtarō, having been scolded by his uncle and noticing that Yūkichi seemed upset,

“Ah, it’s already nine o’clock,” he said while checking his watch and quietly standing up. “Since it’s time for me to return and study, I’ll take my leave here.”

“I see.”

Mr. Hirano said regretfully,

“That was fascinating.
“Converting volcanic rock into gold via a certain type of radio wave—if that were true, you could turn the global economy upside down!
“Well, give it your all. I can’t provide funding right away, but once it’s confirmed solid—”

“Please, Uncle!”

Kyōtarō cut in shyly.

“Please don’t speak so loudly. I want to keep this research secret for now, so please don’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

“Alright, alright—I won’t say another word.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.—Later, Yū-chan.”

“Ugh.”

Yūkichi merely let out a sullen grunt.

When Kyōtarō left—Mr. Hirano returned to his chair and lit a cigar while—

“Yūkichi, you need to shape up properly. If you keep idling about like this, I won’t leave you any inheritance even when I die!”

“I’d rather have you alive than get any inheritance, Uncle.—What’s a measly hundred or two hundred thousand yen anyway?”

“There you go again!”

Mr. Hirano stood up indignantly,

"You’re always going on about money, but what can a person accomplish without it? Look at Kyōtarō! He’s only three years older than you, yet hasn’t he pulled off an astonishing invention—turning volcanic rock into gold? This should be considered a national achievement!"

"Huh—so this ‘universal gold transmutation’ nonsense is still fashionable? I thought it was just another pretext to extract funds from you, Uncle."

"That’s exactly what I mean about you. You immediately start talking like a detective at every turn."

“Ah! That reminds me—the detective thing!”

Yūkichi jerked forward,

“If the murder demon Gonroku has infiltrated, then something’s bound to happen within two or three days! Especially since they’ve already sent a threatening letter to Mr. Miyahashi—your place could be in danger too!”

“Enough already! How can one live long cowering before murder demons? I won’t flinch even if they come for me now!”

It was the moment when Mr. Hirano had haughtily declared.

—The garden door was suddenly thrust open from outside, and through the billowing fog came Kyōtarō, bursting into the room.

“S-Something terrible… Someone’s been killed…”

“What?!”

“In that chestnut grove… someone…”

Kyōtarō’s face turned deathly pale and contorted from terror.

A corpse at the base of the pine tree.

Kyōtarō’s account went like this:—After leaving this house and taking a shortcut through the chestnut grove toward the hotel, someone suddenly screamed.
When I looked in surprise toward the sound, I saw a suspicious man in the woods to the right—holding a horn lantern in one hand and raising a small knife with the other—in the act of stabbing to death a man who looked like a farmer.

“The sight was so horrifying that I fled without thinking of anything else—”

“It’s the murder demon Gonroku!!”

Yūkichi stood up, shouting.

“—That may be…”

Mr. Hirano suddenly turned around, strode to the desk, and took out a flashlight and a self-defense pistol from the drawer,

“Yūkichi, let’s go.—Kyōtarō, show us the way.”
“Yes! Now we’re talking! This is getting interesting!”

Yūkichi leapt up and shouted.

Mr. Hirano ordered the servant to call the police and then left the garden with the two young men.

—Outside, a thick fog obscured everything beyond half a meter.
With Kyōtarō holding the lantern at the front, they took the path to the left and entered the chestnut grove after about five hundred meters…… Since the murderous fiend might still lurk nearby—and an ambush could come from anywhere at any moment—Mr. Hirano disengaged his pistol’s safety catch, rested his finger on the trigger, and advanced while scanning in all directions.

“There it is—”

Soon, Kyōtarō came to a halt.

“It’s by that huge pine tree.”

“Let’s go take a look.”

“I-I’ll wait here.
I—I simply don’t have the courage to look at a corpse.”

As he spoke trembling, Yūkichi—growing impatient beside him—snatched the flashlight.

“Then you stay here. Uncle, let’s go.”
“I’ll take the lead.”

“Be careful—the culprit might still be around! Watch your step…”

Yūkichi, tense, cautiously illuminated the path step by step as he approached the pine tree he’d been directed to.
And—about twenty-five to thirty feet ahead of it—he found a small, dirty notebook lying on the ground.

“What is it, Yūkichi?”

“A notebook was lying here.”

“What are you doing with that worthless thing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m not doing anything with it.”

He immediately stuffed it into his pocket and proceeded forward.

Within the chestnut grove stood a single towering pine tree, unmatched in its size.
The villagers called it “Mark Pine,” a giant tree towering forty meters high, used by fishermen returning from the open sea as a landmark.—At its base lay a farmer-like old man, around fifty years old, collapsed and covered in blood.

“Hmm! Just as I thought…”

Mr. Hirano froze in place the moment he saw it, but Yūkichi, true to his training as a medical student, immediately rushed over and lifted the body.
Then the man, gasping for breath,

“C-can’t… chisel no more… Even if ya push… just a bit… Ahh… dangerous—”

“Hey! Stay with me! Who did this?”

“……”

“Hey!
You!!”

He pressed his mouth to the old man’s ear and shouted, but with those strange words as his last, the old man breathed his final breath.
Yūkichi checked the old man’s pulse and examined his pupils, but—

“It’s no use. He’s dead.”

With that, he stood up.

“He was stabbed in the neck.
If treatment had been administered a bit sooner, he might have survived, but with this much bloodloss…”

“Looks like he’s from the village.”

“That’s right.”

Yūkichi continued to carefully survey his surroundings before taking out the notebook he had picked up earlier and flipping through its pages.
—It was something that had been used for years on end, its pages filled with rough pencil scribbles consisting solely of kana characters.
It must have been a memo notebook.
When he absentmindedly glanced at the last page,

—Chisel Guhin-san, five yen.

there were characters that read.

“What’s this? ‘Chisel Guhin-san’?”

Muttering to himself, he turned to the next page.

*—Chisel Guhin-san, five yen.*

The same thing was written again. When he checked the dates, he found that the same entry had repeated daily for about a week. And prior to that,

*"—Chisel Higashi's grave, two yen."*

it read.

“Uncle, what is Guhin-san?”

Just as Yūkichi turned around to ask, Kyōtarō shouted loudly from the road.
“Uncle, someone from the police has come.”
A man with an unpleasantly sharp gaze

The next morning, Mr. Hirano was reading the newspaper while sipping his black tea.—There, the previous night’s murder case was reported in bold headlines.

1. The victim was Gensuke, an old stonemason.
2. The perpetrator was suspected to be Gonroku the Serial Killer.

1. The police force has begun their manhunt.

Such matters were the main articles.

What manner of being was Gonroku the Serial Killer?
For half a year prior, he had been a phantom-like fiend haunting Kyoto, Osaka, and Nagoya—attacking wealthy merchants and elites, committing atrocities beyond measure, plundering valuables before vanishing like smoke. And now, this specter had descended upon the peaceful reaches of Southern Izu—not only delivering Banker Miyahashi a threatening letter demanding 5,000 yen but already perpetrating a brutal murder.

“A fearsome phantom thief, a detestable fiend—we must not idly depend on police power; each of us should take up arms and rise up for self-defense!”

So the newspaper wrote vehemently.

“Good morning, Uncle!”

Yūkichi came flying in from the garden entrance.

“Good grief! Must you make such a racket? You’re more of a menace than that serial killer!”

“Have you read the newspaper?”

Yūkichi ignored him and plopped down into a chair.

“The police are in a frenzy over Gonroku this and Gonroku that—but based on my observations, this case won’t be resolved so simply. I just can’t shake off that ‘chiseling Guhin-san’ phrase from the notebook.”

“Are you still obsessing over that notebook?”

“You call it ‘that notebook,’ but it’s thanks to that notebook we identified Gensuke the stonemason.—I went to the police this morning and told them: ‘The important thing isn’t that Gensuke was killed, but why the serial killer murdered him? Unless they confirm that point, they can’t grasp the key to solving this!’”

“You… went to the police?”

“Well of course I did! Gonroku may be a serial killer, but his goal is to steal valuables. The cases in Kyoto and Osaka all targeted wealthy individuals or prominent figures. So why would he kill a poor old stonemason here?—That’s the crucial point!”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Mr. Hirano flew into a rage.

“Is that really fine with you? Throwing away your studies and causing a mad uproar over such things! Just quit school altogether and become a detective already!!”

“Now, now, please don’t get so angry.”

“It’s only natural I’m angry! You should think so because I won’t leave you a single penny of the inheritance—how absurd!”

“Even I…” Yūkichi stood up and,

“I don’t want any inheritance or anything.”

“Wha—what are you—this—!”

Before Mr. Hirano could spring to his feet, Yūkichi dashed out into the garden with a grin.

Yūkichi was a medical student, but since he was studying forensic medicine (the medical study of crimes), it was only natural for him to take an interest in such incidents.

As Yūkichi—who had dashed from the parlor into the garden—was about to exit the gate and descend the slope, a middle-aged man carrying a bag approached from the opposite direction.

“Excuse me for asking, but is this the residence of Mr. Hirano?”

“Yes, do you have some business?”

“Is Mr. Taneda present?”

“Kyō-chan’s at the beach hotel.”
“He’s not at the hotel, though.”

Worn-out Western clothes, a folded briefcase clutched under his arm—a vulgar-looking man with a somehow nasty glare.
—Yūkichi stared rudely,

“Do you have business with Kyō-chan?”

“Ah… well, it’s a bit of… that…”

“I’ll pass on the message—he should be coming here soon.”

“Well, let’s see…”

The man paused to think,

“Then please tell him this.”
“I’ll be waiting at Tsuya Inn until 5 PM.”
“If he doesn’t come by five, I’ll resolutely return to Tokyo.”

“What exactly is your business, anyway?”

“Just tell him it’s Inoue, a school friend—he’ll know.”

The man said with a sneer, then turned back the way he had come and left.
What a nasty guy!
Having thought this, Yūkichi hurriedly descended the steep backstreet slope toward the village.
Today, because his mother in Tokyo had sent him some pocket money, he intended to go to the post office to exchange it.…… However, when he had come partway there,

Wait, that guy—who is he?

Suddenly, the unpleasant man he had just met began to bother him. The man claimed to be a school friend, but their ages didn’t match, and he wasn’t the sort of person who’d associate with Kyōtarō—who was like a model gentleman. In fact, he might even be a bad influence on Kyōtarō. From the beginning, Yūkichi had always disliked Kyōtarō. However, he—possessing a sense of chivalry stronger than most—thought that if this were a bad influence on Kyōtarō, he himself would find a way to handle it, and with that, he dashed off toward the beach.

Tsuya Inn was located in front of the bus stop.
Yūkichi dashed into the inn.
Without another thought, he lashed the steed once.

“Ah, that gentleman is staying here.”

The clerk immediately checked the guest registry for him.

“What does he do?”

“The guest registry lists his occupation as moneylending.”

“Moneylending business… So a moneylender, huh.”

"Thank you," Yūkichi said and went outside.

Moneylender... moneylender—that gentle, saint-like Kyōtarō was involved with moneylenders.
No—that couldn’t be.
If that were true, he’d have to rethink everything—but more likely, he’d probably just guaranteed some friend’s debt; it must’ve been something like that.

“A guy like that should be made to shoulder even a friend’s debt and get a taste of the real world. That might make him act more like a proper human being—the fact he’s still researching that ‘Universal Gold Reversion’ nonsense like some pipe dream just shows what a clueless fool he is.”

With a derisive snicker, he entered the post office.

After cashing the postal money order and stepping outside, he found the street strangely abuzz.
Members of the fire brigade and youth group were clamoring noisily as they came and went, carrying green bamboo poles and oak clubs in a show of force.
—Yūkichi grabbed one of the youth group members,

“What’s happened? Did something happen?” he asked.

“Yes, the serial killer fled toward Mount Ōkura—we’re about to start the manhunt.”

“The serial killer—is that really true?”

“There’s a man named Taneda Kyōtarō—a nephew of Mr. Hirano from the hill—staying at the beach hotel.”
“He definitely saw it and reported it to the police.”
“Since Mr. Taneda witnessed the serial killer murdering Gensuke in the chestnut grove himself, there’s no mistaking it.”

“Where’s Taneda?”

“He went to Mr. Hirano’s residence to get the hunting rifle.”

Yūkichi thought, Huh.
Was that paragon of virtue really going to fetch a hunting rifle and join this rabble for their manhunt?
That’s unexpected—never figured him for the vigorous type.

“Then I’ll borrow Uncle’s pistol.”

“This is getting interesting,” Yūkichi thought, and with a cursory nod, he broke into a run.

Cutting through the shortcut across the chestnut grove—feet barely touching the ground—Yūkichi entered the backyard through the side entrance and collided headlong with Ginsuke, the servant.

“Is Uncle in the parlor?”

he asked—Ginsuke stared blankly,

“No sir, he went off fishin’ with Mr. Kyōtarō in the carriage just now, y’know.”

“What? Went fishing, you’re saying?”

“He said they were goin’ sea bream fishin’, y’know—said the spot was over at Mukōbuchi.”

“What the hell, that’s absurd!”

Yūkichi clicked his tongue.
He’d claimed he was going back to retrieve the hunting rifle, but in truth, he’d lacked the courage to join the manhunt after all.

“Is Mukōbuchi so far that you need to take a carriage to get there?”

“It’s far, y’know—about five chō ahead through the cliffside path below that Guhin-sama.”

“Guhin-sama”

Yūkichi seized on the term.
“What’s this ‘Guhin-sama’ you’re talking about?”
“Ahahaha, it’s our local dialect, y’know—means Tengu Rock.”
“You know about it, don’tcha, sir?”
“Oh… Tengu Rock.”

Disappointed, Yūkichi started toward his uncle’s room to retrieve the pistol—he had taken a few steps when he abruptly halted.

“Ah!”

He shouted as if struck down.

“Damn it! So that’s it, that’s it!” he exclaimed, whirling around.

“Ginsuke! Bring out a horse! A horse!”
“Ah, what’re you doin’ bringin’ out a horse?”

“Anything’s fine—just hurry! It’s an emergency!”

At Yūkichi’s fierce shout, the servant ran to the stable, eyes wide.

Mr. Hirano had always loved horses and owned three Arabian thoroughbreds. Since transportation in the area was poor, he had commissioned a light carriage and enjoyed occasional drives with these horses.—The servant led out one of them—a horse named Ruby.

“Yeah, no need for a saddle.”

Yūkichi nimbly leaped onto the bareback horse’s back, snapped off a plum branch extending nearby to use as a whip, gave it a sharp crack—and bolted out through the gate.
It was as swift as a gale.

Exiting the gate and turning right, descending the gentle slope led to a quiet seaside road stretching smoothly along the coast in the direction opposite the village.
It wound around the eastern peninsula, stretching all the way toward Shimoda Port, but being a dangerous cliffside road, buses did not pass through.
However, as the scenery was beautiful and the surroundings tranquil, Mr. Hirano had always enjoyed riding his carriage around that road.
Yūkichi continued cracking his whip in rapid succession, urged the horse onward, and galloped off like a madman.

“Faster! Damn it! Can’t you run any faster than this? Faster! Come on!”

The Arabian thoroughbred frothed at the mouth and galloped on and on, scattering gravel with its hooves.
The road twisted and turned as it approached the peninsula.
And……the carriage was just about to round the rocky corner ahead,

“Ah! Uncle—!”

Yūkichi screamed from horseback.

"Oh no! Tengu Rock was collapsing!"

Ah, I made it in time.
I made it in time.

When Hirano saw Yūkichi, who had spurred the bareback horse and rushed over,

Mr. Hirano slowed the carriage’s speed while,

“What’s wrong?”

“Kyō… Kyō-chan?
“Wasn’t he supposed to come with you?”

“He did come along.”

“But he’s not here!”

In the carriage, there was only Kyōtarō’s jacket.

“He got off at the earthen bridge over there to collect willow insects for bait. He’ll probably catch up soon.”

“Uncle—you need to get down too!”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Uncle, I’m telling you to get down too!
I’m begging you—please!
I don’t want any inheritance or anything—just please grant my request this once!”

“What on earth does that mean?”

“I’ll explain later—just hurry!”

Overwhelmed by Yūkichi’s grave demeanor, Mr. Hirano relinquished his resistance and stepped down from the carriage.—Simultaneously, Yūkichi leaped into the vehicle, snapped off a fishing rod to erect it on the seat, then draped Kyōtarō’s discarded jacket and hat over it……At a glance, it appeared someone remained inside.

“What are you doing, Yūkichi?”

“I’ll show you something interesting now—let’s follow along from a little ways back.”

Having sent the carriage ahead, Yūkichi began walking five or six ken behind, leading the bare horse alongside his uncle.—To the left was a cliff about five meters high; to the right, a precipice exceeding a hundred feet, where the deep abyss below churned with white waves like some demonic force.

“What on earth is this?”

“Shh! Quiet—”

Without allowing Mr. Hirano to utter a word, they proceeded in silence for roughly two hundred meters—and at the very moment the road curved left, it happened.—Tengu Rock, a massive boulder estimated at fifty kan that jutted out menacingly atop the left cliff, suddenly collapsed with a thunderous roar.

“Ah!!”

Mr. Hirano screamed—but even swifter than that cry, the plummeting Tengu Rock shattered the carriage and, sending up a cloud of sand alongside the madly neighing horse, crashed down from the cliff into the sea with a thunderous roar.

It was an event that lasted but an instant—and a truly astonishing one at that.—Yūkichi swiftly pulled Mr. Hirano, who stood frozen as if in a dream, back from the cliff’s edge.

“Quiet. Someone’s coming down now.”

“————”

“Please don’t make a sound and just watch.”

As they kept whispering, someone soon came clambering down along a fissure in the cliff, sliding unsteadily onto the path.
When they looked, it was Taneda Kyōtarō.

“Ah! Kyōtarō!”

Mr. Hirano shouted, beside himself.
Startled by the voice, Kyōtarō whirled around—and upon seeing Mr. Hirano there, let out a dreadful cry as he spun on his heel to flee.—Simultaneously,

“Stop!”

Yūkichi, screaming, leaped like a bird of prey—a growl tore through as his iron fist flew toward the base of the man’s neck—Kyōtarō staggered but,

“I’ll kill you!”

With a demonic visage, he whirled around and instead lunged forward with a ferocious punch.
Yūkichi twisted out of the grip, brought his opponent’s arm over his shoulder, dropped his hips, and executed a splendid ippon seoi nage throw.

“Guh!”

He slammed him down with all his strength.
Kyōtarō’s body fell with a ground-shaking thud toward the cliff edge—but likely because the rocky ground had grown brittle—the moment it tilted with an eerie creak while bearing his weight, that section crumbled away with a thunderous crash.

“Ah!” “Aaaah!”

He reached out, but it was too late—Kyōtarō had shared the carriage’s fate.

Mr. Hirano and Yūkichi stood frozen in silence for a while.

The dreadful scheme had been exposed one step short of completion.

Kyōtarō had pretended to be virtuous, but in truth, he was the most delinquent youth.
He had been crushed by massive debts from his dissolute lifestyle and concocted lies about an “invention to turn volcanic rock into gold” to extract funds from his uncle—but upon realizing Mr. Hirano wouldn’t readily hand over money, he resolved to murder him with the inheritance as his target.

Thus, he utilized Mr. Hirano’s frequent carriage drives along that very road and devised a plan to drop Tengu Rock and crush both carriage and occupant. He paid the stonemason Gensuke to chisel away at the rock’s base—though what pretext he used to have it chiseled remains unknown now that both Gensuke and Kyōtarō were dead. At any rate, Gensuke had likely been blinded by the offer of five yen per day.

"This can’t be chiseled any further.
If someone were to give it even a slight push—that would be enough to make it dangerous!"

When he was dying, he had uttered strange words—in other words, those very words.

However, leaving Gensuke alive would expose the plot, so he exploited the uproar over “the serial killer’s infiltration,” killed Gensuke himself, and made it appear as though Gonroku had committed the murder.
And once all preparations were in order, he claimed to have seen the serial killer at Mount Ōkura (which was, of course, a lie), directed the villagers’ attention toward Mount Ōkura, and lured Mr. Hirano out under the pretense of fishing.

“Far from collecting willow insects, he had circled around from the back mountain and was waiting at Tengu Rock for the carriage to arrive.”

“Ah… Truly, truly a dreadful man.”

Mr. Hirano shuddered.

"But it's divine punishment, isn't it?"

Yūkichi also said solemnly.

"The trap he set... ended up claiming his own life in the same manner... That outcome was probably for his own good."

“Indeed, I’m grateful my clan avoided spawning a murderer. Never thought your nosy detective antics would actually prove useful!”

“But I don’t want the inheritance.”

Yūkichi laughed brightly.