Pathway to Japanese Literature

(From Sister to Brother) I have received and read your letter dated ×× advising me not to let Mr. Saji approach. As always, you show such consideration in all matters, Brother—but this latest letter of yours I simply cannot comprehend. Mr. Saji is neither someone I approached nor someone you instructed me to approach. You know perfectly well yourself, Brother—he was classmates with you and Urushido. When he returned from America, he promptly called upon Urushido, and ever since then Urushido—ill and bored and in need of someone to talk to—has been very much looking forward to Mr. Saji's visits.

“Speaking of which,” I recalled, “Urushido once said: ‘Saji was odd from his school days—much misunderstood by others—but fundamentally a timidly honest man.’” “Though I still don’t understand what makes Mr. Saji peculiar,” I continued, “mightn’t you be misjudging him somehow?” “Well,” I conceded, “since your words have rarely proven false before now, I mean to keep this letter’s warning in mind.” “But when Urushido himself telephones invitations,” I concluded firmly, “preventing Mr. Saji’s visits becomes quite impossible.”

Urushido's illness has not been improving well at all, and I find myself quite distressed. The doctors say that if he manages to survive this winter, there might appear some glimmer of hope. He suffered hemoptysis a week ago, and lately his emaciation has grown dreadful. Just imagining being widowed before winter ends makes my whole body shudder. In such an event, I believe poor Kyoko would become far too wretched.

“How is your illness faring?” “Please do take good care of yourself, okay?”

(From Brother to Sister)

About three days ago, intending to test my legs, I walked four or five blocks around the inn. I did manage to walk, but it seems I overexerted myself—the subsequent throes were severe, and only today has the suffering begun to subside. You’ve been worried, but my condition remains largely like this. I should be patient and remain soaking in these hot springs, but occasionally growing restless and testing my legs proves detrimental. Rheumatism seems like an illness that afflicts the elderly—clumsy in every way—but I do believe it will heal when it heals, so I want you not to worry. Worrying about both your husband’s illness and my illness—having two such concerns must be unbearable for you.

Now, regarding the matter of Saji Sasuke.

It appears my letter was too brief, preventing you from fully grasping my meaning. That was only natural. Though Saji remains a friend to me as well—and I had thought to refrain from speaking ill of him—this approach proved insufficiently rigorous. I realized I must now lay out everything I know and have deduced. As for why you must not permit Saji’s proximity, there are two principal reasons. Let me begin with the comparatively minor one: he possesses extraordinary masculine beauty.

As for his good looks—since you are personally acquainted with him and require no detailed explanation—but during his university days, there already existed...

“A woman who lays eyes on Saji is doomed.” Such weighty words were even uttered by a certain professor. He had once stayed at a senior’s house in Ushigome and commuted to university from there—during that period, they say an extraordinary number of young women rode the city streetcar he took. Female students, telephone operators, and other working women would make themselves late or take deliberate detours just to lie in wait for Saji’s streetcar. Though it sounds like pure fiction, as proof it wasn’t entirely false: two students at a girls’ school were expelled for writing him love letters. Students from the generation before ours zealously pursued female gidayū performers, while modern schoolgirls are mad about Valentino’s Sheik. Saji enjoyed exactly this brand of popularity.

Even women who appear demure on the surface can at times act with shocking boldness and brazenness. Years ago, I attended a live performance by the renowned film actor Hayami Chōjirō at a certain theater, where I saw firsthand women’s terrifying fervor. When Chōjirō walked along the hanamichi runway, women seated along it leaned forward, straining to caress the feet of this famously handsome actor. After the theater emptied, women swarmed around Chōjirō as he retreated from the dressing room to his lodgings, shrieking shrilly. The spectacle was so brazenly indecent it bordered on obscene—had Saji pursued acting, he would have surely mirrored Chōjirō’s experience. Among spirited schoolgirls, he’d become universally recognized by the nickname “Bare-chan,” derived from his resemblance to the film star Valentino.

At the senior’s house where Saji had been staying, his wife was divorced. It is also said that when the daughter of Diet Member S—a prominent politician—was discovered to be in possession of a photograph of Saji (though where she obtained it remains unclear), her engagement to the son of businessman Mr. M was broken off, and this eventually led to Diet Member S’s financial collapse and political downfall. Even more tragic was the case of that professor’s daughter I mentioned earlier—reportedly a pitifully homely girl—who wrote an exceedingly long letter to Saji but lacked the courage to actually send it to him. Carrying it with her daily as a student at D English School, she became mortified when friends saw the letter and committed suicide using Calmotin.

Only then could one fully grasp the meaning behind the professor’s words. That we’ve never heard of Saji himself making advances toward women should preserve at least some shred of his dignity. Thus, in the strictest sense, he cannot be labeled a womanizer or lecher—yet tragically, he remains a man endowed with precisely that degree of allure toward women. Urushido must have known this full well, which makes your permitting his proximity all the more suspect to me. Might you show this letter to Urushido yourself? Then you too, for the sake of your beloved Urushido, would do well to steer clear of such a dangerous man.

I do not think you're the type of woman to play with fire by getting involved with Saji, but since caution never goes amiss, I've decided to lay out this first reason with complete candor.

Second reason――.

This can be considered connected to your husband’s remark that “Saji is a man with some peculiar traits.” In what way is he peculiar? To put it briefly, he has an odd habit of affecting villainy. This matter—well—is known only to those particularly close to Saji, like Urushido and myself, but he is what we call a “hypocrite patient.” During his student days, he would devise extremely clever cheating methods every exam period and proudly demonstrate them to everyone. Yet he himself never cheated, always passing with top marks. He had devised various schemes—ways to steal books from Ueno Library, ride trains without paying, or swindle change—all so novel and ingenious that anyone might be tempted to try them. Once he created a method to intercept money orders by exploiting a friend’s name, having funds sent from the friend’s hometown. A wastrel student named K immediately copied this scheme but botched it, leading to his swift apprehension by authorities and eventual expulsion from school.

When this matter became swiftly known among our group, Saji—

“What a fool K is. That idiot actually tried acting on the drivel I spouted. I can’t stand dealing with imbeciles like that. It’s nothing but trouble for me. I’ve always hated fools—honestly, slaughtering every halfwit in the world might make society downright pleasant. And K? He’d lead the procession to the gallows. Even if he graduates properly someday, he’ll never amount to anything. The type who’ll keep repeating blunders until he drowns in failure. In this world, quick success belongs to clever criminals—those who commit evils without leaving traces. K’s an insignificant speck. What? You suggest I show him sympathy? Don’t be absurd. However much my words tempted him, I don’t traffic in cheap sentimentality for fools.”

He really did put on a tough front. Later I heard that when K was arrested, Saji voluntarily went to the police and fabricated a lie—claiming the money order interception scheme was a method he himself had devised, and that he’d made a bet with K about whether it could be carried out—while making every possible plea on K’s behalf. The officers were reportedly deeply moved by Saji’s show of friendship toward K, who himself wept and apologized for having instead caused trouble for Saji. Not only that—Saji even reimbursed all the money K had already squandered and managed to extricate him from police custody altogether.

The bravado Saji showed us and these actual deeds—as to which represents his true nature, I find myself still unable to decide.

He would boast that deceiving women through his good looks was child’s play, sometimes pretending to manipulate several at once yet never once being exposed through such acts. As I mentioned earlier, it borders on the uncanny how every romantic incident ultimately resolved itself as mere unrequited infatuations from the women’s side.

He also said something like this.

“It seems I’m viewed by you all as something of a braggart.” “I may look like someone who does bad things, but I never actually do any.” “So it seems the real me is considered quite a cowardly man.” “But the truth is, I have no interest in committing petty misdeeds.” “If I’m to commit misdeeds at all, I intend to devise wrongdoing that no one in humanity has ever conceived.” “You might say my entire life is devoted to that wrongdoing.” “Just as an artist creates their magnum opus, just as a scientist stakes their life to unravel a great cosmic mystery, I intend to venture into uncharted territory and ascend to the pinnacle of evil.” “To be hauled off by the police for some petty misdeed before committing a grand crime would be utterly disgraceful.” “That’s why I’m currently lying low, biding my time until the moment arrives.”

At that time, I was deeply impressed by how skillfully Saji articulated his ideas. However, looking back now, whether Saji spoke these words in earnest or half in jest has grown somewhat ambiguous. It would be fine if the hypocrite patient remained a hypocrite patient to the very end. However, I cannot definitively assert that a day will not come when his hypocrite-patient act ceases to be mere pretense. In that sense, I do not hesitate to regard Saji as a dangerous individual. After graduating from university, he entered the X Ministry and became a government official, having recently returned from an overseas assignment. While he has matured considerably since those days and may no longer flaunt his hypocrite tendencies as recklessly as he did during his student years, it is precisely this restraint that makes one wonder whether he might not, in the depths of his being, be plotting some genuine misdeed and laying its groundwork even now.

Moreover, regarding his caution-worthy character, I believed there were plenty more stories beyond what I’d already mentioned; however, as I was fatigued that day, I decided to lay down my pen there. I trusted you had understood what I’d been saying. Please convey to Urushido that he must conquer his illness through patience. They say lungs are battlegrounds where germs and patience clash—whichever holds out longer prevails. Tell him he must survive at all costs for his beloved wife’s sake—having you coax him affectionately might prove an effective tactic.

Well then, farewell.

From Kyoko to Brother

“Brother, your paranoia had the two of us—Kyoko and Urushido—laughing ourselves silly! I’ve never received such an amusing letter from anyone before as this one you sent. Mochi, I do understand your concerns perfectly—and Urushido claims to be ever so grateful about it all—but when I showed him that letter of yours, he cried, ‘This proves your brother’s gone full paranoiac!’” “A Hypocrite Patient and a paranoiac—what a perfect pairing.”

“Mr. Saji came again yesterday—not that I’d ever breathe a word about your letters to him—but I suddenly called him ‘Bare-chan.’” “He turned beet red from shock!” “Where did you hear that?” he kept pressing, so desperately concerned it was beyond funny.” “Urushido and I teased him mercilessly, but that man—just as Urushido says—is truly timid at heart.” “Brother, you really needn’t worry about a thing.”

When talking with Urushido, he said such a thing. “Hey there. “Lately I’ve come to think I’ve become utterly worthless. “In my youth I too was quite ambitious—I studied diligently and brimmed with vigorous energy. “Yet when I actually entered society after student life, I became thoroughly entrenched as a salaryman—constantly preoccupied with things like hoping my pay would rise sooner, avoiding offending my superiors’ sensibilities, or wanting to accomplish some feat at the ministry to gain the director’s recognition. Nothing but matters of that sort. “My past grandiose proclamations grow increasingly distasteful to me. “This won’t do—even when a cry to revive my former vigor and ambitions occasionally echoes from the corners of my mind... no no... my present circumstances aren’t particularly unfortunate. “Compared to my fellow graduates and such, my career advancement has been relatively swift—I should likely be counted among the successful. “The thought that I mustn’t rush wells up within me... I’m truly pathetic. “If I’m to be made to return to my former self... then ultimately... I suppose I must embark on some splendid romance here to reignite the vigor of my youth. “To be honest... I’ve been fawned over by women far too much. “Thinking I could obtain women whenever I desired... I’ve never once experienced true love. “If there were a woman who wouldn’t easily forgive me even if I tried to obtain her... I could probably return to my old self.”

I believe these very words must be Mr. Saji’s true feelings. I almost want to find someone suitable for Mr. Saji to fall in love with among the women I know.

If he were to find such a lover, Mr. Saji would become a more spirited person, yet there’s no chance he’d revert to being the hypocrite patient of old.

Today, Tokyo saw its first snow.

Urushido has been in an oddly good physical condition since then, and he himself says that if things continue like this, he’ll be fine. Please rest assured.

(From Brother to Sister)

That letter of yours dubbing me a ‘paranoia victim’ and all that—I was utterly defeated by it.

Now that you mention it, I do think I might indeed be a paranoia victim—for your latest letter has made me grow all the more anxious. I wonder if I’ve spoken too much about Saji. And in doing so, I wonder if I might not have inadvertently stirred—from an unexpected angle—the curiosity toward Saji that had until now slumbered unaware within your heart.

Kyoko.

Be careful!!! You’re talking about finding a lover for Saji. This is unnecessary! Never, ever meddle in such affairs. That is proof you’ve unconsciously begun developing curiosity toward Saji.

Curiosity between the sexes constitutes the first step toward dangerous play. For you who have already begun nurturing such curiosity, whether my pointing this out proves beneficial or harmful remains beyond my judgment. Though I hesitate even as I write this letter, your conduct is fundamentally improper. Consider Saji a villain. I implore you. My anxiety grows unbearable. Were it not for this rheumatism, I would hasten back to Tokyo at once—sever all ties with Saji through formal declaration, and employ every means to forestall further intimacy between you two.

In another letter addressed to Urushido, I urged him to be wary of Saji. Even if I’m ridiculed as a paranoia victim, in essence, my heart remains singularly devoted to praying for Urushido’s and your happiness.

(From Sister to Brother)

Christmas, and then the year's end.

I have come into a time when I feel somehow unsettled. With the annual hassle of troublesome gifts and Urushido insisting—as usual—that we hold Christmas celebrations at home,Kyoko has been terribly busy and left her reply to you unattended for nearly a week. Please forgive me.

"I’ve come to realize something lately—Brother, you truly are remarkable. Through your letters, I’ve been able to analyze my own feelings with considerable clarity. And just as you said, I discovered that I indeed harbored a certain curiosity toward Mr. Saji, astonishing even myself." "Am I a bad woman?" "Lately, I find myself terrified to directly meet Mr. Saji’s gaze, and even when bringing tea to Urushido and Mr. Saji during their conversations, I feel oddly uneasy. I try to behave as coldly as I can, but I feel as though both my husband and Mr. Saji have already seen through that this coldness isn’t heartfelt."

Urushido had been growing more energetic by the day since then, and it seemed he would eventually protect me more robustly, so I took heart in that. And after much consideration, I asked Mr. Saiga to stay with us for the time being.

Mr. Saiga is someone you’ve met two or three times as well, Brother. He was a junior of Urushido’s and now served as a partner in the business Urushido ran. A taciturn, blunt man who seemed intimidating—they said his business skills were exceptional, and Urushido trusted him completely. Having lost his wife last year, he appeared rather lonesome; cohabiting here would benefit business affairs; and as for Kyoko herself, she wanted someone who’d keep stricter watch over her than even Urushido did. All these reasons combined were why we had Mr. Saiga come stay with us.

Unable to trust my own heart and resorting to installing a watchdog—Kyoko must be quite the silly girl, don’t you think?

But Mr. Saji has come to seem like someone utterly terrifying—I can’t help it. Have I too become infected by Brother’s paranoia? “Brother, how has your illness been lately?”

(From Brother to Sister)

I received your letter. This time it was a rather rambling letter, wasn't it? I read your latest letter three or four times over, but found myself troubled by how poorly I grasped your true intentions. The thing is, what you said felt unnaturally strange. You claimed to harbor curiosity toward Saji and seemed to be confessing honestly, yet why did you not keep him at a distance? While fearing Saji, continuing to permit his comings and goings achieved nothing.

You’re telling some kind of lie, aren’t you. I await a true letter—one without lies.

That’s all for today—.

(From Brother to Sister)

“What’s wrong with you, Kyoko!”

It has been a week today since I sent my last letter. In that time Christmas too has passed—yet still you send me no reply.

“Did you take offense because I wrote that you were lying?” Whether it offends you or not, I believe your previous letter remains full of lies.

“I ask again—how do you truly feel about Saji?” The thought that you might have begun loving Saji—far beyond mere curiosity—left me unbearably anxious. Moreover, your silence led me to suspect something dreadful was unfolding between Urushido and Saji with you at its center. If only this were mere delusion—how relieved I would be.

If you cannot honestly express your feelings, then at least inform me of the recent movements of the hypocrite patient Saji Sasuke. Should you do so, I would likely be able to form various judgments. The truth is, a cold has struck me down, worsening my rheumatism once more. I find it regrettable that I cannot return to Tokyo to personally watch over you, Urushido, and your surroundings. I await your swift reply.

(From Brother to Sister)

A Happy New Year.

Today marked another week.

I didn't want to say anything strange so early in the New Year. Couldn't you have at least sent a New Year's card?

(From Brother to Sister)

From the end of last year into this one, I read Stendhal’s novel *The Red and Black*. And I discovered that Julien, the protagonist of this work, bears no small resemblance to Saji Sasuke. Julien was an exceptionally handsome youth, a man of sharp intellect, and moreover ambitious. The beautiful Madame de Rênal, while striving to avoid Julien, ultimately committed adultery with him. Moreover, Mademoiselle de la Mole, while striving with all her might to despise the low-born Julien, became pregnant with his child and came to revere and love him as if he were the world’s greatest man. Finally, Julien—on the very brink of his rise to prominence—was thwarted by Madame de Rênal’s slander and murdered Madame de Rênal with a pistol. Though the murder had merely wounded Madame de Rênal, Julien was sentenced to death according to the story’s plot—and I cannot help fearing that my happening to read such a novel now might be some dark coincidence or ill omen.

I pray that you do not turn out to be Madame de Rênal. And I pray that Saji does not become Julien.

Today was January 4th. Yesterday and the day before—and all of today—I had waited for word from you only to end up left waiting in vain. What could be the reason even Urushido hadn’t sent any word? Here—as usual—when I applied my unique brand of imagination I found myself wondering: Had you intercepted every single letter I’d sent to Urushido? If my words were made heard to Urushido he would learn of your feelings toward Saji and keep him at a distance. Because that outcome would have been terrifying you’d severed communication between him and me—all to keep Urushido deceived.

Beloved sister,

It was not yet too late.

Tell me the details.

(From Kyoko to Brother)

Urushido - dead. Saji - taken by police. Can’t come here?

(From Brother to Sister)

Can’t come—Details—Inform by letter—Newspaper—Send.

(From Sister to Brother)

Kind, yet terrifying Brother.

“Brother, you have finally hit upon the tragic conclusion, haven’t you?” “As I informed you by telegram, Urushido has died.” “No, he was murdered.” “Brother, you who rarely make mistakes in anything you say—I resent only the accuracy you’ve shown this time.” “You needn’t have pinpointed things so thoroughly.”

Until yesterday, I had been living with a feeling of being trapped in a nightmare. Everything was all too sudden—I couldn’t believe anything I saw before my eyes. Even Urushido’s death, taking his remains to the crematory and receiving the urn in return—none of it felt real yet. No matter how much I weep or repent, Urushido will not return to life. And so I was finally made to realize it as an event within reality, and it was as though I had been kicked down all at once into the deep, deep abyss of grief, shame, and anguish.

Brother, though I cannot yet determine where to begin this account or write in any coherent manner, allow me to report the general sequence of events surrounding the incident. Brother, you spoke of a dark coincidence, but it was indeed a coincidence too uncanny—for that very night was when you had sent the letter describing poor Madame de Rênal and Julien. Here I will mention in passing that your letter had discerned my dreadful secret up to the halfway point, Brother, though the latter half took on the appearance of your concerns having somewhat overstepped their bounds. Now that I mention it without hiding anything, Kyoko was actually on the verge of becoming Madame de Rênal. When I stated in my previous letter that I had begun to feel curiosity toward Mr. Saji, I was already secretly in love with him; thus, I found it utterly impossible to compose a truthful reply to you, Brother, and my responses became incoherent and half-hearted—and since you sharply pointed this out, I became entirely unable to send any further correspondence. However, Kyoko was fighting. The fact that we had Mr. Saiga stay with us is not a lie either. In secret, I thought of Mr. Saji as a demon and tried my utmost to despise and hate him, but the problem was that he had already made overtures of courtship toward me. Kyoko believed she had fought desperately to resist this temptation. When I finally confessed to Urushido on last year’s Christmas Eve, he said he had anticipated this matter more than halfway, and so was greatly pleased by my confession. As for why my husband, despite having anticipated it, remained silent and watched—his feelings remain utterly incomprehensible to me—but in any case, Urushido did not scold me. On the contrary, he continued to allow Mr. Saji to visit, and toward Brother—just as with me—he did not seem inclined to say anything. It was only natural that the situation would deteriorate. After making my confession, I came to believe my husband was monitoring me with a kind of cruelty, which made me want to defiantly feign intimacy with Mr. Saji, even as I suffered in my resolve not to succumb to temptation. When I said that Brother’s concerns had overstepped their bounds halfway, it was because even then, Kyoko had not yet fully become Madame de Rênal. Please believe this. No matter what turmoil lay in her heart, outwardly Kyoko had not yet reached a point where she could offer Urushido no justification. Kyoko had barely managed to defend the final line at all costs. And so, under such circumstances, the aforementioned evening arrived.

That night――. Unfortunately, only three people remained in the house: myself, Urushido, and our maid Otake. Mr. Saiga was traveling for three days, and since it marked the end of the seven-day New Year festivities, I had dismissed Takeya and the other maids and live-in students earlier that evening—thus by half past eight only we three remained. After instructing Otake to fetch Urushido’s next dose of medicine from the doctor’s office, I visited my husband’s sickroom. Some time later, sensing Takeya’s return to the kitchen through some faint disturbance in that direction, I suddenly recalled needing to make an urgent call elsewhere. Leaving Urushido’s room, I made my way to the telephone beside the storeroom—the one you know so well, Brother—when every light in the house extinguished simultaneously.

I thought it might be a power station outage or perhaps a blown fuse in the service line, assuming the lights would soon return. In darkness so thick it felt painted over me, I began making the call—only to find it repeatedly busy or crossed, dragging on far longer than expected. Though I say it took long, it was likely no more than ten minutes. Throughout this time, the lights stayed dead, and Takeya—that country maid who'd only come to Tokyo a month prior—proved hopelessly inept at finding matches or candles, her unfamiliarity with the house's layout making every task interminable. There I stood at the telephone, engulfed in blackness, the line stubbornly refusing to connect until frustration overcame me. I began shrieking in that shrill voice of mine—and just as I moved to slam down the receiver—BANG!—from somewhere in the house came that violent report! I heard such a terrible gunshot.

Takeya, who was still fumbling around in the kitchen, later said she thought I might have suddenly collapsed or hit something and gotten injured while making the call. But initially, even I found it difficult to immediately determine where that dreadful gunshot—so abrupt—had come from. Takeya finally managed to light a candle and, just to be safe, illuminated the service line switch in the hallway corner—only to find its cover inexplicably open. In hindsight, someone must have turned off the switch to plunge the house into darkness, but at the time, I merely wondered who could have done such a thing without considering deeper implications. I had Takeya bring a stepping stool and ladder, and since we were only women, we struggled tremendously to restore the switch. When I finally went to check on Urushido’s room after the lights returned, I found a sight too horrific for my own words to describe.

Urushido had met his end, lying face up on the bed, his head shot through with a pistol. Until the moment I went to make that phone call, nothing had happened—Urushido had been cheerfully saying how his fever from the illness had subsided considerably lately, that with this progress he might even be able to rise by early spring—yet now my husband no longer uttered a single word. He had been reduced to a pitiful corpse.

As for what happened afterward, I need not recount it myself; please peruse the Tokyo newspapers I have enclosed. After the police arrived, scrutiny first fell upon the murder weapon—the pistol—but that pistol had always been kept in the drawer of the small desk beneath my husband’s bed. A detective promptly discovered the pistol at the base of the camellia in the courtyard with one bullet missing; meanwhile, the window facing the courtyard had been left open, and the back gate’s latch could be easily undone. In conclusion, it was determined that someone had killed my husband with his own bedside pistol, fled through the window into the courtyard, and abandoned the weapon at the camellia’s roots. The deduction follows that since I was at the telephone and Takeya was near the kitchen—both positions offering potential views of the courtyard—the culprit likely cut power beforehand before slipping into my husband’s room.

There were no signs of theft. When it came to determining the culprit and they began investigating those who frequented the house, Mr. Saji soon became a suspect. Whoever had brought such matters to the police’s attention, our secret romantic involvement had already been fully exposed—and worse still, when asked where in Tokyo Mr. Saji had been around eight-thirty on the night of the incident, he failed to provide a clear account. When questioned by the police about his actions that night, Mr. Saji initially claimed to have been on a bench in front of the science museum in Ueno Park at that time, but then made a strained explanation that it had been for a secret meeting with me. He claimed to have arranged with me to meet secretly at that bench at 8:30 p.m., where he steadfastly waited for me—but regarding this matter, I too was questioned extensively by the police. Naturally, I have no memory of making such an arrangement, and when I denied it, Mr. Saji became furious, berating me as a terrible liar. Yet no matter how much affection I might have begun to feel for him, I simply cannot state that I ever made such an absurd promise. Since I truthfully revealed that it was indeed Mr. Saji’s own claim, in the end his alibi became untenable. It was apparently an excuse that he had kept himself out of sight to carry out our secret meeting as discreetly as possible, but not a single person came forward to report having seen Mr. Saji in front of the science museum. I too, as I previously stated to you, Brother, had observed Mr. Saji with particular interest, and this was my mistake—one I could regret and regret but never fully repent. Mr. Saji must have concluded that my failure to reciprocate his courtship was due to my husband’s presence—and moreover, his recent gradual recovery—leading him to resolve to kill Urushido in the end, don’t you think? And then, when his crime risked exposure far too quickly, didn’t he fabricate a false alibi and attempt to make effective use of it through my well-intentioned false testimony? If I had truly loved Mr. Saji more than my husband, I might have been able to claim that we had arranged a secret meeting in Ueno Park to save him, but due to unavoidable circumstances that caused me to be late, I left him waiting on a park bench. In that case, the circumstances would change. Mr. Saji would have been far more advantageous thanks to having an alibi. Unfortunately, Mr. Saji misjudged my love. I suffered and writhed, but I have now come to realize with perfect clarity that I did not love Mr. Saji enough to provide such "well-intentioned false testimony." And I consider that, at the very least, to be an apology to Urushido.

I now find myself recalling stories—how Mr. Saji, as a Hypocrite Patient, had publicly declared he would someday concoct the most magnificent crime to demonstrate, and how Julien too had shot Madame de Rênal with a pistol.

“Brother, you who have never spoken a mistaken word since time immemorial.” “And you are truly terrifying, Brother.” “Please comfort this pitiful Kyoko as she stands now.”

(From Brother to Sister)

How pitiable.

Amidst a whirlpool of tragedy rarely encountered in ordinary lives—though you must have been exhausted both physically and mentally—you still wrote such a detailed letter this time. Because of that, I was able to grasp the general picture. If I may say so, it was my rheumatism that cursed us. Had I been in Tokyo, I would never have let this happen.

Now then, while I’ve largely grasped the situation through your letter, you must forgive your brother’s ill-fated nature—born with an inescapable disposition that cannot leave anything half-measured, coupled with a curiosity exceeding most others’. Through your letters and the newspaper articles, there remain two or three points I must inquire about. This stems both from Saji being my old friend and his apparent continued denial of Urushido’s murder—were they determined to attribute this crime to him regardless, I would want to forthrightly urge him through correspondence to confess—but I shall instead itemize my questions.

(1) The culprit turned off the lights and fired the pistol. When aiming at a target, deliberately choosing darkness runs counter to common sense. How do the authorities interpret this? (2) According to your letter, it was established that the culprit turned off the lights just as you were leaving Urushido's room to make a telephone call. In the darkness, your telephone call apparently encountered busy signals multiple times, requiring you to redial repeatedly. Are there any inaccuracies in those details?

(3) While I do not remember the layout of Urushido's courtyard with particular clarity, I believe the camellia where the pistol was found had been planted at the right edge of the flower bed, approximately six or seven ken southeast from Urushido's sickroom. Is that correct?

(4) Mr. Saiga is someone with whom I share an acquaintance. It’s said he had been traveling for approximately three days—where was his destination?

In conclusion, I await your prompt reply with utmost urgency.

(From Sister to Brother)

I have read your letter.

“You showed no comfort for Kyoko whatsoever, yet sent itemized interrogations—I must say, Brother, you’ve gone quite far.” Was there some flaw in how I composed my letter? “Or perhaps, Brother—are you enraged by my indiscretions toward Mr. Saji?”

“In that case, Kyoko too shall present her reply in itemized form.”

(1) Judging from the nature of the wound, it had been determined that Urushido was shot and killed from extremely close range. According to the authorities' account: since he was lying in bed and given that it was someone who had frequently visited him during his illness, they could discern where Urushido’s head was even in darkness; moreover, upon intruding, they likely called out to reassure him with a familiar voice before approaching the bed—at which point they could have easily aimed and shot him.

(2) Regarding the circumstances when the lights went out—it happened precisely as you described. There can be no error about this.

To reiterate: Takeya was searching for candles in the kitchen, and just as I was growing impatient with the telephone, a pistol shot rang out abruptly in the darkness. (3) The camellia too was exactly as you stated, Brother. (4) Mr. Saiga was traveling to Nagoya. “Do you suspect Mr. Saiga of something?” “To tell the truth, I too have considered the possibility that it might be him.” “Mr. Saiga has deeply intertwined business interests with Urushido, and perhaps there may have been some undisclosed friction between them that we were unaware of.” “However, he returned to Tokyo on the evening following the incident and was utterly astonished.” “His alibi of having been in Nagoya was solid, and at present, there’s simply no grounds for suspicion.” “If it were determined that the culprit was Mr. Saiga rather than Mr. Saji, I think I would somehow feel relieved.” “If that were the case, it would mean this incident was not caused by my disgraceful affair with Mr. Saji after all—and at least some of this weight on my shoulders would lift.”

My head feels heavy today, and I ask that you forgive me for providing only the above reply. "If through your efforts Brother you were to prove Mr. Saiga the culprit, I—Kyoko—would be truly grateful." "Could he have feigned a trip to Nagoya while remaining here?" "Please share your observations on this matter soon." At present, the only thing that might salvage Kyoko’s spirit is likely that alone. How much your letters fortify me surpasses even your imagination, Brother.

Well, that’s all—.

(From Sister to Brother)

Winter rain carries an unfathomable desolation, does it not? Kyoko has become such a wretched crybaby lately. When I went to my husband’s room, it stood hollow and desolate. “You!” I called out. I tried calling again in the tiniest whisper. Yet no one answered. But Kyoko—keeping her ears strained for Urushido’s reply—soon found herself unable to stifle her sobs.

Immediately after the incident, I still kept my composure.

I have taken care of the funeral as well.

And after that, hardly anyone came to visit. It was a grave-like silence. The silence must not be disturbed. In this deathly quiet house, I wanted to remember only Urushido. But I found myself growing unbearably lonely, you see.

Mr. Saiga too, saying he couldn’t bear to stay in the house now that Urushido was gone, moved to an apartment in Yotsuya, and Mr. Saji, of course, did not come. Urushido had only a handful of distant relatives—so few they could be counted on one’s fingers—and those people rarely appeared; even when they did show themselves, it was solely with designs on the Urushido family’s wealth, hoping to claim some favorable memento from the estate. When I saw how shallow those people were—Kyoko—it made me want to die.

Brother, why haven’t you sent me a letter? Brother, you are my sole reliance, yet since then over a week has passed and Kyoko has remained utterly alone in all the world.

Is something amiss with your health? Please send me a letter, I implore you.

(From Sister to Brother)

When I saw in yesterday's newspaper that heavy snow near Brother's hot spring resort had suspended rail service entirely—though I couldn't imagine it being true—there had been no change in your condition, had there? For five more days, Kyoko had spent her time absently thinking of nothing but Urushido and you, Brother. As I'd mentioned in my previous letter regarding Mr. Saji—the investigation into him reportedly still hadn't concluded. The police had gradually uncovered details about Mr. Saji's peculiar personality—someone who attended the same school as both Mr. Saji and yourself, Brother, had described him as "a sort of devil-worshipping man." Though the wording differed from "hypocrite patient," his unfavorable impression seemed to grow ever stronger.

If Mr. Saji were not the culprit—if that hope Kyoko had cherished of finding some relief—was it finally to prove futile? How wondrous it would be if I could rouse Urushido from his subterranean rest and demand he name the true criminal. Should Urushido point his accusatory finger, even the most obstinate, brazen-faced villain would have no recourse but to grovel in the dirt. Yet to entertain such notions filled me with dread. This could only constitute sacrilege against Urushido’s eternal spirit.

Be that as it may, what has become of Mr. Saiga’s matter?

If it were you, Brother—if you could perhaps break Mr. Saiga’s alibi about having gone to Nagoya—Kyoko had still not abandoned that hope. Please send your reply.

(From Brother to Sister)

Beloved sister—

For nearly two weeks I neglected to contact you. I did indeed read both letters—the one expressing your loneliness and the one requesting information about Mr. Saiga—but let me take this opportunity to say: how uncharacteristically clumsy those two letters of yours were compared to your usual self. Did the grief of losing Urushido pierce your heart so sharply? Or was some obstruction ceaselessly agitating your heart—an obstruction that，the harder you tried to conceal it，only revealed itself more plainly in your words，your letters，your very sentences?

Sister—

“You are a pitiful woman,” I said. “You must understand well that I, as your brother, will love and pity you to the end, no matter what may happen. And I want you to read this letter I am about to write as calmly as possible.” To tell the truth, I had found this letter quite hateful to compose—a letter I had taken up my brush to write time and again only to hesitate, yet ultimately resolved to set down. First, where should I begin? Since you yourself raised the matter in your letter, perhaps I shall start by addressing Mr. Saiga’s situation at your request.

“You said how delighted you would be if Mr. Saiga were the culprit, didn’t you?” “How ingeniously you phrased that!” “According to my investigation, Mr. Saiga was indeed staying in Nagoya at the time of the incident.” “And there exists not even a hair’s breadth of evidence proving him to be the culprit.” “Was it not you—more clearly than anyone—who knew he was not the culprit?” “You knew full well that no matter how intensely I might suspect Mr. Saiga, it would ultimately only prove his innocence—and precisely because of this, you deliberately emphasized his suspiciousness, hoping through my responses to secretly sniff out how much of the truth about this incident I’d managed to grasp.” “The reason you desired correspondence from me was, in fact, to quietly probe which direction my investigation was progressing—this is how I perceive it.” Pitifully, your heart overflowed with anxiety. Touching though it was, you recognized this brother as your most fearsome enemy and threw yourself wholeheartedly into battle against me. Having long prepared and feigned a romantic entanglement with Saji Sasuke that both existed and did not exist—ultimately, your main aim was to deceive me. Brother was, in fact, deceived for a time. Not only Brother, but Saji Sasuke too must have been deceived. The promise he made to secretly meet you in Ueno Park was not necessarily a lie. The promise itself most certainly existed. Only you failed to fulfill that promise, and later made Saji go alone to Ueno Park—where foot traffic was scarcest—so that he could not prove an alibi for where he was in Tokyo at 8:30 PM. Under the secretly exchanged promise between the two of you—and taking advantage of there being no witnesses to that agreement—you later boldly declared that no such promise had ever been made. The fury of Saji, now falsely accused, was more than one could imagine. “Why did you do such a thing?” “It was because you had meticulously planned long in advance—skillfully manipulating Saji—so that should the worst occur, the aim was to cast suspicion solely upon him.” “His peculiar personality—his being a hypocrite patient—proved extremely convenient.”

“He was exactly the most fitting man to have a false charge imposed upon him.”

Though I reside in a remote location, when you first informed me of the incident’s details, I discovered something inexplicably strange. That you made a phone call in complete darkness. When I promptly inquired whether there was any mistake in that account, you confirmed there was none. But, clever sister. "Consider this." "Here, you have committed what’s called a criminal’s blunder—a misstep so astonishing by common standards that one would gasp, 'Why would they do such an idiotic thing?'" The Urushido residence is located in Akasaka. And the telephone in your house within Akasaka ward is designed such that calls cannot be made in darkness. Let alone when lines were busy or crossed—redialing multiple times would have been utterly impossible. That telephone uses a rotary dial system. It has a numbered dial, and one must read and rotate this dial. One cannot simply inform an operator of the telephone number. And yet, you stated it was dark—so utterly pitch-black that one might as well have been sealed in. So then, how did you manage to make that phone call?

When I discovered this lie, I began deducing its purpose. I surmised you had been pretending to make a phone call to prove your absence from your husband’s room when the pistol discharged. By fortunate timing, Takeya happened to be listening at the telephone. You thereby secured her as your witness. Though the pistol was fired at point-blank range, your alleged presence at the telephone naturally absolved you of suspicion. In fact, the authorities wholly excluded you from their inquiries based solely on this account. Yet in your excessive zeal to establish having made that call, you committed an extraordinary oversight—you neglected the rotary dial you used daily. Later, when pressed about whom you had called or when investigators examined the recipient’s end, fearing exposure of the call’s failure, you recklessly cited busy signals and crossed lines while claiming to have shrieked shrilly. But maintaining both the pretense of dialing and the necessity of darkness compelled you to disregard the dial entirely.

Next, then—why was darkness necessary?

That was for two reasons.

The first reason was undoubtedly to provide an explanation—that due to the darkness, no one could have seen the culprit fleeing. In the garden there was a single night light, and light also streamed out from your husband’s room. If the culprit had fled through this illumination, Takeya—who happened to be in the kitchen—should have seen their figure. However, if it had been dark, one could argue that they couldn’t have been seen because of it. In short, darkness both conceals human figures and allows one to claim that non-existent figures went unseen precisely because of that darkness.

The second reason concerning darkness.

The culprit fired the pistol in that darkness—but where was it discharged? To state this in proper order: The culprit shot Urushido before extinguishing any lights. That night she dismissed all servants except Takeya—that country-bred maid—granting others leave for amusement. At precisely eight-thirty she dispatched Takeya on medical errands; during this absence she committed matrimonial homicide most foul. Following meticulous premeditation she entered your husband’s chamber—having pilfered his pistol earlier—muffling its report beneath quilted layers while jesting casually; pressed muzzle against his brow before comprehension dawned; squeezed trigger swift as thought. Then came window half-raised—stagecraft suggesting flight—followed by precise timing intercepting Takeya’s return; sprinting corridors she scaled window frames like some macabre acrobat severing electrical connections at their source. Next commenced telephonic theatrics near storage rooms—yet one final task remained incomplete.

It was to replenish the single bullet fired in the husband’s room with another bullet that had been stolen alongside the pistol beforehand.

The pistol, now replenished with a bullet, remained in her hand. While speaking loudly into the telephone receiver, she momentarily stepped back and fired through the small window toward the garden with a thunderous roar. Takeya in the kitchen heard the sound, yet no one discerned its origin. The discharged bullet must have plunged deep into the soft earth there. The culprit then hurled the pistol toward the inner garden—it landed at a camellia's roots, whose placement visible from the storage room's window I confirmed through direct interrogation of the criminal. Using darkness as her ally, she meticulously ensured none witnessed this disposal. Thus you must now comprehend darkness's dual necessity.

Sister, you who are too clever—so much like your brother. Pitiful you failed to realize that this was cleverness with a fatal flaw. The brother finally felt he managed to say what needed to be said—albeit inadequately. The brother, with a heart pierced as though by a dagger, fell into the predicament of having to expose his own sister as a murderer.

Be damned.

When I discovered the lies in your letters, I immediately had a certain friend in the capital monitor your movements for ten days. What I uncovered was this fact: you and Saiga had secretly visited a rendezvous in Omori over a dozen times, from before the incident until after it occurred. To borrow your own phrasing—when Urushido, lying beneath the earth with his face drenched in blood from the forehead wound, points out the murderer’s name, shouldn’t you yourself be the first to kneel in contrition?

Your lover was not Saji, but Saiga. Having Saiga live with you had likely been to indulge in pleasure with him. This affair was soon to be uncovered by your husband Urushido, leaving you no choice but to proceed without delay and embark upon this horrifying crime. So long as the husband did not divorce her, the wife could inherit his estate. Waiting for the right time, you may have intended to marry Saiga.

Brother exposed your crimes for his departed friend Urushido; by the time this letter reaches your hands, detectives seeking to take you into custody will already be en route.

From the garden near the storage room, the pistol’s bullet would also be dug up. Though I may be a merciless brother, please forgive me. Saji was, after all, nothing but a Hypocrite Patient. I cannot abandon him to his fate.

The brother may have been comforted all along until today through his beautiful and clever sister.

The brother loves you.

Well then, farewell, pitiable Kyoko—.

("Shin Seinen" Showa 11 (January 1936 issue))