Pathway to Japanese Literature

I have today received your letter dated XX stating that Mr. Saji must not be permitted to approach. As always, Dear Brother, you show concern for every detail, but this particular letter leaves Kyōko utterly perplexed. Mr. Saji—it was neither Kyōko who approached him nor Kyōko who arranged any such approach. As you yourself know full well, Dear Brother, he was a classmate of yours and Urushido's. Upon returning from America, he promptly called on Urushido, and since then—being ill and bored and craving conversation—Urushido has come to greatly anticipate Mr. Saji's visits.

Now that I think of it," I recalled,"Urushido once said: 'Saji was always odd from his school days onward—people gravely misunderstood him—but at core remains a timidly honest man.' Though I still don't comprehend what makes Mr.Saji peculiar," I continued,"mightn't you be misunderstanding something about him,Dear Brother? Still,"I conceded,"since your words have rarely proven false before,I shall keep this warning in mind.Yet how could I possibly bar Mr.Saji when Urushido himself telephones inviting him over?"

Urushido’s condition has actually taken a rather bad turn, and I’m at my wits’ end. According to the doctor, if he can make it through this winter, there will apparently be some prospect of recovery. He coughed up blood a week ago, and lately his weight loss has become severe. The mere thought of being parted from my husband by death before this winter ends sends shivers down my spine. In that case, Kyōko would be far too pitiful.

How is your illness, Dear Brother? Please do take good care of yourself.

(From Brother to Sister)

Three days ago, intending to test my legs, I walked four or five blocks around the inn. I did manage to walk, but evidently pushed too hard—the resulting pain grew severe, and only today has it begun to ease. You’ve worried over me, but this is simply how my condition persists. I ought to stay patient, soaking in these hot springs, yet my occasional impatience leads me to test my limits—a mistake I must avoid. Rheumatism feels like an old man’s ailment, full of undignified torments, but I remain convinced it will heal in time—please don’t fret. Bearing concern for both your husband’s sickness and mine—that would be too cruel a burden for you.

Now, regarding the matter of Saji Sasuke.

It seems my letter was far too brief, making it difficult for you to fully grasp my meaning. That’s only natural. Saji is my friend as well, and I had considered refraining from speaking ill of him, but that approach proved inadequate. In the end, I must now lay out everything I know and think here.

There are roughly two reasons why Saji must not be allowed to approach. First, starting with the less significant reason: he is an exceptionally handsome man. As for his good looks, since you know him personally, there’s no need for detailed explanation—but during his university days, there already existed—

“A woman who lays eyes on Saji is doomed, I tell you.”

...were words of profound meaning that had even issued from a professor’s lips.

He had once stayed at a certain senior’s house in Ushigome and commuted to university from there for a time. During that period, the streetcar he rode to school was said to have been perpetually crowded with young women. Schoolgirls, telephone operators, and other working women—they would either disregard their own schedules or deliberately take detours just to lie in wait for Saji’s streetcar. It might sound like pure fabrication, but as proof it wasn’t entirely false, two students at a certain girls’ school had even been expelled for writing him love letters. Students from an era before ours reportedly chased after female gidayū performers with desperate fervor, while modern schoolgirls lose their minds over Valentino. Saji likely commanded precisely this caliber of devotion. Even women who appear outwardly demure can sometimes act with shocking boldness and brazenness. Years ago, I attended a live performance by Hayami Chōjirō—then famous through films—at a certain theater. There I witnessed firsthand the ferocity of women. When Chōjirō walked along the stage runway, those seated along its edge would lean out and stretch their hands to caress the feet of this actor celebrated for his beauty. After curtain call, women would swarm around him as he tried leaving through the stage door for his lodgings, shrieking shrilly all the while. It was truly something shameless and disgraceful—had Saji become an actor, he’d have surely rivaled Hayami Chōjirō himself. Among spirited schoolgirls, he’d become so widely known by the nickname “Bare-chan” that one could immediately identify him—apparently because he resembled the film actor Valentino.

At the senior’s house where Saji was staying, the wife was divorced. It is said that when Diet member S’s daughter—a prominent politician—was discovered to have a photograph of Saji (though where she obtained it remains unknown), her engagement to the son of businessman M was broken off, and this eventually led to Diet member S’s financial ruin and political downfall. Even more tragic was the case of that professor’s daughter I mentioned earlier—reportedly so pitifully homely—who wrote an exceedingly long letter addressed to Saji yet lacked the courage to send it. While carrying it daily (she was said to attend this D English School), she grew ashamed when friends saw it and ultimately committed suicide using Calmotin.

Only then did the meaning of the professor’s words become fully comprehensible. The fact that we had yet to hear of Saji himself making advances toward women was sufficient to preserve at least some of his dignity. Therefore, in the true sense of the term, he could not be called a womanizer or a seducer; yet unfortunately, he remained a man possessed of precisely that degree of charm toward women. Urushido must have known that as well; yet I could not help but wonder why he allowed him to approach. Could you show this letter to Urushido? And for the sake of your beloved Urushido, you yourself would do well to avoid a man with such dangerous tendencies.

Though I don't believe you're the type of woman to play with fire by entertaining Saji, it's better to err on the side of caution—hence I've resolved to lay bare this first reason explicitly.

The second reason— This connects to your husband’s remark that “Saji has some peculiar traits,” as you mentioned. What makes him peculiar? To state it plainly, he possesses an oddly persistent habit of playing the villain. This fact is known only to those particularly close to Saji—Urushido, myself, and others—but he suffers from a sort of pseudo-villain complex. During his university years, he would devise remarkably ingenious cheating methods every exam season. He would then proudly demonstrate these techniques before everyone. Yet he himself never cheated, consistently passing his exams with top marks. He conceived various schemes—methods for stealing books from Ueno Library, riding trains without paying fares, even swindling change on occasion—all so novel and clever that anyone might feel tempted to try them. Once, he devised a method where he used a friend’s name to intercept a money order sent from the friend’s hometown. A dissolute student named K immediately copied this scheme but bungled it, resulting in K’s swift apprehension by the authorities and subsequent expulsion from school.

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

“K’s a fool.” “That idiot actually thought the nonsense I spouted was something he could pull off.” “Dealing with imbeciles like that is impossible.” “It’s such a nuisance for me.” “I’ve always detested fools—frankly think the world would be infinitely more pleasant if we slaughtered all its imbeciles in one fell swoop. K’s first in line for such culling.” “That wretch—even if he graduates properly, he’ll never amount to anything.” “He’s the type who’ll repeat the same blunders and keep piling up failures.” “In this world, those clever enough to commit crimes undetected achieve success most swiftly.” “K’s an utterly worthless existence.” “Huh?” “What? You think I should show him sympathy?” “Don’t be absurd.” “No matter how much he was tempted by my words, I don’t traffic in cheap sentimentality to pity the likes of him.”

He truly did put on a bold front. Later I heard that when K was arrested, Saji himself appeared at the police station—fabricating a story that he had devised the money order interception method and wagered with K about its feasibility—while making exhaustive appeals on K’s behalf. The officials were reportedly deeply moved by Saji’s show of friendship toward K, who tearfully apologized for having instead inconvenienced him. What’s more, Saji reimbursed all the funds K had already squandered and ultimately secured his release from custody.

As for whether the bravado Saji directed at us or these actual deeds represented his true nature, I still found myself unable to decide. He boasted that using his looks to deceive women was child’s play, and though at times he made it appear as though he were manipulating several women simultaneously, he had never once been exposed. As I mentioned earlier, it verged on the uncanny how all those romantic entanglements had ultimately been resolved by attributing them solely to unrequited feelings on the women’s part.

He had also made statements like this. “It seems you all think of me as nothing but a boastful liar.” “I may look like someone who’d do bad things, but I never actually commit any.” “So the genuine article appears to be considered rather timid.” “But truthfully, I’ve no interest in petty misdeeds.” “If I’m to act at all, I intend to devise a crime unlike any humanity has ever conceived.” “You might say my entire existence is consecrated to that singular wickedness.” “Just as an artist creates his magnum opus or a scientist stakes his life to unravel cosmic mysteries, I mean to venture into uncharted realms and scale evil’s supreme peak.” “Being dragged off by police for some trifling offense before executing my grand design would be intolerably shameful.” “That’s why I maintain utmost discretion now—awaiting my appointed hour.”

At the time, I was impressed by how Saji always had such clever things to say. But now, looking back, whether Saji had said such things sincerely or half in jest had grown somewhat ambiguous.

If the pseudo-villain disease had remained merely pseudo-villainous to the end, all would have been well. Yet I cannot declare with certainty that the day might never arrive when his affectation of villainy ceased to be mere affectation. It is precisely for this reason that I unhesitatingly deem Saji a caution-worthy individual. After graduating university, he entered the × Ministry as a government official and has reportedly recently returned from abroad. While he has undoubtedly matured considerably since his student days and likely no longer flaunts his pseudo-villainy as indiscriminately as before, this very restraint makes it not impossible to imagine that deep within, he might truly be devising some misdeed and laying preparations accordingly.

As for his character deserving caution beyond what I had already mentioned, I felt I could go on at length—but being tired today, I decided to lay down my pen here.

“You’ve understood what I’m saying, haven’t you? Please tell Urushido he must conquer his illness through patience. They say lungs are a battleground between germs and perseverance—whichever holds out longer wins in the end. Tell him it would be disastrous if he doesn’t survive for his beloved wife no matter what happens—playing up your affection might be one approach.”

Well then, farewell.

(From Sister to Brother)

“Dear Brother, your anxious nature—Kyōko and Urushido had quite the laugh over it together. A letter as entertaining as this—I’ve never received anything like it from anyone before. Of course I understand your concerns perfectly—and Urushido claims to be ever so grateful—but when I showed him that letter, he declared, ‘This reeks of persecution complex!’ A pseudo-villain patient and a persecution complex—what a splendid pairing they make!”

“Since Mr. Saji came again yesterday, I naturally didn’t breathe a word about your letter—but I suddenly called him ‘Bare-chan.’ Mr. Saji was so startled his face turned crimson! He kept agonizing over where he could’ve heard that nickname—it was positively absurd how worked up he became. Urushido and I teased him mercilessly, but that man truly is as timid as Urushido says. Dear Brother, you needn’t worry about a thing.”

While I was talking with Urushido, he said something like this.

“Hey, Urushido-kun. “Lately I’ve come to think I’ve truly become worthless. “In my youth I was quite ambitious—studied hard and brimmed with vitality. “But after finishing school and entering society, I became thoroughly domesticated as a salaryman—constantly thinking about salary raises, avoiding superiors’ displeasure, seeking official commendations—nothing but such trifles. “My past grand proclamations now shame me. This won’t do—even when some corner of my mind screams to reclaim former ambitions—no no—my present circumstances aren’t truly wretched. Compared to classmates, I’ve advanced relatively fast—could even be counted among the successful. The thought ‘Don’t rush’ keeps surfacing.—Pathetic. If I must return to my former self, perhaps I need some splendid romance here to reignite youthful vigor. Truthfully, I’ve been too favored by women. Believing them obtainable at will—I’ve never known true heartfelt love. “Were there a woman who’d refuse me despite my efforts—perhaps then I could regain 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 from among the women I know. If such a lover were to come into his life，Mr. Saji would become a more spirited person—and yet there’s no chance he’d revert to being the pseudo-villain patient of old.

Today, Tokyo had its first snow.

Urushido had been in strangely good health since then and said himself that if things continued like this, he’d be fine. Please rest assured.

(From Brother to Sister)

That letter harping on about my persecution complex—it truly overwhelmed me.

If I were told that, then indeed I might have a persecution complex—it was because even in this latest letter of yours, my concerns had grown all the more. Had I spoken too much about Saji? And in doing so, might I have stirred up the curiosity toward Saji that had lain dormant within your heart until now?

Kyōko. “Be careful!!!”

"You speak of finding a lover for Saji." "This is unnecessary!" "Never—under any circumstances—meddle in such affairs." "That proves you've unconsciously begun nurturing curiosity toward Saji." "Curiosity between man and woman constitutes the first step toward dangerous dalliance." "Whether my pointing this out to you—already tainted by such curiosity—does good or ill, I cannot discern." "My pen hesitates even now—regardless, your conduct remains improper." "Consider Saji a villain." "I implore you." "My anxiety grows unbearable." "Were it not for this accursed rheumatism, I would hasten back to Tokyo—sever all ties with Saji—forestall any further intimacy between you two—such burns my resolve."

In a separate letter addressed to Urushido, I told him to be wary of Saji. Even if I’m ridiculed as having a persecution complex—in short, I remain single-minded in my heart’s prayer for the happiness of you and Urushido.

(From Sister to Brother)

Christmas had come, and then the year's end.

I have come into a time when my feelings lie somehow unsettled. With the annual nuisance of tiresome gifts and Urushido—as ever—insisting we host Christmas celebrations at home,Kyōko found herself frantically occupied,having left my reply to you,Dear Brother,dangling neglected these seven days. Pray forgive me.

“I’ve come to realize something deeply of late—Dear Brother, you truly are remarkable. Through your letters, Kyōko has been able to dissect her own feelings with considerable clarity. And just as you said—Kyōko discovered she indeed harbored a certain curiosity toward Mr. Saji—leaving me astonished at myself. Am I a wicked woman? Lately I found myself terrified to directly lock eyes with Mr. Saji—even when bringing tea where Urushido and he conversed—I felt strangely uneasy. Though I tried to behave as coldly as possible—I sensed both my husband and Mr. Saji had already seen through this insincere coldness.”

Urushido had been growing more energetic by the day after that incident, and since it seemed he would someday protect me even more strongly, I took heart in that prospect. After much consideration, I asked Mr. Saiga to come live with us for the time being. Mr. Saiga—Dear Brother must have met him two or three times and surely remembers him. He was Urushido’s junior and served as partner in Urushido’s business ventures. Though taciturn, blunt, and somewhat intimidating in manner, his business acumen was splendid—Urushido trusted him completely. Having lost his wife last year, he seemed lonely; cohabiting here proved convenient for business matters. Moreover—and I confess this freely—I wanted someone who would watch over me more attentively than even Urushido did. For all these reasons, we had Mr. Saiga join our household.

Not being able to trust my own heart and going so far as to install a watchdog—Kyōko really is such a silly fool, you know.

But Mr. Saji had come to seem like such a terrifying person somehow that it couldn't be helped. Could it be I'd caught Dear Brother's persecution complex too? How has Dear Brother's illness been these days?

(From Brother to Sister)

I read your letter. This time, it was truly a rambling letter indeed. I read over your latest letter three or four times, yet your true intentions remained unclear to me. The problem lies in how unnaturally strange your words sound. You claim to harbor curiosity toward Saji and appear to confess this honestly—yet why haven't you kept him at a distance? If you fear Saji yet continue permitting his visits unchecked, it serves no purpose whatsoever.

“You’re lying about something, aren’t you?”

No lies—I await a genuine letter. That’s all for today—.

(From Brother to Sister)

“What’s wrong, Kyōko?!”

It had been a week today since I sent my last letter. In that time, Christmas had come and gone, but you still hadn’t given me a reply. “Did it offend you that I wrote you were lying? Whether it offended you or not, I still think your previous letter was full of lies.”

“Let me ask once more—what do you truly think of Saji? That you’ve begun to love him—not mere curiosity—is what I fear, and it leaves me deeply unsettled. Moreover, that you haven’t sent any word only fuels my darkest imaginings—that something dreadful is unfolding between Urushido and Saji with you at its center. If only that were mere persecution complex—how relieved I would be.”

“If you cannot honestly express your feelings, then at least inform me of Saji Sasuke’s recent movements—the pseudo-villain patient.” “Then I should be able to make several judgments.” I had been laid low by a cold, which worsened my rheumatism again slightly. I found it regrettable that I couldn’t return to Tokyo to keep direct watch over you, Urushido, and your surroundings.

I await your prompt reply.

(From Brother to Sister)

Happy New Year.

Today marks yet another week.

I don’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 the new year, I read Stendhal’s novel *The Red and the Black*. And I discovered that Julien, the protagonist of this work, bears no small resemblance to Saji Sasuke. Julien is an exceptionally handsome young man, a man of keen intellect, and moreover, an ambitious one. The beautiful Madame de Rênal, while trying desperately to avoid Julien, ultimately committed adultery with him. Moreover, Mademoiselle de La Mole, while striving to despise Julien for his lowly status, became pregnant and came to revere and love him as if he were the greatest man in the world. In the end, Julien—just as he was about to rise in society—found himself thwarted by Madame de Rênal’s slander and shot her with a pistol. Though the murder only wounded Madame de Rênal, Julien was sentenced to death—a plot that fills me with dread that my coincidental reading of this novel might represent some dark synchronicity or ill-boding omen.

I pray you would not become Madame de Rênal. And may Saji not become Julien.

Today was January 4th. Yesterday, the day before yesterday, and all of today—I had waited for word from you, only to end up utterly forsaken. Why had there been no word at all—not even from Urushido? Here, as ever when applying my particular brand of imagination—had you intercepted every letter I sent addressed to Urushido? Were my words to reach Urushido’s ears, he would come to know your feelings toward Saji and distance him. It was precisely that terror which drove you to sever communication between us—to keep Urushido deceived.

Dear Sister. The time is not yet too late.

Tell me the details.

(From Sister to Brother)

URUSHIDO DEAD. SAJI TAKEN TO POLICE. WON’T COME HERE?

(From Brother to Sister)

CAN’T COME. DETAILS. INFORM VIA DOCUMENT. NEWSPAPER. SEND.

(From Sister to Brother)

Kind and terrifying Dear Brother.

“Dear Brother has ultimately predicted*¹* the tragic conclusion*²*, hasn’t he*³*? As I informed you via telegram, Urushido died. No—he was murdered. In all matters, you rarely erred in what you declared, Dear Brother, but I resent only this accuracy now. You needn’t have pierced through everything so perfectly.”

“Until yesterday, I spent my days feeling trapped in a nightmare where nothing made sense. Everything happened too suddenly—nothing I saw before my eyes felt believable. That Urushido died, that we took his remains to the crematorium and received this urn in return—none of it feels real to me yet. Even if I cry or beg forgiveness, Urushido won’t come back to life. And now that I’ve finally been forced to accept this as reality, I feel myself plummeting into a bottomless chasm of grief, shame, and torment.”

“Dear Brother, I still cannot write in any coherent manner about where to begin this account, but allow me to report the general circumstances surrounding the incident.”

You had spoken of a coincidental convergence, Dear Brother, but it was a convergence too coincidental to be mere chance—for that very night was precisely when you had sent the letter writing of poor Madame de Rênal and Julien. Let me mention in passing here: halfway through, your letter had discerned my terrible secret, Dear Brother, but the latter half seemed to show your worry had gone too far. I will now speak without concealment: Kyōko was in fact 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. Because of this, composing replies to you felt utterly false—they became incoherent and incomplete—and after you sharply pointed this out, I became wholly unable to send any more letters. However, Kyōko was struggling. It is not a lie that Mr. Saiga was allowed to live with us. Kyōko thought of Mr. Saji as a devil in secret and tried to despise and hate him as much as possible, but what troubled her was that Mr. Saji had already begun courting her. Kyōko believed she had fought a bloody struggle to resist this temptation. When I finally confessed to Urushido on last year’s Christmas Eve, he stated—quite unexpectedly—that he had anticipated this matter more than half, and thus was greatly pleased by my confession. Why my husband anticipated it yet remained silent remains utterly incomprehensible to me, but in any case, Urushido did not scold me. On the contrary, he continued to allow Mr. Saji to come and go, and toward Dear Brother, it seems he made no attempt to say anything—just as I did. The situation was bound to deteriorate. After confessing, I recalled how my husband was surveilling me with a kind of cruelty, and so I defiantly wanted to feign intimacy with Mr. Saji—yet on the other hand, I struggled not to succumb to temptation. When you stated that only half of your worry had been excessive, Dear Brother, it was because Kyōko had still not fully become Madame de Rênal.

Please believe this. Whatever turmoil lay within her heart, in outward form Kyōko had not yet reached a point where she could offer Urushido no explanation. Kyōko had desperately defended that final boundary. And thus, under these circumstances, came that fateful evening I mentioned before.

That night——

As ill luck would have it, there were only three people in the house: Kyōko, Urushido, and the maid named Otake. Mr. Saiga was away on a three-day trip, and since it was the final day of the Seven Days of New Year's celebrations, I had given leave to the other maids and live-in students—all except Otake—to go out. It must have been around half past eight.

I ordered Otake to retrieve Urushido’s medicine for the following day from the doctor and then went to my husband’s sickroom. Some time later, I sensed Otake had returned to the kitchen area, but suddenly remembering I needed to make a call elsewhere, I left my husband’s room. When I reached the telephone by the storage room—which Dear Brother knows well—all the house lights went out at once.

I wondered whether it was a power plant outage or a blown fuse in the service line, thinking the lights would come back soon. There in the pitch-black darkness—so thick it felt painted on—I began making the call, but with it being busy or crossed lines time after time, it took quite a while. Though I say it took long, it was surely no more than ten minutes—but throughout that time, the lights stayed off. Otake, unfortunately being a country girl who had only come to Tokyo about a month prior, fumbled around searching for matches and candles while unfamiliar with the house’s layout, making everything take even longer. At the telephone, I found the darkness truly oppressive; unable to get through on the call and growing thoroughly impatient, I ended up shouting in my usual shrill voice—and just as I was about to hang up the receiver, somewhere in the house came a BANG! I heard what could only be described as a violent gunshot.

Otake, who had still been fumbling around in the kitchen, later said she thought I might have suddenly collapsed or hit something or gotten injured while making the phone call—but initially, even I found that dreadful gunshot too abrupt and could not immediately determine where it had occurred. Otake finally managed to light a candle and, as a precaution, shone it on the service line's switch in the hallway corner—only to find its cover inexplicably open. In hindsight, this was likely someone cutting the switch to darken the house—but at the time, I merely wondered who would do such a thing without deeper consideration. I had Otake bring a stepping stool and ladder, and since it was only us women, we struggled mightily to restore the switch. When I went to check my husband’s room after the lights returned, what awaited me was a state too horrific for words to convey.

Urushido lay on his back in bed, his head pierced by a pistol shot, and had met his end. Until I went to make that phone call, there had certainly been no incident—Urushido had been cheerfully saying how his fever from the illness had subsided considerably of late, that with this progress he might rise from bed by early spring—yet now my husband would not utter a single word. He had become a pitiful corpse.

As for what happened afterward, there was no need for me to explain—please peruse the Tokyo newspapers I had sent along.

After the police arrived, the murder weapon pistol first became an issue, but that pistol had always been kept in the drawer of the small desk beneath my husband's pillow. The pistol—missing one bullet—was quickly discovered by a detective at the base of a camellia in the courtyard, while on the other hand, the window facing the courtyard had been left open, and the back gate's latch could be easily opened. In conclusion, it was determined that someone had murdered my husband with the pistol from beneath his pillow, fled through the window into the courtyard, and discarded the pistol at the camellia's base. The deduction held that since I was at the telephone—and from there or even near Otake's kitchen area—one could have seen into the courtyard if they tried, so the culprit likely cut the lights beforehand before sneaking into my husband's room.

There were no signs of theft.

When investigators began examining who frequented the house to determine the culprit, Mr. Saji quickly became a suspect. Someone—who could say from where or whom?—had already informed the police about our secret affair, and worse still, when asked where in Tokyo he had been around 8:30 PM on the night of the crime, Mr. Saji had given no clear account. Under police questioning, he initially claimed to have been waiting on a bench before Ueno Park's Science Museum at that hour, offering the strained explanation that this was for a clandestine meeting with me. He insisted we had arranged to meet there secretly at 8:30 PM and that he had waited steadfastly—but when I too was interrogated about this, I naturally denied any such agreement. My refusal drove him into such fury that he denounced me as a shameless liar, yet however much affection I might have begun feeling for him, I could never admit to making so preposterous an arrangement. By truthfully exposing this as Mr. Saji's own fabrication, his alibi ultimately collapsed. His excuse—that we'd kept our tryst hidden to avoid witnesses—foundered when not a single soul came forward claiming to have seen him near the museum. As I previously told you, Dear Brother, I had indeed been observing Mr. Saji with particular interest—a mistake I shall regret unto eternity. Might he not have concluded that my failure to return his affections stemmed from my husband's existence—and more pressingly, from Urushido's recent improvement? That having resolved to eliminate him, when discovery loomed too swiftly, he concocted this false alibi expecting my complicit testimony to validate it? Had I loved him more than my husband, I might have claimed we'd arranged that park meeting to save him—that unforeseen circumstances delayed me, leaving him waiting in vain. Then everything would have changed. With an alibi confirmed, his position would have strengthened immeasurably. Poor Mr. Saji fatally miscalculated my devotion. Through anguish and turmoil, I now see clearly—I never loved him enough to offer such "well-meaning perjury." This truth, at least, I offer as apology to Urushido.

I find myself recalling now the story of Mr. Saji—a self-proclaimed pseudo-villain patient who had boasted that he would someday devise and carry out the most magnificent crime—and also the tale of Julien, who likewise shot Madame de Rênal with a pistol.

“Dear Brother, you who have never erred since time immemorial. And you are truly terrifying, Dear Brother.”

“Please comfort this pitiful Kyōko of now.”

(From Brother to Sister)

How pitiful.

In the midst of a tragedy rarely encountered in ordinary life—though you must be exhausted both physically and mentally—you still managed to write such a detailed letter this time. Thanks to that, I have been able to mostly grasp the situation. If I may say so, it was my rheumatism that brought this curse. Had I been in Tokyo, I would never have let such a thing occur.

Now then—while I've mostly grasped the situation through your letter, please forgive your brother's ill-fated disposition: this inborn nature of mine that cannot leave anything half-attended and remains doubly prone to prying. I have two or three further matters I wish to inquire about regarding your letters and the newspaper clippings. This stems from Saji being my old friend as well—since he still appears to persist in denying Urushido's murder, if we must insist it was his crime regardless, I would like to forthrightly advise him toward confession through correspondence—but I shall present my questions in numbered form.

(1) The culprit turned off the lights and fired the pistol. When aiming at something, deliberately choosing darkness seems contrary to common sense. How were the authorities interpreting this, I wonder?

(2) According to your letter, the culprit turned off the lights when you were leaving Urushido’s room to make a phone call. In the darkness, your phone call had encountered a busy signal multiple times and required redialing. Are there any errors in those matters? (3) Though I do not recall the layout of Urushido residence’s courtyard with particular clarity, I believe the camellia where the pistol was found had been planted at the right end of the flower bed, six or seven ken southeast from Urushido’s sickroom. Is that correct?

(4) Mr. Saiga is also someone I know. He was said to have been on a trip for about three days—where was this destination?

In conclusion, I urgently await your prompt reply.

(From Sister to Brother)

I have read your letter.

You didn’t comfort Kyōko at all and instead presented a numbered list of questions—Dear Brother, I thought you were being rather excessive. Was the way I wrote my letter inadequate? “Or perhaps, Dear Brother, are you angry at my misconduct toward Mr. Saji?”

“In that case, I too shall humbly present my response in numbered form.”

(1) It had been determined through analysis of the wound that Urushido was shot dead at extremely close range. The authorities explained that since he lay in bed and it would have been someone who regularly visited him during his illness, they could have known where Urushido's head was located even in darkness; furthermore, upon entering, they might have called out using a familiar voice to reassure him before approaching the bed to take careful aim.

(2) Regarding when the lights went out—that is correct. There is no mistake. To reiterate, Takeya was searching for a candle in the kitchen; when I was growing impatient on the phone, in the darkness, the sudden report of a pistol rang out. (3) The camellia too was exactly as you stated, Dear Brother.

(4) Mr. Saiga was traveling to Nagoya. "Is there something you suspect about Mr. Saiga?" "To tell the truth, I too have considered whether it might be that person." "Mr. Saiga was deeply intertwined with Urushido in business matters—perhaps there were unknown tensions between them that had grown strained." "Yet that person returned to Tokyo on the evening following the incident and appeared utterly shocked." "The alibi placing him in Nagoya is ironclad; at present, I find no grounds for suspicion." "If it were determined that Mr. Saiga rather than Mr. Saji were the culprit, I believe I might somehow find relief." "Then at least this incident would not stem from my wretched affair with Mr. Saji, and this weight upon my shoulders might lighten somewhat."

My head feels heavy today, so please forgive me with just these responses. "If through Dear Brother’s efforts it were discovered that Mr. Saiga is the culprit—Kyōko would be truly grateful." "Could he have pretended to go to Nagoya without actually going?" "Regarding this—please let me hear Dear Brother’s observations soon." "The only thing that might save Kyōko’s spirit now—is likely that alone." "How much your letters become my pillar of strength—it surpasses even Dear Brother’s imagination."

Well, that’s all—

(From Sister to Brother)

Winter rain carries an unfathomable desolation, doesn't it? Kyōko has turned into such a wretched crybaby these days. When I visited my husband's room, its emptiness chilled me to the bone. "You!" I called out. I called again in the faintest whisper. No one answered. Yet Kyōko kept straining her ears for Urushido's response until at last she broke into uncontrollable weeping.

In the immediate aftermath of the incident, I had nevertheless remained tense.

I even took care of the funeral.

And after that, hardly anyone came to visit. It was a silence like a grave. I did not wish for this silence to be disturbed. In this hushed house, I wanted to remember only Urushido. But I was becoming unbearably lonely, you see. Mr. Saiga also said he couldn’t stay forever in the house where Urushido was gone and moved to an apartment in Yotsuya, and Mr. Saji, of course, did not come. Urushido had distant relatives—few enough to count on one’s fingers—so those people rarely appeared; and even when they did show themselves, it was solely with designs on the Urushido family’s assets, angling for some favorable share of the inheritance.

When I see the shamelessness of such people, Kyōko, I want to die.

“Dear Brother, why haven’t you sent a letter?” Dear Brother was my sole source of strength, yet for a week since then, Kyōko had been utterly alone in all the world.

Are you unwell?

“Please send me a letter.”

(From Sister to Brother)

Yesterday, when I saw in the newspaper, it was reported that the area around the hot spring resort where Dear Brother is staying had heavy snowfall, causing trains and such to be suspended.

I could hardly believe it, but there was no change in your condition, was there? For five more days, Kyōko spent her time vaguely thinking only of Urushido and Dear Brother, you see. As I had mentioned in my previous letter regarding Mr. Saji, it seemed the investigation still hadn’t been completed yet. Regarding Mr. Saji’s peculiar character—apparently someone who graduated from the same school as Mr. Saji and Dear Brother called him a sort of devilist man—though differing from “pseudo-villain patient” in wording,the impression grew increasingly unfavorable.

If Mr. Saji were not the culprit—if at least Kyōko had thought she might find some relief—was that hope ultimately in vain? How splendid it would be if she could summon Urushido from his earthly rest and demand to know the murderer's identity. Were Urushido to point them out, even the most obstinate, brazen-faced culprit would have no choice but to prostrate themselves in the dirt. But to entertain such thoughts was terrifying. It would constitute a desecration of Urushido's memory.

“That aside, what has become of Mr. Saiga’s matter?”

If it were Dear Brother who might break Mr. Saiga’s alibi of having gone to Nagoya—thinking so—Kyōko had not yet abandoned that expectation.

Please reply.

(From Brother to Sister)

Beloved sister—

For nearly two weeks, I had neglected to contact you. I had indeed read both letters—the one speaking of loneliness and the other requesting information about Mr. Saiga—but let me take this opportunity to note here: those two letters were, unlike your usual self, such clumsy pieces of writing. Did the sorrow of losing Urushido truly gouge your heart so deeply? Or was there some obstruction that ceaselessly churned within your breast, one that—the more you tried to conceal it—only emerged more clearly in your spoken words, your written characters, your very sentences?

Dear Sister—

You are a pitiable woman. You—no matter what may come—must understand completely that I, as your brother, shall love and pity you without end. And I would have you read this letter I now write with utmost composure. To speak truthfully, this was a letter I abhorred to write. Many times I took up my pen only to falter, yet ultimately resolved to set these words down. First—where shall I begin? Since your own letter makes mention of it, and at your entreaty, perhaps I should commence with matters concerning Mr. Saiga.

You said how happy you would be if Mr. Saiga were the culprit. How artful that way with words of yours was. 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 guilty. Was it not you who knew more clearly than anyone that he was not the culprit? You knew that however much I might suspect Mr. Saiga, it would ultimately only prove his innocence—precisely why you deliberately cast suspicion upon him, hoping through my responses to secretly gauge how much of the truth I had grasped regarding this incident. That you desired word from me was, in truth, to quietly sound out the direction of my investigation—this I perceive. Pitifully, your breast seethed with anxiety. How wretched that you recognized this very brother as your most fearsome enemy, mustering all strength to wage war against me. Having long prepared and feigned a romantic entanglement with Saji Sasuke where none existed—in the end, your chief aim was to deceive me. Brother was indeed deceived for a time. Not Brother alone—Sasuke Saji too was likely duped. That he made a promise to meet you secretly in Ueno Park cannot be called entirely false. The promise itself certainly existed. Only you failed to keep it, making Saji go alone to Ueno Park—where foot traffic was thinnest—so he could later produce no alibi for his whereabouts in Tokyo at 8:30 p.m. Through this secretly exchanged promise—fortuitously lacking witnesses—you later boldly declared this pact had never been made. The anger of Saji—now falsely accused—surpasses all imagining. Why did you commit such acts? Because through patient and meticulous planning long prepared, skillfully maneuvering Saji so that in extremity, suspicion would fall on him alone. His peculiar character—his being a pseudo-villain patient—proved most convenient indeed.

He was precisely the most suitable man to frame with a false charge.

Though I reside in a distant place, when you first informed me of the incident’s details, I discovered something inexplicably strange. It was that you had made that phone call in the dark. When I asked you again whether there was any mistake in that, your reply was that there was none.

But, clever sister— Consider this. There you committed what might be called the culprit’s foolish act—a blunder so baffling by common standards that one would gasp, “Why would they do such an idiotic thing?” The Urushido household is in Akasaka. And the telephone in your house within Akasaka ward cannot make calls in darkness. Let alone when busy or crossed—redialing multiple times would have been utterly impossible. That telephone uses an automatic exchange system. It has a dial requiring visual operation. You couldn’t have given the number to an operator. Yet you insisted it was pitch-dark—sealed off from all light. So how did you manage that call?

When I discovered this lie, I began deducing its purpose. It appears you pretended to make that telephone call to prove you weren't in your husband's room when the pistol discharged. Fortuitously for you, Takeya happened to be listening on the line. And thus he became your witness. Though fired from point-blank range, you naturally escaped suspicion by virtue of being at the telephone. In fact, this single detail completely removed you from official suspicion. Yet in her excessive zeal to prove someone had made that call, our culprit left behind something remarkable. She overlooked the dial she used daily. Later interrogations about whom she'd called would have exposed her failed connection - hence those hasty excuses about crossed lines and busy signals while shrieking shrilly. Yet needing both darkness and telephone pantomime compelled her fatal disregard for that dial.

Next—then—why was darkness necessary?

There were two reasons for this.

The first was undoubtedly to create an excuse that due to the darkness, no one could see the culprit’s fleeing figure. In the garden there was a single night light, and light also streamed forth from your husband’s room. If the factual culprit had fled through this illuminated area, Takeya, who happened to be in the kitchen, might have seen their figure. However, if it had been dark, one could argue that it was precisely why they couldn’t see. In essence, darkness conceals human figures while simultaneously letting one claim that figures which never existed went unseen because of that very darkness.

The second reason concerning the darkness. The culprit fired the pistol in that darkness—but where exactly was it discharged? To state this in proper order: she shot and killed Urushido before the lights went out. Leaving only the country maid that night, she dismissed the others and sent them out to enjoy themselves. And at 8:30, she sent Takeya to the doctor’s place, carrying out the most heinous crime of husband-killing during his absence. Following a meticulously premeditated plan, she entered her husband’s room, retrieved the pistol she had likely stolen beforehand, wrapped it in a blanket or quilt-like material to muffle the sound from reaching the neighbors, cracked some joke while pressing the muzzle against his forehead, and pulled the trigger before he could comprehend what was happening. Then, half-opening the room’s window to create the appearance that the culprit had fled through it, timing it to coincide with Takeya’s return from the doctor’s, she dashed into the hallway, nimbly climbed onto the window frame, and cut the switch to the electric light line. Next, she commenced her charade at the telephone beside the storeroom—but even by this point, there remained one more task to accomplish.

It was to replace the single bullet fired in her husband’s room with another bullet—stolen beforehand along with the pistol—that she had prepared. The pistol with the replaced bullet was still in her hand. While speaking loudly into the telephone receiver, she momentarily stepped back from it and fired the pistol with a thunderous roar through the small window toward the garden. The sound was heard by Takeya in the kitchen, yet no one realized it had been fired from there. The discharged bullet must have buried itself deep into the soft ground below. The culprit then hurled the pistol toward the courtyard; it fell at the base of a camellia, and I have thoroughly confirmed through inquiries with you that this camellia was planted in a position clearly visible even from the small window near the storeroom. The culprit, leveraging the darkness, took pains to ensure no one witnessed them discarding the pistol into the garden from that spot. With this, the two reasons necessitating darkness should now be evident.

Sister, too clever by half—much like your brother. Pitiable you failed to realize this was intelligence with cracks running through it.

Brother had finally managed to say what needed to be said，albeit insufficiently. Brother，feeling as though pierced through by a dagger，had fallen into the predicament of having to point out that my sister was a murderer.

Be accursed.

As soon as I discovered the lies in your letters, I immediately enlisted a certain friend in the capital to monitor your movements for ten days straight. What we uncovered was this: you and Saiga had secretly visited a meeting house in Ōmori over a dozen times, spanning from before to after the incident. To borrow your own phrasing—when Urushido lies beneath the earth, his face drenched in blood dripping from that forehead wound as he names his killer, shouldn’t the first to kneel in penance be none other than yourself?

Your lover was not Saji, but Saiga. Most likely, you had Saiga move in with you to indulge in your pleasures together. And that was soon detected by your husband Urushido, leaving no more room for delay—prompting you to embark on this horrifying crime. If not divorced by your husband, you could inherit his estate. Waiting for the right time, you might have intended to marry Saiga.

Brother exposed his sister’s crime for his departed friend Urushido’s sake—by the time this letter reaches your hands, detectives seeking your custody will already have departed for your location. The pistol’s bullet will also likely be excavated from the garden near the storeroom. Merciless though this brother may be—please forgive him. Saji remained after all nothing but a pseudo-villain patient. This brother could not abide letting him perish.

Who could know how much the brother had been sustained by his beautiful and intelligent sister until this day.

Brother loves you.

Well then, farewell, pitiable Kyōko—.

(From "Shin Seinen" [New Youth] Showa 11, January issue)