September 20, 188—, 6:00 p.m.
South Kôga-chô, Kanda Ward, Tokyo
Chizuru accompanied him to the gate of Renbei-jyuku. She seemed even more reserved and vulnerable than usual.
And Daigo knew why: he had refused her father’s request.
At the gate, he turned to her and said, “Please forgive me.”
“No,” Chizuru replied. What else was there to say? Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Turning away, she wiped them with the sleeve of her kimono.
Before she could face him again, Daigo excused himself and walked through the gate.
He felt like a villain of the worst kind.
When will she get over her disappointment? he wondered.
After walking several steps down the main street, he heard a cheerful voice calling from behind him. “Sensei Minazuki.”
When Daigo turned around, a radiant smile greeted him.
She wore a feather-patterned kimono, a purple hakama that came down to her shoes, and a matching purple ribbon in her hair. Even if she’d been wearing a standard-issue school uniform, Daigo would have been able to recognize her just from her large, catlike eyes.
He was glad to see Akane, Chizuru’s younger sister, and most especially Saigô Shirô, who was standing there next to another student from the all-girls school.
Although her older sister did not study the martial arts, Akane had studied the sword at Renbei-jyuku until a year ago and was now training at Kôdôkan dojo. The bundle she carried was probably a judo uniform.
Acknowledging Shirô with a look, Daigo asked Akane, “On your way home?”
“Yes—but not right away,” she said suggestively and with a cheerfulness that almost made Daigo smile.
“What are you scheming?”
“You know Charman-san’s mansion near your house? We are going there.”
“Yes, the mansion owned by the trading company. But that place is—”
“Unoccupied, we know. But someone is moving in tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“Please don’t answer like you care when you really aren’t the least bit interested.”
Daigo grimaced. From top to bottom, Akane was the polar opposite of Chizuru, and the way she challenged him just now reminded him of the swing of a sword.
“Well, excuse me, but even though no one has moved in yet, don’t you think it’s unwise to enter someone’s home without permission? And, in the first place, you don’t have a key.”
“Don’t worry about that. Right, Takako-sama?”
It was fashionable among schoolgirls to call each other sama, but such a detail was lost on Daigo. The schoolgirl, who had been staring at Daigo, bowed hastily. Judging by the bundle in her arms, she was also a judo student. She was a plump girl, weighing perhaps twenty kan.
“This is my best friend, Niizuka Takako. Her family is in the real estate brokerage business. Her father was the one who sold the mansion. Takako-sama borrowed the key, and we’re going there now.”
“Even with the key, you can’t just go into someone’s house unless you have a good reason.” Daigo’s tone was harsh.
Akane stuck out her chin and retorted, “We do have a reason.”
Daigo glanced at Shirô, whose shoulders were slumped forward, probably a sign that he’d been dragged here reluctantly. Even the head of Kôdôkan dojo, Kanô Jigorô, respected the Kashiwabara name, which probably had something to do with why Shirô was here with Akane.
“First, Takako-sama read the agreement, which said the new resident will not move in until tomorrow. And, furthermore, there is a painting by the famous French artist Millet in that house.”
“Millet?”
“Ah, it seems the art world is completely foreign to someone who just swings a sword all day. In all Japan, there exists only one painting by this famous man.”
“Oh, let me explain!” Niizuka Takako cut in, pushing Akane aside. Akane staggered back. Takako seemed better suited to sumo than judo.
“It’s like this.” Looking up at Daigo longingly, the plump girl began to explain, as spittle flew from her thick lips.
According to her account, the mansion had once belonged to a British trader named Charman, who was also in the art and antiques business. Millet had died in 1875. While his paintings, depicting the daily lives of farmers, had not been big sellers during his lifetime, he had won praise from people in the art world even twenty years before his death. Five years before that, Charman had been on business in Barbi-zon, an artists’ retreat, and heard about Millet through a business associate, and so Charman visited Millet at his home.
However, it seemed the businessman did not have an eye to recognize the value of the paintings. If he had, he might have bought much more than a single painting for one hundred francs.
Charman hung the painting in his Japanese mansion; and it was during a visit with her father that Takako had first seen it.
Later, there was a failed business venture in Europe from which Charman could not recover, and he went bankrupt. He forfeited the mansion, along with the Millet painting. He had been so busy trying to recover what he had lost that he had heard nothing of Millet’s sudden and meteoric rise to fame. Perhaps Charman was never really meant for the art business.
And now a painting by Millet, whom the French had acknowledged as a genius, hung on a wall in a mansion that would be unoccupied for only one more day.
“Takako-sama told me the story two days ago. I appreciate art, Sensei Minazuki. It must be the art gods who have given us the opportunity to see this painting. Of course, we won’t lay a finger on it, just look at it. That is only proper.”
“Is that so? Well, good-bye.”
Daigo bowed and was turning to leave, when Akane hastily said, “Sensei, where are you going?”
“I’m going home. Try not to make a mess of the mansion.”
“Wait, we need you to come with us!”
Daigo kept walking.
“The ghost of Charman might appear!”
Daigo stopped and turned around. Looking at Shirô quietly, he said, “You have him for that. There isn’t anyone more reliable in all Tokyo.”
“Judo doesn’t work on ghosts.”
“Neither does kendo.”
“Charman-san hanged himself in the room where the painting is. Are you going to let two girls go into such a place?”
“But you’re the ones who want to go there.”
Akane searched for an answer and retorted, “What if it’s not a ghost? What if there’s a vagrant with a knife, or a robber? What if there are ten of them? Sensei Saigô, say something, please.”
Shirô was caught off guard by her demands. Even the judo prodigy was no match for the free-spirited tomboy.
Daigo grimaced.
“Minazuki-san—”
Daigo stopped him from making a formal plea. “Fine, I’ll go. But as a favor to a friend.”
The girls exchanged grimaces but said nothing.
The mansion looked more frightening by the minute. Not even a year had passed since it had been abandoned, and yet everything about it was ominous—the ivy climbing the walls, the withered garden.
And the remaining rays of sunlight would soon turn blue.
Using the key that Takako had brought, they opened the iron gate and let themselves in. Before reaching the entrance, the foursome stopped to look around.