“Something is strange,” Takako said fearfully, keeping her voice low. “It didn’t look this scary the last time I came. Even with no one here and the yard full of weeds—”
Looking down at the ground, Shirô asked, “Niizuka-san, are you sure you have the date right? Look there. Wheel tracks in the dirt.”
They also found hoofprints in addition to the four lines made by the wheels of a carriage.
“Then somebody…?”
Akane could not help furrowing her brow, but she was quick to think positively again. “That’s all right. If the new resident is already here, we can just ask him if he’ll show us the painting.”
Shirô replied wearily, “I don’t think anyone is here. The gate was chained shut, not to mention there are no lights on, even though it’s getting dark.”
“Fine. Then let’s proceed as planned.”
There was no bell to ring, and, although they knocked, there was no answer.
“It doesn’t seem like anybody’s home. Let’s let ourselves in.”
Takako unlocked the door. The mansion was sunk in darkness.
“Sensei Saigô. A light please.”
Shirô produced a match and candle and lit it.
“Go on inside. Saigô-kun, after them,” Daigo suggested.
However, Akane refused, “In these situations, aren’t the men supposed to go first?”
Shirô tried not to laugh. “Agreed. Then I shall go first.”
The entrance hall was spacious but empty. The tables, chairs, cabinets, and lamps had all been cleared out.
Takako reported that the stairs were on the left and that straight ahead was the living room.
“The windows haven’t been opened in a while. It smells moldy in here,” Akane said, looking all around. “The curtains are closed. Those curtains—”
“Weren’t here before,” Takako finished, nodding.
Shirô tilted his head a bit. “That would mean that the new owner came to hang some curtains without bothering to open the windows to let in some fresh air, then left. That is strange.”
A mystery. They couldn’t figure out why anyone would do that.
Akane pointed to the door tucked away to the right side of the staircase. “That’s the way to the living room. Right, Takako-sama?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go, everyone.”
Shirô led the way and opened the door.
The smell of mold assaulted them. The smell was far worse here than in the hall, where at least some fresh air could seep in through the entrance.
“Where is the painting?”
“The wall over there.” Takako pointed to the left.
“Sensei Saigô,” Akane urged.
Shirô started forward.
The wall and the edge of the frame slowly came into view.
But then they realized that the illumination from the candle was too faint.
“Will someone open the window?” Akane said, her voice rising with excitement.
Setting the candle on the floor, Shirô headed for the window. The curtain opened. It appeared there was some traces of daylight left. Bluish light streamed into the empty room.
And at last, they saw the painting.
“Ohhh!”
The voices were filled with shock and dismay, and they belonged to Akane and Takako.
The painting was there,
A family of farmers appeared to be on their way to the fields in a horse-drawn carriage.
Even in the gloom, anyone could see that the painting was filled with tenderness and the power to touch people’s hearts.
If only there were not a cross-shaped cut in it.
A great painter’s precious legacy had been destroyed, and in this very mansion.
“How could it be? Millet’s painting… his art,” said Akane in a daze.
There was the sound of wings fluttering overhead.
Akane screamed and bent over instinctively. The black shadow came down on the nape of her neck.
“Oh!” She screamed again, swatting it away. Shirô held up the candle.
The light from the candle caught what looked like the edge of a black wing. It flew upward.
Chasing after it with the candle, Shirô glanced out of the corner of his eye at Akane, who was till hunched over, her hand covering the right side of her neck.
“It’s a bat. Damn you!” Shirô swatted at it with the candle, but the winged creature swooped down and circled around the flame as if to mock him.
In this situation, Shirô’s judo skills were of no use.
“Kashiwabara-san, what’s wrong?”
“I’m all right,” answered Akane.
In the split second that Shirô had let down his guard, the creature flew over the candle and swooped into his line of sight.
Dropping back, he heard a dull sound in front of him.
An enormous bat with a wingspan of two shaku lay lifeless on the floor. Rather than check on Akane, the martial artist in him made Shirô stare at the man who had swung the wooden sword right at his face. It was Daigo.
“Amazing!” he shouted. What Daigo had done was unthinkable.
So confident was Daigo in his skill that he needed only to glance at the bat, and then he motioned toward Akane with his chin, “Go check on her.”
Takako was already by her side.
Shirô ran over to her hastily. “Are you all right?”
He brought the candle closer.
Forcing a smile, Akane said, “The bat’s claws… I’m only bleeding a little.”
“That’s not good. We have to sterilize it.”
Shirô brought the flame even closer.
Akane jumped. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I thought that to sterilize the wound…” He looked at Akane’s face and realized she was frightened. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
Judo prodigy or no, he was still a bit scatterbrained.
Then, out of the darkness, a voice rang out, “How you have disappointed this traveler who has only just arrived in your country.”
Even Daigo was a slow to turn around. Though it was a human voice, it was so heavy and oppressive that it had chilled him to the bone.
And that was when it became apparent that Shirô had not been the one to open the curtains.
The man stood next to the curtains with his hand still on them. Just outside the window was a balcony, and beyond that was a gnarled tree illuminated in a bluish tint.
“I had heard that the people of this country value courage and decorum. And I knew someone who embodied those qualities.”
The four intruders were shocked to discover it was a foreigner who had been speaking such fluent Japanese.
“We’re sorry,” Akane apologized to the shadow. “We had heard it would be another day before you arrived, and we wanted very much to see the painting.”
“A boring picture of farmers.”
“Oh, no—”
“We apologize profusely for entering your home without permission.” Daigo bowed his head. “My name is Minazuki Daigo. I teach kendo at Renbei-jyuku in South Kôga-chô.
This introduction drew a reaction from the steely-looking figure. “Ah, the decent one in the group. Were you the one who cut down the bat?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“I had thought it possible to cut down a swallow but not a bat. And to kill it instantly with one blow is the mark of a true swordsman. Brilliant.”
“Not at all.”
“Out of respect for your skill, allow me to introduce myself,” said the dark figure. “I am Count Dracula.”