Cow Thief: Chapter 4

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Past midnight, a faint noise echoed through the stillness. In the dim light, Ryoichiro could make out the silhouette of Tokuma sliding open the fusuma door. Anxiety gripped him—was Tokuma leaving for good? He bolted upright in a panic.

Tokuma, startled, turned back to look at him. He was in his yukata and carried nothing in his hands. If he were planning to leave, surely he would have prepared appropriately and wouldn’t be empty-handed.

"Are you going to the toilet?"

For a moment, Tokuma stood frozen, but then he slowly nodded. At this hour, what other reason could there be?

"I see," Ryoichiro murmured, lying back down again. But sleep wouldn’t come. The longer Tokuma was gone, the more uneasy Ryoichiro became.

He got up, left the room, and went to the toilet, but Tokuma wasn’t there. He walked around the garden in search of him, but Tokuma was nowhere to be found.

It was then that Ryoichiro noticed the back door leading to the kitchen was ajar. He stepped outside, into the pitch darkness. Relying on the faint moonlight, he made his way down the dark road to the foot of the bridge, but he didn’t encounter anyone.

Returning to his uncle’s house, Ryoichiro found that Tokuma still hadn’t come back. The futon beside his own was already completely cold. Sitting cross-legged on his own futon, Ryoichiro waited.

And waited.

But when morning came, Tokuma still had not returned.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

That day, over breakfast, Ryoichiro's aunt mentioned that the cow offered to the shrine had been "summoned by the mountain deity." Even during the meal, Ritsuko was restless, fidgeting as she asked, "Where’s Tokuma?" Ryoichiro, not knowing the answer himself, irritably replied, "I don’t know."

After breakfast, Ryoichiro wandered around the area, searching for Tokuma. By midday, tired and frustrated, he returned to his uncle’s house, where an unusual commotion filled the air.

In a corner of the garden, Ritsuko was crouched down, crying.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, but she didn’t respond. Then, from the veranda, his uncle’s loud voice called out, "Ryoichiro! Come here right now!"

When Ryoichiro approached, his uncle, pale-faced and flustered, repeated in a trembling voice, "Something terrible has happened. Something terrible!" His words were halting, his speech disjointed.

"Tokuma’s done something outrageous!"

Hearing Tokuma’s name, Ryoichiro’s eyes widened in shock.

"What did Tokuma do?"

"Of all things, he stole the sacred cow! The one dedicated to the shrine! A charcoal-burner saw him leading it along a mountain path and reported it to the police."

"That’s impossible…"

"They caught him as he was coming down from the mountain. The police were here just a short while ago!"

His uncle paced nervously around the room, unable to stay still.

"That man is a disgrace! I pitied him, even helped pay for his mother’s funeral, and this is how he repays us—by smearing mud on the name of the Satake family!"

"There must be a reason for this," Ryoichiro said firmly.

"What possible reason could justify stealing someone else’s property?" his uncle shouted, waving his arms in rage.

"If this scandal breaks off your engagement, the Satake family is finished! That man is ungrateful, despicable! After years of treating him like family, this is how he repays our kindness!"

Ryoichiro turned sharply on his heel.

"Where are you going?" his uncle barked.

"To the police station. I need to speak to Tokuma directly and find out what’s going on."

"Stop piling disgrace on top of disgrace!" his uncle roared. "Tokuma is dismissed from today onward. He has nothing more to do with the Satake family!"

Ignoring the outburst, Ryoichiro rushed outside and headed straight to the police station. There, he pleaded to see Tokuma, but his request was denied—they said Tokuma was still under interrogation, and visitors weren’t allowed.

The next day and the day after that, the answer remained the same. No matter how much Ryoichiro begged, he couldn’t see Tokuma or even leave him a message.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was on the seventh day after Tokuma’s arrest that Ryoichiro was finally able to speak with him. This was thanks to a special favor, as Adachi was acquainted with Tengoku, the prison warden.

At the beginning of September, Ryoichiro was escorted into the prison by an officer. It was his first time seeing a jail cell—a dim, dreary place filled with the stench of filth. The officer stopped midway down a long hallway.

“This is it,” he said.

The cell, no larger than a single tatami mat, had thick wooden bars. At the back, huddled with his back to the corridor, sat someone in a dirt-streaked white yukata that looked as if it had been dragged through the mud. It was unmistakably Tokuma.

“Tokuma Tanaka,” the officer called. Slowly, Tokuma turned around. His lifeless eyes widened in shock upon recognizing Ryoichiro.

“You have a visitor,” the officer said in a monotone voice. Tokuma lowered his head. Ryoichiro knelt before the bars and beckoned him closer.

“Come here.”

Tokuma didn’t move. Frustrated, Ryoichiro snapped, “I said come here!” Tokuma flinched, then hesitantly crawled toward the bars.

Ryoichiro looked up at the officer beside him. “Can we speak alone for a moment?” he asked.

The officer furrowed his brow. “Visits must be supervised. That’s the rule,” he said firmly.

The officer was young, but unyielding. Ryoichiro gestured for him to step aside into a corner of the hallway. Lowering his voice, he discreetly slipped some money into the officer’s uniform pocket.

“Just give us a little time,” he murmured. “If I miss this chance, I might not see him again for years.”

The officer hesitated, glancing between the money and Ryoichiro’s face.

“We’ll just talk. I’ve been searched, and I’m not carrying anything dangerous.”

After some deliberation, the officer finally relented. “Fine, but don’t tell anyone,” he muttered, then left the corridor.

Ryoichiro immediately turned back to Tokuma, who sat slumped by the bars. The man’s already thin frame seemed even frailer. Concern welled up in Ryoichiro.

“Are you eating properly?”

Tokuma gave a trembling nod.

“I wanted to bring you something, but they wouldn’t let me. They wouldn’t even allow me to bring paper and a pencil.”

Tokuma stayed silent, his head bowed, his fingers motionless.

“Why did you do something so foolish?” Ryoichiro demanded. “If you wanted a cow, you only had to ask—I’d have bought you one! But to steal the sacred cow, of all things…”

Still, Tokuma didn’t respond. Ryoichiro thrust his right hand through the bars.

“I know you wouldn’t do something like this without a reason. Write it here. Write the reason in my hand.”

Tokuma lifted his face. Even in his disheveled state, Ryoichiro found him heartbreakingly dear.

“I don’t need paper or a pencil anymore,” Tokuma said.

The voice was small, like the hum of a mosquito, but it struck Ryoichiro like lightning. It was the first time he had ever heard Tokuma speak. Startled beyond measure, he nearly fell over.

"What... your voice..."

"I can speak now," Tokuma said. "It’s been so long since I last spoke that it’s still a little unsteady, though."

His voice was low, slightly raspy.

"When did this happen? When did you regain your voice?"

Tokuma replied, "It returned to me the day I was arrested."

"Returned to you?"

"My voice was taken as collateral in a pact with the swamp deity. But since I fulfilled my part of the agreement, it was returned."

"The swamp deity? What are you talking about?"

Tokuma lowered his gaze.

"The swamp deity is a yokai that resides in the marsh where your mother... where your real mother passed away."

Ryoichiro’s fingers twitched at the mention of his mother’s death.

"I know this may be difficult to believe, but twenty years ago, your mother bargained with the swamp deity to save your life when you were gravely ill. In exchange, she offered her own life. I couldn’t tell you the truth until now because the pact forbade me to speak of it."

Tokuma bowed low, pressing his forehead against the grimy floor of his cell. Meanwhile, Ryoichiro’s trembling fingers gripped his knees.

"...So, my mother didn’t run away from home after all?"

Tokuma shook his head.

"Every time I saw you grieving for her, it broke my heart. I wanted so desperately to tell you the truth, to ease your pain. But I was bound to silence."

Shock and confusion churned in Ryoichiro’s mind. He struggled to process the revelation of Tokuma’s voice, the truth of his mother’s disappearance, and the idea that her death had been to save him. He didn’t know what to feel—gratitude, sorrow, or guilt.

While he felt he should be thankful for her sacrifice, the emotions swirling within him were far more complex. And above all, he found his thoughts returning to the man kneeling before him, rather than the mother he had lost.

Suddenly, Tokuma spat something from his mouth onto the floor. He picked it up and carefully wiped it clean with the sleeve of his tattered yukata.

"Please, let me borrow your hand."

Ryoichiro extended his right hand through the bars. Tokuma placed something in his palm.

It was small, white, and delicate—like a shard of shell.

"When the police arrested me, they confiscated everything I had," Tokuma explained. "I had no choice but to hide this in my mouth."

"What is this?"

"Your mother’s fingernail. I wanted you to have something of hers as a keepsake."

For the first time since Ryoichiro had arrived, Tokuma smiled.

"I thought it would have more color—like the flowers of the Mizosoba plant—but in the end, it’s just stark white."

Ryoichiro slipped the nail into his jacket pocket. Then he suddenly grabbed Tokuma’s hand through the bars, his grip tight and commanding.

"Where is the cow?"

Tokuma flinched, startled by Ryoichiro’s sudden outburst.

"The cow you stole—where did you hide it? If you return it, your punishment will be less severe. I’ll speak with the authorities and—"

"The cow cannot be returned," Tokuma interrupted, his voice trembling but firm.

"Why not? You didn’t slaughter and eat it, did you? Or did you sell it off somewhere?"

"The cow is dead. I cannot return it. And this wasn’t the first time. Every year, I’ve stolen the sacred cow offered at the Koji Festival. I’ve done it every year, not just this one."

Ryoichiro froze.

"The swamp deity demanded an offering—a sacrificial cow—each year. It was part of our pact. I had no means of obtaining one myself, so I resorted to stealing them."

Tokuma held Ryoichiro’s gaze without flinching.

Ryoichiro started to protest, to call it absurd, but then he remembered something. Every year, around the time of the Koji Festival, Tokuma would return to their hometown.

It all made sense now.

"I knew well enough that what I was doing was wrong," Tokuma confessed, his voice heavy.

Even after hearing his words, Ryoichiro couldn't bring himself to believe it.

"That's a lie. There's no way anyone could steal an cow from the shrine every year without being caught!"

Tokuma lowered his gaze.

"Perhaps a person couldn't. But I have the ability to command an oni. Every year, I had the oni steal the cow and lead it to the base of the mountain. This year, while leading the cow stolen by the oni, I was seen by a charcoal burner and reported to the police."

Before Ryoichiro could respond, Tokuma's hand slipped away from his grasp and he retreated into the shadows of the cell, beyond reach.

"As I mentioned before, I harbor an oni within myself," Tokuma continued, his voice faint but steady. "The oni serves as an extension of my will. Whether for good or ill, it acts entirely as I command."

His words faltered, and he looked down.

"I'm better off being caught. Someone as rotten to the core as I am is better suited for a prison cell. Please, forget about me, Ryoichiro-san, and find happiness."

"I refuse to accept this!" Ryoichiro shouted, slamming his hand against the wooden bars.

"I don't accept it! I don't understand. My mother begged for my life—why must you offer cattle to this swamp deity? What kind of agreement did you make with that yokai?"

Silence lingered. Finally, Tokuma spoke, his voice a whisper.

"The first time I stole a cow, I was seven years old. The act terrified me, and guilt ate at me. For a time, I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. But as the years passed, the more I repeated it, the less I felt that guilt. When the ‘Cow Driving’ ritual became part of the festival, and people celebrated the disappearance of the cow, it made me feel even less like what I was doing was wrong.

"I couldn’t regret it, couldn’t stop, couldn’t even bring myself to die. I began to fear that the oni within me would one day consume every part of my heart."

His confession spilled out in fragments.

"I see my arrest as a mercy from the Buddha. I was thrown into this prison because even the heavens couldn’t ignore someone like me. I want to disappear—to vanish entirely, along with the oni inside me."

Tokuma raised his head.

"The only regret I had left was not being able to give you your mother’s keepsake. But now I’ve done that. I have no more regrets."

Lowering himself into a deep bow, Tokuma touched his forehead to the cell floor.

"I never expected you to visit. Seeing your face one last time has brought me great joy. Please convey my sincerest apologies to the Satake family for repaying their kindness with betrayal, despite their generosity, even holding my mother’s funeral."

Ryoichiro suddenly realized Tokuma was resolved to die. At that moment, a fierce determination rose within him—he would not let that happen.

"Don’t act rashly. Think it over," Ryoichiro pleaded.

Tokuma looked at him quietly, then gave a faint smile.

"Please forget about me. I am sorry I could not repay your kindness."

"Tokuma! Tokuma!" Ryoichiro shouted as Tokuma moved to the far wall of the cell, turning his back. His unwavering posture was impenetrable, leaving Ryoichiro feeling powerless. He lowered his head, clenching his teeth.

"Tokuma," he murmured, his voice breaking with desperation.

"Tokuma, I beg you. Just once more, let me hold your hand one last time."

Tokuma’s head shifted slightly.

"If you don’t, I won’t be able to bear it. I won’t be able to go on."

"Please..." Ryoichiro fell to his knees, bowing deeply. "Please," he repeated, over and over. Amid his pleas, a quiet sound emerged, close by—a voice.

"Raise your head. Please, don't bow for someone like me," Tokuma said, his voice quiet.

A pale hand extended through the bars. Ryoichiro quickly grabbed the arm and yanked hard. Tokuma's body slammed into the wooden bars with a loud thud. Taking advantage of the closeness, Ryoichiro punched Tokuma's stomach several times through the gap. At first, Tokuma let out a short yelp, but eventually, he collapsed limply.

Confirming that Tokuma was no longer moving, Ryoichiro sprinted down the hall and pushed open the door. Turning to the waiting officer with feigned alarm.

"The prisoner I was visiting has died," he announced, breathless.

"What?" the officer asked, startled.

"He had poison hidden on him and drank it right in front of me," Ryoichiro added.

Panicking, the officer grabbed the keys from a cabinet and rushed into the cellblock. When the officer stopped at Tokuma’s cell, Ryoichiro struck. He seized the officer’s head and slammed it against the bars. Disoriented, the officer staggered, and Ryoichiro swept his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Straddling the officer, Ryoichiro pinned him down. The man went limp, his mouth slack and his eyes rolled back—he had fainted.

Ryoichiro wrested the keys from the officer’s grasp and unlocked Tokuma’s cell. He dragged the unconscious officer into the cell and stripped him of his uniform. Then, he undressed the dazed Tokuma, quickly realizing with a jolt of embarrassment that Tokuma wasn’t wearing a fundoshi. He dismissed the thought and focused on dressing Tokuma in the officer's uniform, including the shoes and cap. The unconscious officer was dressed in Tokuma’s plain clothes, laid in the corner of the cell, and covered with the rank-smelling bedding.

Locking the cell once more, Ryoichiro hoisted Tokuma in his arms. Despite being a grown man, Tokuma’s weight was almost negligible.

Ryoichiro placed the keys back in the cabinet and strode down the hallway confidently, Tokuma in his arms. He spotted an older officer approaching from the opposite direction and tipped the hat on Tokuma’s head low to obscure his face. Ryoichiro hurried toward the older officer, putting on an air of urgency.

"Emergency!" he called out. "A sudden illness!"

The older officer stopped, eyeing Ryoichiro with suspicion. "Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm the visitor of a prisoner here. After the visit, the supervising officer escorting me suddenly collapsed," Ryoichiro replied swiftly. "I have some medical knowledge, and it seems his heart may be failing. We must get him to a hospital immediately."

"That’s serious," the older officer said, alarmed. "The police chief's rickshaw is at the front entrance. Use that to get him to the hospital. I'll summon another rickshaw for the chief."

"Understood. I'll accompany the officer to ensure his safe arrival," Ryoichiro said.

"Right this way," the officer said, leading Ryoichiro out of the prison and to the waiting rickshaw. After setting Tokuma inside, the older officer paused as if recalling something.

"Wait, what’s your name again?" he asked.

"There’s no time for that," Ryoichiro snapped, feigning exasperation. "Once we reach the hospital, I’ll send someone to update you."

Startled by Ryoichiro's tone, the older officer faltered. "Ah, I—I understand," he stammered.

Without another word, Ryoichiro instructed the rickshaw driver to head toward the next town. They disembarked on the outskirts, and Ryoichiro carried Tokuma into the mountains.

As they walked along a forest trail, Tokuma stirred. Realizing what was happening, he began to struggle. Ryoichiro had no choice but to set him down. Tokuma looked around in panic, then at the uniform he was wearing. His face turned pale.

"Ryoichiro-san, what have you done?" Tokuma’s voice trembled, his hands shaking.

"If you're awake, then walk," Ryoichiro said curtly, tugging Tokuma forward by the hand.

"This—this is madness! You won’t get away with this!" Tokuma cried, his voice breaking into something like a scream.

"If I get caught, I'll end up in prison with you," Ryoichiro said.

Tokuma pulled his hand away.

"I’ll go back to the prison. I’ll tell them I escaped on my own."

"Then I’ll kill myself," Ryoichiro said.

Tokuma’s eyes widened in shock.

"You can’t mean that."

"If you don’t stay with me, I’ll die," Ryoichiro repeated.

"That’s..."

"If you want me dead, go ahead and leave the mountain."

Ryoichiro turned and began walking deeper into the forest, confident that Tokuma would follow. Sure enough, he soon heard the sound of hesitant footsteps trailing behind him.

Ryoichiro pressed on, his mind consumed by a singular goal—to get as far away as possible. By the time the forest began to darken, rain had started falling in a light drizzle. Undeterred, he continued walking. He knew the authorities had likely already discovered Tokuma’s escape. Time was against them, and he had no idea how much of it they had left.

The rain grew heavier, accompanied by a rising wind that soon turned into a full-fledged storm. The path became impossible to see in the darkness, and both moving forward and retreating became equally treacherous. Ryoichiro paused, lost and uncertain, when Tokuma grabbed his hand. Like a cat with night vision, Tokuma navigated the faint trails with uncanny precision, leading them onward.

Eventually, a small hut came into view. From the nearby charcoal kiln, it appeared to be a charcoal burner’s shack. Ryoichiro knocked on the door, but no one answered. The hut seemed abandoned, and when they entered, the pitch darkness confirmed it was empty. As their eyes adjusted, the interior took shape—a cramped, four-tatami room with a dirt floor, a central hearth, and little else.

On the dirt floor, they found wood scraps, bits of charcoal, and a box of matches. Ryoichiro began kindling a fire in the hearth, but Tokuma stopped him.

"If you light a fire, the smoke will give away our location," he warned.

Ryoichiro gave a rueful laugh at his own thoughtlessness.

"Then what? It’s so dark we can’t see anything."

"There’s a lamp over there. I don’t know if there’s any oil left, but since there are no windows here, it might be safe to use it briefly."

The lamp contained a small amount of oil, enough to light the room. In its dim glow, they surveyed their refuge. The wooden floorboards were rudimentary, and the only furnishing was a thin, tattered futon folded in the corner.

They removed their shoes and stepped onto the floor, water dripping from their soaked clothing. Ryoichiro stripped off his jacket, trousers, and shirt, leaving only his underclothes. The cold made his body shiver uncontrollably, and he considered wrapping himself in the worn futon. When he turned to suggest the same to Tokuma, he found him still sitting in the corner, hugging his knees, dressed in the wet uniform.

"You’ll freeze to death like that. Take off your clothes and let them dry," Ryoichiro said.

"I’m fine," Tokuma replied.

But his face was pale, and his lips were tinged with blue under the lamplight.

"You’re shaking."

Tokuma stubbornly shook his head. Unable to force him, Ryoichiro ran his fingers through his damp hair in frustration as the storm raged on outside, rain pounding like a tantrum.

"With this much rain, the pursuers won’t be able to climb the mountain easily," Ryoichiro remarked.

Tokuma, who had been silent and withdrawn, suddenly stood up and slipped his feet into his wet shoes.

"Where are you going?" Ryoichiro asked sharply.

Tokuma didn’t answer, and Ryoichiro leaped down to the dirt floor and grabbed his arm.

"I’m going down the mountain," Tokuma said at last. "If I return, this will all be over."

"No," Ryoichiro said firmly, tightening his grip.

"I must," Tokuma said, meeting his gaze with quiet determination.

"If you leave this hut, I’ll hang myself here and now," Ryoichiro declared.

Tokuma glared at him, unimpressed.

"You’re not serious about that," he said flatly.

The accusation hit its mark, and Ryoichiro hesitated, his words faltering.

"Ryoichiro-san, your kindness has been more than enough for me. So please, forget about me and live happily."

"I..."

Ryoichiro bit his lip.

"I can’t be happy without you," he said.

Tokuma gave a sad smile.

"That’s not true. Even without someone like me, you can be happy. At first, you might think of me from time to time, but once you grow closer to your wife and have children..."

"I love you," Ryoichiro interrupted.

Even at Ryoichiro's heartfelt confession, Tokuma’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t look surprised.

"I love you, and that’s why I want to be with you," Ryoichiro repeated.

Tokuma lowered his gaze and said nothing except, "Thank you." The ambiguity of his response made it impossible for Ryoichiro to understand what he truly felt. The mere word "thank you" seemed misplaced. Was he pleased? Annoyed? Embarrassed? Ryoichiro desperately wanted to know.

"Maybe it’s a burden to you that someone like me has feelings for you," Ryoichiro tested the waters.

Tokuma hastily raised his head. "Not at all."

"What if I said I wanted you?"

Tokuma fell silent again. Ryoichiro didn’t elaborate; he knew Tokuma understood the weight behind his words. After a long pause, Tokuma replied in a trembling voice, "That would be troubling."

"Why would it be troubling?"

"Because I cannot reciprocate your feelings."

"Why not?"

"...Wouldn’t it be immoral, considering you’re going to take a wife soon?"

Ryoichiro raised both hands and shouted, "Idiot!" The shoulders of Tokuma’s uniform flinched.

"I begged on my knees in front of Adachi, my fiancée’s father, pleading for his help just to see you. By breaking you out of jail, I’ve dragged his name through the mud. Do you think he’ll still want to give his daughter to a man who harbored a criminal? That engagement is finished... because of you."

Tokuma looked as though he was about to cry.

"That’s why I said I should return to the prison! If I go back now, maybe—"

"Go back and do what? Do you think returning alone will absolve me? I’ll be hunted down for aiding your escape, charged with harboring a fugitive, and imprisoned myself!"

"Then what should I do?" Tokuma’s voice cracked, almost desperate.

"There’s nothing to be done now," Ryoichiro said coldly.

Tokuma collapsed to his knees on the dirt floor, trembling. Ryoichiro continued his tirade, relentless.

"It’s your fault! When I went to see you, you spoke as though we’d never meet again. How could I not break you out after hearing that?"

Still staring at the floor, Tokuma whispered, "I should have died. If only I hadn’t clung to the hope of delivering your mother’s keepsake..."

Ryoichiro knelt in front of him, voice softening.

"You mustn’t die. I won’t allow you to go before me."

Tokuma shook his head in refusal.

"Please, I beg you—release me from this," he said.

"I love you," Ryoichiro repeated firmly. "Live for me."

The wind howled outside, shaking the small charcoal hut violently.

"No matter how much you say you love me, you’ll still marry your wife, won’t you?" Tokuma’s voice was thick with tears and accusation. Ryoichiro’s eyes widened at the unexpected bitterness.

"Perhaps, to you, loving me and taking a wife are separate matters. But I can’t stand to watch the person I love cherish someone else."

Tokuma rose to his feet, but Ryoichiro grabbed his right arm, dragging him onto the wooden floor without removing his shoes. He gripped Tokuma’s narrow shoulders and shook him hard.

"Do you love me?"

Tokuma didn’t answer.

"Do you love me?" Ryoichiro demanded again, shaking him harder.

Finally, Tokuma covered his face with both hands.

"If I didn’t love you," he whispered, his trembling lips finally forming words, "why would I have served such a selfish, short-tempered man for twenty years?"

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