
It was late one day. A servant Genin was waiting for the rain to stop under the Rashomon gate.
There is no one else under the wide gate except this man. However, on the edge of a large round column, the red paint has peeled off in places, there was a single black-crowned squirrel sitting there. Since Rashomon is located on Suzaku-oji Suzaku-oji Road, there are likely to be two or three other people besides this man, including Ichimegasaya, Eboshi, and Mieboshi, all of whom have stopped raining. There is no one else but this man.

I visited my friend Sherlock Holmes two days after Christmas. I thought I would give you a seasonal greeting. Holmes was lounging on the sofa, wearing a purple dressing gown. There was a pipe holder within reach of his right hand, and he had a stack of morning papers piled up in his hand, probably the one he was currently reading. There was a wooden chair beside her sofa, and in the corner of her back hung her tasteless stiff felt hat. She is quite worn out and has been torn in several places. There was a magnifying glass and tweezers where she was sitting, so I guess the reason her hat was hanging like this was to investigate something.

Just by listening to his voice, I could tell that it was Okamotoyas storehouse, that it was the blacksmiths store, that it was the story of the sake storehouse. In this area, it was common for people to abbreviate their names to one letter, without adding any honorific titles, or to use their aliases. Whenever I saw children tormenting a frog, I would lean half my body out of the window and howl loudly. As a result, the village children gradually became friends and foes, and they turned away from me as I sat in front of my desk with a pained expression on my face, staring blankly out the window. I am coming to take on the challenge.