Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

At midnight, the large steel girders of the Ninth Factory let out a screeching wail—
The rumor flickered briefly into my ears.

“There’s no such nonsense!”

I stopped swinging the inspection hammer and let out a dry laugh.

“You laugh, Foreman, but...”
The worker who had brought the rumor turned terrified eyes toward me and said.
“It’s about last night, that...”
“Jōji the night watchman heard it clear as day with both ears—told me all about it with his face pale as death.”
“Can’t say he’s lying through his teeth.”

Before we knew it, a large number of workers had gathered around us.

“Foreman, that’s the truth.”
Another voice shouted.

“What the hell—”
I looked toward where the voice had come from.
“You’re Untei."
“A man of your standing spouting such careless talk—don’t think you’ll laugh this off later!”

“It’s alright—”
Untei responded with unshakable confidence.
“Well… gotta spill my own shame here a bit, but this happened five days back.”
“See, after an all-night gamble that ran past midnight—stone broke I was—not a soul around to spot me a loan. Had no choice but to go beggin’ to Taa-san, the night watchman, right in the dead of night.”
“So after gettin’ that loan squared away, on my way back I passed by the side of this Ninth Factory we’re jawin’ about.”
“Outta nowhere came this shrill creak—Kee-eeek!”
(Hm, where’s that comin’ from?) I stopped dead.
For a spell, not a peep.
(Just my ears playin’ tricks?) I thought, started movin’ again—then Kee-eeek! hit me once more.
The noise’s source clicked clear now.
Inside the Ninth Factory.
(What kinda racket…?
Night shift maybe?) I craned my neck toward the high glass windows—pitch black inside, not a glimmer showin’.
(This ain’t right!) A sudden chill crawled up my spine.

Then that mysterious sound came again...
The scarier it got, the more I needed to hear.
I pressed my ear against the heavy iron door and listened hard.
"Kee-eeek! Clang clang clang—like hard metal grinding and gnashing together in some sharp scream."

“It’s probably just rats rampaging through the factory.”

I snapped irritably.

“Why, Foreman!”
Untei showed clear contempt and shouted back.
“As for me—where that noise is coming from—I’ve got a pretty good idea, y’know.”

“Then spit it out already!”

“Hey, all of you—listen up!”
He glared around at length at the surrounding sea of frightened faces.
“That noise—it’s the crane moving!”

“What? The crane?!”

Everyone cried out in unison involuntarily.

To understand this crane, one had to enter the Ninth Factory—a structure as vast as an aircraft hangar—and look up at its ceiling nearly a hundred feet high. There, spanning north to south, loomed a massive bridge-like lifting apparatus constructed from rugged steel girders. That was the crane. Beneath that bridge girder hung a monstrously large hook for grappling heavy objects, suspended by thick steel cables, while at one corner of the girder stood an iron-plated cabin housing both the motor that powered this crane and its brake mechanism. When operated, this brake would send the iron bridge moving sideways with a roar from the eastern to western ends of the vast Ninth Factory, like a chopstick floating sideways in a river.

“Hey, Masa!”
I called out to the crane operator from within the crowd.

“Huh—”
Masa came forward timidly, his face as white as paper.

“Is it true—the crane moving at midnight?”

“I—I don’t know anything about that.”
“But we always turn off the crane’s switch before leaving. For it to start slinking around at midnight... That’s impossible...”

Having said that much, Masa took on a fit-like demeanor, muttering the remnants of his words under his breath, then—as if suddenly realizing something—hurriedly hid his trembling hands behind his back.

“Alright.”
“Tonight, I’ll uncover its true nature.”
“Listen up—everyone gathers at the back gate entrance once midnight’s passed!”

2

In the dormitory’s third-floor corridor, there was the sound of pattering footsteps approaching.

“Foreman, are you there—”

No sooner had those footsteps stopped before the entrance to my room—marked by a nailed-up wooden sign reading "Dorm Supervisor’s Quarters"—than a voice called out.

“Yeah. Who is it?”

“It’s Kurihara.”
“It’s Kurihara from the warehouse department, I tell you.”

“Kurihara? What business does Kurihara have?!”

“Well, it’s just some factory business, so...”

“What?!”
“What ‘factory business’? Spit it out!”

“Well, actually—”
Kurihara seemed to hesitate in his speech.
“The Type B switch you took the other day has suddenly become needed, so I’ve come to retrieve it, but…”

“Leave the switch for tomorrow.”

“But unfortunately, it’s become urgently needed at the factory—if I don’t take it back right away there’ll be trouble—in fact—”

“Alright, I’ll open the entrance now—wait there.”

After a moment, I swiftly opened the entrance door.

“My deepest apologies.”
Kurihara bowed deeply the moment he saw my face.

“You’re the one who said it the other day, didn’t ya? You said, ‘Since this switch won’t be needed for now, you can keep using it indefinitely,’ didn’t you?”

“I deeply apologize.”
Kurihara, acting terribly apologetic, bowed repeatedly.
“You said you wanted to take the switch to draw its diagram, so since it seemed like such a simple favor, Kurihara lent it out without recording it in the ledger.”
“However, now suddenly, from the expansion work department, there came an order to gather all Type B Switches in stock and present them in full number.”
“It seems there was no other choice, so, well…”

“Enough excuses. C’mon, take it and get going!”

I presented the Type B Switch I had been holding to him.

The Type B Switch was a large switch housed in an elongated wooden box measuring 1 shaku 5 sun (approx. 45 cm) in length and 7 sun (approx. 21 cm) in width. When you opened its glass lid, a wide copper ribbon blade for electrical switching gleamed atop a marble base plate, accompanied by a sturdy ebonite handle.
With this single switch, the activation and deactivation of the slightly modified motor could be fully controlled.

“Mr. Kurihara, I’ll take it.”

From the side came an unexpected voice, and a young man with tousled hair materialized.

“Who the—? You’re…”

I jerked back as the man lunged from the doorway’s shadow.

“This here’s Yokose,” Kurihara interjected before the youth could speak.
“A distant cousin of mine.”

“Why’d you drag him along?”

“I put in a request—got him working under me in storage now.”
“See, he got sacked from a pharmacy downtown and came crawling to my doorstep.”

“Hmm, so you’re a pharmacist, eh?”

To the young man who was curiously inspecting the Switch’s front and back panels, I called out.

“I was a pharmacist.”
Yokose answered brusquely.

“Let me think,”
“I’ve got a little favor to ask of you.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I’ll help out.”

“This—”
Kurihara, startled, pulled Yokose’s dirty workman’s clothes.

“Ain’t no trouble.”
“Alright then, Kurihara – I’m borrowin’ your boy here for a spell.”

“Yessir.”

Kurihara received the switch box from the young Yokose and returned alone.

“Come on, get in here.”

“Ah—”

“I’ve got something I want you to take a look at.”

“You think I can figure this out?”

“This is the thing.”
I brought out something wrapped in newspaper from the back of the desk drawer.

“What’s this glass thing here?”
I handed it to Yokose.

“This is part of a syringe.”

“A syringe?”
“That’s right—I thought so too.”
“So can’t you tell what kind of syringe this is?”

“Well—”
Yokose scratched his disheveled hair vigorously with his fingers.
“I can tell it’s a syringe,” he said, “but without the needle that should be at the tip, I can’t figure it out.”

“Then look here.”
“There’s a faint brown stain on the base of this syringe—what kind of drug is this?”

“Hmm, there’s definitely something here, but—”
The young man held the syringe up to the light window, peering at the brown mark.
“Can’t we get the lights on?”

“Unfortunately, in this dormitory, the lights don’t come on until six.”
“There’s still a good thirty minutes left.”

The early summer evening remained quite bright even past 5:30.

"Well, I can’t say for sure.
With this tiny amount, I can’t make a proper assessment.
It could be some kind of chemical... or perhaps a bloodstain..."

I swallowed hard.

“There’s one more thing I want you to look at.”
I took out another item from the newspaper-wrapped bundle.
“What’s this?”

“Where on earth did you get such a thing?”

Yokose picked up the glinting surgical instrument-like object and began to sneer.

“What’s this thing used for?”
I made no move to answer Yokose’s question, instead throwing his inquiry back at him with identical phrasing.

“To put it simply—” He glared at my face. “It’s a hysteroscope—a gynecological tool.”

“Alright, I get it.”
I snatched the glinting object from Yokose’s hand and wrapped it back inside the original newspaper.

“Well, that’s enough work from you,” I said.
“Though there’s just one more thing I need you to look at.”

“If you’ve got it, hurry up and show me.”

Yokose said with an annoyed look.

“It’s not here. Come with me to the neighborhood for a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah.”
“Heave-ho!”

Yokose took out a Hibiki cigarette from his pouch, placed it unlit between his lips, and began scanning the room with darting eyes.

“What are you looking at?”
I asked.

“Don’t you have any matches?” he said.

3

When they exited the dormitory gate, there in the gutter-reeking alley was the evening’s hurried throng of people.

Though it was called early summer, the lingering rainy season’s dampness clung thickly to the Nagasaka walls, seeping into them day after day, weighing ever heavier on the hearts of those who passed through this factory district each day.

On the road, everyone they met exchanged greetings as they passed.

From the opposite direction came a familiar young woman carrying a small cloth-wrapped bundle.

“You,” the woman said, glaring sharply at my companion.
“Where are you off to now?”
“And where are you off to?”

“Hmph. If you look, you can tell, can’t you. I’ve got an all-night shift tonight.”

“Night shift?”
“Well, you’re not exactly holding steady, are you?”

“And where might you be headed?”
The woman took a step closer and said.

“Just running an errand with this fellow here.”

“Is that so? That one?”
The woman brought her mouth close to my ear and whispered words she didn’t want my companion to hear.

“…”

I nodded silently.

When I parted with the woman, Yokose, who had been trailing behind, called out to me.

"The young ones these days are real lookers, ain't they?"

"That so?"

"What's her name?"

"Osei."

"What's she to you, Boss?"

“Idiot!”

After winding through the alleyways two or three times, we finally arrived before the target house.

I approached the front latticed window with its storm shutters drawn and peered inside to scope out the house's interior. Fortunately, this area—being a secluded dead-end deep within the alley's innermost recesses—had no passersby, letting this suspicious behavior go unchallenged.

In any case, the house seemed empty, and not a single sound could be heard.
I urged my companion onward and circled around to the back.

On the back door hung an unusually sturdy and large lock for such a house.
I fished through my pocket, took out a key, inserted it into the keyhole, and gave it a firm twist.
The lock emitted a sharp metallic clank and came off.

I glanced back and signaled Yokose with my eyes to enter the house.

We slid open each shoji screen and fusuma door one by one, but indeed, no one was there.
The young woman's scent drifted thickly through the air.
On the serge unlined kimono hanging on the wall, the collar of a pink underrobe paired beneath appeared oppressively alluring.

“Is this really okay?”
“Even though we’ve broken in like this?”

Even Yokose seemed to be hesitating now.

“Shut it—”
I glared.

I opened the closet without hesitation. After quietly lowering the futon from the upper shelf, I climbed onto that shelf. Then I slid the ceiling board at the very end sideways with care. There gaped open a rectangular compartment about one foot wide, pitch-dark within. Inserting both hands into the ceiling space, I groped around until my fingertips met what I sought. When I brought down an antiquated case resembling a writing box, Yokose stood there looking utterly dumbfounded.

I took out a hastily made, flimsy key from my wallet and effortlessly succeeded in opening that case.
Inside were a savings book, what appeared to be a family register, mold-speckled photographs, and two or three other picture books—but what I took out before Yokose was a 20cc glass bottle standing upright in one corner of the case.
At its bottom remained about one-third of a black liquid.

“Here. This is it.”
I quietly handed the bottle to Yokose.
“Finally, what I want you to tell me is—”

“Yeah, this is—”
Yokose, under the light of a 10-candlepower lamp, kept shaking the small medicine bottle without ever finishing his sentence.

“Can’t you figure it out?”

“Nah, it’s not like I don’t get it, but…”

“Then, what’s this medicine?”

“That’s… not something I can easily say—”

“So you’re refusing to talk, huh?”

“Fine. This here’s a forbidden drug in pharmacy circles.”

“Whether it’s forbidden or not, I ain’t lettin’ this end with just questions.”

“Let’s skip the threats, Foreman.”
“Then I’ll tell you—this drug’s got the power to eat through human soft skin.”

“I see. So it gouges out soft skin, does it?”

“Can’t say more than that.”

“Then that brown residue left at the bottom of the syringe I showed ya earlier—wasn’t that this drug?”

“Well, what d’you think? This was originally a tawny brown liquid. Look—shake it and you’ll see a brownish tint on the glass part.”

“Or was that actually traces of blood after all?”
“Not at all. You’ve been most helpful.”
“This isn’t much, but consider it thanks for now.”

With those words, I pressed a 10-yen note into Yokose’s hand and sternly instructed him to keep today’s matter strictly to himself.

4

At last, the night deepened completely.

It was a moonless, pitch-dark night.
It was windless, a deathly silent midnight.

Right on schedule, around the time the pillar clock at the factory guardhouse finished sounding twelve muffled strokes—BONG, BONG—over ten young men of the group had gathered.
I gave the group basic exploration warnings, then took position at the head of the procession and quietly began marching across the premises toward the Ninth Factory.
On the rails creeping along the ground, cold night dew had already settled damply.

“The cable factory’s running night shifts.”

“They’re busy rushing orders for Manchuria.”

At someone’s voice, when they looked that way, only the cable factory was alive like a sleeping man’s heart. Onto the high, pitch-black large roof blazed the brilliant reflection of the furnace’s heat melting lead. That fearsome color—neither red nor yellow—seemed to warn of the melting furnace’s high temperature as it boiled like water.

“Foreman.”
A subordinate named Genta said.
“Is Ms. Osei feeling better now?”

Osei was, in fact, my mistress, but unlike ordinary mistresses in society, I had her work at this factory during the day—leveraging my position to assign light duties like paper-wrapping cables—and made the company pay her a daily wage nearly the highest given to any woman. At night, she would doll herself up to meet me as I slipped out from the dormitory, becoming an ordinary mistress.

“Yeah, she seems better now. Tonight she’s workin’ ‘bout hard enough over at that cable factory.”

“Heh.”
“Foreman doesn’t miss a thing, does he?”

“What’d you say—?”
I barely managed to suppress my frayed nerves.

“I’ll swing by the cable factory for a bit, so wait here about five minutes.”

I came out before long.

Once past the cable factory, what lay beyond was, quite literally, a land devoid of people.
Beneath the pitch-black night sky, giant buildings stood silently in rows.
The rancid smell of rusted iron pungently stabbed at our noses.
Before they knew it, the group drew close together, walking with muffled footsteps.

“Whoa!”

A man walking along the building’s eaves let out a scream.
Everyone froze in shock.

“Wh-wh-what’s that…?!”

“I didn’t know there were toads in the factory…”

It was an awkward, low voice.

“Boom.”

Several yards ahead, the iron door emitted a dull clang.

“Agh, it’s here!”

“Hey! Shut your traps!”

I shouted.
The teacher who had kicked the toad remained silent.

One... Two... Three!

Finally, the entrance to the Ninth Factory came into view.

With a sudden flare, the circular beam of a flashlight struck.

The padlock showed no signs of tampering.
Using the key I'd borrowed from the gatekeeper, I had them remove it.
With a clang, the opening lock sounded like bones collapsing.

“Alright everyone, turn off your flashlights,” I barked, standing rigid before the door. “Once you’re inside, keep quiet—no matter what hellish thing happens, not a peep outta you.” My voice sharpened like grinding steel. “Got it? And don’t you fucking touch those flashlights till I say so.” The words carried the weight of a hammer strike. “Screw this up and we lose our shot at bagging that bastard spirit—clear?”

The men bobbed their heads like cowed machinery parts.

I cracked open the heavy iron door slightly and pushed each trembling group member inside one by one.
Finally, I entered and softly closed the door.

Inside the factory, the smell of oil hung thick in the air.
And it was pitch black—so dark you wouldn’t know if someone pinched your nose.
There was an eerie pressure—as though some great hand had emerged from the darkness to clamp down on our throats.

Everyone was silent.
They couldn’t call out numbers either.
From the doorway, I groped through the darkness, counting the human figures one by one.
Each time my hand touched them, they appeared utterly startled.
And then, as if by prior agreement, those next to each other pressed their bodies tightly together and joined hands.

“Thirteen!”
Indeed, everyone was pressed tightly against the wall near the entrance, like flounders.

And then, time shifting quietly along its axis was clearly perceived by all.
As seconds piled upon seconds, the waterline of fear kept rising relentlessly.

Two minutes, three minutes, four minutes, five—

In their frenzy, they gripped the hands of the men beside them.
Cold sweat seeped from underarms before trickling down ribs.

*Screeeech.*

The group gasped and held their breath.

*Screech, screech.*

*Screech*—it finally began to wail.
The moment they heard it reverberate in the depths of their eardrums, their entire bodies stiffened like boards.

*Screech, screech, groan, groan.*

They closed their sightless eyes.

*Creak-creak-creak-creak-SCREEECH*

Unable to bear it any longer, a flashlight beam suddenly shot out from among the group, piercingly illuminating the high ceiling.

*Grooan… grooan…*

The group uniformly looked up toward the source of the eerie sound.

“Screech!”

“Th-The crane…”

What was the monster first illuminated in the faint glow of the flashlight?
It was that massive steel-framed crane—emitting a tremendous roar—that passed over the group’s heads at full speed in an instant.

“Aaaah!”

No sooner had they cried out than they threw down their hard-won flashlights and, as if by prior agreement, plopped down onto the ground in unison.

“Turn on the lights!”

Though the crane still groaned in motion, I hardened my resolve and barked the command.
I was first to snap my flashlight on, training its beam across the group.
Their faces all wore expressions trembling at tears’ edge.

“Pull yourselves together! The investigation’s just getting started!”

I urged the group.

When their flashlights all came on, the factory interior became much brighter, and they seemed to regain their spirits.

“Check if the switch that operates the crane is on.”
“Hey! Masa! You here?”
I called out to the young crane operator.

“Huh…” Masa turned his corpse-like face toward me.
“Please… spare me from that task.”
With that, he put his hands together and bowed to me.

“Don’t spout nonsense!”
I barked.
“If you don’t check it yourself, how the hell’s the rest of us who ain’t in charge supposed to figure it out?”

They pulled the hesitant Masa up from both sides and began the investigation.

“This switch is open.”
On the wall near the entrance through which the group had entered, a large switch was installed about six or seven ken further in from that entrance.
Pointing at the glass cover from above, the crane operator Masa groaned.
“If this switch is open, there’s no way electricity could reach the crane.”

“But this is suspicious,” I said.
“The crane did move.
“The crane can’t move without its motor.
“With this switch open, there’s no way it could move.
“Even if it looks open, maybe electricity’s flowing somewhere it shouldn’t.
“Open it up and check inside thoroughly.”

He clattered open the switch’s glass cover, but it was clearly just an ordinary switch in the off position, with no suspicious external connections found.

“It’s definitely open—this switch.”
Masa said in a tearful voice.

“All right, then just to be thorough, let’s climb up onto the crane.”
I said.

“What? Climb the crane—”

The group exchanged glances, their faces growing more terrified.

“Masa, climb!”

“No—please spare me!”
Masa’s tears fell freely as he wailed.

“Then I’ll lead the climb—stick right behind me.”
“Got it?!”

With that declaration, I moved toward the wall and gripped the cold iron ladder ascending to the crane.

5

“As expected, the crane’s switch is also open.”

After making three men go through endless trouble and finally being hauled up to the crane’s top behind me, Masa took one look at the switchboard next to the motor and said fearfully.

“I see.”
“If there’s definitely no mistake with it, we’ll head down.”

We descended the treacherous iron ladder once more, taking an eternity to go down rung by rung.

Before we'd even reached solid ground, those who'd stayed behind began demanding to know whether the crane's switch had been open.

"I had Masa check it."
I swept my gaze across every face in the group.

“The crane’s switch was also open.”

“So then… that crane must truly be…”
One of the workers who had spoken that far grew frightened by his own words and trailed off.

“...It would mean the crane wasn’t moved by electrical power,” I said instead.

“Who the hell moved it?!”

“I climbed up and checked all around carefully—no one was hiding there. Right, Genba, Tomizo, Untei?”

“That’s right, that’s right.”

“Though of course, it’s not a crane that could be moved by one person alone.”

“Ah—then who moved it?”

“Foreman… We can’t take it anymore. Please—let us out of here!”

“I’m getting out too!”
“No—leaving is forbidden.”
I barked.
“As long as whoever moved the crane remains unidentified.”

“Foreman, that’s impossible!”
Genba let out a sob.
“That ain’t no living person’s doin’.”
“What the hell—”

“That crane’s got some vengeful spirit clinging to it, and that thing’s up there crying and moving the crane around.”

“Agh—”

Upon hearing that, everyone jumped up as if poked in a raw nerve and recoiled in shock.

"Oh, Foreman!"
Untei said.
"It seems someone's shouting outside."

“What—someone’s shouting outside?!”
I exclaimed in shock at the unexpected turn.
Indeed, the distant sound of many voices clamoring could be heard.
“Alright—everyone outside!”

The group let out a collective shout and scrambled to be first as they rushed toward the entrance door.
With a clanging sound, the heavy iron door was pulled open unceremoniously.

“Hey, Foreman! It’s terrible!”
A shrill voice cried out.

I jolted.

“Foreman!” The man clinging to my chest was the squad leader from the cable factory.
“Osei-san’s in trouble!”

“What—what on earth happened to Osei?”

“Osei-san—”
The squad leader stammered painfully.
“Osei-san—she jumped headfirst into the melting furnace!”

“You’re saying she jumped into the melting furnace?!”

Upon hearing that, I dashed toward the cable factory where Osei had worked, swift as an arrow.

Behind me, my subordinates and those who had come to report the disaster came clattering after me.

The moment we stepped through the entrance of the cable factory, the suffocating atmosphere of an unspeakably gruesome incident pressed upon us.
Under the blazing mercury lamps' light, people working there—whether engineers or laborers—had all gathered around the thick fifty-shaku melting furnace installed in one corner of the facility and stood looking upward in unison.
Beside the melting furnace lay a massive cable like a toppled pine tree, stretched out long and forgotten without a single person tending to it.

“It’s no use—there’s nothin’ to see.”
“Not even a scrap of the kimono left.”

Shouting such things, the male workers who had apparently climbed to the top of the melting furnace descended with anguished expressions.
The medical staff who had rushed over in white surgical gowns could do nothing for the formless victim and simply floundered about with everyone else.

“It’s truly tragic,”
When the Factory Manager approached me, he said in an agitated tone.
“By the time we noticed, Osei-san had already climbed nearly to the top of the melting furnace.”
“But when we realized what was happening and shouted from below, ‘Stop! Come down!’, she acted as though she couldn’t hear a thing—we were yelling ‘Hey! Hey!’ when she leapt into the flames…”

I had no words to say.

“Osei-san apparently made up her mind to kill herself.”
“We can’t fathom why,”
The foreman of this factory cut in next.

Thereupon, someone came clattering through the crowd and leaped forward.

“Ah, she’s dead.”
“Osei-san, why’d you have to die and leave me behind?”

The one shouting as if he’d gone mad was Masa, the crane operator.

“Oi, Masa! Where d’you think you’re goin’?”
The ones clinging to Masa were Untei and Genba.

“Oh... Osei.”
“I’ll be right there too—”

“Hey! I said wait!”

Masa summoned terrifying strength, hurling Genba aside, and in that instant—with a roar—lithely leaped onto the melting furnace’s ladder.

The factory workers, still reeling from the fresh tragedy, had already grasped what was coming next and let out a shuddering scream of dread.

“Hurry—catch that man!”

“Drag him down! He means to die!”

“Someone, help mee—”

I sprang into action. Pushing through obstructive people, when I reached the base of the melting furnace’s ladder, Untei had already grabbed hold of it a step ahead.

“You—!”

I shoved Untei.

“I’ll save him!”

Gripping the iron ladder and looking up, I saw Masa—though he appeared on death’s doorstep—had already climbed about halfway up. With a grunt, I put strength into my hips and began climbing rhythmically, hands and feet moving in tandem as I scaled the rungs smoothly. The distance between Masa and me rapidly closed. Just as I came within arm’s reach of his body, my left foot slipped slickly out from under me. A collective gasp rose from below. Only five or six feet remained now. The crowd’s anxious voices—barking shouts and clamorous uproar—reached my ears. I accelerated fiercely.

Frantic with anxiety, I looked up to see Masa already leaning over the melting furnace's edge, his upper body protruding beyond it.
There was absolutely no other chance but now.
But my hand still fell three feet short.

The barking shouts and clamorous uproar no longer reached my ears.

Masa bent his body into a sharp angle and tensed himself to finally make the leap.

“There!”

With a guttural cry, I launched my body into the air, thrust out my left hand with a grunt, and clamped down on the precise spot I’d targeted—

I felt resistance.

A cheer so loud it could blow off the factory roof surged up from below with a roar.

But since I had only my right hand gripping the melting furnace’s iron ladder and had flung my entire body into the air, I thudded downward while still clutching Masa’s ankle in my left hand.
If I let go of my right hand, I couldn’t bear it.
With a thud, I slammed my flank against the iron ladder, but at that moment, my right leg luckily hooked onto the ladder.

(Got him.)

The instant I thought this, something hot and heavy came crashing down from above as if to drive me into the abyss. And with a shriek, it left slimy trails across my face and arms as it plummeted downward. That was Masa’s body. It was Masa's body that I had barely managed to grasp. (I can't let go...) I clung desperately, but unable to overcome that terrible gravity, his body finally slipped slickly through my fingers and went fluttering down toward the concrete floor like an unfurled cloth. No—truly, Masa’s body fell away, dancing through the air like an unfurled cloth. I—suddenly overcome with inexplicable laughter—clung to the iron ladder, paralyzed for some time by huh-huh, ufufu chuckles I couldn’t suppress.

6

“This is Mr. Yokose.”
“How unusual.”
“Well now, do come in.”

I ushered the rare visitor into one of the vast rooms within the dormitory supervisor’s quarters.

“What business brings you here today?”
I inquired.

“There’s actually something I’d like you to hear...”

Yokose thrust five fingers into his trademark bird’s-nest hair and scrubbed vigorously.

“Can’t say I know what this’s about, but out with it.” I shot a glance at the wall clock—nearing ten at night.

“Then you’ll hear me out?”
With that, Yokose tucked a cigarette between his lips.
“This here’s one hell of a scheme—belonging to some fella I know.”
“See now, this bastard had his mistress stolen clean off him by some young pup.”
“Nah—worse yet! That whore went and got herself planted with the kid’s seed.”
“Follow me now.”
“Normally they’d palm it off as the master’s get—but turns out this master’s shooting blanks. Medically proven.”
“So with no hiding that belly-brat, the lovebirds met in secret—sniveling while they schemed.”
“No bright ideas coming, her body kept changing—couldn’t hide it no more.”
“In the end—sin or no sin—they settled on scrapping the brat.”
“The pup got hold of tools and chemicals from God-knows-where—called her over.”
“They were walking on eggshells—master caught even a whiff? Both dead meat.”
“Needed some hole where nobody’d find ’em—only one spot fit.”
“Where’s that? Up on the crane at the pup’s factory.”
“Kid drove the crane.”
“Place turns into a ghost town after closing.”
“Lucky for them—the bitch knew her way around.”
“Seeing as she worked there too.”

“The woman, driven solely by her longing to meet her lover, crept into the pitch-black factory and scaled up and down that towering iron ladder through her own effort.”
“Naturally, they ended up performing the abortion procedure atop that lofty crane.”
“Following instructions he’d received elsewhere, the young man inserted tools into her body and administered a chemical solution.”
“Only after some time passed did they realize it had worked.”
“But then she had to take leave from work and lie bedridden for weeks.”
“All their careful efforts proved futile.”
“Because through her condition, suspicions had taken root in their master.”
“Though consumed by jealousy beyond measure, this cunning man kept his composure while devising countless schemes to expose his mistress’s secrets.”
“Like some wrathful deity, he uncovered every detail.”
“He even secured irrefutable evidence from their personal effects.”
“Long before this revelation, having grasped their affair’s outline through earlier observations, he’d begun plotting retribution against these two betrayers.”
“What emerged was a horrific design for mutual destruction.”
“He seeded rumors of ‘The Weeping Steel Girders’ at Ninth Factory—the very site where they’d schemed their abortion.”
“In reality, he’d slip into that factory nightly to wrench metallic shrieks from the crane himself.”
“Later leading ghost-hunting crews himself under pretense of investigation—even with both control switches disengaged—he let them witness howling crane movements until all deemed it supernatural.”
“Truthfully? He’d personally removed every switch beforehand.”
“When talk turned to vengeful spirits haunting them most violently? That young man and his woman.”
“Both found themselves drowning in memories.”
“They became certain—this must be their aborted child’s spirit exacting payment for being cast into oblivion.”
“And so—just like that—the master’s scheme clicked perfectly into place.”

On the night when the investigation concluded there was no explanation other than a vengeful spirit, the master went to his mistress working the night shift and finally delivered his ultimatum.
That was because he had obtained irrefutable evidence; he threatened that come morning, he would report her to the police.
The mistress, driven to despair, resolved to end her own life and plunged into the melting furnace at the factory where she worked, disappearing without a trace in the viscous molten lead.

Now it was the young man’s turn.
The master had not forgotten to include that man in the investigation team.
The slow torment of the young man filled him with unbearable exhilaration.
The young man stood frozen before the crane’s terrifying autonomous movements.
He was hauled up to the dread-inducing crane and lowered back down.
Then came sudden news of the woman’s suicide.
Even the master appeared startled by this.
The young man sprinted toward the melting furnace she had leapt into.
He resolved to follow her path and die within that furnace.
With this resolve, he scrambled up the furnace’s iron ladder like a startled hare.
When a friend tried climbing after him, the master rushed forward and shoved him down.
Then the master began ascending the ladder behind the resentment-laden man.

The people watching this cheered.
That was only natural.
But save for a single person.
"That guy was a man who looked just like me watching from the factory corner—ha ha ha!"
"But even that man couldn’t grasp how the master’s revenge would unfold."
"I thought maybe he’d slow his climbing to make excuses—‘What a pity, I couldn’t catch him!’—but watching closer, that wasn’t it."
"No—this was a demon’s scheme."
"The master planned to let him jump first, then fish out his corpse once molten lead turned it crimson."
I might’ve been the only one who saw the master grinning up that ladder.
The young man slammed onto concrete when released—too mangled to look at twice.
"The master never faced consequences."

“That’s an interesting story, huh, kid,” I said quietly. “But there’s one thing that doesn’t sit right with me—when that expedition team was in the factory’s darkness and the crane roared into motion... They immediately turned on the lights but found the lower switch disconnected. No matter how skilled that villain might be, he couldn’t move that crane without electricity now could he?”

“I’m not the kind of man to overlook such tricks.”
“That master borrowed that very Type B Switch—the same model used to operate the crane—from Kurihara-san at the factory and practiced flipping it open and shut without a sound in the dark.”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense.”
“Well then, shall I present the evidence?”
“That master had precisely measured the distance from the factory entrance to the switch and its mounting height, then hung the borrowed switch in the corridor outside this dormitory supervisor’s quarters at the exact same distance and elevation, practicing its operation in total darkness every midnight.”
“If you think I’m lying, go check the two nail marks six ken from the dormitory supervisor’s quarters doorway and six shaku up the corridor wall—compare their dimensions with the switch’s position in the factory.”
“They’re an exact match.”
“Furthermore, the distance between these two nails matches the spacing of the two holes on the switch the master had borrowed. But in truth, when manufacturing that switch, they mistakenly made the hole interval too wide—so the nail spacing in this corridor should also have an unusual gap you’d never see with ordinary switches.”
“This too could be called damning evidence, I suppose.”
“Ugh, Gyah!”

In my hand was gripped the hammer that had smashed open the chatty detective’s skull, now smeared with blood.
It was something I had stealthily retrieved from behind the desk while he was engrossed in his chatter.
But thanks to having killed this man, it seemed that within this body of mine—which had distanced itself from murderous habits through ten years of hidden endurance—the evil blood that had long lain dormant now awakened with hunger and surged forth all at once.
My name?
“To be called ‘One-Eyed Rock’—ain’t I a somewhat known self-serving bastard.”