Pathway to Japanese Literature

I “Huh? That guy…”

As Murata suddenly raised his eyes, the profile of a man who seemed quite cheerful in the back box came into view through the dense, stagnant tobacco smoke—and at the same moment, (That guy was certainly...) And so, he remembered. "Hey, could you go ask that man in the very back box if he's Mr. Kimura? If he is, tell him Murata is here." "Oh, you know him..." "Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s Kimura..."

"Alright, I'll go ask for you then."

Harumi put down the glowing stub of her cigarette thickly smeared with lipstick and stood up to leave.

And sure enough, even before Harumi—who had gone to inquire—could return, the one approaching while planting his feet that seemed rather unsteady was none other than Kimura Kensuke, their middle school classmate.

“Oh, Murata! Been a while.”

As he said this, the gesture of smoothly stroking beneath his nose—a habit of Kimura’s from those days—needed no recalling. “How’ve things been since then…” Murata pointed to a chair as if to say, “Well, have a seat.” “By the way, this is quite the unexpected place to meet... I’ve heard rumors you vanished without a trace during your second year of high school—someone told me that.”

“Exactly as you’ve heard.” “Hmm.” “I was busy—” “What the hell have you been doing— “It didn’t seem like there was any particular reason for you to leave school, but you had to work—” “I raise dogs—that’s my job.” “Oh?” “I find it way more interesting than school— “Moreover, given the current circumstances, the work with military dogs has become extremely busy.” “Well, well—I had heard you liked dogs, but… so you’re a dog breeder?”

“Exactly—” Kimura stroked beneath his nose once more and gave a deep nod, then—as if remembering something—hurried back to his original booth and returned carrying the overcoat he had left behind. “Hey, look at this!”

“Eh—”

Kimura pulled out a kitten-like dog from his overcoat pocket. It was a Pocket Terrier. "Oh, how adorable! Let me hold it for a moment please..." Harumi immediately took it into her arms, "What’s its name? Oh, I want it!"

“Depending on circumstances, I might not refuse—” "Oh, really?" "Really now?" “Hey, Mr. Kimura. “I didn’t know you had such tricks up your sleeve.”

“Ha ha ha ha!” “Hey, what’s its name?” “A name? Hmm... Murata.” “Murata? — Murata, go potty!” “Don’t push your luck!” Murata glared with a sullen look. “Ha ha ha! But he’s cute, right? This little guy’s just for fun—back home I’ve got real marvels! Even a Saint Bernard pup, the king of dogs! Though this one might be a bit mixed.” “Oh, come on.” Murata momentarily vented his frustration.

“Where are you now… Still in Omori…” “No, upgraded—I’m in Chigasaki now. Over in Omori, factories keep sprouting up everywhere, and the mutts develop neurasthenia.” “My my, treating them like canine royalty now—are we?” “The air’s better too…” Kimura said with a hint of apology. “And with this sleeping sickness raging even in winter, the capital’s not safe.”

“Honestly…”

“Right, today’s Saturday—why don’t you come along with me now? Spend all tomorrow soaking up good air and sunshine—it’ll do you good.” “I won’t end up crawling with dog fleas, will I?” “Don’t joke around—I wouldn’t put you up in a dog kennel.” “Obviously.” Murata thought that even as he joked—since he had reunited with an old friend he could be unreserved with after so long—spending a leisurely day talking by the coast tomorrow, when he happened to have no plans, wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

"Well, guess I'll go then…" "Yeah, do that.—Hey, you, go call the one in back."

Harumi stood up and left, still holding the Pocket Terrier.

“Oh? You had company—?” “My sister.” “Your sister? So you’re dragging your sister around bars?” “It’s not exactly like that. Having her tag along all the time is a hassle, and since I accompanied her on department store rounds during the day, this time I had her accompany me here.” “Unbelievable...”

When Murata started to speak, though hidden by the box and out of sight, a slender, beautiful girl emerged from there, so he fell silent. To Kimura, who was always rubbing his nose, she was far too good a sister.

II "Mitoko—"

“Pleased to meet you…” Her Western-style clothes fit perfectly, her eyes glistening as if polished with fragrant oil. “This is Mr. Murata. “Didn’t you know…? Wait—what are you doing these days anyway?” “I’m not telling yet.” “Ah, right.” Murata and Mitoko laughed together. “So this is where you’re working…” Kimura examined the business card Murata had offered, brow furrowing. “…What exactly do you do here?”

“At present, I’m being hounded about that lethargic encephalitis issue you mentioned earlier.” “Ah! So that’s what kind of institute it is. The name didn’t sound familiar, but it’s basically like an infectious disease lab then.” “Well, you could say that.” “And how’s it going—?” “How’s it going? We’re completely stuck—we can’t even start proper work since we haven’t identified the pathogen yet.”

“But the newspapers are making quite a fuss—the headlines keep getting bigger.” “Exactly—which only means I’m getting more complaints piled on me.” “Well, with such an extreme mortality rate… For prevention, they’re still just telling people to avoid overwork and stay out of direct sunlight—that sort of thing.” “I suppose that’s all we can do—though it feels woefully inadequate. This disease was first identified around 1917, making it a modern illness—that’s why research lags so far behind. In Japan, cases only started appearing about ten years ago… They say it spreads in roughly two-year cycles, but this year’s outbreak defies all patterns. Instead of subsiding with the autumn winds, we’re seeing terrifying numbers of cases even in midwinter. If they ever published the real figures, people would be shocked.”

“Aren’t they publishing them?” “They’re not exactly withholding publication outright, but given how concentrated the cases are in those ○○-related factory zones… Though it’s classified information, there are more than a few subcontractor factories where nearly all their workers have been wiped out because of this.”

“After all… overwork?” “No, that doesn’t seem to be the whole story. At one factory, after the first case appeared, they panicked and switched to five-hour shifts to let workers rest—but even then, people kept collapsing and falling asleep during their shifts, they say.” “Hmm… Not knowing who’s behind this gives me the creeps. Maybe I should stop coming to Tokyo so much… But from what I hear, it’s not just Tokyo anymore…”

Just as Kimura was about to say this, the Pocket Terrier that Harumi was holding beside them suddenly burst into plaintive whimpers.

“Ah, maybe it’s gotta pee. You, let it down already! Hey, you…” Harumi was still holding it. “Hey… wait… wait…”

Unable to watch any longer, Mitoko picked up the small dog for her. Harumi, who had been looking down, remained with her face lowered and let both arms hang limply. “Oh my!” “Did she fall asleep?” The three of them froze in shock. Harumi, who they had thought was quietly playing with the small dog, now sat slumped in her chair in her glamorous nightdress, having gone limp without anyone noticing. With her face bowed down, at first glance it looked as though she were soothing the small dog on her lap.

“Hey—hey now…”

Murata shook her shoulders, but Harumi showed no sign of waking up. (Sleeping sickness— Is it death? Or if she recovers, will she be an idiot?) The intoxication that had been swirling through both Murata and Kimura drained from their feet into the cold floor.

Even so, Murata, acting as someone with medical training might, had been checking Harumi’s pulse. “Damn—she’s developed ocular paralysis—”

Having said that, he hurriedly ran off toward the washroom in the back to wash his hands. The small dog that had been placed on the floor kept whimpering plaintively—not to relieve itself, but simply continuing its mournful cries. Even though he was a doctor, Murata was not a practicing physician— “Hey—call a doctor! Call a doctor—” While hearing his own voice telling the bartender to call a doctor, Kimura tucked the small dog into his pocket and hurried Mitoko out of the bar.

Before long, Murata emerged, followed by two or three customers who looked uneasy. "What a pitiable thing to have happened… And with the transmission route still unclear, it’s downright unsettling."

Murata turned up his overcoat collar against the late-night chill and muttered this. "Ugh, this is awful." "Honestly... I've become too scared to come to Tokyo now... There hasn't been a single case in Chigasaki yet." Mitoko said this while her high heels clicked against the frozen asphalt. Exiting the Ginza back-alley bar where they'd met as if by arrangement, the three walked toward Shimbashi with Mitoko between them.

“There there… There there…” Kimura soothed the small dog in his pocket as he spoke, “What a pain. Maybe coming to Tokyo’s made me real jumpy—” “I told you to stop—if they find it on the train, don’t come crying to me.” “It’ll be fine—probably.” The small dog kept whimpering plaintively. Among the passersby, some cast suspicious glances.

“It couldn’t hold it… D-damn it!”

“Oh, what’s wrong?” “This guy…”

Kimura grabbed the small dog by the scruff of its neck and pulled it out of his pocket. “This guy finally did it... Knew something was off...” “Oh dear! In your pocket?”

“Ugh—it’s soaked through to my pants—” Kimura hurriedly unfastened his overcoat buttons and wiped himself with a handkerchief. “You naughty thing…” The small dog kept whimpering on Mitoko’s hands. Just then, the boyish figure who had been walking before their eyes—carrying a small cloth-wrapped bundle as he made his rounds from bar to bar—began moving with strange slowness. Before they could even register this oddity, he had already collapsed sideways onto the cold asphalt.

“Oh!” Mitoko nearly dropped the small dog. "This child too..." Kimura stopped wiping with his handkerchief and exchanged glances with Murata.

They felt a dread as if jet-black demon's wings were enveloping the imperial capital. Murata trotted two or three shops ahead to a tobacco shop and “Make a quick phone call—there’s a boy collapsed over there...”

III

Fortunately passing through the ticket gates without issue and ascending to Shimbashi Station’s platform, there were just about two minutes remaining until the Odawara-bound train’s departure. “I was so scared… I want to go home soon… I’ve had enough of Tokyo.”

Mitoko hunched her neck into her gaudy muffler, looking genuinely frightened. The small dog had fortunately stopped whimpering. "He really needed to go... He never does this normally." "Well, it's fine—it's Brother's pocket after all." "This guy..."

“Ha ha ha! But when I think about boarding the train—even though it’s nearby—it feels like setting out on a journey.” “Exactly.” Mitoko pulled back. “Once you’re on board, it’s just over an hour—you’d think you could pop out whenever—but actually getting on feels endless. I’ve become such a country bumpkin.” “No way…” “It’s true!”

“This guy here’s miffed about leaving Tokyo—if that’s how he feels, let him catch the sleeping sickness. According to Murata, it’s supposed to be a modern disease anyway…”

“Oh dear… If such a disease is spreading, I’d rather stay in Chigasaki.” While they were exchanging these words, the electric locomotive glided into view.

When they entered the train car and noticed people sprawled asleep, they were startled, but upon realizing this wasn’t due to the sleeping sickness, they felt relieved.

With beautiful Mitoko there, they arrived in Chigasaki sooner than expected.

After getting off at the station and walking a while toward the coast, there stood Kimura’s house on a generous plot of land. It appeared they kept dogs on a larger scale than expected—in the cold moonlight, the roofs of several corrugated iron-roofed kennels glistened whitely.

Occasionally, mixed between the howls of dogs at the moon, the sound of waves—heard after so long—could also be made out.

“This is quite a nice place.” “Well, it’s healthy enough.” “You seem to have quite a number of dogs... Must be tough taking care of them all...” “About thirty.” “Plus I’ve taken on training military dogs like German Shepherds these days. Got three assistants—but you’ve gotta love it to keep at this work, hahaha!” “You’ve really gone all out—absolutely need that passion to keep going.” Just then, a young man in shorts entered Sweater. He was Kimura’s assistant.

When Kimura asked, the assistant looked perplexed.

“Well, um, a little past noon, Gen suddenly started barking for some reason... Then all the others joined in too...” “Gen, huh—he’s always been a bit high-strung… That all?” “Yes.” “Thanks.—Mr. Murata, it’s late tonight, so I’ll give you a proper tour tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that’s better. I’m a bit tired too.” “That’s terrible… It can’t be the sleeping sickness, can it?” “Don’t joke about that… But maybe it’s because I had a drink and rode the train—I’ve gotten properly sleepy.”

IV

The next morning, Murata, who had been dozing, was unceremoniously shaken awake by Kimura. “Wha—what the…”

“Oh good, you’re awake.” “Huh?” “Well look at this—Tokyo’s in chaos! The sleeping sickness is raging out there... I was worried you’d gotten hit by it too, sleeping so soundly like that.” “What the hell is this?”

“Well, look at this newspaper—it’s splashed right across the front! ‘Tokyo saw an unprecedented number of cases yesterday,’ it says!”

“Huh…”

As Murata rubbed his eyes and looked at the society section of the newspaper thrust before him, there indeed at the top—spanning four or five columns— Imperial Capital Transforms into City of Sleep and Death Sensational headlines such as these were printed. As he frowned and began reading through the article, The number of victims claimed by the sleeping sickness—this sleep demon that had struck the Imperial Capital since summer—showed no signs of abating even as autumn chill gave way to harsh winter, rather demonstrating a steady upward trend that kept authorities desperately concerned about their containment efforts. Then came the sudden explosion on the tenth instant: not only in factory districts with previously high infection rates, but across nearly the entire city, victims collapsed mid-task or mid-stride. As detailed in separate reports, even a streetcar operator succumbed while driving, triggering a catastrophic collision. These developments plunged concerned officials into deep distress. While most victims remained overworked adults and young children, the complete unknown nature of both cause and treatment rendered containment measures passive and exceedingly difficult. Should this explosive case count persist, within mere dozens of days the entire Imperial Capital risked transforming into a crucible of slumber—just as historical accounts told of cities becoming necropolises through Black Death pandemics—with none able to guarantee it wouldn’t repeat that tragic course. Authorities further advised thorough gargling after returning from outings...

The article was to that effect. "I see..." "There's more." Kimura waited for Murata to finish reading, then pointed to the page labeled "Kanagawa Edition." When Murata looked, there was a headline reading "Chigasaki Too"—it reported that around six o'clock yesterday afternoon, an elementary school student had contracted the sleeping sickness. "Hmm... So this place has become dangerous too." "That's right. Mitoko was grumbling too—she was worried about you and said we should wake you up sooner..." "By the way—this is just an amateur theory—but what if this sleeping sickness pathogen came from the continent—"

“Why—?” “Well, it’s hard to say why exactly, but about a month ago, I went all the way to the border area with some military dogs we’d trained there, and it seemed like this disease was already spreading pretty bad around those parts too.” “Hmm… That’s news to me.” “Not really—it doesn’t seem like that kind of thing would make the newspapers either.” “That’s news to me. And the dogs are unaffected?” “The dogs don’t seem to get the sleeping sickness either. But for some reason, when we took them over there, they got all nervous and wouldn’t stop barking—real headache that was…”

“…………” Murata, who had been keeping his eyes closed for a while, suddenly leapt up from the futon. And “You, you—what was the name of the dog that barked here yesterday?” “What’s this all of a sudden—you mean Gen?” “Yes, that’s right! And could you lend me that Pocket Terrier too?” “Lend them—?” “What on earth’s gotten into you?”

"No—I just thought of something about the sleeping sickness." "Get a grip! I haven’t the foggiest idea what you're on about..." "......Right."

Murata finally managed a wry smile and "Anyway, lend me those two dogs—I want to take them to Tokyo and study them."

“What a waste for research material—if that’s all you need, aren’t there plenty of stray dogs around?” “No—no good. It has to be those two.” “Don’t push your luck…” “What’s unreasonable about it? It’s not like we’re killing them, and compared to human lives, it’s hardly an issue!” “So why exactly are you so fixated on those two dogs…” As they were engaged in this verbal sparring, a piercing bark suddenly erupted from the direction of the kennels.

“You—is that Gen barking?” “That’s right…” “Alright…”

Murata began hurriedly changing into Western clothes. It was just as Murata, before Kimura’s dumbfounded eyes, slipped his arm through the final sleeve of his coat.

Mitoko hurriedly entered.

“Brother—”

“What’s wrong? …You’re looking deathly pale.” “But… Yamada suddenly collapsed! He passed out right in front of the dog kennels!” “What? Yamada collapsed?…” A bluish pallor of terror spread across Kimura’s face. “What? The sleeping sickness?” “That’s it!”

After shouting such incoherent words, Murata abruptly bolted from the room. Kimura and Mitoko also hurriedly chased after him.

5

Murata dashed out of the room and ran through the garden toward the dog kennels. When he reached Gen’s kennel where the dog was barking furiously, Kimura and Mitoko—who had been following behind—swung open the wire mesh door before he could react. “Hey, Murata!” Kimura’s warning came too late. Not only that—as if seizing his chance, Gen bolted out, slipped through the fence, and raced down the sandy path toward the woods. Murata too became consumed by pursuit, chasing frantically after him.

“Hey, hey!”

Astonished, Kimura started running shoulder to shoulder with Mitoko after Murata, who kept charging ahead without turning around no matter how much he shouted. “There’s no helping him. What’s gotten into him?” “How odd… hasn’t he been acting strange for a while now?” Mitoko shook her bobbed head as she ran. “Maybe… Being forced to research this damned sleeping sickness day in and out, then having people collapse left and right shoved in your face since yesterday—guess he finally snapped.”

“That might be true… but it’s awfully sudden, don’t you think?” Around the time she was gasping for breath, Murata—who had finally reached the woods’ edge—came to an abrupt halt and began pacing restlessly. “He’s finally stopped. What on earth could he be searching for?”

“Ah, Gen’s here too! Gen’s—”

Kimura seemed more concerned about Gen than Murata. They had finally caught up.

“What’s going on with you, anyway? Ah! This is the house where they said the sleeping sickness broke out yesterday!” “Shh!”

Murata waved his hand to stop them. Gen started growling. Eyes gleaming and fangs bared, it was looking up at the two-story barn of the farmhouse there. “Hmm… This is it—the second floor of this barn.” Murata growled low, his eyes gleaming. And “You there—wait a moment!”

After uttering a final remark, Murata rustled through the straw bundles at the barn entrance with resolve and stepped over them. Gen followed along, his tail stiffly erect. “What in the world...?” “I don’t have a damn clue what’s going on here.”

“Could it be a thief…” “No way!”

As they looked up at the barn's second floor whispering among themselves, Gen suddenly let out a piercing bark—followed by a sound like someone being slammed against floorboards, mingled with sharp shouts and curses that clanged through the air, escalating into a tremendous commotion.

“Hey! Murata! What’s happening?” It was when Kimura stuck his head into the barn entrance and bellowed. “Damn you!” When the sound of a heavy blow resounded, suddenly, before their eyes, a man in a black suit—entangled with Gen—came crashing down.

Following that, Murata’s breathless voice rang out from the second floor. “Kimura! Don’t let him escape!” “Got it!”

He grabbed the straw rope at hand and firmly braced himself. However, the fallen man—far from trying to escape—seemed to have been struck in a bad spot and had already lost consciousness. Releasing Gen—who was still growling—he tied up the man’s hands behind his back.

“Hey! Murata! You okay?”

“I’m okay—Kimura, come take a look.” Murata’s face peering down from the hanging ladder now bore a faint bruise around his left eye. “You took quite a hit there…” “Oh, it’s nothing…” “This is it—look at this!” When they looked where Murata was pointing, there in the dimly lit corner of the barn’s second floor sat an iron box about the size of a large trunk, connected to exposed power lines crawling across the ceiling.

Murata, while tearing off the power lines,

“This is it—this is the true cause of the sleeping sickness—” “Wh-what? Th-this is the sleeping sickness—?” “That’s right.”

“That’s right—but look here, this is just a box! If it’s called sleeping sickness, there’s got to be something… Or maybe this box is some nest of the sickness’s pathogens…” “No no—this is a machine.” “A machine—?” “Exactly—the mistake was trying to handle the lethargic encephalitis ravaging Tokyo through pathology! When you think about it, what a waste of effort—no matter how much we stared through microscopes, there was never any chance of finding a pathogen.”

“So you’re saying…” “In other words, this is a grand conspiracy—a terrifying plot to transform the Imperial capital into a city of death through the sleeping sickness—and I’ve only just realized it now……”

At that very moment, Mitoko’s scream rang out outside the barn. When they hurriedly climbed down to look, the bound man—apparently having finally regained consciousness—had begun squirming into motion.

They immediately sped off on bicycles to report the man to the police, then returned to Kimura’s house with an elated Murata in their midst. Gen, wagging his tail, calmly followed along and entered the kennel by himself.

VI "But you—how does that machine even cause the sleeping sickness?"

Without even waiting to settle into the room, Kimura began questioning. Since yesterday, he had been vividly confronted with the horrors of the sleeping sickness—and now that it had been revealed as some grand conspiracy, he couldn’t possibly let the matter rest without hearing more.

“That box is the culprit—it was connected to the power lines, right? It’s a device that uses those lines as a power source to easily generate ultrasonic waves.”

“Ultrasonic waves—?” “Exactly.” Murata nodded emphatically. “That very ultrasonic wave is the cause of lethargic encephalitis—commonly known as sleeping sickness.” “Hmm…” “That the sleeping sickness has a physical cause is an unprecedented discovery in human history… What’s truly terrifying is how quickly spies exploited this—not just putting all of Tokyo to sleep, but according to your information, even deploying it against border security forces… While everyone struggled with mere talk of death rays and creating atmospheric conduction paths, those dreadful murderous sound waves—sleeping sound waves—had already begun methodically wreaking havoc.”

“Hmm… But can such a thing really be done? I didn’t hear anything that sounded like noise at all…” “Can it be done? Look at the victims piling up right before our eyes… You say there was no sound? There was—you just couldn’t hear it! These were ultrasonic waves beyond human hearing range—thirty to forty thousand vibrations per second—completely inaudible to humans—” “But even among those ultrasonic waves, there are various types—some can be adjusted to not affect human eardrums at all, yet still penetrate the skull and resonate directly with the brain matter.” “They exploited that—you know how you sometimes feel drowsy listening to a steady, monotonous sound…? That’s exactly it—and at the same time, this thing must have the power to numb the brain matter itself.”

“……” "But you see, since the sound waves aren’t that intense yet, children and overworked people were affected first. But even so, if exposed continuously, even healthy young men wouldn’t be able to endure it. Fundamentally, ultrasonic waves are a product of modern mechanical civilization—trains, locomotives, engines, generators—every factory has massive machinery operating, generating not just deafening noise but also tremendous amounts of inaudible ultrasonic waves. And certain wavelengths among these seem to act as sleep-inducing sound waves on humans—this explains why the sleeping sickness suddenly emerged in the modern era. And it was X-country’s agents who swiftly exploited this for their grand conspiracy……"

“I see…” Kimura nodded admiringly, “But how did you manage to figure all that out?” “That’s thanks to the dogs, you see.” “The dogs?” “Yeah, in all three cases since yesterday, there were always dogs present. And each time, without fail, the dogs would suddenly get restless or start making noise. That’s why I was going to ask you to lend me two dogs for another experiment—but then this whole commotion happened before I could, so everything’s settled now…”

“How come Gen and the others can sense it?” Mitoko interjected. “You see, their ears are exceptional—dogs can hear sounds up to about eighty thousand vibrations per second that humans can’t detect at all. So when those sleeping sound waves start humming, it must be so unbearably noisy for them that they can’t help but bark and growl every time… The fact that dogs would make a fuss when we couldn’t hear anything was what made me think of ultrasonic waves in reverse. That means city life must be even noisier for dogs than it is for humans.”

“Oh my…” Having said that, she widened her eyes— “Oh my, your left eye is swollen… If you apply a compress…” —she had noticed the bruise. Murata, as Mitoko applied a compress to his swollen eye, laughed bashfully for the first time.

(From “Yūmoa Kurabu” [Humor Club], Showa 15, February Issue)