Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Onibutsu Cave Incident

Schematic diagram

Uncover the Secrets of Onibutsu Cave!

This final continental mission, ordered by the special intelligence agency, had woman detective Kazama Michiko's honor resting upon this single endeavor.

Onibutsu Cave was a peculiar Buddhist statue exhibition hall located in XX within the strategic riverbank area, about seventy kilometers up the Yangtze from here.

It was said to be included within a certain country’s sphere of interest, but now a man called Chin Tei—the local power broker—was reportedly managing it.

Our special intelligence agency had never yet publicly set foot inside this Onibutsu Cave. While it was all well that visitors to the cave had recently multiplied and its reputation risen, there were also odd rumors of frequent bizarre accidental deaths occurring within since some time past—precisely why Ms. Kazama Michiko, the female detective, came to be dispatched to investigate Onibutsu Cave.

Thinking this would be her final act of service, she boldly infiltrated XX alone and became a guest at Hotel Rose. Her immediate task was to produce the schematic diagram of Onibutsu Cave and memorize its secret chamber arrangement. She had concealed the schematic diagram in the pocket inside her skirt.

After three grueling days, she finally committed Onibutsu Cave’s chamber arrangement to memory. With this, she now felt confident that even if she entered Onibutsu Cave, there would be no oversights.

Due to overexertion, her head had grown fuzzy, so that afternoon she slept for a while. But around 3:00 PM, as she started feeling better, she got up and suddenly felt like going out into town.

Because it was Saturday that day, the town was more crowded than usual.
Before she knew it, she had stepped into the bustling Hongyu Road.
The sidewalk was packed with food stalls, vendors incessantly shouting strange sales pitches to beckon customers.

Michiko, on a sudden whim, stopped before a street vendor selling peanuts,

“Kid.”
“Let me have a bag of the good ones.”

With that, she tossed a silver coin onto the pile of beans with a clink.

“Here you go. Thank you.”

The boy tending shop swiftly plucked the silver coin from among beans tossed into his mouth and handed Michiko a bag of peanuts.

“Are they good?”

“If they’re not good,” she retorted playfully while brushing peanut dust from her gloves,“you could bring a turkey to peck up every last bean here.”

His grin faded as he leaned across rickety stall boards.

“……Today around 4:30 PM, someone’s going to get killed, they say.”
“Make sure to watch out for the dolls lined up at Room 39’s exit.”

He whispered those enigmatic words.

Michiko was startled as if electrified upon hearing that.

She had nearly cried out.
With immense effort, she swallowed the sound back down her throat, responded with an intentionally casual nod, and swiftly departed the scene.
Yet her heart kept pounding like a rapid festival drum.

In a dazed frenzy, she practically ran for two or three blocks before finally halting beneath a utility pole's shadow.
When she checked her wristwatch, it showed exactly 4:00 PM.

(That conversation must undoubtedly concern Onibutsu Cave. In thirty minutes, someone would die in Room 39.)
What an ill-omened piece of news this was.
Yet to receive such intelligence—what fortune!

Michiko became aware that her body trembled with minute shivers born of exhilaration.

(I should go check it out.
There's still enough time.
Even if this wasn’t about Onibutsu Cave, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.)

Michiko's mind was already made up.
Without the leisure to ponder why the Nankinmameuri Boy had whispered such things to her, she crossed the street and began ascending the slope where Onibutsu Cave stood.

As Michiko went off in that direction, a young man emerged from behind the pile of beans, looked in the direction she had departed, and smirked.

The tall guide

It was a little past 4:15 PM when she arrived at the entrance of Onibutsu Cave—an old brick structure that looked fit to house fiends. She inserted the sponsored admission ticket with letter of introduction—procured in advance through the hotel boy for precisely this contingency—into a hole resembling a beehive entrance labeled “ticket gate.”

Then, the admission ticket was sucked inward on its own, but in that instant, someone from deep inside—

“Please attach this to your chest.”

No sooner had the voice spoken than the round red number tag popped out from the now-familiar hole.

(Gah!)

At that moment, Michiko’s eyes swiftly focused on something. It was an oddly yellow hand that had pushed out the number tag from deep within. It was as if it were a wax sculpture’s hand—or if not that, a corpse’s hand.

Michiko abruptly shifted into detective mode and, bending down to verify the hand, peered into the hole.

Gah!

With a sharp ping, the number tag smacked against Michiko’s face just as a metallic clang echoed from inside the hole and the door slammed shut. Michiko hurriedly picked up the number tag that had fallen to the ground, but her chest was pounding violently. She had peered inside the hole before the door closed.

(It was a wrist.)
The severed yellow wrist had pushed this number tag forward.
—and that wrist had spoken, saying, "Please attach this to your chest!")

Female detective Kazama Michiko felt something ice-cold course down her spine.

Indeed, this was Onibutsu Cave—a place teeming with the very bizarre phenomena its rumors foretold.
Just from being greeted by this mysterious ticket taker, she already felt she had realized Onibutsu Cave was no ordinary place.

But Kazama Michiko was no longer frightened without reason. She had already steeled her resolve despite being a woman. Now that she had come this far, she resolved that no matter what happened, she would not retreat until she had unraveled Onibutsu Cave’s secrets.

The heavy iron door had opened a narrow passage just wide enough for one person to pass through.
Michiko attached the number tag to her chest and dashed through the gap.

Screeeech!

The instant she did, a metallic screeching sound came from behind her.
The heavy iron door at the entrance had already shut snugly, despite no one having pushed it.

Strange, strange.
The second mystery.

She stood motionless in the center of the dimly lit room for some time.
Now she had absolutely no idea which way to go from here.
In that room, not a single electric light was lit.
But surely she hadn't become a prisoner.

A gust of wind swept in from nowhere in particular.

At the same time, a sudden clamorous noise struck her ears.
The noise grew louder and louder.
She felt as if she had stepped right beneath a waterfall’s plunge pool.

She turned sharply toward the sound’s source.
Behind her, an entrance-like opening had materialized unnoticed.
Through that gap glimmered a faint light in the cave’s depths.

(Ah, I see! So I’m being led to Room 1 after all!)

Michiko recalled the map of Onibutsu Cave’s room divisions drawn on silk fabric that was etched in her mind.
She now plunged into Room 1 without hesitation.

The room’s decoration—unclear whether meant to evoke dawn or dusk—featured five or six round-headed statues resembling Jizo Bodhisattvas standing in a row against towering crags, all identically pressing their palms together in prayer.

The roaring noise—she had come to comprehend that this crag apparently concealed a deep abyss below, and the sound seemed to imitate violent waves thundering against it.

Room 1 consisted of nothing more than that.

Not understanding what was happening, Michiko stepped into Room 2 next—only to be thrown unexpectedly under a dazzling light that left her eyes reeling.

Focusing her eyes and surveying the room, she finally felt that she had truly arrived at Onibutsu Cave.
This horizontally elongated room—spanning roughly thirty tatami mats—held a noble’s deathbed at its center, where a pallid-faced nobleman was now teetering on the brink of his final breath. Surrounding him stood a tableau of fourteen or fifteen blue and red demons clad in resplendent priestly robes, their hands clasped in prayer toward the dying aristocrat.
All the statues were life-sized sculptures, with eye-searingly vivid pigments lavishly applied, making them appear as though they were alive.

What on earth could the red and blue demons’ clasped hands possibly mean?
Michiko stood there before them, dumbfounded and speechless, as if her very breath had been stolen.

Just then, stomping footsteps sounded as a group of people entered.
When she looked, there were six or seven middle-aged Chinese men of robust build, all clad in long-sleeved garments.
They appeared to have entered Onibutsu Cave for the tour after Michiko.

“Well now, this is finally the Onidōdō Hall.”
“The red and blue demons deliver the last rites as the nobleman prepares to attain paradise.”
“Step closer to the statues and take a look.”
“If you look closely, it seems you can hear their breath. Hahaha!”

A tall, lanky man who appeared to be the guide turned back toward the group and laughed uproariously.

Michiko understood the meaning of the statues in Room 2 and nodded in comprehension—indeed.

Horrifying Incident

Michiko, inconspicuously following behind the group, made her way through each room.
The Chinese guide briskly provided explanations for the increasingly grotesque groups of demon Buddha statues in each room.

Michiko had been following along out of eagerness to hear those explanations, but the demon Buddha statues could largely be divided into two types: one where demons wore solemn expressions as priests, and another where faces—beginning with Amida Buddha—retained noble divinity yet wielded weapons like swords and bows, brandishing them with violent intent.

“Even Buddha, finally unable to forgive human wickedness, thus wields his sword, you see.”
“Hahaha!”

The guide let out a dry laugh after his explanation.

As she listened to his increasingly brazen commentary that spared no sensitivities, Michiko grew unsettled by a peculiar illusion—that this guide might be one of Onibutsu Cave's demon Buddha statues having stepped down from its pedestal to serve as docent.

Soon the crucial hour approached.
The 4:30 PM deadline foretold by the peanut vendor boy was nearly upon them.
Michiko realized she needed to break away from the group immediately if she hoped to reach Room 39 in time.
Slipping past the tourists, she visualized the cave's memorized floorplan and raced through the shortest passageway before plunging into Room 39.

Room 39!
What manner of demon Buddha statues could have adorned this room?

There, contrary to expectations, the room appeared ordinary.

The room was unnervingly narrow and long, like an eel’s burrow.
In the garden, peach trees were planted, their branches bending under the weight of abundant fruit.
A beautiful vermilion and green railing-adorned corridor—apparently continuing from the main hall—stretched from the left side all the way toward the center.
In the center were stairs that ended.
At their base stood a large monk-shaped statue with a water buffalo’s face, one leg raised and holding a long Green Dragon Sword poised as if it had just been swung sideways, its stance cutting through empty air.
There was only that single statue.
When passing before this figure, the entrance to the next room became immediately visible beyond it.

(Is it really true that someone will die in this room soon?)

Michiko tilted her head beside the peach tree.
Far from presenting any bloodstained spectacle, the water buffalo monk statue—striking a grand pose with its Green Dragon Sword swung sideways—looked almost awkwardly comical in its clumsiness.
The sole element stirring faint unease was the room’s lighting—undeniably bright yet cast by a pale red lamp.

It was then.
Voices became audible in the adjacent room, followed by footsteps drawing near.

(At last—someone’s coming)

She looked at her watch—in two or three minutes, the infamous 4:30 PM would strike.
Among the group now entering, there must be someone who was going to die.
Not wanting to be seen by the people, Michiko pressed herself flat against the shadow of the entrance on the side opposite the statue.

Then, before long, spectators entered.
When she looked, it was none other than the group of five or six Chinese men from earlier.

(So it was true after all.)

Michiko nodded inwardly.
Had they moved through each room in proper sequence, this group would have arrived at this chamber twenty or thirty minutes later.
Yet considering how they'd deliberately timed their entry into Room 39 to match that ill-omened hour, it appeared someone among them would soon be dispatched to the realm of the dead.
This was no natural passing—without question, this marked the commencement of a premeditated murder plot, Kazama Michiko concluded.

While the group entered this room and became engrossed with the statue, Michiko slipped out through the entrance and concealed herself in the neighboring chamber just before it—Room 38. From the shadow of the entrance, she stared unblinkingly at the state of Room 39.

“This is where the water buffalo Buddha sliced through the peach thief. Hahaha!”

The guide forced a laugh.

“The water buffalo Buddha’s this statue—but where’s the peach thief? I don’t see him anywhere!” said a Chinese man in the group with a belly protruding like a sack.

“Well now, that’s a solid hit,” replied Chin Tei. “According to Onibutsu Cave’s legends, it’s indeed established that this water buffalo Buddha swung the Green Dragon Sword to slice off the peach thief’s slender neck—but for some reason, the peach thief’s statue has been missing from the very beginning.”

“What’s the reason for that?”

“Who knows why? What isn’t there simply isn’t.”

“Couldn’t it be this reason? In this Onibutsu Cave—whether there are thousands or tens of thousands of statues—there’s an awful lot of them. But couldn’t the peach thief statue be hidden somewhere among them?”

“Ah, I see. Well now! You’ve come up with quite a clever idea there. Hahaha! But well… There’s absolutely no way it’s hidden among them. For decades—nay centuries—we’ve examined every statue’s face day after day. Moreover, we have a proper physiognomy report for that peach thief statue, you see.”

“Really?”

“It’s true indeed! The peach thief’s physiognomy is described here as resembling a melon with eyes and a nose drawn on it—thick lips, thin eyebrows, and a mole right in the center of the forehead. It’s exactly like the face of Yan Zigou standing right there. Hahahaha!”

“Ahahaha! This is rich! Hey, Yan Zigou—don’t just stay silent! Say something!”

“…”

The man called Yan Zigou remained silent, his lips and fists trembling violently.
It was then.
For some reason, the room suddenly blazed with light.
The white light had suddenly intensified to a midday brightness.
The complexions of the people seemed to abruptly turn ashen.
This was because the mercury lamps attached to the ceiling had lit up, but most people did not immediately notice it.

“Hey, Yan Zigou.”
“Spit it out already!”

“So you think you can intimidate me? Which of us really has the thief’s nature?”
“I want nothing more to do with you!”

Having said that, Yan Zigou briskly started walking away.

“Hey, Yan Zigou!” called the guide from behind.

“You won’t see me again.”
“Watch your step! Hahaha!”

“Go ahead and laugh all you want.”

Yan Zigou left his parting retort and attempted to briskly slip past the water buffalo Buddha without so much as glancing back at the group—it was in that very instant.

“Gah!”

Yan’s body was suddenly thrust backward as if he had collided with an invisible plank fence.
Instantly, he raised both hands and clutched his own neck.
But by then, there was no longer a head upon his shoulders.
The head fell with a dull thud at his feet.
Next, his headless body fell with a heavy thud that shook the ground, like a sack of rice being thrown down.

The group stood frozen like statues four or five meters away, utterly transfixed by Yan Zigou’s bizarre demise.

Though positioned far behind, Kazama Michiko had watched this shocking spectacle staged beneath the blazing mercury lamps from beginning to end.
No—she hadn’t merely been watching.

(Ah, that person is in danger!)

The instant she thought this, she plunged her hand into her handbag and pulled out a small cine apparatus in one swift motion. Aiming it at Yan Zigou, she pressed the button to start the film.
Under the blinding mercury lamps, the spectacle of Yan Zigou’s final moments had thus been captured within her apparatus at the critical moment.

Even she herself was later astonished by how swift her actions had been.
It was likely her sense of professional duty that had enabled this great feat in that critical moment.

But she was, after all, a woman.
The instant Yan Zigou's body collapsed to the ground, she nearly lost consciousness.

Had no one called out to her from behind at that moment, the female detective might have collapsed right there.

But a strange rapid-fire voice called out to her from behind.

“Oh! Miss—what a triumph! But you must flee this place immediately; it’s perilous!”

“Huh?”

Michiko, terrified, suddenly whirled around.
However, there was no one standing there.
No—or rather, to be precise, there was only a group of statues depicting blue demons and red demons with garments tucked up plowing fields, standing sideways.

But from somewhere, the voice resumed speaking.

“Miss. You must reach the back exit within five minutes at the latest. You know the way—take the shortcut and rush there. If the door won’t open, knock three times beneath the peephole. Hurry! Don’t let them spot you!”

That rapid-fire Chinese was a voice she had heard somewhere before.
But she had no time to recall it.

“After uttering a brief ‘Thank you,’ she stepped back momentarily, then sprinted through the shortcut she had memorized toward the back exit.”
“And after pounding furiously on the door, she finally managed to burst out of Onibutsu Cave.”

The sky was beautifully adorned with sunset clouds.
She felt as though she had been trapped in Onibutsu Cave for a hundred years.

Detective Homura made his entrance.

It was only natural, of course, that the director of the special intelligence agency praised Kazama Michiko’s achievements with the highest commendations.

“Ah, with this, the new government can now rightfully issue a protest to the ○○ Interest Foundation.”
“The day of ○○’s retreat as a hostile third nation is finally approaching!”

Having said that, the director of the special intelligence agency formed a beaming smile.

“Will you be lodging a protest? Onibutsu Cave will of course be closed down, I presume?”

“It will likely be closed before long,” he replied. “However, for now, Onibutsu Cave remains crucial evidence material to lodge our protest. Once we visit the scene and screen the film you took of Yan Zigou’s final moments—no matter how they squirm—the other side will have no choice but to concede.”

The director of the special intelligence agency now appeared thoroughly optimistic about the future.

The next day, the new government issued a stern protest to the ○○ Interest Foundation.

"Our government intends to station police forces in the said area to establish public order in ○○."
"In accordance with this, our police force shall enforce the following by authority: First, the closure of Onibutsu Cave; Second, the recovery of the corpse of our loyal citizen Yan Zigou, murdered within Onibutsu Cave; Third, the extradition of the aforementioned murderer of Yan."

It was a protest document along those lines.

However, the opposing party sent back a brusque and dismissive reply.

“Public order in ○○ has been fully secured, and no murder incident has occurred within Onibutsu Cave.”

Deeming this unacceptable, the New Government sent an even stronger second letter of protest and attached to said document an enlarged photograph of a frame from Kazama Michiko’s film showing Yan Zigou’s final moments.

They had thought that with this, the opposing party would be left speechless, but upon reading the returned reply:

"It is true that a certain individual appears to have died within the cave; however, as clearly shown in the photograph, it is impossible for any of their members to have severed said individual’s neck from a position five or six meters away. Moreover, the photograph clearly proves that not a single sword is held in their hands. A protest without reason is utterly vexatious."

Thus, they flatly denied it.

Indeed, now that they considered it, what the opposing party said did have some validity.
However, once they had issued a protest, they could not simply back down now.
So once again, against the opposing party’s points of attack, they attempted a fierce rebuttal.

After two or three rounds of such arguments, a resolution was finally reached between both parties.
Now, as for what this resolution entailed—
“Then, why don’t we conduct a joint verification at the scene within Onibutsu Cave?”

Thus it was decided that on the designated day, commissioners from both sides were to meet inside Onibutsu Cave.

From the new government side, eight commissioners were dispatched, but three of them were special intelligence agency members, and Kazama Michiko was one of them.

That morning, five commissioners from the new government visited the special intelligence agency under the pretext of formal greetings—but when Michiko saw one of those commissioners, she nearly let the vase she was holding slip right through her arms.

“Why, if it isn’t Detective Homura!”

Homura referred to none other than Homura Sōroku—the renowned private detective who maintained an office in Tokyo’s Marunouchi district. He was an eccentric scholar-detective with a Doctor of Science degree, and Kazama Michiko had likely been helped by him countless times in past cases. Particularly during her work, there had been two instances where she nearly lost her life, but on both occasions, Detective Homura had appeared like the wind and rescued her from peril.

Given that Homura—both her senior and a life-saving benefactor—had suddenly appeared in such a place on the continent, it was no wonder Michiko had nearly dropped the vase.
Homura, grinning, approached her side.

“Ah, Ms. Kazama—the reputation of the lady detective who pulled off such a grand feat is truly remarkable. If that were me, I’d treat you to dinner tonight, you know.”

“Oh, that kind of thing…”

“No need to be modest. That split-second filming maneuver in that situation wasn’t humanly possible—it was nothing short of divine.”

“Oh, you mustn’t tease me. And Detective Homura, you are one of the government commissioners—but what exactly is your role?”

“Me?”
“Well—if this were a war, I suppose you could say I’m part of the scouting party.”
“And what does the scouting party do once they’re deployed there?”

“Hmm, let’s see...”
“In short, as the scouting party, I uncover enemy strategies and—depending on the situation—even stake my life to breach enemy lines.”

“Oh...”—

Homura had said this, but Michiko felt an ominous shadow cast over him, her chest tightening with unease.

The meeting between both parties inside the ominous Onibutsu Cave finally began just before noon.
Of course, inside the cave without a single window, there was no distinction between day and night.

From the ○○ Interest Foundation side, the same number of eight commissioners attended, but in addition to them, ferocious-looking Chinese men who called themselves Onibutsu Cave’s custodian team—men who had not shown themselves before—were wandering about here and there, thick sticks in hand.

At last, the negotiations began.

From the opposing party, a tall, lanky commissioner stepped forward to the front,

“I am the elder of Onibutsu Cave—a man called Chin Tei. You people—spreading baseless claims about Onibutsu Cave’s security being compromised and some upstanding citizen being murdered inside, then slinging mud at my cave with such conviction—it’s outrageous!”

From the very start, he was spoiling for a fight.

Michiko later caught a glimpse of the face of the man who introduced himself as Elder Chin Tei, but her heart pounded—for she had confirmed this elder was none other than the mock-laughing guide who days earlier led Yan Zigou’s group through the chambers.

She tried to quietly inform Homura of this, but before she could, Homura had already leaped forward.

“Ah, Commissioner Chin Tei—I’m Commissioner Homura—but there’s no point in quibbling back and forth here,” he said. “Please proceed to the scene and provide a full explanation of its normal conditions.”

“The scene, you say?
“The scene is fully prepared.”
“I will guide you shortly, but you people must comply with the cave’s regulations.”
“First—do not touch anything without my permission.”
“Second—do not smoke tobacco.”
“Third…”

“That’s common sense. Now then, please guide us to the scene.”

The group soon set foot into the contentious Room 39.

The room’s condition remained unchanged from before, with the red light still lit inside.
However, the place where Yan Zigou had fallen now featured a human body and head shape drawn in white chalk—a notable alteration.
Michiko vividly recalled that day.
She felt a strange vibration—a persistent thrumming—rising through the soles of her feet.

“...The place where Yan’s suicide corpse was is over there.”
“We were gathered around here, four or five meters away.”
“This is also clearly shown in the photographs you people provided—exactly as such.”

Elder Chin Tei used the white chalk he was holding to draw a large circle beneath the railing,

“From this far away, cutting Yan’s neck is something even a magician couldn’t do.”
“Or perhaps you’re saying it can be done?”
“Hahaha!”
The elder laughed triumphantly.

Detective Homura showed no signs of panic whatsoever.
He turned his back to the elder and approached the spot where Yan had fallen.

“Well, he breathed his last right in front of this water buffalo Buddha.”
“So he was given his last rites by the water buffalo Buddha, was he?”
“So Yan was born in the Year of the Ox?”
“Hmm.”

Homura began his usual banter.
Then, putting the cigarette he’d been holding into his mouth, he savored a drag.

“Hey, you!”
“Smoking isn’t permitted here.”
“Didn’t I warn you so thoroughly just now?”

Elder Chin Tei’s face turned red as he came rushing over.

“Oh, so that’s how it was, was it?”

Homura discarded the cigarette.
The lit cigarette sent its purple smoke swaying and rising high into the air for a while beside the water buffalo Buddha.
At that moment, Homura was staring intently at the path of the smoke for some reason.

Illusory Still Buddha

That green dragon sword the water buffalo Buddha is brandishing looks like it could really slice through someone.
But Yan Zigou wouldn’t have gone out of his way to have his head end up over there.
(After all, he had collapsed right here.)

Homura, with an intrigued expression, stared fixedly at the green dragon sword that the water buffalo Buddha had swung to the right. Homura was struck by how the green dragon sword—aligned precisely with the height of a human neck—had its blade lying horizontally.

(I see.
So, if this statue were to make one full rotation like this, that green dragon sword would swiftly slice off the neck of any person standing there.
So then…)

Homura went to the elder’s side and,

“Elder, that water buffalo Buddha isn’t going to start moving, is it? No—isn’t it going to start spinning round and round?”

The Elder’s eyes flared wide upon hearing this, but in the next instant, a smile surfaced at the corners of his lips,

“Preposterous! If dolls moved or spun around, it’d be chaos. Go ahead and inspect it up close.”

“May I investigate? You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“If anyone has seen that doll move, I’ll present enough silver coins to pile high on a water buffalo’s back.”

“That’s quite a claim…”

“You’re a persistent one. Hurry up and investigate already.”

Homura nodded, turned around, and fixed his gaze on the water buffalo Buddha.

At that moment, the room suddenly brightened.
The mercury lamps on the ceiling blazed to life.

“Who changed the lighting…?”

“The lighting is designed to change automatically.”

The elder replied.
However, Homura did not overlook the fact that the elder had secretly placed his hand on the corridor pillar and given it a slight push.

(He did something strange.)
Given that the lighting changed immediately when he did that, there might be a switch on that pillar to change the lighting.

Blazing bluish-white rays illuminated the room as if it were midday.
The water buffalo Buddha’s face grew even more grotesque.

Detective Homura strode resolutely toward the water buffalo Buddha, but at that moment—startled by something—

“Gah!”
he let out a low cry.
“Hey, lend me that stick.”
Homura turned around and took the stick from the guard standing beside him.

“Now, everyone, please keep your attention on me.”

No sooner had he spoken than Homura crouched where he stood.
And then, remaining crouched, he slowly began to walk toward the water buffalo Buddha.

“Watch this stick!”

Homura, remaining crouched, raised the stick high.
Then, he quietly approached the water buffalo Buddha.
Everyone held their breath.

Only Kazama Michiko sensed what Homura was trying to demonstrate.

Snick.

A high-pitched metallic clang rang out. In that instant, the stick Homura had been holding aloft snapped cleanly in two.
No one in the group could understand why the stick had broken.
Even though nothing had been done to it, it was strange that it had broken.
However, the stick had indeed snapped cleanly in two.

Homura, still crouching, looked back.

“Did you see it? This thick stick was severed exactly as if cut by a sharp blade. Please visually estimate the height of the stick’s severed end. Had I not crouched like this and instead walked straight ahead while standing upright, my slender neck would have been neatly severed instead of this stick. Well? Do you understand now?”

The commissioners shook their heads.
They understood that Homura’s neck would be severed, but they didn’t understand why that would happen.

“The stick was cut by a sharp blade.”
“That blade must seem invisible to your eyes.”
“However, it is clearly visible.”
“This large Green Dragon Sword held by the water buffalo Buddha—this is what just cut through the stick.”

“Hey, you. Even if you spout such nonsense, nobody will believe you.”

Elder Chin Tei snapped a spiteful remark.

“Are you calling this nonsense?
Then, can you come all the way here while standing upright?”

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“What? You’re serious?
Danger! Stop!”

By the time Homura shouted, it was already too late.

Elder Chin Tei strode briskly toward Homura.

“Agh—!”

In the next instant, Elder Chin Tei’s head separated from his torso.
With a dull thud, it tumbled onto the floor.

“Ah! Dangerous!”
“No one approach!”
“Though invisible to our eyes, this water buffalo Buddha rotates like a top while gripping the Green Dragon Sword.”
“If you value your lives, none shall come near!”

Homura, having said that, crouched and returned to where the group was.

The group, suddenly struck by anxiety, tried to flee toward the anteroom before Homura could act. But paralyzed by the fear that moving an inch might send their heads flying, they found themselves unable to decide what to do—and ultimately plopped down where they stood in defeat.

Strange Afterimage

“Ms. Kazama.”
“That demonstrates how thoroughly human eyes can be deceived by afterimages.”

After the incident, Homura responded to Kazama Michiko's question and spoke with measured gravity.

“When you say we’re being deceived by afterimages…”

“In other words, it’s like this.”
“I’ll bring a rotating chair right here before you.”
“I’ll spin it round and round to the rhythm of ‘One, two, one, two’.”
“You’ll keep your eyes closed, only opening them briefly when I say ‘one’ or ‘two’, then shutting them again immediately.”
“That is – you’ll blink your eyes rapidly in time with the ‘one, two, one, two’ count.”
“Now – how would this chair appear to you?”
“Let’s give it a quick try.”

Homura placed a rotating chair in front of Michiko and put his hand on it.

“Alright, let’s begin.”
“Don’t forget to keep in sync with the rhythm…”
“One, two, one, two…”

Michiko did as she was told, matched the rhythm, and blinked her eyes rapidly.

“Michiko-san, how did the chair appear?”

“Well…”

“Didn’t the chair appear to be perfectly still?”

“Ah, that’s right.
The chair was always facing straight ahead.
How strange.”

“That’s right.
Therefore, the experiment was a success.
In other words, I rotated the chair, but to you, it appeared to be perfectly still.
Why do you think that is?
The reason is that because you synchronized with my commands, you ended up snapping your eyes open to look at the chair precisely when it was facing frontward.
That’s why the chair felt like it was perfectly still.”

“Well, how strange.”

“Now, regarding that terrifying water buffalo Buddha—it too was spinning round and round while holding the Green Dragon Sword. It was rotating at a speed too swift for the eye to catch. Yet when you glance at it momentarily, it appears perfectly still.”

“That’s how it appeared.”
“But none of us were blinking rapidly.”

“Of course, that’s correct. However, the same effect as rapidly blinking your eyes was occurring.”

“When you say the same thing was happening…”

“The mercury lamp came on, you see. That mercury lamp was flickering on and off at an incredible speed. Moreover, it was perfectly synchronized with the water buffalo Buddha’s rotation. In other words, the mercury lamp only lit up and illuminated that room when the water buffalo Buddha was facing forward. Therefore, the water buffalo Buddha didn’t appear to be rotating and instead looked as though it was always steadily facing forward. Do you understand?”

“Yes. That may be so, but I didn’t feel like that mercury lamp was flickering at all.”

“That is because human eyes are fooled by afterimages.”
“Do you feel like ordinary electric lights brighten, dim, or flicker?”

“No.
“The light is always bright.”

“However, that electric light was actually alternating between light and dark a hundred or a hundred and twenty times per second.
“Yet the human eye generally doesn’t perceive flickering that occurs more than sixteen times per second.
“It truly flickers, but you don’t sense it as flickering.
“The same applies to film.
“There are standards of sixteen or twenty frames per second—light from the source only passes through the film and projects onto the screen when the frame aligns perfectly before the lens.
“During those intervals, the projection screen stays dark, but afterimages lingering in human eyes prevent the picture from flickering.
“That’s why rotating the film very slowly makes the screen appear to flicker.”

“That explanation reminded me of film principles I’d been taught before.”

“Now that you grasp this,”
“you understand how the water buffalo Buddha could appear perfectly still while spinning violently.”
“If not,”
“just recall our rotating chair experiment.”

“I think I finally understand,”
“but haven’t many people passed before that Buddha without being beheaded?”

“That’s right. When the red light is on, it’s safe. At that time, the water buffalo Buddha remains stationary. And when switched to mercury lamps, the water buffalo Buddha begins to rotate.”

“So you clearly realized when that water buffalo Buddha started moving, didn’t you? That was dangerous.”

“Well, it was truly dangerous, but what clued me in was my cigarette, you see.”

“Cigarette?”

“That’s right. The cigarette I discarded after being scolded by Elder Chin Tei was emitting smoke straight upward while still lit. When that smoke suddenly became disturbed, I realized what was happening. To be fair, I’d already suspected the water buffalo Buddha statue might start rotating earlier—but right after tossing the cigarette, I saw the smoke rising steadily. That’s how I knew the statue wasn’t moving at that moment.”

“So at that moment, the red light was still on, correct?”

“That’s correct—oh yes, I nearly forgot. Elder Chin Tei, who killed himself, was certainly a villain in our eyes, but it seems he had worked for years as a mechanical engineer in an unspecified country. By lynching Yan Zigou, he inadvertently exposed one of the devices—that’s what brought his fate to its conclusion.”

“The fate of those who misuse science always ends tragically like this.”

With that, the scientist-detective Homura Sōroku lit his Kinshi hand-rolled cigarette once more.