Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Kaizo Hino

1

At this moment, I was guiding a single guest to the residence of Dr. Kin, Shanghai’s renowned eccentric scholar.

Very few people knew where Dr. Kin’s residence was located.
People often spotted Dr. Kin walking through the bustle of Nanjing Road, his body wrapped in a threadbare purple damask robe and his severe hunchback curled even tighter, but almost no one knew where his residence lay.
Dr. Kin’s residence lay underground beneath Bakan—a low-class simple eatery on Nanjing Road that boasted both the cheapest prices and the busiest trade.

“Well, here’s that Bakan.”
“What do you think? Quite the bustling place, isn’t it?” I turned to look at my guest.
“This place truly lives up to its reputation of being impossible to enter—but first off, this overpowering stench would leave anyone unaccustomed utterly overwhelmed, immediately turning their stomach.”
“But anyway, we must go inside here to meet Dr. Kin, so pinch your nose for now, try not to breathe, and follow me.”
“You may push aside any customers who become obstacles without hesitation.”
“Even if customers get pushed aside and end up with their faces in their bowls, no one will get angry.”
“If you’re too polite, you’ll never make it through to the back.”
“Now, don’t hesitate—push them aside like this.”
“However, you should take particular care with your pocket belongings.”
“Because there are customers who lie in wait to be pushed aside, and the moment they’re shoved, they’ll make off with our pocket belongings—you can’t let your guard down.”
“Ah! They’ve already gotten us.”
“Ah! Wait—”
“Making a fuss now won’t help.”
“Once they’ve gotten you, even if you know the thief’s face, your valuables will never return.”
“Causing a scene won’t lead to anything good anyway.”
“Something else will be stolen.”
“You wouldn’t want something like your life stolen, after all.”

We finally reached the back after pushing through the crowd.
Several small rooms stood lined up before us.
I motioned for him to follow me.
"Let's enter here," I said.
"Once we're inside, I'll close the entrance curtain."
"Now take a seat in this chair."
"And grip this large round table firmly with both hands."
"If you don't hold tight, you'll bite your tongue or get thrown off and injure yourself."
"It's moving now."
"I just pressed the secret button."
"There—the entire floor has begun descending."
"This is why I told you to hold onto the table."
"That's right—this whole chamber functions as an elevator."
"The floor, ceiling and walls all descend together."
"We're now dropping at tremendous speed."
"After all, if this were a normal elevator, we'd be going down thirty basement floors."
"They say it measures two hundred meters from ground level."

"Are you asking if it's to avoid bombing? Of course that might have been one reason, but another was that Dr. Kin avoided cosmic rays to an extreme degree in his daily life. Those cosmic rays pierce through any human body twenty-four hours a day, so…"

Mid-conversation, the elevator stopped.

Taking the guest’s hand, I exited the elevator and walked for a while through a passage in utter darkness, groping our way forward.

After walking about two hundred meters, the passage came to a dead end.
There, I knocked three times on the earthen wall that looked freshly excavated.
Then, with a metallic screech, we were hurled into blinding light.

Following such a procedure meant I had undoubtedly navigated the labyrinth of darkness successfully.
If handled poorly, one might never collide with this wall of light and end up unable to advance or retreat, growing hungry and lightheaded.

I suppressed my intense dizziness and lay face down in the strong light for a while. Even one who wasn't a mole would be undone by this light bath. This too was one of Dr. Kin's security measures. Finally accustomed to the light, I was able to lift my face.

“Ah, Dr.Kin. Though this is rather sudden, I’ve brought Mr.Rosse to intrude.”

“Well now, that fellow isn’t British, is he? If he’s British, he’s useless here—I’ll have you send him packing.”

With that, Dr. Kin rose from his chair while pressing down his large ultramarine-colored glasses with his hand.

2

Dr. Kin harbored an intense dislike for the British.
He detested the British and alcohol in equal measure.

“Ah, Dr.Kin.”
“Mr.Rosse is Japanese.”

"Is that true, Mr.Watanuki?"
"He's rather dark for a Japanese man, isn't he?"

Watanuki was my name.

"He is a naturalized Japanese citizen."
"Before that, he was registered in India."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Mr.Rosse offered a deferential greeting to Dr.Kin in fluent Japanese.

Dr.Kin wordlessly nodded, gestured toward chairs for us, then settled back into his own seat.
On the table we surrounded lay countless paper scraps—their purpose unclear—strewn in chaotic disarray.
Upon them, intricate numerical formulas had been meticulously inscribed like marching ant columns.

"The Mr.Rosse I bring today is an authority in electric cannon science," I said, undertaking introductions. "Though he completed designs for an electric cannon achieving 10,000 meters muzzle velocity three months prior, regrettably Japan now lacks any parties willing to manufacture it—leaving him thoroughly disheartened."
"So he came to Shanghai bearing this melancholy heart, seeking diversions to lift his spirits—and I deemed it best to introduce him to you, Doctor. In truth, I brought him here unannounced without prior explanation, so I beg you'll indulge him in conversation."

Because I had unexpectedly spilled everything, Mr. Rosse kept getting startled during my explanation, tugging my sleeve repeatedly in his attempts to make me stop talking.

Dr. Kin had been nodding lightly, but when he finished listening to my explanation,

“It’s no wonder he became disheartened.”

Dr. Kin let slip a sympathetic comment,

“I only just learned through Mr.Watanuki’s introduction that you are Mr.Rosse, but I’ve known about you since reading your paper on electric cannons.”

With that, appearing in excellent spirits, he stood up and shook Mr.Rosse’s black hand.

A look of profound emotion appeared on Mr.Rosse’s face.

“But Mr.Rosse,
what do you intend to do with an electric cannon that has such high muzzle velocity?”

“Oh my—I’m quite overwhelmed by such a question.”
“Greater muzzle velocity directly translates to longer effective range.”
“This allows me to position myself beyond the reach of enemy artillery positions or warships while bombarding them.”
“I thought this was common knowledge...”

And Mr.Rosse responded while blushing.
This was likely because he felt Dr.Kin had subjected him to a mental test.

“With that approach, the hit rate gradually decreases, and shell costs spiral out of control.”
“Effective range inherently contains limitations.”
“You could theoretically extend the range indefinitely by simply launching shells far away—but consider the wind speed differences between the muzzle vicinity and impact area.”
“Longer range means poorer accuracy.”
“Isn’t that so?”

Dr. Kin gripped a pencil and, while incessantly drawing ballistic curves on paper, spoke.

“But Dr.Kin,”
“I truly wanted to create an excellent cannon—that’s why I designed an electric cannon with such tremendous muzzle velocity.”
“I fire one shot; if it doesn’t hit, I make adjustments with the second and third rounds.”
“If even two or one out of ten shots hit, that’s a victory.”

“I can’t say I approve of that probabilistic firing strategy.”
“Why are you so impatient?”
“Why not calm down and adopt an approach that ensures hits?”
“Mr.Rosse, listening to your explanations—why, even I grow irritated just hearing them.”
“That way, you can’t win battles.”
“Mr.Rosse, although you say you’re Japanese, your electric cannon design philosophy isn’t characteristically Japanese.”
“Or have modern Japanese become so irritable?”

Beneath the tinted lenses, Dr. Kin's eyes gleamed.

Mr.Rosse's expression gradually shifted into one of anguish as he kept biting his lips.
Even had I wished to mediate, I knew no words to say.
Unless Mr.Rosse confessed a certain secret here, there was no way to resolve it.

For a while, a suffocating silence persisted in Dr. Kin’s study—but presently, the doctor rose deliberately from his chair and began pacing steadily about the room.

“Now, Mr. Rosse.”

“Hah?”

“I’ll give you one hint,” Dr.Kin said, his colored lenses glinting. “What do you think would happen if we drastically reduced a shell’s velocity?”

“The effective range would shrink,” Rosse countered immediately, lips tightening. “Technological regression. Nonsense.”

Kin leaned forward, pencil scratching ballistic curves across paper. “No—I mean extending the effective range while making the projectile’s speed extremely slow.” His chalky finger tapped the diagram. “And achieving one hundred percent accuracy. Ponder this thoroughly.” The scientist’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial murmur. “Return when you’ve solved it—I’ll advise you then.”

“Reducing the projectile’s speed is nonsense… but since you’ve gone to the trouble of suggesting it, I’ll give it some thought.”

“Exactly.
“Do so.
“If that works out, your plan to annihilate the British fleet in one stroke will also succeed.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“No—I’m returning the wallet I took from your pocket.
“This was delivered from above, but even if it’s written in cipher, to have carelessly left documents about the British fleet annihilation operation inside—that goes beyond mere negligence.”

3

When we stepped outside, Mr.Rosse, with an expression of great excitement, seized me and would not let go.

“Hey, Mr.Watanuki. Let us speak more. I know a place that serves wonderful brandy—let me take you there now.”

I had prepared myself from the beginning, so I followed along as Mr. Rosse directed.

In a quiet corner of Hotel Kunan’s bar, Mr.Rosse led me.

“This table is my reserved spot.”
“Now then… let us drink to our mutual good health…”

With that, Mr.Rosse raised a glass filled with amber liquid high and brought it to his lips.

“Whew, now I’ve finally settled down.”
“Dr.Kin must be delighting in having exposed such a critical weakness.”
“I never imagined the British fleet matter would get exposed there.”

“Well, it’s fine.
“I may have acted somewhat presumptuously, but since I thought it best to introduce you to Dr.Kin quickly, I took you there without explaining.”

“Ah, Dr.Kin is a man worthy of awe. Just what is that person—Chinese, or Japanese?”

“That’s precisely it.”

With that, I downed the glass of liquor in one gulp,

“You see—the name Kin exists among Chinese people and Japanese alike.
“It’s found in Korea too.
“And of course you’re aware it exists in Manchuria as well.
“But Dr.Kin says he doesn’t know which of those places he belongs to.
“He was a foundling.
“Undoubtedly Asian—but with unknown parentage, he claims he can’t determine whether he’s Japanese or Chinese.”

“What language was he speaking as a baby?”

“That’s Cantonese. Of course, since Mr.Kin—a Cantonese man—picked him up and raised him when he couldn’t even babble yet, it’s only natural he spoke Cantonese as an infant.”

“He’s a strange man. And what exactly is he doing in that underground lab?”

“Dr.Kin is a scientist.
No—to put it more precisely, he’s a scientist without nationality.
Even if you call him a man without nationality, that doesn’t mean he’s of Jewish descent.
Dr.Kin declares: ‘Though I may lack nationality, I remain an Easterner through and through.’”

“So, what exactly is Dr.Kin doing every day?”

“Dr.Kin takes up any field of science that catches his interest and steadily advances his research.
He’s currently researching the relationship between cosmic rays and gravity, but he’s already made numerous inventions up to now.
Among these, he sells inventions that have become rather outdated to various countries and gains vast sums of money.
Dr.Kin’s assets were beyond estimation—they could amount to hundreds of billions of yen.
But what deserved greater awe than that was how Dr.Kin's independent research had achieved such distinctive development that certain scholars highly evaluated it as being at least forty to fifty years ahead of America—then first in global scientific advancement—and second-tier Germany when compared.
Therefore, in matters of science, Dr.Kin was said to be a treasure trove of human knowledge.”

As I lavished the highest praise upon Dr.Kin, Mr.Rosse—his Persian cat-like clear eyes darting about as he murmured “Ah, I see”—wore an expression of deep admiration.

“Therefore, if Dr.Kin gives his approval, the electric cannon you designed will actually be built by his secret factory.”
“Then your long-cherished wish of annihilating the British fleet—”

“But Dr.Kin doesn’t seem to favor high-velocity electric cannons.”
“Rather than that, I was told to devise a slow-speed projectile with long effective range, but I can’t make heads or tails of it.”
“Because reducing muzzle velocity and extending effective range are mutually detrimental conditions, you see.”

“Hmm, it’s just like a riddle.”

“That’s right—a riddle.”
“It feels like I’ve been given a riddle without an answer.”
“Dr. Kin might have been mocking me.”

“That’s not the case.”
“Dr. Kin wouldn’t do something as mean-spirited as mock someone.”
“He’s that serious—utterly earnest.”
“Even if he posed a riddle, I believe Dr. Kin has surely confirmed there exists an answer to it.”

“Is that so…
“A slow-speed projectile with long range and 100% accuracy!”
“I can’t believe such a horrifying thing exists in this world… No—perhaps we’ve become complete prisoners of established science.”

Mr. Rosse said this; shuddered violently; then hurriedly brought the glass to his lips.

4

When we went outside, the night had grown quite late, and even Nanjing Road—renowned as it was—had only scattered figures remaining.

The two of them walked aimlessly along the road, letting the night breeze cool their cheeks flushed from alcohol, with no particular destination in mind.
Our conversation remained fixated on Dr.Kin and the bizarre riddles he had posed to Mr.Rosse.

I think it was after we'd walked four or five blocks that Mr.Rosse suddenly stretched both hands above his head, clenched them into fists, and began swinging them violently as if challenging the night sky.
He appeared intensely agitated.

“Hey, Mr.Rosse. What on earth is wrong?”

“Hmm. After all, we’ve been deceived by Dr.Kin. How could such absurd nonsense even be possible? If a projectile travels at low speed, won’t it just fall immediately? It’s precisely because of high velocity that it can reach distant places.”

“That’s certainly true.”

“That spiteful Dr.Kin! Because I wanted to sink the British fleet in one stroke, I fell right into the doctor’s transparent scheme. Damn you! What a rotten thing to do!”

“...”

Mr.Rosse kept stopping and starting as he walked, cursing Dr.Kin's name vehemently toward the heavens all the while. He appeared thoroughly exasperated.

Though I didn't believe Dr.Kin to be that sort of person, listening to Mr.Rosse's arguments about sluggish projectiles gradually made his points seem reasonable.

"I see—they're contradictory conditions after all."

"Dr.Kin, may pigs devour you and may you die!"

“Now, don’t say that.
“How about looking behind you before having your say?”

A strange voice suddenly reached us from behind, causing me to start.

“Who’s there?”

“Ah!”

Never in my life had I been so astonished. Letting out a scream, I collapsed onto the pavement from sheer shock. For when I turned around, there stood no person who could have spoken. Yet absence did not reign—my eyes fell upon a pitch-black cylindrical form nearly grazing my back, leaving me thunderstruck. It was unmistakably an artillery shell with a caliber no less than forty centimeters.

“How’s this? Can you see this shell?”

The shell spoke.
It was an uncanny shell.
As it said this, the shell grazed past the tip of my nose and drifted slowly through the air toward the far side.
It moved about one metre above the ground, as if suspended by invisible wires from above, gliding smoothly away without falling.
And finally, I saw the shell make a wide turn at the intersection like a courteous gentleman who knew the rules of the road.
And before long, that suspicious shell had vanished into the shadow of a building.
What a strange thing I had witnessed.
*A dream? It was absolutely not a dream.*

When I glanced beside me, Mr.Rosse too was sitting directly on the pavement.
Mr.Rosse must have collapsed just as I had.

“Did you see that just now… Hey, Mr.Rosse.”

I lightly tapped Mr.Rosse’s shoulder.

Then Mr.Rosse, as if suddenly returning to himself, let out a whale-like deep sigh.
And then he bit me.

“Pull yourself together, Mr.Rosse.”

“I saw it—I definitely saw it! But have I gone mad? After all，I saw a large pitch-black shell pass by as composedly as any pedestrian.”

“I saw it too.”

“The shell spoke, didn’t it? That voice was unmistakably Dr.Kin’s. Could Dr.Kin have transformed into a shell to pass through here? In my India, there are legends of saints becoming swarms of will-o’-the-wisps to fly through the sky—but for a human to turn into a shell...”

“Ah, I see.
"That voice did resemble Dr.Kin’s."
“That’s true.”

Without answering Mr.Rosse, I unconsciously struck my own knee.

5

It was approximately one month later that I left a certain location on the Chinese mainland as a guest officer aboard Dr.Kin’s prized submarine warship Doryu.

Of course，Mr.Rosse too was among Dr.Kin’s guests.

The Doryu battleship was an astonishingly elite armed vessel.
Her gross tonnage approached 10,000 tons; she could submerge like a submarine yet when surfaced appeared indistinguishable from an ordinary cargo ship.
Though numerous marvels about the Doryu beg reporting, I shall omit them here as they bear scant relation to this affair's central thread.

The Doryu battleship had emerged into the scorching Indian Ocean by the fifth day after leaving the continent.
That same day, she passed two hundred nautical miles south of Ceylon Island, and by the sixth day had already entered the Arabian Sea.

“We intend to surface exactly midway between Socotra Island and the Kuria Muria Islands.”

Dr.Kin said, pressing his finger on the map.

“Dr.Kin, please tell us more about those anti-gravity shells.”

“Ah, you mean the mechanism behind those slow-speed projectiles that left you all dumbfounded.”
“Since we’ve entered the Indian Ocean as agreed, shall I explain it now?”
“If I lay bare the mechanism, it’s really nothing remarkable.”
“The reason the shell spoke was because there was a small receiver inside it that broadcast my voice.”

“I’m already aware of that.
“But more importantly, why does it fly so slowly?
“It looks like it’s about to fall but never does—that’s what’s so strange.”

“That’s no great mechanism.”
“The anti-gravity device is inside those shells.”
“This isn’t my invention—about ten years back, an American researcher vibrated piezoelectric crystal plates to send ultrasonic waves through oil.”
“When he did that, gravity got neutralized—a metal rod tossed into the oil wouldn’t sink to the bottom no matter how long you waited.”
“You’re aware of that experiment, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I know that story.”

“Based on that American’s concept, I applied it to the slow-speed projectiles."
"In other words, there’s an anti-gravity device inside the shells similar to that one."
“If we could completely negate gravity, the shell would fly away at the same speed as Earth’s rotation but in the opposite direction—you understand that, don’t you?”

“I see, I see.”

And I too leaned forward.

“However, if you don’t completely negate gravity but only cancel it to a certain degree, you can achieve a corresponding velocity.
“In slow-speed projectiles, only a tiny amount of gravity is negated.”
“Even so, there’s no risk of it falling to the ground mid-flight.”

“That’s all well and good, but how do you control the direction the shell flies?”

Mr. Rosse asked breathlessly.

“That’s no different from airplanes or ships.”
“Just attach something like a rudder or sail—that’s all you need.”
“You can control it remotely via radio waves or install a clockwork motion regulator inside the shell—neither method is particularly remarkable. What I want to boast about is this: once you designate a target for this shell, it will pursue that target relentlessly through any evasive maneuver, following it to the ends of the earth.”
“That’s why it’s a hundred shots, a hundred hits.”

“Well now, that’s astonishing,” he said. “To chase targets without fail and never miss—can such a thing truly be done?”

“I can’t divulge specifics,” Dr.Kin replied, “but warships and humans alike possess unique natural frequencies—each entirely distinct. Measure those first and calibrate the shells accordingly, and they’ll pursue their targets endlessly. That mechanism made them chase you all the other night too.” He tapped the blueprint with a yellowed fingernail. “Though I’d adjusted them to return to me after meeting you—no further purpose served otherwise. This is the contrivance I take pride in.”

“Ah, I see.
“So that’s how it works, eh?”

While he was marveling at this, a call came through from the monitoring room.
The enemy fleet had finally appeared, it was reported.

Dr. Kin immediately commanded the Doryu battleship to surface.

“Concentrate two hundred slow-speed projectiles on the enemy’s four battlecruisers.
“Fifty shells per ship.
“If fifty shells hit, even the thickest armor plating would become honeycomb.
“Moreover, since the second shell aims for and hits the same spot where the first one struck, it’s exactly like piercing a hole through cardboard with an awl.
“Now watch.”

While watching the television screen, Dr.Kin ordered the eight 40cm cannons to fire.
The two hundred projectiles lunged at the enemy ships like hornets descending upon mischievous boys—a strange and bizarre spectacle indeed.
Fifteen minutes later, as all four ships—spewing fire from their sides in perfect unison—sank bubbling beneath the waves, the grandeur of that moment defied all attempts at description through my pen and paper.

Mr. Rosse stood before the projection screen, clutching Dr. Kin’s hand as he wailed like a child.
He appeared to be overcome with joy.
No wonder—he had indeed secured through combat what would become the glorious prelude to the Indian people’s uprising.

Yet that day’s newspaper telegrams reported only that the British fleet returning from the Mediterranean had sustained minor damage—as usual—from German submarines, while making no mention whatsoever of all four ships being instantly sunk or of Dr. Kin’s Doryu battleship playing any role in it; for reasons I could not begin to fathom.