Pathway to Japanese Literature

1

Just as the phrase "range upon range of mountains" suggests, when one traveled east along the Kōshū Kaidō road through Kai Province—a land of mountains piled upon mountains—the elevation gradually dropped around Uenohara and Yose until finally entering Tokyo Prefecture near Asakawa, where the mountains ended and the Musashino Plain spread out in their place.
Hachioji City was a bustling town situated at the entrance to that plain.

Wait―that Hachioji lay still a bit further toward Tokyo.
Yes―if one went just six kilometers further―though it was not particularly bustling―there lay Hino Town，a place that had suddenly seen a rapid increase in households of late.

It was mid-July when the rainy season had cleared completely—the sun had already set, and dim electric lights glowed in Hino Town's houses as thick plumes of smoke from traditional mosquito-repelling coils billowed out through open doorways.

At that exact moment, a single unfamiliar gentleman entered this town.
His imposing figure seemed wholly incongruous with this rural town—a Panama hat pulled low over his eyes, right hand gripping a thick wisteria-wood Western-style cane, left hand holding a half-opened white folding fan whose surface he kept angled near his face as he walked.
He walked with a peculiar, deliberate gait, his eyes never wavering from deep vigilance toward the houses lining both sides of the road.

The town was small.
Therefore, he soon reached the outskirts of the town.

In the darkness, the rice fields shone white.
And from all around rose the booming croaks of bullfrogs.
The gentleman let out a sigh of relief and removed his hat.
The cool night breeze sweeping over Inada's rice fields pleasantly cooled his fevered brow.

*...Just as I thought.*
*...Just you wait.*

The gentleman looked back toward the town and muttered to himself in a low voice.

He had entered this town of Hino, harboring a terrifying murder plan known only to himself.
Gentleman and Murder Plan!
Just what kind of man was he?

At that very moment, on the same road, there was a figure approaching from the opposite direction.
There were two of them, pressed tightly together as they approached.
They were whispering something in hushed tones, but the meaning of their conversation was of course unclear.
But they appeared utterly engrossed in their conversation, seeming not to notice the gentleman standing by the roadside as they tried to pass by.

“...Hey... wait a moment...”

When the gentleman called out from the darkness,

"Gah...!"

No sooner had he spoken than the two men froze in place.
At that moment, with a clattering sound, a long bamboo pole rolled to the two men’s feet.

“I’d like to ask—do you happen to know if there’s a carpenter named Matsuya Matsukichi living in this village?”

“Huh…?”

The two men exchanged glances.

“How about it? Do you know, hmm?”

When the gentleman pressed further, one of them—while nervously adjusting the frayed collar of his threadbare clothes—began to speak timidly.

“Yes, Matsukichi is my name... but you who address me so... might I ask who...”

“What? You’re Mr. Matsukichi?” said the gentleman, his body jolting with a tremble. “This is a surprise. Have you already forgotten? A man with this face...”

As he spoke, the gentleman pulled a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket, placed it between his lips, then swished a match to life with a strike.

Matsukichi, who had been staring holes into the mysterious gentleman’s face illuminated by the red match flame, suddenly widened his eyes and let out a strangled cry.

“Well, you’ve certainly made something of yourself—but you’re definitely Kitana Shirou… It’s been seven years now… since you left this town…”

The gentleman addressed as Kitana nodded repeatedly with a deeply moved expression.

"That's right—it has been seven years."
"At that time, I was just twenty years old, you see."

"...But damn if you haven't made somethin' grand of yourself—comin' back all high-and-mighty... Congrats... Now take a gander at this sorry wreck I've become."
"I could crawl into a hole."
"Back when I let you stay in my second floor, I had about ten rental properties..." The down-at-heel master carpenter past middle age brought the back of his hand up hard against his running nose.

“Enough of that. More importantly, Mr. Matsukichi—I have a small request to make of you.”
“I’ve come to rely on you alone.”

“Oh, I see.
“Well then, let’s hear the details,” he said, then suddenly noticing his companion nearby, called the disheveled man aside and whispered something in a low voice, as if wary of Kitana overhearing.
The opposing man looked dissatisfied for some reason, but soon Matsukichi raised his voice slightly,

“Hey, Kesuke.
“If you still don’t get it after all I’ve said, then do whatever the hell you want!”

He shrugged his shoulders.
Then the man called Kesuke, glaring with wide white eyes all the while, picked up the bamboo pole lying in the middle of the road, shouldered it, shot Matsukichi another sharp glare, snapped a sharp about-face, and trudged back down the path he had come.

“Mr. Matsukichi. You all had some business tonight, didn’t you?”

“Oh, no… It’s nothing important…”

Having said that, Matsukichi wore a cheerful expression that was unnerving in its intensity.

2

From the next day onward, a great stir arose in Hino Town.

The first was that young Kitana Shirou—who had left town seven years prior—had made something grand of himself and returned home as a refined gentleman.
The second was that Matsuya Matsukichi, the village’s laughingstock and layabout, had become Kitana Shirou’s right-hand man. Having somehow obtained money, he discarded his tattered clothes and transformed into a clean workman clad from head to toe in a fresh happi coat, his appearance now crisp and presentable despite the traditional garment.

Whenever the townspeople gathered, they would gossip about the two.

“Oh, that Kitana Shirou’s made himself an incredible fortune, and now they say he’s writing his doctoral thesis.”

“That’s mighty impressive, ain’t it? He was shy back then, but I always thought there was a clever streak in him. Even so, Shirou seems foolishly trusting of that outcast Matsukichi—mark my words, he’ll fall prey to that man’s malice and see his fortune and everything else torn to shreds.”

“I wonder what Segami’s young wife is thinking.”

“Ah—it’s about O-Sato, huh.”
“……O-Sato must be thinking it too.”
“If Shirou was going to rise to such heights, she shouldn’t have gone marrying into some place like Eizou’s…”

“Hmph—it’s O-Sato’s parents who’ve been stewing over that! They must see their blunder now.”
“Had they known it’d come to this, they wouldn’t have let her slip through Shirou’s fingers.”

“It’s too late now. That greedy old man probably can’t do anything about it now, no matter how hard he tries.”

“Well, that old man’s no pushover either—they say he’s gone and tearfully begged Mayor Takamura to somehow patch things up with Shirou now.”

“What’s the Mayor saying?”

“What’s he saying? He isn’t saying this or that. Mayor Takamura was the matchmaker at O-Sato and Eizou’s wedding. Unless he wears some comical mask, he can’t possibly show his face before Shirou.”

Mayor Takamura, who had been told he needed that comical mask, came walking down the paddy path from the opposite direction without wearing any mask at all, so the people weeding the rice fields were astonished. Moreover, trailing behind him were Kitana Shirou, like a triumphant general returning from war, and Matsuya Matsukichi, so their astonishment redoubled again and again.

Mayor Takamura wore a white linen kasuri-patterned kimono with matching mouse-gray linen hakama trousers, beaming a smile over his shoulder as he walked,

“The fact that this town has produced a scholar… It’s an honor I never dared imagine.”
“I mean to spare no effort in arranging whatever you need, Shirou… you.”
“Please don’t hold back from making requests.”

“Oh, I don’t expect such hospitality merely because I’ve made this rare return.”
“As I’ve just stated, I ask only that you grant special consideration regarding the lending of land to erect several watchtowers for filming purposes at various locations this summer.”

“That much is nothing at all! Please—ask for even more tasks.”
“After all, it’ll bring honor to our town…”

With this, Mayor Takamura showered goodwill upon Kitana Shirou as if about to take his hand. All of this resulted from the unexpectedly lavish gifts he had sent to the Mayor’s residence the previous night.

Kitana deliberately kept silent in a manner suggesting disbelief at the Mayor’s words.

At that moment, Matsukichi pointed to the brand-new fire watchtower ladder beside them and said to Kitana:

“Please take a look at this.”
“This here’s the only job they let this old man do all year...”
“In this way, the townsfolk don’t give me work and just keep on abusing me...”

With that, he shot a fierce glare at the Mayor.
Then Mayor Takamura abruptly withdrew his smile and whistled aimlessly, feigning ignorance of what Matsukichi had said.

“Oh, so this is Mr. Matsukichi’s handiwork, eh?” Kitana shifted his gaze from the base to the top of the ladder—then, for reasons unknown, burst into dry, hollow laughter.

“...What’re you laughing at...”

“What do you mean, ‘what’…?” Kitana burst into dry laughter again before continuing, “…Is that lightning rod-like thing atop the ladder also your handiwork, Mr. Matsukichi?”

“Of course, this old man installed it… Does that lightning contraption look comical to ya?”

Atop two towering cedar pillars stood a grotesquely long and malformed copper needle—stretched straight as a water buffalo’s horn—jutting sharply skyward.
Beneath that copper needle was attached a cylindrical copper piece flared like the base of a sake bottle, which perched atop the cedar log like a hat.

“Is this a lightning rod, or some lightning-warding charm?”

“Of course it’s a lightning rod.”
“The copper’s a full three millimeters thick…”
“And that needle—it’s a bit bent—but tapering it gradual-like toward the tip took this old man hellish work.”
“……You laughing at that’s what’s funny.”

“Aye, looks every bit as fine as you said, Mr. Matsukichi.”
“But mark me—lightning’ll strike this ladder sure as sunrise.”

“Don’t you dare joke about this! Mr. Shirou… You may have become something great, sure—but when it comes to architecture, I’m the superior one.”

“The ladder may be architecture, but the lightning rod belongs to electrical science. As for that, I’m the one who knows far more about it. When I say lightning will strike, there’s no mistaking that lightning will strike. When an evening storm arrives, if you see someone climbing this ladder, you must immediately tell them to get down.”

Mayor Takamura, who had been listening to the two men’s argument, interjected from the side,

“Hey, Matsukichi.
“Mr. Kitana is someone who’s about to earn a doctorate, isn’t he?
“You’d do well to mind your tongue a bit.
“Moreover, there isn’t a soul in this town who doesn’t know your work is shoddy!
“When I heard they’d put you in charge of building this fire watchtower, I strongly objected, but...”

Matsukichi, overwhelmed with bitterness, started walking off briskly by himself.

3

From the following morning, Matsukichi’s contracted work began at Kitana’s request.
It was a massive undertaking to erect two hundred-foot watchtowers in two locations within the Sei-machi district of Hino Town.

The total construction cost came to six hundred yen.
Once this job was completed, at least three hundred yen in cash should have remained in Matsukichi’s pocket.
Moreover, once Kitana’s experiments concluded, there was an agreement that all cedar logs used in these watchtowers would become Matsukichi’s property—so essentially, aside from the laborers’ work, it amounted to pure profit.

“Oh! If it isn’t Mr. Shirou Kitana.”
“It’s been too long!”

Saying this, a merchant-like old man approached Kitana Shirou, who was directing the construction work.

“Ah, I am Kitana, but who might you be, hmm?”

With that, Kitana stroked the gleaming golden fitting atop his wisteria Western-style cane and responded with feigned puzzlement. But the ends of those words were tinged with an eerie quiver.

“...Ah, it’s no wonder you’ve forgotten. I’ve suffered from severe kidney disease these past five years—quit drink and smoke, withered away to bones, my face gone ashen, white hair sprouting like weeds... Changed beyond recognition, but I’m Inada Sentarou.”

“Inada Sentarou? …Ah, you were O-Sato’s father, weren’t you?”

“O-Sato’s father?”
“Oh, you called me that.”
“Do you still call me ‘Father’ even now?”
“Then you do not hate this wretched me after all?”
“Ah, what relief that brings… Mr. Kitana, how splendid you’ve become.”
“That you would grow this magnificent—even someone like me never foresaw it.”

“Ha ha ha! What ever do you mean?...”

Kitana threw his head back in bright laughter—or so he meant to appear—but couldn’t mask the hollow echo resonating within that booming voice.

“...I heard you returned to this town to write your doctoral thesis, and that these tall watchtowers are being used for experiments related to that thesis.”
“From the second floor of my house, I can clearly see both of these watchtowers... Both are about the same distance from my house... So I came to pay my respects and... When you have a break from work, please do stop by.”
“My wife also says she wants to meet you once and offer her apologies.”

“Let’s not speak of apologies.”
“...But as per your suggestion, I will indeed visit in the near future.”

Amidst this exchange, what had initially resembled wisps of black clouds cast across the western sky now vigorously unfurled dark wings until before anyone knew it, transforming into what all could see was a truly fearsome evening stormscape.
No sooner had a sudden cool gust brushed past collars than fat raindrops began spattering down.

At the construction site where the watchtower was being erected, laborers with ropes hanging like straw raincoats around their waists could be seen clambering down one after another from the log beams. The horse tethered nearby had its shafts removed and was being led toward the eaves of a house. At that moment, Construction Supervisor Matsukichi came clattering up.

“Hey, Master Kitana.
“...Since the evening storm’s about to hit, I’ll have the men take a break.”

“I can’t have them resting now.”
“It’s not even thirty feet completed yet!” Kitana grimaced.
“All right! If we can complete a hundred-foot watchtower by day’s end, I’ll offer a hundred ryo reward.”

“Huh? A hundred ryo?!” Matsukichi exclaimed in surprise.

“Whoa, a hundred ryo reward?!” Inada Sentarou exclaimed in astonishment as well.
What a bold move by Kitana!
One could almost want to peek into his pocket where gold coins were practically roaring.

“Well then, let’s do it. Hey, everyone! Don’t you dare rest now. I’ll treat you all to drinks later, so whatever it takes, get this assembled by today!” However, the laborers did not readily move.

This land lay along the path of thunderstorms that formed in the Kōshū region.
With the thunderstorm season now upon them, climbing the tall watchtowers required considerable resolve.

Amid the laborers’ hesitation, the gale finally came roaring in.
The dark clouds, swirling like raging waves at an alarmingly close distance, rushed eastward, ever eastward.

Flash!

As soon as there was a flash, a thick pillar of fire rose at the far edge of the plain in the blink of an eye.
A lightning strike.

“……How about it, Mr. Kitana? My house is right there—why not come take shelter from the rain until this evening storm passes?”

Inada Sentarou spoke as if about to tug at Kitana Shirou’s Western-style suit.

“Yes, then I’ll trouble you for a moment.”

“Ah, how grateful I am.
There now—please do so.”

Kitana encouraged Matsukichi and attempted to leave the construction site.

At that moment, a man came flusteredly rushing in from outside.

“Hey, Mr. Matsukichi!”
“Mr. Matsukichi here?”

“Oh, Kesuke.”
“This old man’s right here… Need somethin’?”

“Mr. Matsukichi! It’s bad!”
“Lightning hit that fire bell tower you built!”
“Smashed to bits and burned up!”
“A cow tied underneath got charred black and died!”

“Wh-what?!”

Glaring at the dumbfounded Matsukichi with a look that practically shouted *See that?*, Kitana Shirou ran off into the torrential rain alongside elder Inada.

4

Now that their daughter O-Sato had married Segami Eizou, the Inada elderly couple invited her former lover Kitana Shirou upstairs and commenced their hospitality—blatant yet of the highest order.

There, a sake service had been laid out.
River fish caught nearby had been swiftly prepared as sashimi and salt-grilled dishes, enlivening the serving tray.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline the sake.”

“Oh now, please don’t stand on ceremony. Why not become the Shirou-san of old and have one?”

The old woman persisted with her urging.

“Ah, I’ve sworn not to touch a drop until my doctoral thesis is approved, so I must politely decline.”

“Oh, so Shirou-san is going to become a doctor...”

With that, the old woman exchanged glances with elder Inada, filled with deep remorse.
O-Sato’s current husband Eizou was a rural doctor showing no signs of prosperity.
Treating the old man’s kidney seemed to be his crowning achievement; though he pedaled his bicycle daily until sunburned black making house calls, one never heard tales of him striking gold—let alone becoming a Doctor, he likely couldn’t even earn a Bachelor’s degree.
The inheritance that should have eventually been passed down was, as of late, rapidly melting away like ice exposed to the sun due to the parents’ age-inappropriate extravagances.
In stark contrast to their disappointed insecurity, Kitana—who had once even torn apart their relationship—now achieved a resplendent rise that seemed to radiate from his entire being, flaunting such opulence that he could slip two or three thousand yen into his sleeve with ease, all while aiming to secure a doctorate.
For the elderly couple, this was both painful and enviable.
They wanted to somehow keep him in good spirits and have him do something for them—their greed was too naive to be called calculating.

“……Now then, Shirou-san.”
“And what purpose do you use that high watchtower for?”

the old woman asked while fanning herself with a round fan.

“Ah, yes, exactly.
“I too had meant to ask about that…”

Elder Inada also leaned forward.

“...Are you referring to those watchtowers?” Kitana smirked as he looked at their faces. Through the second-floor railing, the figures of workmen assembling the watchtower in the rain burned themselves into his retinas.

“Ha ha ha! When you look at that, what do you think? Or rather—what sort of feeling does it give you?”

“What kind of feeling, you ask... Well, nothing in particular...”

The elderly couple struggled to answer, but if they were to force themselves to pinpoint their feelings at that moment, it was nothing more than this: unsightly watchtowers had been erected at two locations equidistant from their two-story house—one to the left, one to the right—evoking a dizzying, unpleasant mood that somehow welled up within them. However, they had not the slightest intention of confessing such impolite words to this god of fortune and risking his displeasure.

“That is for taking motion pictures using infrared photography.”

“Oh, motion pictures?”
“What kind of motion…”

“That is to say, it captures how thunderstorms form in the Kōshū Mountainous Region and approach.”
“This camera device is my invention, you see.”
“It captures motion that conventional infrared photography cannot.”

“Ah hah! Since it’s Lord Thunder we’re dealing with, you need tall watchtowers, eh?”
“But why did you build two whole watchtowers?”

“As for why there are two watchtowers...” Kitana Shirou seemed momentarily flustered.
“That is to say, since our opponent is thunder itself, we erect lightning rods on the watchtowers—but there’s no telling when they might be struck down by lightning.”
“So that even if one gets destroyed, the other will survive and allow capturing the intended motion footage—that’s the reasoning.”

“I see. …And who will be filming that motion footage?”

“That would be me.”
“I alone will climb that watchtower and film it.”

“My, my, that sounds dangerous.”

“It’s quite alright. …As for me—”

Amidst that exchange, the rain abruptly began to let up.
Gaps in the clouds brightened slightly, allowing light to filter through.
The clouds still raced swiftly across the sky, with occasional flickers of lightning still glimmering, but the thunder had grown distant.
It seemed today’s evening thunderstorm had steadily moved away from Hino Town.

Just then, the maid came upstairs with news that Matsukichi had come calling below.
Fortunately, the rain had let up, and Kitana Shirou resolved to take his leave, descending from the second floor.
The elderly couple regretfully followed after him and came to see him off.

Matsukichi stood rigidly in the earthen entryway.

“Master Kitana.”
“The shipment of lightning rods has just arrived.”
“Could I trouble you to take a look?”

“I see.”
“Have all the goods been unloaded?”

Matsukichi vigorously nodded.

As he descended into the earthen entryway, Kitana noticed the numerous oil cans piled there.

“Ah, this is dangerous. Mr. Inada, when did you start this oil business?”

“Heh heh heh… It’s already been two years now. A merchant came from Tokyo, you see—kept insisting I take up this business. He said I didn’t need capital to start, that if things went well he’d keep sending stock on credit alone… Well, I finally gave it a try. He’s been very careful with me, so while I don’t make much profit, at least I’m not losing money either…”

“This is San’Es oil, you see.”
“And it’s handled through Sasakawa.”

“My, you’re quite knowledgeable… Those who become doctors are truly remarkable—they know everything.”

Kitana curled a sinister grin and glanced back at the Inada couple.

“If you handle these kinds of oils, it’s dangerous not to have lightning rods on the roof.”
“If lightning strikes, a fierce fire will erupt from below and you will burn to death!”

“Yes, that is indeed what they say.”
“The daughter and her husband have been saying that for some time now. We’ll have lightning rods installed before long.”

“That’s good. However, do not commission this Mr. Matsukichi. Because his lightning rods lack the crucial grounding wire connecting them to the earth—just as seen in the recent lightning strike on the fire watchtower—even with a rod installed, a strike will occur and render it utterly useless. I intend to erect an ideal lightning rod atop that watchtower I recently built, so you must come see it.”

The Inada couple were profusely thanking him for that.

“That’s good.”
“You should install lightning rods promptly.”

With that, Kitana repeated.

“If a lightning rod is erected atop Master Kitana’s watchtower, I wonder if all the houses in this neighborhood will together receive the benefit of lightning protection?”

It was unclear whether Kitana heard Matsukichi's question or not, but without responding to it, he walked out into the street now cleared of rain.

5

It was two days later.

That day was one of rare, sweltering heat, but around four in the afternoon, Hino Town was struck by the most tremendous thunderstorm of that summer.
It began when an updraft forming near the Misaka Mountain Range surged with water vapor fed by the concurrent high temperatures. As the cumulonimbus clouds could no longer sustain their massive moisture load and suddenly began to collapse, they emitted tremendous lightning flashes before being steadily pushed eastward along the mountain ridges.

Rumble, rumble—CRACK!
While it was still rumbling and cracking, things were manageable.
When the thunderclouds had tightly sealed the entire town in darkness, the strange sounds of crackling booms and rattling roars took over, and lightning strikes continued one after another at a breathless frequency.

In the midst of this, a great commotion broke out in the town.

“Oh, fire!”
“What a terrible blaze!”

“This is terrible!”
“Looks like it’s in Sei-machi, but that pitch-black smoke—what’s with that?”
“That’s oil that’s caught fire!”

In the pouring rain, the members of the fire brigade—pulling their sashiko jackets over their heads—could be seen scattering in all directions, starkly visible in the blue-white flashes of lightning.
The hand-pump fire engine’s cart, shaking violently as though it might flip over in the road’s center at any moment, barreled past with tremendous force.

……

“Oh, where’s the fire?”

“It’s Sei-machi!”
“Lightning struck Inada’s place and set the oil ablaze—there’s no stopping it now.”
“It’s spreading fast to the neighboring houses…”

“I knew it—the oil caught fire.”
“What about the steam pump?”

“Even if you pour water on oil, what good would that do?—they’re making a fuss about it...”

After some time had passed, another piece of news spread to every corner of the town.

“The old man and old woman of Inada’s place—they burned to death, they say…”

“Is that so.”
“Oh dear, how awful...”
“Couldn’t they escape?”

“There was no escaping—they say lightning struck them.”
“Even if they’d survived, once the oil downstairs caught fire, it’d be like being cremated alive.”
“Their lives were doomed either way.”

Kitana Shirou’s words proved prophetic as the elderly Inada couple met their sudden demise under a cruel fate.
After two hours of tragedy had passed and six o'clock arrived, the sky cleared mockingly into a blue expanse while pink evening clouds began glowing beautifully overhead.

The fire originating from the oil shop had burned several hundred structures nearby but was fortunately extinguished without further spread.
Contrary to townspeople’s expectations, investigation results revealed Hino Town experienced surprisingly few lightning strikes—merely seven locations—with most hitting utility poles and only Inada’s oil shop struck among residences.

What particularly astonished the townspeople was that Kitana Shirou, soaked through atop the high watchtower near Inada’s oil shop, had emerged completely unscathed.
The townspeople had indeed witnessed many times the crackling sounds atop the watchtower and the slender yet distinct flashes of light swiftly streaking down.
It was thought that anyone on the watchtower at that time would have naturally been struck by lightning, yet the town’s guest, Kitana Shirou, remained composed atop that towering structure—a story so unbelievable it seemed like a lie.

As night fell, Kitana visited where people had gathered to offer condolences for the tragedy at Inada’s oil shop.
After bowing reverently before the two white coffins, he offered an enormous amount of condolence money.
As he was about to leave, the people insistently stopped him.
And in a chorus of voices, they implored him to share his story of good fortune.

“As for my situation, there’s nothing particularly mysterious about it,” said Kitana Shirou.
“Anyone possessing a lightning rod can maintain such composure and safety.”
“However, I must clearly state one thing—the lightning protection system must be complete.”
“The other day in this town, I witnessed an incomplete lightning rod that merely boasted an imposing shape resembling one but fundamentally failed to function as such.”
“Everyone, a true lightning protection system isn’t simply about mounting that long pointed rod on your roof.”
“That rod serves only to attract lightning.”
“That rod must be connected to a thick twisted copper wire—you must let that copper wire hang down at length, bury it underground, and furthermore fix a large metal plate measuring at least one shaku square to its end—otherwise, it cannot constitute a proper lightning protection system.”
“Because that copper wire acts as a conduit to rapidly channel the lightning attracted to the rod straight into the ground.”
“In essence, lightning’s true nature is electricity.”
“If this pathway remains incomplete, the lightning painstakingly drawn to the rod will—lacking proper means—escape into the earth through pillars or walls, thereby igniting them and electrocuting any nearby people or livestock.”
“In my case, since such a lightning protection system had been fully constructed, I remained utterly unperturbed while being drenched by rain on the watchtower’s wooden platform—approximately four shaku square.”
“This should make everything clear to you all.”

The people who had been listening understood Kitana's explanation clearly—but only while he spoke. However, once his lecture concluded, their comprehension grew vague and indistinct, leaving them in a state of uncertain half-understanding. It might almost be said that only the elementary school teachers and younger middle school students truly grasped his meaning.

It was then.
A man and woman entered from outside carrying a large bouquet.

“Oh everyone, I’m truly grateful.
You’ve gathered here like this for my departed parents…”

And so, a beautiful woman of about twenty-five or twenty-six, with a graceful standing posture, offered her greetings. Beneath eyebrows arched like brush-drawn half-moons lay eyelids red and swollen from weeping. Though she had spoken her words, the heartrending sorrow seemed clenched between her delicate lips—a fragile grace barely maintaining its poise. This woman was none other than O-Sato—the very subject of the rumors and the surviving child of the now-deceased Inada elderly couple. At the altar in the inner room, Kitana Shirou—who had been about to leave—wore an expression less of awkwardness than of near terror, his unsettled eyes darting restlessly around the surroundings.

6

“Shirou-san is here in the inner room.”

Someone alerted O-Sato to this.

“Oh... Shirou-san...”

She had heard persistently from the townspeople—to the point of irritation—about her former lover Kitana Shirou’s return to this town. Yet upon being unexpectedly told that Shirou was present in the inner room, O-Sato felt her cheeks flush against her will.
At that instant, the bouquet cradled in both hands abruptly grew leaden.

But in that moment, O-Sato's heart calmed like the water of a tranquil lake.
The past was the past, and the present was the present.
Now, beyond a heart that served husband Eizou, there was nothing.
There was nothing to fear from anyone.
Shirou had likely returned to this town harboring thoughts of revenge against her—the one who had betrayed him that day—and her deceased parents who had attempted such blatant interference.
However, that was now a futile matter.
If there was resentment to speak of, perhaps the resentment lay with herself.
Why hadn’t Shirou acted more straightforwardly—more boldly—back then? When the marriage arrangement with Eizou suddenly arose, why hadn’t he urged her to flee this town together with him?
To O-Sato’s mind, Shirou had been a gentle, clever youth—handsome but too weak-hearted; a man who sulked like a woman; a show-off though he seemed unaware of it.
Because of this, he lacked decisiveness and had effectively abandoned their love himself.
He was said to become a doctor—perhaps suited to be one detached from humanity.
But she thought he would never obtain a single woman of flesh and blood.
She resolved that should matters come to this—should she hear resentful words from him—she would courageously lay everything bare on the spot, crush his servile nature, and even accept death in the end if it came to that.

Thereupon, O-Sato switched the heavy bouquet to her left hand and proceeded steadily toward the inner room.

“It really was you, Shirou-san. …It’s been quite some time…”

Shirou had stiffened like a mummy.

“Oh, O-Sato.”
“It’s been quite some time.”
“…By the way, this time your parents met with such a terrible misfortune…”

“Yes… It turned into such a terrible misfortune…”

In Shirou’s words there was only a slightly distant quality, and not a trace of resentment could be seen.
When O-Sato sensed this, the tension she had been holding suddenly eased, and she transformed entirely into a fragile woman, collapsing in tears on the spot.

Eizou, who had entered a little late, appeared to seethe with indignation at the scene before him,

“Oh—so you’re Kitana-kun.”
“I am Eizou, O-Sato’s husband.”

he said as if slamming down the words.

The moment he heard this, all traces of shyness and timidity vanished from Shirou’s face as if wiped away.
He exchanged greetings with hellish composure.

“Oh… I should have introduced myself earlier—I am Kitana of the High-Altitude Meteorological Research Institute. This time your parents met with such a terrible misfortune… And then you too suffered the calamity of the spreading flames… It’s truly beyond words…”

At this quiet greeting, even Eizou found himself flushing crimson with shame at his own warped disposition—so much so that he felt thoroughly abashed.

The meeting between romantic rivals, which everyone had expected to erupt in flames, proceeded with unexpected calmness, causing the entire gathering to unconsciously let out a sigh of relief.
Even after that, Kitana maintained an infuriatingly humble and sympathetic demeanor, causing Eizou and O-Sato to feel all the more abashed, before finally making a favorable proposal that the couple could never have imagined.
It was that at the western edge of Hino Town stood a newly built two-story house—one he had in fact received from its builder through foreclosure—but since he himself had no intention of living in this town, the situation left him no choice but to leave it vacant.
"If it’s not inconvenient—though I know it’s rude to bring up your being burned out—would you be willing to live there rent-free?"
“Even if all it does is spare the house from falling into disrepair, I would be happy,” Shirou explained with an earnest expression.

At this unexpected offer, the Eizou couple—who had been troubled about where to go—were inwardly overjoyed, but in any case, they decided to postpone giving a clear answer on the spot.
And having promised to meet again, they escorted the calm failed lover to the entrance.

As Shirou stepped outside, a sinister grin spread across his lips in the darkness.

“……Just wait and see…… I’ll give you all a real shock!”

He muttered those words under his breath, growling low like a beast.—And then he quickened his pace, hurrying toward Matsukichi’s residence on the outskirts of town.

Around that time, Matsukichi was at home, steeped in alcohol like an overripe fruit—but his true heart was in utter turmoil.
The cause lay with Mamagawa Kesuke, who was seated across the low dining table before him.

7

Kesuke, his face pallid from heavy intoxication, reset his gaze squarely upon Matsukichi and began spitting out words in a gratingly persistent manner.

“Hey… You forget who I am?”
“I ain’t the type to get fooled by the likes of you… How ’bout it? Let’s keep this talk civil.”
“Hand over fifty ryō of that cash you squeezed outta that greenhorn, without a peep!”

Matsukichi, scowling with his entire face, waved his flaccid hand limply while—

“Hey, Kesuke.”
“You’re making a huge mistake.”
“I haven’t received a single copper coin from Shirou yet.”
“This is true.”

“Quit your lying, you dwarf raccoon! Who’d believe that crap?”

“That’s why I’m drunk… As you well know, the work I contracted from Shirou’s only just been finished at one site.”
“Gotta finish two more jobs for his experiment like promised—otherwise the whole thing’ll be half-baked! Which means… till all payments clear, not a damn coin’s comin’ my way!”
“Right? Get it now?”

“Slick with your fuckin’ lies.”
“…That… that true for real?”

“It’s true—just two more jobs… Once those are all done, he’ll definitely treat me to drinks and give me the cash I mentioned…”

“‘Givin’ it to me,’ huh? Look who’s actin’ all high and mighty now…”
“…Don’t you forget that promise now, Matsuteki.”
“If you do—just try givin’ me the cold shoulder.”
“Then I’ll march straight to the cops and tell ’em all about how me and that Matsuteki bastard here were runnin’ around town with a big bamboo pole doin’ this ’n’ that…”

“Hey now… What are you saying…”

Matsukichi suddenly leaped at Kesuke from behind, trying to cover his mouth.
Kesuke turned around with a “Who the hell you think you are?!” and snapped back.
In the ensuing chaos, neither the dining table, sliding doors, nor walls remained intact—a scene of utter devastation!

Just then, Kitana Shirou abruptly entered.

“Is Mr. Matsukichi at home?”

“Hey—someone’s here!” At these words, the first to leap up in panic was Mamagawa Kesuke, a four-time ex-convict.
He helped up the limp Matsukichi, gave his collar a single shake to confirm he was still breathing, then fled out the back door like a startled bird.

“...Is Mr. Matsukichi not here?...”

Shirou shouted again, though the effort rang hollow.

“Y-yessir…”
“Matsukichi is present, sir.”

While desperately trying to conceal his disheveled clothing that exposed his kneecaps, Matsukichi turned toward the voice and stiffened into formal posture at the center of the ravaged room. Every trace of intoxication had vanished from his bearing as though scoured away by a sudden gale.

Just then, Kitana Shirou abruptly entered.

“Hey, Mr. Matsukichi. Once the work’s done, I’ll let you drink all you want. Didn’t I tell you not to touch a drop until then?”

“Heh heh...”
“Y-yessir...”

Matsukichi kept bowing his head obsequiously.

“Now then—starting tomorrow morning, we finally begin the next job. I want to discuss it, but you’re too drunk for proper conversation... I’ll be waiting at my lodgings—come immediately once you’ve sobered up. Understand? I’ll be awake all night tonight.”

Having said that, Kitana headed back to his lodgings, casting a sidelong glance at Matsukichi, who remained utterly cowed.

About an hour later, Matsukichi—steadying his still slightly unsteady legs and properly attired in his one good set of work clothes—timidly made his way to Kitana’s lodgings.

“Hey—are you really sober now?”
“You swear you’re not still drunk?”

“Oh yes—completely sober now...”

Matsukichi bowed his head obsequiously once more.

“Then come closer over here... This watchtower’s for tomorrow’s work.”

Matsukichi bowed obsequiously and, far from approaching, took a slight step back.

According to the blueprint Kitana had presented, the two towers this time were to be built on the western edge of Hino Town, over the rice fields of Sakaimachi.
The structure was similar to the previous ones.
However, all materials were to be new, and as usual, he had ordered that construction be completed by roughly the following day.
Matsukichi duly replied that he had acknowledged them.

After that, Matsukichi began a technical discussion about lightning with Kitana to prove he wasn’t drunk.

“Say, Master Kitana. This year, the lightning’s been extremely frequent and powerful—I keep feeling like it’s crackling down right over the town. What do you suppose is causing that?”

Kitana glared sharply at Matsukichi out of the corner of his eye,

“It’s because you keep building those bizarre lightning rods.”

“But Master,” he said, shifting his knees forward, “if I may say so, your scaffolding also has lightning rods on top and those strangely tall, high-priced copper wires dragged underground. You say it’s all for taking moving pictures or whatnot, but really, it’s more like you’ve built these magnificent lightning rods that don’t suit our village at all.”
“That’s what I think.”
“If there are lightning rods, they end up attracting lightning instead, making strikes more frequent, you know.”
“Moreover, splendid lightning rods attract lightning even more powerfully...”

Kitana Shirou turned his pain-contorted face toward Matsukichi.

"What does an amateur know? Lightning lies beyond the control of your kind."

"So Master—are you claiming an expert like yourself can toy with lightning at will? If that trick exists, it’d be mighty useful for our work. Do teach me."

"Don’t spout nonsense. Of course I can’t—who in this world could comprehend such things?"

Shirou vehemently denied. Yet after speaking, his eyes held an inexplicably frightened look.

8

Eizou and O-Sato moved into a newly built two-story house in Sakaimachi through Mr. Kitana’s goodwill.
There they hung a new wooden sign, allocated the first floor to a consultation room, pharmacy, and waiting area, and chose the second floor as the couple’s residence.
It was truly an indescribably refreshing feeling, and the two rejoiced as though in a dream.
With this arrangement, it seemed the number of patients passing through the gate would surely increase.

“Hey, O-Sato.
“...No matter how I think about it, isn’t Mr. Kitana being excessively kind?”

“Oh, don’t be silly.”
“Here we go again.”
“Just how many times must you doubt and then believe again before you’re satisfied?”
“...I’m starting to feel a bit sorry for you.”

“Nah, it’s not like I’m really doubting him.… Rather than kindness, maybe it’s better to say we just got lucky and stumbled into a convenient situation.”
“Anyway, this house is splendid!”

The childless couple always remained as youthful as newlyweds and got along well.

“Hey, come up here and take a look! A strange watchtower has been built!”

Eizou shouted to his wife downstairs.

“Oh, a watchtower, you say...”

With a look of surprise, O-Sato hurried up the steep stairs with quick, tapping steps.

“Oh, it really is.”
“The ones on the right and left—they’re similar watchtowers, aren’t they?”

“This watchtower looks familiar somehow, doesn’t it?”

“Even if you say you’ve seen it somewhere—hohoho—you must have seen it.”
“Because it’s the same kind of watchtower as the one visible from the second floor of my father’s house.”

“Ah, right! I remember now.”
“...Then that must indeed be what Mr. Kitana uses for his experiments, isn’t it?”
“Hmm, what a strange coincidence.”

“He says it’s for collecting infrared rays to make movies, but if that’s the case, one watchtower should have sufficed.”
“They shouldn’t need two of them, don’t you think?”
“That’s strange, isn’t it?”

O-Sato also harbored the same kind of doubt as Mayor Takamura.

“Yeah, that’s right. Speaking of infrared photography, your brother was also really into that, wasn’t he?”

“That’s right—Brother Masahiko is so proud of his infrared photography.… Oh, now that you mention it, I forgot to send him a letter.”

“What’s this—again? The master forgetter…”

The two of them laughed in unison.

They had no way of knowing—though it’s an old saying—that behind them crouched a terrifying demon with eyes blazing like molten metal and fangs bared sharp as daggers, for they were mere mortals, not gods.

From the two-story house where Eizou and his wife had relocated rose twin watchtowers of matching hundred-foot stature, erected in a single day at precisely equidistant points to east and west.

Shirou paced between construction zones with restless energy, his sauntering steps radiating intense satisfaction.

“Master Kitana…” Matsukichi called out to him with a troubled look, though he should have had another burden lifted from his shoulders.

“What’s this, Mr. Matsukichi? …Isn’t it a splendid piece of work?”

“Hey, Master. I’m feelin’ so sick with self-loathing this time I can’t stand it. Somehow… like I’ve suffered a huge loss, an’ like somethin’ terrible’s about to hit this watchtower… It’s a truly awful feelin’... Until that final third job—no matter what you say, Master—I’m takin’ a break.”

“What’s this—such a spineless man. What bad thing could possibly happen to this watchtower? Such absurdity will never occur.”

“No, I’m starting to feel something strange,” Matsukichi said, suddenly turning pale. “Something’s wrong. A tremendous bolt of lightning will strike this watchtower, and a bright red pillar of fire will rise... Because it feels like I can see it right before my eyes... Agh...”

When he said this, Matsukichi felt dizzy and staggered unsteadily.

"What a fool you are," said Kitana as he supported Matsukichi’s arm.
"This watchtower has a magnificent lightning rod guaranteed by scientific principles."
"Even if God became a demon, would this tower ever be struck by lightning?"
"Ha ha ha! Preposterous!"

9

The second watchtower was completed, but Kitana Shirou spent day after day in vain without making use of it.
This was because the long-awaited thunderclouds showed no sign of approaching from the direction of the Kōshū Mountain Range.

During that time, Matsukichi became extremely nervous and also grew quite misanthropic, shutting himself up all day in his filthy hut.

Meanwhile, Mamagawa Kesuke, the ex-convict, came almost daily and attempted to squeeze money out of Matsukichi.
Matsukichi was on the verge of tears and struggled to drive Kesuke away, but before long—whether through some manner of dealing with him—Kesuke abruptly stopped coming altogether.

Kitana, too—perhaps no longer able to endure waiting for the thunder’s delayed footsteps—descended from the watchtower with a square black bag containing a motion picture camera slung from his shoulder, wandered into town, and slipped through the entrance of its lone suspicious-looking café to drink beer.

Before long, strange rumors began spreading from this café.
This rumor had originally emerged from Kesuke—who had become the café’s self-styled good-luck charm just a day or two prior—but concerned how the bag Kitana carried seemed far too light to contain any movie camera.
Some theorized that Kitana was lying about carrying a movie camera, while others argued that given it was Kitana’s equipment, it must be an exceptional device crafted from light metal or similar materials, hence its surprising lack of heft.
However, in any case, Kitana’s bag—leaving behind unsolvable questions—drifted through the townspeople’s rumors.

It was precisely on the seventh day after the second watchtower had been built—a testament to Shirou’s agonizing wait—that the ferocious heat from morning onward sent the mercury column soaring to thirty-four degrees. Despite it being only three in the afternoon, ink-black clouds resembling molten lacquer already loomed from between the peaks of the Kōshū Mountain Range. In what felt like moments, an icy gale laden with hail began howling with a piercing whistle, as if summoned by some unseen force.

The colossal thunderclouds—as if a nest of lightning had ruptured—surged eastward bearing flickering bolts, manifesting as the genuine Kōshū Lightning most feared by locals.
By 3:30 PM, Hino Town was entirely enveloped in pitch-black clouds where not a foot ahead was visible, and icicle-thick raindrops crashed down in a thunderous deluge.
As if triggered by this, thunderclaps and lightning bolts—so colossal they seemed to rend heaven and earth—roared and crackled as though pounding Hino Town itself. Without pause or mercy, they boomed and rumbled in relentless succession, crashing down indiscriminately from every direction: east, west, south, north.

Kitana Shirou exultantly climbed up to the top of the tall watchtower.
He lay prone on the plank floor beneath the lightning rod as the torrential downpour battered him.
When he shaded his eyes and looked up, the lightning rod stood imposingly about one ken above him.
There, a thick twisted copper wire was securely fastened, extending sideways into a wooden trough that ran along the watchtower's side.
The copper wire was meant to pass through that trough, descend a hundred shaku belowground, then burrow into the earth to complete the lightning's pathway.
Thus his body remained entirely safe from any lightning strike.

He rolled over heavily in the rain, then glared downward from the shadow of the unopened black bag. Though not clearly visible, far below through gaps in the rain, the two-story house where Eizou and O-Sato lived could faintly be seen. At that moment, his countenance suddenly transformed into that of a ferocious demon as he writhed on the plank floor, roaring with laughter.

“Bwahahaha!”
“—Just you wait!”
“You’ll all be joining those Inada house old fools soon enough!”
“Go ahead and realize it—after you’ve been struck by lightning!”
“Filming infrared movies was nothing but a blatant lie—I merely wanted to build this lightning-attracting watchtower.”
“Who in all the world could possibly notice this ingenious murder method I’ve devised?”
“Ah, I shall unleash seven years of resentment upon you all here and now!”
“Bwahahaha!”

As if answering that terrible roar, the thunder steadily intensified between heaven and earth alongside the cascading rain.

“Oh majestic thunder! Now fall from immeasurable heights—in one instant shatter their crowns and split their bellies!”

With a visage unlike any earthly being—terrifying beyond measure—he uttered a dreadful curse.

That was the moment.

A violet flash!

Before he could even let out a cry, with a deafening roar that seemed to split the earth’s axis, the watchtower bearing Shirou was engulfed in a crimson pillar of fire soaring toward the heavens.

Kitana Shirou’s body transformed into a streak of flame in an instant and burned away completely.

× × ×

At that very moment, O-Sato’s brother Masahiko leapt nimbly onto the platform before the descending train had fully entered Hino Station.
Then, nearly vaulting over the ticket gate in his haste, he reached the station exit—but in the midst of such a ferocious downpour, though he shouted at the top of his lungs, neither rickshaws nor any other conveyances came near.
He stamped his feet in frustration while tightly clutching his sister’s letter in his hand.

“Ah, my sister and her husband must already be dead amidst this thunder!”
He groaned.
“Kitana Shirou is a villain not even worth tearing to pieces!
He misused my research report on lightning strikes and conceived that horrific murder method.”
“Construct two tall watchtowers near the target and erect lightning rods atop them.”
“Then approaching thunderclouds would strike both lightning rods—but also hit the target precisely midway between them.”
“If the target has lightning protection, fine—but without it? A terrifying strike occurs!”
“That’s twisting my research backward!”
“That my parents were killed under such a scheme—how could I have imagined it before seeing this letter?”
No—lamenting could wait.
Right now, my one beloved sister and her husband faced annihilation by the same method.
“Ah, I can’t wait out this thunder!”

With that cry, Masahiko sprang forward into the torrential thunderstorm like a leopard.
He could not afford to think about the danger that was befalling him.
He had no other thought but to single-mindedly save O-Sato, his one and only beloved sister.

What indeed did he discover at his destination?

Would it have been the gruesome, mangled corpses of O-Sato and her husband Eizou?

No, that was not the case.
That was none other than the utterly unexpected, dearly beloved smile of his sister.
Of course, Eizou was also safe alongside her.
The one who drew the short straw was none other than the villain himself—Kitana Shirou, architect of this bizarre murder scheme.

The siblings hugged each other as if in a dream, unable to hold back the tears overflowing with joy.

Even so, why had Kitana Shirou been struck by lightning and died?

That held a terrifying tale of karmic fate.
He had misunderstood that the lightning rod atop the tall watchtower he had climbed would fully serve its purpose of diverting lightning.
Of course, when they built that watchtower, the lightning protection system had been perfectly adequate.
However, on the day before that torrential rain, those two lightning protection systems had suddenly become incomplete.
Why was that?

It could only have been Kesuke’s handiwork.
However, the one who had made it so was Matsuya Matsukichi, the man who had constructed this watchtower.
He, in a state of nervous agitation and frequent encounters with Kesuke’s demands for money, ultimately reached his limit and informed him that removing the long twisted copper wire connecting the watchtower’s lightning rod to the ground would yield nearly a hundred yen.
Upon hearing this, Kesuke leapt for joy and, while Shirou was absent, stole all of the copper wires hidden within the gutters.
Therefore, during that great thunderstorm, the needle towering above Shirou’s head was not a complete lightning rod—it was only natural that the lightning struck these two perfectly positioned watchtowers standing a hundred shaku tall.

Thus, superficial science at last surrendered before profound humanity.

Mayor Takamura was so shocked he nearly fainted upon learning that his house had been targeted as the third lightning murder plan.

Matsukichi had completely regained his health, but he still firmly believed that connecting grounding wires to lightning rods was the worst kind of heresy.
Therefore, if someone were unfortunate enough to commission him for lightning protection system work, they would have to call another electrician after he left and order them to install a sturdy grounding wire—stretching long from beneath the lightning rod down into the earth.