Pathway to Japanese Literature

Strange Phone Call

“Mr. Gorō, there’s a telephone call.”

Nakano, the live-in student, opened the door and said.

“They seem to be in a great hurry, so please come.”

“Who is it from?”

“They did not give their name.”

Gorō had been engrossed in Father’s story when interrupted; clicking his tongue lightly with apparent regret at this disruption as he stepped out into the hallway.

The telephone was beside the stairs.

“This is Gorō.
Who is this?”

No sooner had he pressed the receiver to his ear and spoken than the other end responded with a strangely choked whisper, as if they had been waiting impatiently,

“Gorō? Go to Nitto Theater’s underground cafeteria at 5:00 PM.
There’s important business.”

“Who are you? Hashimoto?”

“It’s 5:00 PM. Don’t forget.”

“Hello? Who are you? What’s your—”

Before Gorō's words could finish, the other party hung up the phone with a clatter.
Gorō irritably hung up the receiver while—
"He was putting on a weird voice, but it's definitely that Hashimoto guy."
"They're probably trying to pull another stupid prank to get a laugh out of me. Like I'd fall for that trick."

After muttering this, he returned to his father's room.

“Who was the call from?”

“It’s just a prank. Hashimoto’s trying to pull one of his tricks. Please continue with the story.”

“I’m a bit tired, so let’s continue another time. We’ll end it here today.”

With that, his father let out a big stretch.

Gorō's father, Mr. Kaibe Ichizō, had served until several years prior as inspector general of the Metropolitan Police Department’s Criminal Affairs Division, but when his eldest son Ichirō joined a group of delinquent youths and became the sort to make newspaper headlines, he resolutely resigned—though his competence was widely regretted—and had since lived an entirely secluded life. However, he still could not completely abandon his interest in police matters, and whenever some difficult case arose, his sole pleasure lay in studying it alone from every angle. What he had been discussing with Gorō was precisely that—applying his unique observational skills to thoroughly dissect the mysterious murder cases that had been occurring frequently as of late.

What were these mysterious murder cases?

The first was the mysterious death of a watchman at Nagasaki Naval District; the second, a young engineer at Ōdata Steelworks; the third, a ship’s doctor aboard the Seto Inland Sea excursion vessel *Murasaki Maru*; the fourth, four crew members of an Osaka Port Authority patrol boat; the fifth in Tsuruga; the sixth in Numazu, Shizuoka Prefecture; and the seventh in Yokohama—thus, these seven mysterious murder cases remained unsolved, starting from the initial location of Nagasaki and gradually drawing closer to Tokyo.

“The next case will occur in Tokyo!”

Those were Mr. Kaibe Ichizō’s words.

Gorō was a fourth-year student at Prefectural × Middle School and, in place of his father who had relinquished a promising government career due to his delinquent older brother, was striving to achieve great success and restore the Kaibe family’s honor. Not only was he top of his class, but he also had an excellent disposition and was the object of his classmates’ respect and affection. Precisely because of that, from another group of friends,

“He’s acting so damn high and mighty.”

Gorō was met with such suspicion, and among them, a rough fellow named Hashimoto Sadakichi would occasionally play strange pranks.

The next day, Ichirō met Hashimoto at school.
If he had been behind those prank calls, it should have shown on his face.
Yet there was nothing unusual about Hashimoto's demeanor whatsoever—when questioned directly, he maintained he hadn't made any such phone calls.

That's odd—so maybe someone genuinely needed me for something? But even then, refusing to give a name is strange.

Ichirō suddenly found himself feeling uneasy.

However, it was that very afternoon.

Ichirō’s younger sister Yukiko, a third-year student at Keisetsu Girls’ School, had just returned home from school when the live-in student helper Nakano came running into the room.

“Young lady, you have a telephone call,” he informed her.

“Thank you… from whom?…”

“They didn’t give a name. It was a man’s voice.”

“A man’s voice?—How bothersome…”

Even as she said this, she headed downstairs regardless. She took the receiver in hand.

“Hello? This is Yukiko.”

“Hello? This is Yukiko,” she answered.

What had the caller said?
Yukiko’s face paled instantly.
The hand gripping the receiver trembled visibly.

“Yes... yes... I understand.”

In a flustered voice, she kept responding to the caller’s words,

“I’ll come right away.”

After saying that and hanging up the receiver, she quietly returned to the second floor while being mindful of her father’s room.

Yukiko's Whereabouts

Yukiko, having changed out of her school uniform into a refined walking outfit,

“I’m just going to Ms. Nogawa’s house for a bit.”

Having left these words behind, she departed the house.

Nogawa Mariko’s house was in Kōjimachi Gochōme.
From Yukiko’s house in Fujimichō, it was only about three blocks away—one might expect her to walk—but she instead took a car via the regular Yoshida Taxi stationed at the street corner.
And then,

“Please go to the stage door of Nittō Theater.”

she commanded.

Even after getting into the car, Yukiko remained restlessly unsettled, repeatedly glancing at her wristwatch, muttering to herself under her breath, and—though she seemed unaware of it—even her forehead was beaded with clammy sweat.
Something abnormal was happening.
But if that’s the case, why didn’t she tell her father or even the live-in student?

The car arrived at the stage door of Nittō Theater.

“Thank you. Please keep this confidential from my family.”

After saying that and paying the fare, Yukiko entered the narrow stage door without hesitation.

Though it was still around 3:00 PM, the hallway lay damp and dimly lit, faint electric lights glowing hazily like candlelight.
Since it was still before the performance, no backstage attendant was present.
Yukiko hesitated slightly but resolutely proceeded down the corridor.
Just then, from one of the small rooms (actors' dressing rooms) lining the right side, a man suddenly threw open the door and appeared.

“Ah!”

Before Yukiko could stop herself after being caught off guard, the man had already stepped forward. In one swift motion, he threw the black cloth he was holding over her head and pinned her down with terrifying strength.

“Ah! Help—!”

As she screamed with all her might, the man effortlessly lifted her up, carried her back into the room he’d emerged from, and slammed the door shut.

The inside of the theater was hushed, not a sound to be heard.
No one knew that Yukiko had fallen into such a trap.
Who could have been the one who summoned her with that phone call?
What could have been this mysterious figure’s purpose in kidnapping her?
At this very moment, the Nittō Theater was hosting a performance by a foreign troupe called "Laughing Demon," which combined opera and magic.
Could there not be some connection between that and this?!

Meanwhile, at the house in Fujimichō—

When Yukiko still hadn't returned by dinnertime, her father assumed she must have been treated to a meal at the Nogawa residence and finished eating with Gorō.
...Then they returned to the room and discussed yesterday's mysterious murder case until around nine o'clock, but Yukiko showed no signs of returning.

“She’s a bit too late. We must have been too busy chattering away to notice how much time has passed.”

“I’ll try calling.”

Gorō stood up after saying that.
When he returned about ten minutes later, his face trembled with unconcealable anxiety.

“Father, Ms. Nogawa isn’t there.”

“Not there?!”

“They said Ms. Nogawa hasn’t been there since about a week ago.”
“They say Mariko hasn’t seen her since they parted at school today either.”

Mr. Ichizō’s eyebrows twisted.

“Then I asked Nakano, and he said there was a call from a man before she went out.”

“A man’s voice, you say—?”

Mr. Ichizō’s hand gripping the chair arm trembled as if electrified.
...He had endured bitter experience with his eldest son Ichirō.
A male-voiced phone call, then this lie about visiting Nogawa—could she have been ensnared by delinquent accomplices like Ichirō?
That possibility dominated his thoughts.

“What should we do?”

“We’ll wait a while longer regardless.”

And wait they did.

Ten o'clock struck, then eleven.
Yukiko did not return.
Gorō repeatedly thought about saying they should ask the police for help.
However, when he considered how painful it would be for Father—who had once suffered disgrace due to his eldest son’s delinquency—to have to rely on the police again, he simply couldn’t bring himself to suggest it.

“Let’s go to bed.”

When the clock struck twelve, Mr. Ichizō said, concealing his anger and anxiety.

“But we have to do something…”

“There’s no need to worry.”
“She’s sixteen—old enough to have some judgment.”
“She’ll reach out with an explanation before long.”
“Making a scene without knowing the full picture is useless.—Let’s sleep.”

With that, Mr. Ichizō withdrew to the bedroom.

Even if they didn't rely on the police's help, there was no way to search at this late hour. Gorō also had no choice but to enter the bedroom; however, when he thought about what the younger sister might be doing now, wild imaginings arose one after another, and in such a restless state that he could neither sit still nor stand still, he spent nearly the entire night without sleeping.

Then, the following morning in the predawn hours, the telephone bell began to ring shrilly.

Paper pellet

A call at this hour must definitely be about Yukiko.
With that thought, Gorō ran down the stairs and grabbed the receiver, his heart pounding.

“Hello, this is Kaibe.”

As soon as he said that, the person on the other end began speaking in an extremely rapid voice,

“Today at 5:00 PM, wait at the underground cafeteria of the Nichidō Theater. It’s a major incident.”
“I’ll definitely be waiting.”

“Ah!”

That man’s voice—the same one he’d thought was Hashimoto’s prank.
Moreover, even the wording was exactly the same as the day before yesterday.

“Hello? Who are you? What do you want?”

“If you don’t come, there’ll be trouble. I’ll be waiting.”

The caller simply said that and hung up.

The call that had lured Yukiko out had also been a man’s voice—wasn’t the voice Gorō had heard twice and the one that had lured Yukiko out one and the same? Could it be that because Gorō hadn’t gone in response to the phone call the day before yesterday, they had kidnapped Yukiko as a substitute hostage?

"That's it!"

Gorō muttered under his breath.

"That must be it—Yukiko's in that bastard's clutches.
And she's suffering through this hell instead of me!!"

Gorō resolutely made up his mind.

Alright, I'll go.
I don't know what kind of guy he is or what he wants, but I'll rescue Yukiko with these hands.
I'll definitely save her!!

Gorō quietly entered his father’s study right then, retrieved the pistol from the large desk drawer, loaded it with bullets, and returned to his room.
Even during breakfast, he said nothing to his father.
And then he left for school as usual.

School ended at four; it took twenty minutes by train to reach the Nichidō Theater towering beside Sukiyabashi Bridge along the riverside.
By 4:30 PM, Gorō was already seated in a corner of the underground cafeteria there.

As the appointed time drew near, even he felt his heart surge restlessly. Every time customers came in or out, he clenched his fist, wondering if they might be the bastard.
The cup of coffee was nearly gone.

There was still no sign of anyone coming. When he casually glanced at the wall—"Laughing Demon," currently in performance—a poster for the troupe hung there. ...In the center was a large illustration of a demoness baring her fangs in a laugh, and below it were listed the locations where they had toured. Gorō began reading the names of the locations absentmindedly, but—

——Hm?

His eyes suddenly gleamed with intensity.

The locations listed as having been well-received were Nagasaki, Kokura, Beppu, Osaka, Tsuruga, Shizuoka, Yokohama—seven places in total.

——Aren't these all locations where mysterious murder cases occurred?

As he thought this, the demoness in the poster appeared to him like a murderer, and Gorō shuddered involuntarily.—It might just be a coincidence.
However, there might possibly be some connection between this troupe and the mysterious murder cases.
If that were true, wouldn't Yukiko be in that murderer's clutches?

——If that were the case,

A cold sweat broke out under his arms.
And when he involuntarily averted his eyes from the poster, a rolled-up piece of paper came tumbling down onto the tabletop.—It seemed someone had thrown it.

What a rude bastard!

As he thought this and turned around, four or five foreigners were just then heading out.

――Wait—this might have been sent by the one who called me on the phone!

Having thought that, he unfurled the paper ball—and sure enough, inside was something densely scrawled in pencil.
Gorō read while suppressing his trembling chest—there lay shocking words.

Gorō, I am your brother—that delinquent Ichirō.—I am now working as a clown in the troupe "Laughing Demon."

“Brother… Brother, you…”

The words were far too unexpected.
The brother who had run away from home when he was written about in newspapers as a delinquent youth and had been missing until today—that very brother had now appeared as a clown in a foreign theater troupe.

There's no time to explain how things reached this point—I've uncovered a critical secret within this troupe. I need you to pass this to Father through your own hands. That's why I called you two days ago, but you never came. Yesterday I tried Yukiko too, but she never showed up either. They seem to know I've discovered their secret. I'm under constant watch. Even with the secret in my grasp, there's been no way to deliver it. But today I'll steal it out properly. I'll get it to you, though I can't step outside myself. There's only one method.—Listen carefully, Gorō: use this ticket to enter the audience seats. It's for the front row. Sit there and I'll throw the evidence from the stage. When you catch it, go straight home and give it to Father. This is crucial work—don't slip up! If this succeeds, Father might finally forgive my crimes. Clinging to that hope alone, I'm risking everything. Gorō—I'm counting on you! From your wretched brother.

Death of the Clown

"From your pitiable brother."

As Gorō muttered this, hot tears overflowed in his eyes.
Now he understood.
If they spoke of the troupe’s secret, it had to be connected to those mysterious murder cases.
He would round up these bastards in one fell swoop!
Even as he thought this, what suddenly came to mind was Yukiko’s situation.
Looking back now, she had left home because of his brother’s phone call.
If she hadn’t met his brother…

—They’d found her.

Gorō thought in a flash.
Yukiko was now in the hands of a fearsome murderous group.

Gorō stood up resolutely—then, upon exiting the cafeteria, he immediately called the Metropolitan Police Department, requested Chief Inspector Nunoyama—a longtime friend of his father’s—and after making some request, entered the theater using the admission ticket that had been inside the paper ball.

The curtain had already risen on the first magic act, and the auditorium was packed with spectators.
Gorō’s seat was in the very front row, so close he could almost reach out and touch the stage.

——This should be safe.

He sat down but had no capacity to watch the performance. Not knowing when or from where his brother would throw over the evidence, he gripped his sweating hands and kept his attention fixed solely on that.

The second act was a light comedy.
The third was a dance, the next was a magic act incorporating comedy, and that was when the clown role first appeared.

A clown in baggy clothes and a cylindrical hat, his face painted pure white with eyes and mouth outlined in heavy makeup.
Though his disguise made it unclear, somewhere in his build lingered an unforgettable shadow of his brother.

——It’s Brother.

Just as he thought this, the clown too seemed to peer searchingly at Gorō’s face.

Gorō held his breath.
On stage, the performance began.

First, the three magicians showed each other clever magic tricks.
Then came an utterly commonplace routine where the clown would explain the tricks from the sidelines.
Yet so skillful was the clown’s performance that the audience roared with applause—though none of it registered with Gorō.
Poised to spring up at any moment, he waited for his brother to throw something his way.

Then before long, as the clown was interfering too much, one of the magicians grew indignantly angry, drew a pistol, and shot the clown.

Bang!!

A deafening gunshot,

"Agh—!"

The clown—with a guttural groan caught in his throat as he clutched his chest—staggered unsteadily and lurched toward the magic table.
The audience, of course, had thought that too was part of the act.
—However, upon seeing the magicians suddenly pale and the clown collapse with his chest soaking in blood,

"Oh, that was a live round!"

“That’s right—it was a live round!”
“The clown’s gonna die!”

The audience too turned pale and rose en masse.—On stage, one of the magicians rushed to the clown’s side.
And in a flustered voice,

“Curtain! Curtain! Lower the curtain!”

he shouted.

However, at that moment, Gorō,

“Wait!
“Don’t touch that body!”

Screaming, he leapt onto the stage.
Following this—considering the possibility of an emergency—about twenty plainclothes detectives that Gorō had requested came rushing onto the stage in scattered succession behind him.

The grand theater of revelry transformed into a crucible of terror in an instant.
Outside the curtain, the audience’s roiling commotion; behind the curtain—Gorō lifting the bloodied clown,
“Brother, it’s me, Gorō!”
he was screaming like a madman.

“Stay conscious! Have you forgotten our promise? Brother! Brother!!”

“Gor…ō”

The clown finally raised his face, his tongue horribly tangled,

“H-here… h-here… this place… here…”

While pointing at his chest, he managed to utter that much before collapsing forward and dying.—Gorō ripped the clown costume to shreds.
There!
Since he had pointed there, he must have had that secret.
But nothing came out.
Even after checking under the shirt, even after thoroughly searching the entire body, not a single sheet of paper came to light.

——What’s wrong?

Gorō was on the verge of losing his mind.
Brother was dead—was it a mistake or intentional?
The pistol that should have contained blanks was loaded with live rounds.
And he was shot dead while still clutching the secret.
If he didn’t have the evidence with him, then wouldn’t that mean Brother’s death was completely in vain?

“——Oh God!”

Gorō let out an involuntary wail of anguish.

The Corpse Speaks

Even if accidental—since this was clearly a murder case—the entire Laughing Demon troupe was taken from the scene to the Metropolitan Police Department along with the clown's corpse.

The interrogation proved straightforward.
The stage pistol had been loaded with live rounds.
Moreover, it had been the clown's responsibility to load that pistol with blanks.
(In such cases, it is customary for the role being shot to handle the bullet loading—
meaning since he was the one playing the shot target, there should have been no mistake.) This meant the man who fired bore no culpability whatsoever.

Meanwhile, as the interrogation proceeded, Gorō was desperately struggling to organize his thoughts.

——Even if I risk my life, I will pass on the secret—— Brother had said.
Those words couldn’t have been a lie.
Brother undoubtedly had the secret.
And he tried to pass it to me.
……Wait—— They had been monitoring Brother.
They wouldn’t even let him go to the cafeteria alone.
So Brother tried to pass me the evidence from the stage——and was shot dead just moments before.
The live rounds in the pistol were loaded by Brother.
Would Brother… would Brother really make such a blunder as to take his own life? Such a mistake⁉

When he had thought that far, Gorō once again recalled the words his brother had spoken in his final moments.

Brother clutched his chest and said, "Here."
But even after stripping him naked and examining him, nothing had come out—hadn't it?
Then did "here" that he said have another meaning?

Ah!

Gorō leapt up from his chair, aghast.

“I see! I see! Brother!! I understand now—I finally understand. What an idiot I was for not noticing that sooner. So that’s how it was, Brother!!”

Gorō, who had shouted in a half-crying voice, suddenly planted himself in front of the judicial officer.

“Please perform an autopsy on the clown’s corpse. There must be a major secret hidden.”

“In the corpse?
“……You’re saying there’s a major secret?”

“Do it immediately.
That will serve as the explanation, I’m sure.
I’ll go and bring Father.
——Of course, make sure not a single one of these bastards escapes!”

With those final words, Gorō grabbed his hat and ran outside.

One hour later—when Gorō returned with Father Ichizō, the judicial officer who had been waiting impatiently forgot even to greet Ichizō,

“Mr. Gorō! We found it! We found it!”

he exclaimed in a frantic tone.

“You found it?”

“When we performed the autopsy, an extraordinary item came out from the corpse’s stomach.”
“Take a look at this—these are all confidential photographs of key port areas.”
“Some show air defense installations too.”
“Films taken with an ultra-compact camera—seventy-three in total.”
“Every one is vital for national defense.”

On the oilcloth spread across the table lay developed films the size of a thumb.
Ah—it had been a mistake to consider them merely as perpetrators behind mysterious murders; the enemy were spies of an even more fearsome nature.

“And there’s a letter.
When I read it, it said Ms. Yukiko was confined in the basement of Nittō Theater, so I’ve just sent people to rescue her.”

“Please show me.”

Gorō received and opened the letter.

“Gorō, I’m canceling our earlier promise.”

I've been discovered by them—all is lost.
I will swallow this letter along with the evidence.
And I will load live rounds into the pistol.
If I am shot and killed on stage, the police will surely conduct a search.
There are no other means left.
You're smart, so I'm sure you'll realize they need to perform an autopsy on the corpse.
I pray to God for that.
"It's regrettable that I can't meet Father and say 'Please forgive me' before I die."
Gorō, you tell him for me.

“Brother was a yakuza. But as a Japanese, he was honorable in the end.”

Yukiko is in the basement of Nittō Theater.
Rescue her quickly.
I am praying for everyone’s happiness from the afterlife.
Ichirō.

“Father, —”

Gorō handed the letter to father while choking back sobs.
At that moment, the autopsied corpse was brought in—Gorō immediately rushed over, soaked a hand towel in water, and quietly wiped away the stage makeup.
……With each wipe, his brother’s face emerged—the beloved face of his brother—grew clouded by tears, fading like a phantom.

“Gorō...”

Ichizō approached.

“Dad.”

Gorō turned back and said through tears.

“Please look at him.”
“This is Brother.”
“Brother has splendidly atoned for his sins.”
“Please tell him… he died well… and praise him for it.”

However, Ichizō said nothing.
He simply remained silent and tightly gripped Ichirō’s cold hand.
What more needed to be said?
Now, at last, father and child were tightly united.

Yukiko was rescued that very night, and the seventeen members of the Troupe "Laughing Demon" (many of whom were spies from XXX country) were arrested.
—And through rigorous interrogations, it became clear that the seven mysterious murder cases involved killings committed because their filming sites had been discovered. […] How they would be judged need not be recorded here.