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The Five-Bedroom House With A... (10,270 words)

Horribly formatted rough translated low effort summarization of The Five-Bedroom House With A... by Ballad Kitaguni.

Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan: Short Story Collection translations 1. Kushagara: http://digitalscratch.pmsinfirm.org/8469 2. Censored Equation: http://digitalscratch.pmsinfirm.org/8764 3. Original Author Rohan Kishibe: https://akemi-dareki.tumblr.com/post/707845504226164736/rohan-kishibe-does-not-fall-original-author-rohan

(Opening Blurb)

　　　It breaks in. Trespassing the borders created by humans, and even logic.

✑

　　　The story starts as Rohan is testing out video recording/video diaries. He faces the camera and starts to talk about a certain photographer who built his career off taking photographs for real estate advertising and the like. This photographer was an artist, and his work was photographs of the interior of houses. What distinguished him from others was how graphic the interior was; you could feel the presence of the people living in there, and the history of being lived in (so scuffed walls, etc). And as such, this photographer was attracted to houses with a history of incidents or tragedy (like where people had committed suicide or the place of crimes). Rohan met him when he was out investigating an apartment designed by a celebrity (I guess they become so famous they branched out into their own brands, like how celebrities launch their own cosmetic lines or fashion company). Anyhow, this photographer left a powerful impression, with how he went, "Yeah, you're beautiful. Suuuper charming, your wooden skin soaked with water? Super sexy!" as he was swallowing his drool over a bathroom with wooden flooring and a bathtub in the middle.

　　　This made Rohan decide he had to interview this person. Then, last year this photographer invited him over to a house he rented. The important thing here (foreshadowing like how Golden Melody did) is that people set their roots down in houses, and houses set their roots down in the land there too. And every land has a history (normal sense), with a history (in the bad sense, like a dark past) attached. A house isn't a name of a building, but just designates somewhere people come back to ...

✑

(Flashback to the event)

　　　After a description of the geography, Rohan notes that that today is humid. The humidity is 80%, and thick clouds cover the sky. A moist wind, oppressive and pervading, covers the whole area. It's June, just between when spring turns into summer. Although the buildings seem dreary, the plants seem to be bursting with vitality on the opposite, a thick green. Anyway, Rohan is walking and following the directions of the map on his phone when he notices what seems like broken torii (the red gate ⛩️ in front of Japanese shrines) wedged between the space between two houses. It was a little shorter than a person's height, made of thin logs, broken in two parts. The shrine itself is pitiful, little more than a wooden box. Even the foundation it was sitting on was tilted sideways. Rohan assumes it must be a local shrine, and the ground there seems to be well-kept at least (weeded and clean). It seems lonely, like time had stopped in just that corner.

Probably like this but worse (Source)

　　　Anyway, Rohan notices that his destination must be up the slope which overlooks the teeny shrine and broken torii. He seems only one house on top. It's two stories. The outside is neat and clean, but it's sort of crooked somehow. You can tell they forcibly reformed the outside to seem more modern, of an older house. He climbs up there, and sees that the house is even more mismatched than first realized. Despite the new white-painted walls and the chime being of a new type, the front entrance is a sliding door type, wooden. Very retro, and it was like someone had covered an old skeleton with a new costume. Waiting a while, the front door opens. He had a finely muscled body, and a chiseled face like a foreigner. His front bangs peeked out of his bandana, giving him a an impression of being a little annoying. This was Reisui Takashima (likely named after the novelist Reisui Chizuka, who was also childhood friends with the novelist Rohan Koda. He joins the list of references to Japanese literature alongside Rohan Kishibe, Kyoka Izumi, Jugo Shishi, Taro Hirai, and Bakin in Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan). He was the one who had called Rohan.

✑

　　　So Reisui pours out some coffee for Rohan. He's sitting on a sofa (which could be seen from the front entrance). Reisui starts off with puns and small talk to which Rohan tries to shut him down, asking him if he can flip through the album on the coffee table instead of talking. Reisui says he doesn't mind, since he expected manga artists to have horrible social skills anyway. Rohan says he wants to stay faithful to that image Reisui has of manga artists (off to a horrible start). Rohan feels the beginning of a headache, and he can tell it's not from the air pressure of the impending rain. In one word, Reisui is a man who lives by his own rhythm, not bothering to adjust to others. He was astoundingly immature despite being an adult. He had the uncanny ability to make others adjust to his pace, and he irritated Rohan just by existing (making lame jokes and blabbing). He had the strange ability to make others angry simply by acting like a child who can't read the room. Even now Rohan is forced to expend more than the necessary energy needed. As Rohan reaches toward the photo album he notices a flyer of "Beware of break ins when not home". Thinking back to the old-fashioned-ness of this house, Rohan thinks its unlikely anyone would try and break in this hovel. So Rohan flips through the album.

　　　Reisui's concept of photos is "living houses," or the the graphic vividness. Meaning, he didn't care only about the prettiness of an interior; he was also attracted to the filth and dirt human life left behind in the houses, and he was able to transform even those parts into an attraction with his pictures. A big difference from the washed out pictures used to advertise real estate on the internet; his works contained a reality. Reisui asks Rohan what he thinks, and Rohan says he approves of his talent as a photographer. When asked what he finds good, Rohan pauses, and says

　　　"For example, in this photograph 'At a Peninsula'.... the damage and scuff marks on this black pillar emphasizes the passage of time and degradation on the contrary, and the texture is really raw. You can imagine the presence of the residents who lived in here. It conveys the personality of the owner of the house, and how do I put it, it's like it's living and breathing with the occupancy and daily life ... What I want to do when drawing manga isn't just draw the background or the composition of a room, but the atmosphere of the characters, and the sense they've inhabited that space. So as reference material, these photographs are of great help."

Reisui mentions that this house was by a wasabi (Japanese horseradish) farmer, and after the previous owner committed suicide the son then reformed the house into a more modern design. Lacking any personality or character, and Reisui says he preferred the house before. But given a few more decades, the newly designed house should start to seem more homely too. Rohan then notes that the photos are all film, polaroid. Reisui must be using some pretty old cameras. Reisui seems delighted that Rohan noticed this, and says (this story uses some technical language when it comes to film, so I’m not sure but):

　　　"So ... in a word, I like capturing the light as it lives. Sure you can snap pretty pics when it's digital, but the light filtered through the CCD sensor can't retain the graphic-ness of light, even after adding filters. It becomes really impersonal. The subject can be inorganic, but the picture itself shouldn't become expressionless. I use polaroid regardless, but the crime scene photos of a while back all used those cameras. Polaroid which creates random flashes, and that polaroid capable of seductive shadows."

　　　At this point Rohan is put off, but Reisui continues that anyone can take pretty photos; that's normal for professionals. That's why to distinguish himself, Reisui felt the need to branch out into subjects which only himself could accomplish; or else, his job would be robbed by AI. As an artist himself, Rohan finds himself agreeing. Even though as a person Reisui was someone who got on his nerves, as another artist he took his job and profession seriously. He had a policy he stuck hard to, and a passion which was indispensable as a person who expressed themselves. And because of this genuine-ness, Rohan had decided he could trust him as artist to artist. Reisui notes later that their profession requires them to do the opposite things: photographers preserve the "now" and freeze it in place, while manga artists strive to set in motion time (or something).

　　　At this (Rohan sets down the coffee thinking it tastes horrible and too sour, criticizing even Reisui's coffee skills), Reisui starts on the real reason he wanted Rohan here.

　　　"You do yokai (monster) exterminations, right?"

　　　"... Who? Who does what?"

　　　"Don't play dumb, you do Mr. Rohan."

　　　"... Yokai exterminations? When did I become sort of ghost hunter? This is the first time I've been told that, what on earth ... where did you even hear that anyway?"

　　　"You're pretty famous in certain circles. You researched the Mutsu-kabe Hill Village's yokai legend right? And there's the rumor you saw a ghost in Venice, and that you've survived crossing an alley connected to the world of the dead ... I'm pretty sensitive to rumors and superstitions concerning architecture, so those types of stories reach me. Some people even say that you're a detective, and Pink Dark Boy is based on your actual experiences."

　　　Rohan is actually angry that he's somehow become famous in a way that's not connected with his work as a manga artist, but then asks him Reisui to hurry up and explain the deal (because he wants to be home by the time of a livestreamed rugby match). Reisui idly notes that Rohan watches sports, to which Rohan snaps back that sports is a theme which crops up all the time in manga; of course he'd watch it.

　　　Reisui begins to list the inconsistencies regarding the house: first this house is situated 15 minutes from the subway, and it's also close to the shopping center and S City train station. It's a two story building with the plot of 132 square meters, the total floor space 105. 98 square meters ... maybe too large for a single person to live in , with many rooms as well. Pets are allowed. But the rent is only 80 dollars (if 10 dollars is 1000 yen). Rohan is shocked, only 80 dollars a month? There's a history behind this house. Reisui agrees, but according to law real estate is only obliged to inform potential buyers of incidents within the previous three years. But even despite this, Reisui could tell that this place had history, even if nothing was listed in the catalogue. Rohan asks what history he uncovered, to which Reisui replies, nothing. He couldn't find anything! More truthfully, nobody seemed to know anything for some reason. It's always cheap, and they always ask for people to rent after the previous occupant leaves. In other words, the records of the house are gone for some reason, and the history of the house is left a blank (deliberately destroyed records?). So, he just had to rent this house. Reisui is excited, and chats about how Rohan must understand how he feels too.

　　　"Anyway ... I'm not popular with women, but I've slept with numerous houses up to now, let me tell you that."

　　　"Why don't you keep the sleeping to just your own house?"

　　　"I'm telling you! This house has great pheromones. I'm sure you get it too, that there's some kind of allure here despite not being able to say exactly what. Right?"

　　　"That depends on the person. First of all, most people including me wouldn't understand the nonsense about pheromones and whatnot exuded from a clump of wood and nails."

　　　"I mean ... okay, so houses have a distinct smell, right? That's from the body odor of people transferring onto the house. So all kinds of pheromones and odors sink into the wallpaper and the pillars, which animals like us are able to sniff out ... both photographs and houses suck in the human soul to have them reside inside."

　　　Reisui continues (there are a lot of these kinds of sexual conversations in the story), but he goes back to the topic of this house and says upon researching, he found that this house has been occupied by quite a few people in the past.

　　　"In the past five years, there's been five people."

　　　"... What?"

　　　"There's been five people who borrowed this house, including me. If you go back even more, there's more people. If you go back ten years, it's ten people, and the same pace is kept even further back ..."

　　　"Hey, hey, hey, wait a sec ... Something's not right. In other words, that means that the residents change every year. This isn't a dorm room for short-term exchange students. Even if this were an apartment for people whose jobs require frequent transfers (to different cities), this is way too high of a pace."

　　　"Of course the employment of all the residents is different. If there is one similarity, it's that everyone was like me, a poor financial situation ... But the things is, every June, every resident leaves ... though I'm not sure if that expression is correct."

　　　"... Meaning?"

　　　"Let me put it this way: everyone who lived in this house disappears. Every June. And it's always on a rainy day."

　　　"What!?"

　　　So it seems that every renter disappears in June. They went missing, but since all the residents were estranged from their families with lonely social contracts (lone wolves), the police didn't exert that much effort in searching for them. Despite this strangeness, due to that these string of disappearances have attracted no attention. Unidentified bodies have been found in the streams and mountains nearby, from time to time. But one person, a woman, had left a suicide note before death. And even though it's unclear if it can be called a suicide note exactly, it had written on it "I found Heaven's Door." This shocks Rohan to his core. Not only is it his Stand's name, that means that that missing person could have gone to heaven? There was a passage to the other world potentially hidden in this house, maybe. Reisui is silent, and then speaks. Today so happens to be in June when all the past residents have disappeared. And they all disappeared on a rainy day ... Yesterday it finally entered rainy season. A heavy rain was predicted to occur today. If there was any time for Reisui to discover this passageway to Heaven, it was today.

　　　Reisui then uttered a phrase he had been preparing ever since he had decided to call Rohan over as well.

　　　“In short, this is a five bedroom house with Heaven attached ... So you know, I thought it would make for a pretty interesting mangaーif you adapted the idea.”

　　　Rohan could find no reason to refute that.

✑

　　　So Reisui and Rohan go on to explore the house instead of running away like normal people. The house is old fashioned, and there doesn't seem to be any deviation from the floor plan (as in hidden doors or rooms). As in traditional, he means that each room is connected to the other by a sliding door, having no concept of the modern notion of privacy.

Floorplan of traditional Japanese house for reference (Source)

　　　Reisui mentions that this place is really old, and the floorboards are pretty degraded. He even sees rats around, which appear near the front entrance sometimes. Reisui mentions how spaces people are familiar with are scarier for humans; like how instead of a subpar haunted house, your school at nighttime is scarier. Reisui is filled with a deep emotion as he says this philosophy is his personal bible, and Rohan ignores him. Rohan goes on to note that despite the new wallpaper and etc., the architects who reformed the house didn’t bother to tear down any walls or get rid of the pillars. There's something strange; every change is half-hearted instead of done all the way through. Even despite them not bothering to update the floor plan, the telephone lines are replaced by optical fibers, and the intercom is a new design complete with a security camera. Again, if they went this far, why didn't they go all the way to modernise the house? Reisui rebuts, saying that nobody would live here in this day and age if optical fibers aren't used, and that flyer earlier about burglars targeting empty houses. Those kinds of flyers are handed out a lot here, always in his mailbox. Even if this house is cheap, nobody would want to live here if the area was high crime, so this security camera and intercom are supposed to placate the residents.

　　　Rohan is impressed, Reisui showing his expertise as a architecture photographer. Reisui tours Rohan around the house, starting from the kitchen to make sure the floor plans really aren't different from reality. From the living room they go to the kitchen connected by a sliding door of glass. Even without lighting, this kitchen was bright with sunlight. Rohan peers into the the sink. Stainless steel, and more like one in a kitchen at a restaurant. It was scrubbed to perfection, reflecting everything.

　　　Upon glancing upward, Rohan notices that the kitchen isn't bright due to large windows like he thought. On the contrary, it's because of a glass door, a backdoor to the outside. But when he mentions it's strange that this door isn't listed on the floor plan, Reisui says it's because it can't be opened. Upon close inspection the door's edges are covered with caulking. Rohan complains about this (even if the key went missing, or it's from security concerns, the real estate people who did this are so inconsiderate and lacking in all aesthetic sensibility, like who boards up a door for goodness’ sake?) but Reisui says this mysteriousness if what's great.

　　　"But that's the charm! Those things categorized as Thomassons tickle your inner child, right? Stairways that lead to nowhere, and hallways with dead ends are the peak. I mean, you love mysterious women too, right Mr. Rohan (probably a Rohan au Louvre reference)?"

　　　"... I don't remember divulging my hobbies or love life, but let me tell you one thing ... at the very least, people who assume their assumptions are correct and try to ease confirmation out of others aren't well liked."

　　　Reisui apologizes, and adds that the door faces the slope (and that the view is gorgeous from here at sunset). This door was probably used to access the recycle bins out back. They continue to search, with Rohan still occupied by the woman's mention of "Heaven's Door". They checked the company which made the door, and it's already out of business. The two go out into the hallway connecting the other rooms to the living room, a bright stretch illuminated by the light coming in from the front entrance and windows. The flooring was brand new, but it was obvious the wood being used was cheap, creaking each time the stepped on it. Again, the mismatched lopsided mesh of modern and new, with the hallway being a western build, yet retaining the old fashioned traditional wooden walls and sliding doors. Extremely retro, but not enough to be considered an antique.

　　　Rohan then realizes that a mirror is attached to the wall by the entrance. But more importantly, there was a picture frame in the hallway. It was positioned just where you wouldn't notice unless you came out from the living room, and on there was a framed photograph Reisui had taken. Reisui explains that he found how the wallpaper tanned by the sun was erotic. They then step inside the room closest to the front entrance, and it was a western style room with many bookshelves. This is where Reisui keeps his books concerning architecture and such, but the bookshelves were already placed there from the start before he moved in. He also has an action figure of a meme where a cat wears a helmet which will age this story badly in the coming years.

Probably something like this (Source)

　　　Just as he motions to Rohan that this room connects to his workspace, Rohan notices something (foreshadowing). Reisui asks what's wrong, but Rohan waves him off. They go into that other room, and there's a computer, printer, and cameras. This is a Japanese-style room, with a carpet thrown over the straw mats. On the desk where scattered many photographs of different houses, and a bookshelf next to the desk was full of albums. However, these albums were stored in dry boxes, and this room was specially equipped with an AC with a dehumidifier, along with a separate large dehumidifier machine. Whereas the other rooms had tried to preserve the original cheapness and look of the place, this room was assembled and modified to be a real professional workplace. In a humid climate of Japan with the rainy season, Rohan could understand Reisui's struggle of having to be meticulous about the dryness levels (to make sure his work is preserved). Reisui even has the latest multi-function copier (printer-copier-scanner-fax) machine, and in this day and age even analog artists have to work digitally one way or another.

　　　And there's also another mirror in this room too. There was even a mirror in the room from before with bookshelves, and there was one in the front entrance, and now here too? Reisui mentions that this place has mirrors attached everywhere for some reason, inside the closet, everywhere. Strange. What's more strange is that even though the wallpapers were all replaced and such, the workers who fixed this house haven't seemed to have touched the mirrors at all. Rohan says aloud that this is bizarre, but ... he also notes inwardly that photos of other houses were also framed here too. It felt like these were false entryways in and out of this house, into other spaces/houses. There was a vividness like Reisui had cut off a piece of reality from how his photographs were, their characteristic deriving from a sense of dustiness and moistness, not dazzling colors nor breathtaking compositions. People say that photographs steal your soul, but Reisui's photography really did contain a presence of homeliness that felt like life was lurking inside. When Rohan gazed at the pictures of the rooms, the space inside seemed to warp, and that he had wandered inside someone else's house for real. It was true that the number of mirrors was bizarre. But to be honest, Reisui's sense of interior design was bizarre as well.

　　　Reisui points our that the window frames, window rails, thresholds and lintel of the front entrance ... they're all wood. Even though wooden window frames are still in fashion and always have been, it's rare for even the rail to be wooden. What more, it's chestnut. Chestnut is hard, heavy, and resistant to rotting; in short, an expensive and luxurious wood. Chestnut is usually used for only the foundational parts, not something like the rail parts for sliding doors. Chestnut is hard, and extremely difficult to manipulate for such delicate work like that. The fact that someone bothered to shape chestnut just for the rails of a window is frankly freaky. What more, all the windows and the sliding door of the front entrance which leads to the outside are made of chestnut too. All the wood used indoors is cedar like normal, yet the entrances to the outside are all made using chestnut. Usually cypress and cedar is used, mixed in, even if chestnut were to be used. But all the chestnut furnishings and furniture of this house are made of purely chestnut. Rohan too agrees that there must have been a motive for this decision. But he couldn't figure out why. As they go into a different room, Rohan doesn't bother to think that it's strange that every room beside the workspace is eerily humid. He brushes it off to it raining outside (foreshadowing).

✑

　　　As Rohan climbed the stairs to the second floor, he's reminded of how old fashioned this house is again. The hallway upstairs is bright too, and dotted with small windows, all frames made of wood here too. Chestnut. The room farthest from the stairs is used for storage, and all kinds of equipment for shooting photographs are stored. Reisui tells Rohan that each room has a sliding foor connecting it to the other rooms, and notes that you could probably move across this house without ever even using the hallway too. It was made with not a nuclear family in mind, but more of a society where relatives gathered , and the sliding doors could be removed to create larger rooms as the numbers deemed necessary. This reminds Rohan of his relatives in the countryside, where they would connect small tables together to form larger ones, inviting everyone in the family to gather and eat.

　　　Rohan then changes the topic and asks why Reisui didn't just become an architect or carpenter if he liked architecture that much. Reisui replies that that's like asking why editors don't just become manga artists, and that he's more interested in the "humanity" dwelling in the houses: from the dirt and scratches left behind by the craftsmen, then the doodles and dirt by children, and the burns left behind on the walls that were hastily put out by the residents. In short, the marks of the presence of people is what he loves, of the lives of people sinking into the buildings. And he loves to cut those parts out to display.

　　　Then Rohan asks him why they're using the hallway. Reisui plays dumb, but Rohan repeats that Reisui had just told him that you could move through all the rooms without ever using the hallway. According to the floor plans they looked at earlier, there’s another room next to the storage room, a room they can't access from the hallway. Rohan rightfully criticizes Reisui of trying to skip one room. Reisui asks if Rohan is actually a detective, and reveals:

　　　"That's right Mr. Rohan, I don't want to show you that room."

　　　"You have something there that can't be shown?"

　　　"What, you think I store dead bodies or something?"

　　　"Don't answer back a question with a question. If you do that kind of haggling at your business dealings, you're going to fail."

A classic JoJo-ism in low resolution

　　　After shaking his head like he was agonizing over something, Reisui starts to talk. "... Well ... you know? You get it too, I'm single, and you're single ..."

　　　"... Ahhhh ... Ugh, fine, I get it, shut up."

　　　Rohan grimaces while Reisui grins. As a bachelor himself, Rohan himself knew that there were things that should stay hidden, especially if those were things that single men tried to hide awkwardly (I'm assuming this is referring to something sexual, maybe a Hot Summer Martha reference?). In the end, they don't end up exploring that room, and beside there being an overly large remote control for a racing game (no idea what this is, a Nintendo Switch?) in the bedroom, there was nothing unusual.

　　　Rohan and Reisui go over their findings:

Chestnut used for all sliding doors, rails, and window leading outside

Abundance of mirrors

The house structure: a conscious decision to leave the foundation intact by only replacing the wallpaper and flooring but nothing else.

　　　They're still confused, and just as Reisui asks Rohan if he'll like to play the racing game in his bedroom (he's got a world ranking of 2500!) Rohan abruptly uses Heaven's Door on him. Rohan goes on to say that he found it strange that Reisui tried to bring up the cliché excuse of being a bachelor to prevent Rohan from investigating further; if this were a manga, this would be "out of character" for Reisui. Reisui is someone who brazenly tells people about what turns him on, and it goes against who he is as a person to suddenly act embarrassed and try to hide something as mundane as that. He searches for a line about the room in Reisui's memories, and finds a sentence:

　　　'I can't show him that photograph, surely that's going too far.'

　　　Rohan is delighted at finding something so interesting, For such an open person who loves to blather on about their craft, to have a photo they want to keep secret? And not some hidden fortune or a dead body, but just a photo? Of course Rohan would want to see that!

　　　Rohan goes into the room inaccessible from the hallway. It had a small window for light, a mirror, and only one album stored inside a dry box with a digital gauge showing the humidity level. The desk there had a thermostat and hygrometer, and a large grand hybrid dehumidifier like in the workspace. It was a little excessive for just one album. Despite being in a dry box, the album wasn't hidden nor under lock and key. Placed in a place where you could pull it our easily, Reisui must frequently come and take a look.

　　　Rohan carefully opens the album and finds that it's actually not that different from the albums in the workspace. As he's puzzled over why Reisui felt the need to hide this one, and as he flips through it he sees that it's dedicated to only one house. Compared to the other albums he was shown, there were far more pictures, from the hallways to toilets to every single room. As a work, this seems to be actually better than the other photos Reisui has put out. The fact he wasn't trying to take beautiful pictures managed to draw out the beauty of the place, and it was so graphic, bordering on grotesque. Rohan had skimmed through the pieces Reisui had put out to display in his exhibition, but as art this album surpassed all the pictures that had been displayed then. If Reisui had decided to publish this album instead, he would surely be more famous than he is now.

　　　Just then, a photograph of a dead body catches his eye.

　　　Hanging from a rope by the neck, this was unmistakably real. This alone was shocking. Either Reisui was interested in photographing dead bodies, or he was the culprit of a murder. However, if Reisui was so alarmed and was keeping that secret he didn't want revealed, then Heaven's Door would display that clearly on the front pages. But in what Rohan read before, there had been no mentions of that sort. If this album wasn't given much attention by his Stand, then it must be that for Reisui, this album was just exactly what he had been saying all along, something he considered so natural and normal that there was nothing irregular.

　　　"Is this a house with a history of a tragic incident?"

　　　"Sure is."

　　　Rohan quickly looks behind himself, and Reisui is standing at the door. Rohan says that he knew Reisui was a pervert that was turned on by houses with history, but he'd never expected him to photograph the scene of a suicide. Rohan braces himself, ready for a retaliation. Rohan asks if he's going to become Reisui's next "subject," killing him for his art. Reisui is extremely alarmed at the misunderstanding, and says that that photo is actually a suicide and that he didn't murder anyone. Reisui then gives his backstory (there is context as to how the flow of conversation naturally drifted to this turn of events), and says that his parents were distant toward each other, with his mother cheating on another man, and how lonely he was at dinner since the whole family never ate together due to this. Rohan cuts him off saying he isn't interested in his sob story, but Reisui powers through and said that one day he found his parents hanging dead by the dining table. But he was happy. It was the first time that his family had gathered at the dining table together, so he had went outside and bought three people's worth of meals and ate dinner there. This was the image of happiness for him ... in that moment, his family was a happy family. Ever since then, that image had formed the foundation of Reisui's sense of beauty for photos houses. He was always searching for that scene, the moment of peace in the most comfortable place that people had decided for themselves, inside of their own houses they had lived in.

　　　A lot of people commit suicide wanting to die in their own homes they know well and love, and Reisui was lucky enough to stumble upon that. When he was just starting out as a photographer, he touched the doorknob of a house that had an overflowing mailbox, and it wasn't locked. He was exhilarated. He had been able to stumble upon the "moment of the birth" of a house with a tragic past, before he called the police and left. He turns the last moments of a house and it's owner into beautiful art. He wanted to transform and validate the beauty of death, at least in his pictures. Nowadays, the modern age shunned death and tries to hide all traces of it, especially suicide which is a lonely ending. He then expands more on his philosophy, and like Kyomei Isaka in Golden Melody, Rohan has to admit there's a clear philosophy and a true passion as an artist in him.

　　　Rohan then correctly guesses that the woman who committed suicide and left that suicide note must have been someone Reisui knew. The suicide note had been addressed toward Reisui from the start; if not, how else could a total stranger have been able to get his hands on the exact details of the contents? So Reisui had been reminded of how her eyes resembled his mother’s, and they had met at a bar. Reisui had been her confident as she had discussed suicide, and throughout her he had come to know this house. Rohan criticizes him saying that makes Reisui an accomplice to suicide (punishable by law). When Reisui meekly asks Rohan to not call the cops he agrees, but Rohan still says that Reisui has a disgusting perversion, that he has a sensibility that Rohan can't wrap his head around, and that Reisui had frankly committed the crime of trespassing by taking this photo ... but Rohan isn't the police, nor is he a detective. He's simple a manga artist, and he'd come here to investigate, nothing more and nothing less.

✑

　　　It was night now. Dinner had been grand, and now Reisui was cleaning up in the kitchen while Rohan was in the living room. The glass door separating the two rooms was open allowing them to communicate, but this just highlighted how old fashioned the design was. A very retro design, but comfortable and not too bad to live in. A more modern setup would have had the two connected, without a wall, Rohan was still puzzling over the mystery of the chestnut furnishings. If they had bothered to install the latest optical fibers and intercom, then aluminum rails wouldn't be out of question for the sliding doors at the front entrance too. He opens the web browser on his phone, and sees that chestnut is hard, heavy, excelling in durability and waterproof. Difficult to work with.

　　　Then Rohan notices something. Sure, the wooden frames and rails gave an old-fashioned impression ... but they weren't actually old. The front entrance and windows showed no wear and tear. Compared to the inside of the house, the were actually extremely new ... That meant the the company who handled this house had bothered to go out of their way to deliberately furnish only the windows and front entrance with luxurious chestnut wood. Why would a company which was so cheap that it didn't even to bother to change the floor plan do that? He puzzles over this, and as he thinks what the oldest entrance in this house is ... he realizes it's the backdoor in the kitchen. Why hadn't the real estate company replace that glass door? Because ... there wasn't any need to replace anything? As he realizes that it's still raining outside, the first heavy rain since entering the rainy season in S City. The humidity of the air is steadily rising, and he gets a sinking feeling as he remembers one tidbit about chestnut wood: hard, heavy, resistant to rotting even without wood preservative coating, and is capable of being used without any treatment, excellent durability but rate of expansion is also great.

　　　Rohan rushes to the sliding windows in the living room, Everything, form the frame to rails, are made of chestnut wood. It doesn't budge. He realizes that despite not being locked the wooden frame and rail had swelled. This window had been built on the premise of the wood absorbing water and expanding. The untreated wood had slowly swelled throughout the whole day, in this extremely humid and moist rainy season. The greatest rate of expansion for wood is 10%, and even among wood, chestnut boasts an extreme rate of expansion. So, this entire house was designed to make sure the doors leading outside couldn't be opened, to expand during the rainy season by absorbing water. And if today was the peak, then ...

　　　Rohan remembered that residents in this house went missing the day after a heavy rain during the rainy season every year. This house was designed to trap the residents in this period, on this day. Rohan immediately calls out to Reisui, but no answer. There's only the sound of water from the stainless steel sink, and a humidness that seems to be flowing in from the kitchen.

　　　There, Rohan faces something.

　　　It was not human. At the very least, it wasn't an animal nor a plant, a living thing which existed in this world. If you struggled to make a comparison, it looked sort of like the flukes which were parasitic to snails. The writhing thing which was like a big accordion-folded creature (I guess it's twirly?) was biting on Reisui's head. Reisui was slumped against the wall at the back of the kitchen, and Rohan could see him through the transparent body, like a hologram. The insides reflected off light, and shined like a rainbow. In some way it didn't look material, but it was surely there. For a moment, Rohan thought it could be a stand, and maybe Reisui could be a Stand user. But Reisui doesn't seem to be breathing, suggesting he's being attacked. Rohan attacks the thing with his Stand, and it works. For a moment it falls to the floor, opened up, and with a gurgle and cough Reisui spit out bubbles and drool. But most of all, he was crying intensely. Perhaps the attack was focused on the eyes. Rohan wonders if it's something which lived here, like a ghost, the energy of a soul. Rohan looked closer at the thing, and it was a soft bodied creature like a sea anemone, but with humanlike hands and feet. It had a head as well, and although there was no face, there were two antennas which seemed to be like eyes. It looked like the head of a slug, or the horns of a demon. But most likely, it was no animal nor a parasite. A supernatural humanoid being which ignored the laws of physics. So it seemed the "history" of this house was this creature, which could be a wandering soul, or an ancient yokai, or even a deity. But if Heaven's Door worked on it, surely he could defeat it. As he flipped through the page, he saw only one phrase written:

　　　'You looked.'

　　　The next second the opponent attacked. Anyway, so Rohan realizes that it sort of envelopes you and you feel like you're stuck in molasses, and since Heaven's Door isn't a power-oriented Stand he stands no chance. He tried a kitchen knife but it just sinks in, no damage. When Rohan gives up and de-activates Heaven's Door, he felt the attack's strength decrease. As Reisui calls out to Rohan (he's still blind and coughing), he also points to the glass door which is sealed shut. At this gesture, Rohan realizes that the monster came inside; it wasn't here from the start. It was an invader which came in from the backdoor, and this house was designed to trap the prey inside. A lot happens, and then the monster seems to transport from shiny surface to shiny surface like J. Geil in Part 3. It all comes together: the abundance of mirrors, the shiny stainless steel sink, the glass sliding doors. It travels like a laser from those surface to surface, the mirrors acting like entryways where it can observe the two, Rohan figures out that the monster recognizes "the line of sight" and "looking" (so they can't make eye contact with the mirrors or reflective surfaces, the monster swoops toward their line of sight). They barely manage to dodge the monster as it comes crashing their way, and Reisui (supported by Rohan and still blind due to crying) is stunned that it's actually a real, supernatural creature.

　　　They discover it can also faze through the glass, so that's how it slunk inside the house. But then the monster starts attacking the television which is left on. At this Rohan realizes that it's not smart enough to attack multiple people at once. It can faze through transparent objects like glass (but more sluggishly), but it attains the characteristics of being like a beam of light by "being looked at". They go to the hallway, but make sure they don't turn on the lights (because there's mirrors in the hallway), and try to wedge open the front entrance, but no luck. Reisui knows on the front entrance, and offhandedly mentions that the glass portion of the front door isn't glass. Actually, it seems to be acrylic with glass coating. So along the chestnut wood, this front door was designed to be unbreakable, even by throwing a chair at it. Reisui notes that this is no ordinary door, it's definitely specially designed and made personally (not mass produced). This is a detail he wouldn't have noticed until now, when he thought of breaking it. They can hear creaking footsteps behind them from the living room (it can't move around like a laser unless it's showered by eyesight), and they decide they have to go to the workspace room. The entire hallway is reflected in the window of the front entrance, so they move toward the library room closest to the front door (which leads to the workplace). The workspace has the powerful dehumidifier, which could help the chestnut wood stop expanding and shrink, allowing them to escape.

　　　Rohan starts to theorize about how to get out of this situation, and Reisui asks again if he's sure Rohan isn't a detective (and he seems awfully used to these situations). From the hallway they can hear creaks, and they move quietly along the sliding doors. It seems the monster can see, but not hear (or else it would already know their location). Behind them in the room of bookshelves, they can hear thudding and noise (the monster must be checking each individual book and sorting through them to see if they're hiding behind the bookcase, or in-between books). They also hear it meow (apparently it meows like a baby). Reisui tests the windows of the workplace too, and although it's not budging, it seems to be less stuck than the one in the living room, thanks to the dehumidifying going on here constantly.

　　　Rohan turns on the dehumidifying machine, but it's really loud. They hear a scurrying too in the darkness, and it's obvious the monster has realized their location from the ruckus. Rohan realizes he activated the wrong mode on the hybrid dehumidifier, activating the "powerful dryness" mode which makes the compressor move. Reisui says he forgot to mention that it's a hybrid dehumidifier, and they both flee upstairs. The monster seems preoccupied with the machine for now, They now plan to use the dehumidifier without the compressor in the secret room upstairs. They make a quiet desiccant air conditioning mode, and Reisui becomes really pessimistic and says that Rohan should leave him here to die. Rohan becomes extremely angry, saying that if Reisui starts acting like a good guy who sacrifices his life Rohan would feel unnecessary guilt when he flees. If Rohan did survive doing that, all the enthusiasm he would feel to use this experience as an idea for his manga would die.

　　　They're not sure if the dehumidifier plan to open the windows will work, but then Reisui mentions that it's weird that that monster, which seems to be have the characteristics of light, would make sounds. Light is powerful, and images can make people's brain play tricks (like optical illusions which make you feel off-balance, or imaging you hear sounds when you don't). Then Reisui suggests that maybe the sounds they've been hearing of the monster are actually auditory hallucinations, like how he's been hearing the words "don't be scared" for some time now echoing in his head. Reisui's eyes trail toward a ray of light coming in from the between the sliding doors.

　　　Then the monster is there.

　　　It had somehow transported there without any making a sound like before, and set on attacking Reisui (eye contact?). Reisui tells Rohan to leave him and run, and Rohan becomes angry, that he doesn't write manga like that where he abandons well meaning characters like Reisui who say those kinds of cliche things. The monster is enveloping Reisui slowly, and the two have a somewhat leisurely chat where Reisui reveals that ever since the monster eveloped his eyes earlier, he's been happy. He now sees the monster as his mother, and the other victims must have seen the monster disguise itself in a hallucination of their beloved ones. He's attained Heaven, and the "Heaven's Door" that the woman had alluded to was referring to this illusion the monster creates to make its victims willing. Reisui weakly says he's off to Heaven now, being enveloped by his mother (happy, despite knowing it's a false image), and the monster drags Reisui out into the hallway with him enveloped inside. Rohan knows he can's use Heaven's Door as it requires eyesight which strengthens the monster's powers, but then he's left alone. Rohan realizes that the monster was aiming only for Reisui all along.

　　　Meanwhile, he realizes that the dehumidifier worked, and he can escape now. But he's overcome with a feeling of wrongness. Why should Reisui and him, the owner and invited guest, have to be the ones who are evicted? Isn't it the opposite? The one who ought to be shooed out is the monster instead, when it's an invader (I promise this monologue is way cooler and a defining moment in the story). And so the counterattack begins.

✑

(POV of the monster from here on)

　　　The Intruder was filled with a sense of accomplishment. It had no sense of hostility, and in fact it was filled with a divine purpose to save the souls of people by showing them heaven. Although many people wished for salvation, it could only give one for each person. The intruder had to make the two go to sleep one by one, starting with Reisui. Once it activated a strong flickering light into the retinas, they would fall asleep into a sleep they would never wake from. They would peacefully reach the end while seeing happy dreams, released from all pain. So the intruder would endeavor to deliver the happiest ending for Reisui. But there had been annoyances.

　　　Reisui's body suddenly unraveled. Like a book, and he slipped through the intruder.

Reference image from A Rainy Monday (Source)

　　　The intruder remembered this.

　　　It had encountered this feeling on what would approximately be the face if it were a human. It didn't understand why it was being attacked, and why a human would have the power to change things into books.

　　　"... I'm starting to understand. As long as I don't write anything in you, as long as I don't look using Heaven's Door, you can't activate your requirements to attack ..."

　　　Rohan was starting at the intruder. It could feel that, and as long as he was looking at it, he could fulfill his attack. Jumping like lightening, it went toward Rohan's line of sight to try and "save" him first. But nothing was there. Along with a airy nothingness, Rohan's body flew through the air and wafted down onto the floor. The intruder again experienced a strong surprise and confusion. Rohan's voice continued to echo from the hallway.

　　　"At the most basic level, you're an 'image.' You attack people's eyes, and read the 'images' in people's hearts, then show then the false image they want to see ... transforming into a living light. You make people see false images, make them hear noises that don't exist, and take control of their bodies. Reisui wasn't dragged by you, he was walking with you. You send direct signals to the brain, so I can't fight you with physical force."

　　　The intruder was horribly confused, After a certain time period, it had encountered these kinds of bizarre incidents. Sometimes it had found people and aimed for their eyes, but for some reason it found that it couldn't take hold of them.

　　　"In other words, you make people see hallucinations ... you're just a yokai. You don't spirit people away, nor are you as dignified and transcendent as a deity. You can't attack multiple people at once, either."

　　　The intruder attacked again, It was in the room with bookshelves. There was no light, and it was so cluttered. Finding Rohan would be such a pain. The intruder began to feel irritated. Even though it kept on feeling the presence of eyes looking toward it, and kept on attacking, all it could feel were the fluttery sensation of something like paper each time. Rohan continues that it's attacks are instinctive, automatic. This is the strength, but also the weakness. The intruder kept on attacking over and over, but all it ever kept on feeling was brushing against something fluttery. It started to feel that this opponent was aggressive, that this human was more powerful than any it had come across ever before. It had a feeling that it had to show Rohan the way to heaven first before Reisui, or something bad would happen. Just then, the intruder noticed that the sliding door leading to the workspace was open slightly. But the intruder was no fool, and knew a trap when it saw one. The opponent was clearly trying to direct it toward there. But it had a time limit; the rain would only last tonight, and it would be sunny soon. And there was the dehumidifier as well. Soon, the window would be able to open and Rohan escape. The intruder wracked its brains, somehow it had to get Rohan to activate the trigger of 'looking.'

　　　But the intruder had an ability it had hidden. Humans weren't the only living things it could make see hallucinations. As long as it were some animal with some level of memory, it could wield them under the power of it's illusion. And less suspicious than humans, with a simpler thought process, they were as good as puppets. Small scurrying noises erupt, and Rohan is confused, wondering aloud if it's an auditory hallucination.

　　　They're rats. Reisui had told him that rats lived underneath the floorboards and attic. They begin attacking Rohan ferociously, unnaturally hostile. He couldn't look at the rats for fear of triggering the "line of sight" and activating the ability of the intruder. So Rohan set out on a bet, using Heaven's Door on them.

　　　The intruder felt like it had won. In that moment the rat collapsed outward as a book, a light sparkled out from inside. It was the true form of the monster. By "looking inside" the rat, Rohan had activated it's ability. The intruder could see Rohan clearly now. His two eyes were looking at it.

　　　It leapt across the room, becoming a beam of light.

　　　And felt despair as it hit upon the same fluttery sensation as before.

　　　Rohan continues that the intruder was probably born in the far past, from how it attacked the TV. It couldn't make the distinction between film or images ... not could it conceive that humans could create their own false images as well. It was the polaroid camera. The intruder had been attacking photos of Rohan's eyes all along, the pictures placed like bread crumbs to invite the intruder to Rohan. To a large machine. Not once had Rohan actually looked at the intruder directly.

　　　"You attacked a photo taped onto the scanner of he multi-function copier. You thought it was me, but that's just a photograph and you're now trapped inside the scanning surface."

　　　The intruder felt himself being wedged into the machine. In the darkness, light suddenly flooded the touch panel. The intruder was confused as a light as strong as the sun enveloped it inside of the the surface of the scanning screen and lid. It felt itself being enveloped by the light, and its body being mixed into something and absorbed.

　　　"There's a term called photoelectric conversion ... I have to say, digitalization is convenient. It's complicated, so I won't delve deeply into it ... but the FAX's CCD sensor transforms the energy of light into electric signals. This lid is highly efficient too, and it shuts perfectly without leaving a crack open."

　　　The intruder felt its body dissembling, unraveling. It felt itself being eaten by the metal monster birthed by modernity, too complex for its understanding.

　　　Rohan wonders aloud if the attacks will start again after he prints the intruder out after it becomes image data, if he looks into the photo. To be honest, he's terribly curious ... but this is a multi-function coper which can send mail too. He used to look down on these multi-function machines, but now he's converted. For now, he'll send it to his mail address, though he doubts he'd ever open it ever again. On the panel, the words "Send mail" was listed.

　　　"Enjoy you trip over the optical lines."

　　　The intruder was swept away, shooed off from Reisui's house. Exactly like at the speed of light.

✑

　　　Reisui wonders why it came over and attacked him. Rohan mentions that the position of the glass backdoor in the kitchen was overlooking the hill, and at the end of the hill was the shrine, remember? It must have been worshipped there. As Reisui acts horrified at the possibility it could have been divine, Rohan continues that Reisui had been looking out of that backdoor (he'd mentioned earlier the sunset from there was beautiful) every day, making eye contact. But Reisui still doesn't understand why it attacked only on June? There was nothing special about June,

　　　Over the phone, Reisui said, "Huh?" Rohan repeats the names of the various yokai legends which might fit the description of the monster they witnessed two months ago. To be fair, it looked more like slug than a clam, so the candidates they just listed don't really fit. Rohan tried researching later, but he couldn't find any mention of it. It was August, and a warm breeze swept through Morioh.

　　　Rohan says, "In Japan, that is. You remember that torii was broken into two, right?"

　　　"Yeah."

　　　"That wasn't broken. Those were two crosses standing next to each other."

　　　"... Wait, what?"

　　　"It's one of those hidden symbols. Christian relics disguised in Buddhist and Shinto places by prosecuted secret Christians (Japan had a prosecuted Christian population which forced them practice their faith in secret starting in the 17th century). They couldn't practice their faith openly, so they had to disguise their beliefs."

　　　"Wait, then you mean to tell me ..."

　　　"No, I don't think that was a god nor an angel. It's a yokai."

　　　".... Wow, you really do sound like a seasoned veteran. Have you seen the real deal?"

　　　"Sure I have, I'm a manga artist."

　　　Rohan goes on to say that there were also a hidden Christian population in S City too, The anti-Christian government of the Edo period (1603 to 1867) forced them to go underground. It was probable to think that when they met that yokai who would offer them the image they so desired, they would treat it as a miracle and worship it. So in June is the Pentecost which takes 50 days after Easter ... It's a day where souls are believed to come back and people join them. This overlaps with the rainy season in Japan, and that festival of the Pentecost employs fire. Reisui used the stove everyday in the kitchen, right in front of the glass backdoor, directly in the field of vision of the shrine. The monster must have thought that Reisui was going through the motions of the ritual. Reisui is stunned silent, but still asks if Rohan has proof. After all, this is just a theory, right? Rohan agrees.

　　　Rohan goes on to say that he investigated the real estate company in charge (using Heaven's Door of course, unknown to Reisui). And he couldn't find the identity of the yokai still, and they weren't even aware of the danger of the floor plan either. But, they did know that an intruder creeps inside. Reisui is confused.

　　　For the real estate company, that building was an anomaly. For some reason people disappeared without a trace for an inexplicable reason every year without fail. It was frightening, and all they knew was that once a year, on the day after a big rain in June, the resident would disappear. That's why they carefully choose the applicants, the people who rented the house, to make sure they were the kind of people who wouldn't be missed, not ones whose disappearance would cause damages to the company. That's right. The real estate company were the culprits behind the specially designed chestnut rails and frameworks, ensuring a sacrifice year after year. They tried to do damage control, to prevent the monstrosity of forgotten tradition and history from spilling over elsewhere. That house Reisui rented was a house for sacrifice, and the enemies were actually two: the yokai and the humans who supervised the property. Even the flyers warning of break-ins were actually only delivered to Reisui's house, trying to discourage only the resident of that house to not go out on the planned period of heavy rain. Reisui is stunned into silence.

　　　After a while, Reisui resumed the conversation and says he'll move out, even if the shrine is now empty (Rohan had checked). He's also contacted the family of the deceased woman, having found them after research. He says that he's going to start from a new angle with his photography; even if photos of people's last moments are beautiful, he still feels dissatisfaction if they can't be displayed to everyone. He'll try and carve out a new style. Then, Reisui notes that he hears wind howling from the other side. Was Rohan by the ocean? Rohan replies that yes, and that he's actually meeting up with someone here, walking and talking. He then cuts the call ignoring Reisui's confused protests. He was going to test out a way to poach black abalone which worked only on the full moon of August. After this, he would need to finish that one-shot of 45 pages ...

Notes

　　　Through the three stories (Golden Melody, Original Author Rohan Kishibe, and The Five Bedroom House With A...) in the novel Rohan Kishibe Does Not Fall, Ballad Kitaguni weaves both the manga one-shots and novelized short stories together to create a coherent timeline of the events in Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan. From the dates mentioned throughout the novel, the timeline seems to be:

(Rohan is 20)

Summer: Golden Melody, Rohan meets Kyomei

Autumn: Original Author Rohan Kishibe, filming of live action miniseries of Rohan's work commences

(Rohan is 27)

Spring: Golden Melody, meeting with Izumi where visiting Kyomei is decided. One week later, Rohan and Izumi visit Kyomei

Before Summer: Golden Melody, Rohan and Izumi have a meeting in Café Deux Magots after the events. Millionaire Village begins.

June: A Five-Bedroom House With A..., Rohan visits photographer Reisui's house

August, Night of Full Moon: A Five-Bedroom House With A..., Rohan talks with Reisui over the phone. Poaching Seashore takes place afterward

September: Original Author Rohan Kishibe, Rohan declines offer of a live action film of his work

(Rohan is 28?)

A Five-Bedroom House With A..., Rohan records a video diary

　　　All three stories included in Rohan Kishibe Does Not Fall now are either fully translated or summarized. If attention is paid to the specific dates mentioned, you too can enjoy constructing the timeline as you read along.

#thus spoke kishibe rohan #tskr #thus spoke rohan kishibe #tsrk #rohan kishibe does not fall #rohan kishibe #architecture #photography #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Photo

Possible Easter eggs in the live-action mini-series Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan

From the newspaper appearing in the second episode, Kushagara. Did anyone notice any other Easter eggs?

Kira

News of Kira's arrest:

[illegible] arrested [illegible] Kira Yoshikage [illegible] total of five people [illegible] [illegible] 2017 [illegible] 800 million 80 thousand [illegible]

[illegible] April 2018 [illegible] donated [illegible] Morioh City's [Illegible]

[illegible] dead, 61 years old. [illegible] Co., Ltd. [illegible] [illegible] father of Kira Yoshikage, the suspect of [illegible] [illegible] had been [illegible] since [illegible] years ago [illegible] the suspect, Kira Yoshikage had been promoted [illegible] cultivating [illegible], one of the only domestic [illegible] the suspect's arrest is a huge blow against [illegible] contact with the Corporate Planning Department of the same company [illegible]

Stone Free

Reference to Stone Ocean with: 23: ended serialization in 2003 JJSF: JoJo, Stone Free Xu Yang (徐航): the first Chinese character (徐) is also the same as Jolyne's name (徐倫) Ruka: Leaky Eye Luca

[illegible] whether we could do anything at this point of time for our customers, and thought we did have something we could do" to press groups. 23JJSF, established by Xu Yang (徐航) for medium-to-long distance flights from Narita, has [illegible] flights to Seoul in July, and Honolulu in autumn, but its future remains unclear. CEO Hiraga stated "It's difficult to continue on as usual in the current situation. We want to decide our next step by assessing this situation. " (written by Yamamoto Ruka)

Jotaro

Todo Ryutaro: Kujo Jotaro Tsutsujigaoka: an address in the Miyagino Ward of Sendai City in Miyagi Prefecture (model for S City, M Prefecture). Tohoku Gakuin Tsutsujigaoka High School (Araki Hirohiko’s high school and the model for Budogaoka High School). Kira Yoshikage’s condominium in JoJolion.

University Professor Found Dead From Starvation In Laboratory Absorbed in Research? Around 10PM on the 14th, Tsutsujigaoka University archeology researcher Todo Ryutaro (age 62) was found collapsed in his laboratory by a security guard and confirmed dead afterwards. There were no injuries on the body and the police are continuing their investigation, stating that the cause of death being starvation is high. According to family and university associates, Mr. Todo had not returned home and had been lodging at the university and continuing to research there from at least 1 month ago, and two outer packagings of convenience store rice balls were found. Since beginning to lodge and research, it appears Todo had hardly eaten.

Todo, so absorbed in research to the extent he forgot to eat. His laboratory was buried in a multitude of books from wide-ranging genres, from national literature, archeological texts, and even biographies. His wife [illegible]ko cried, stating, "He always sought out new knowledge, and toward research he was faithful and passionate. I'm proud of him for pursuing [illegible] as a researcher until the very end." The number of people who die from starvation is observable from statistics, which is 5.1% or 1 in 20 people. Transferred in terms of population, that number is 6.12 million people, which signifies that the equivalent of half of the population of Tokyo prefecture are experiencing starvation. There are cases like Mr. Todo of willingly choosing not to eat, but is there nothing that can be done about this? There is a need to think about deaths like these, which can be classified as a solitary death.

Shigechi

Full name Yangu Shigekiyo:

[illegible] questionable as to whether [illegible] be regarded as [illegible] [illegible] encouraged by [illegible] in 2018 [illegible] only ten people [illegible] same union [illegible] faced [illegible] New

[illegible] payed, but now [illegible] [illegible] concerned for their living, support gathered for the instructors and union membership rapidly swelled from around 80 people at the end of February, to 140 people. According to the labor union "Yangu Harvest" (Tokyo), which accepts members regardless of their employment status such as part-time or permanent, there has been trouble regarding "sole proprietors in name only" [illegible]

[illegible] president of the standing committee [illegible] lawyer (Osaka Bar Association) stated, "Sole proprietors in name only are considered by many companies to be different from employees, and not subject to both payment nor benefits of insurance. They are taken advantage as 'convenient laborers' whose contract can be easily broken."

[Lost willpower to translate]

Significance of Improving Working Conditions Through Labor Management Negotiations Insight The government continues to discuss how to establish a security net for solo proprietors who are in similar conditions as workers, but a conclusion has yet to be reached. For workers specified in the Labor Standards Act, there are regulations for working hours and minimum wage. If they suffer injuries or become ill on the job, Industrial Accident Compensation Insurance benefits are provided, as are Unemployment Insurance Benefits.

[Lost willpower to translate]

#jojos bizarre adventure #JJBA #thus spoke kishibe rohan

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Text

Otsuichi Interview

Attempted translation of the JOJO Magazine interview with the author of Iggy the Stray Dog.

Interviewer: Please tell us about your state of mind when you accepted the novelization offer.

Otsuichi: It was an honor being able to become involved with JoJo again. I was flattered that they still remembered me (laughs). I actually received the offer of, “Could you participate in novelizing JoJo?” for another project after finishing writing the novelization of The Book. But there was a doubt within me of whether I had managed to properly write stand battles after composing my last work, which led up to me turning it down. This time, I thought that my present self might be able to expertly represent stand battles... and let myself write Iggy the Stray Dog with the enthusiasm of, “I’m going to take a crack at the work I left unfinished!”

Interviewer: For what reason did you choose Iggy as the protagonist?

Otsuichi: To begin with, there was a request from the Editorial Board along the lines of, “We’d like you to write the story with a character that’s popular with kids,” and Iggy popped into my mind on that occasion. Also, I’ve started raising a Boston Terrier maybe due to the effects of JoJo, so I thought that it might be easier to write if the story mainly centered on Iggy. It’s the same with Iggy too but my dog also farts quite a lot. And it’s a silent dog, barely barking even when spending the whole day alongside it. That’s why I made sure to faithfully include those descriptions inside this work (laughs).

Interviewer: How was the reality once you started the writing process?

Otsuichi: I agonized over to what extent I should faithfully incorporate dialogue and drawings which only appeared for a moment in the main series and anime. I think there were drawings of Iggy having female dogs sit beside himself in the main series and anime but I didn’t include any descriptions like that at all, so I hope that the readers don’t get angry that that’s a wrong interpretation. I kept on having dreams of everyone angry at me, feeling pressure when writing this due to how beloved the main series is (strained laugh).

Interviewer: So you payed particular attention to the consistency with the main series.

Otsuichi: Yes. Avdol lists Midnight Run as his favorite movie, and I intentionally portrayed him watching that movie after realizing that it wouldn’t add up timeline-wise if he didn’t view it in this novel, as that movie just released in New York during the events of Part 3. Additionally, the location where Avdol and Joseph met was also a difficult problem. If I established Joseph and Avdol as meeting in Egypt then they would be returning once more to someplace they’d already visited in Part 3, so I took it upon myself to transfer Avdol to a different country and wrote the episode of their encounter there.

Interviewer: What kind of research did you conduct when engaging in writing?

Otsuichi: Well, all things said and done, I have memories of single-mindedly searching about ‘sand’ to craft Stand battles. When I met Mr. Araki formerly, I received his wish of wanting me to stuff in scientific knowledge in the novel. So as I studied the definitions and properties of sand this time, I acquired the knowledge that sand electrifies due to friction... and came upon the idea of including a trick that’s based on scientific proof at least, though it’s outrageous. It was very fun writing the Stand battles between Iggy and Avdol, there being a surprising number of things you can do with fights between sand and flames.

Interviewer: Is there anything you take great care to do when conveying the world of JoJo?

Otsuichi: First of all, I made a strong effort to write how voraciously the characters thirsted for victory. I took care to make them struggle to a pathetic degree, whereas if it were my novel I would have reigned myself in thinking it was enough. I think this is a part which is peculiar to JoJo.

Interviewer: A message for the readers, please.

Otsuichi: First off, as a fan of the same series, I feel guilt... I’m sorry to have written a battle between Iggy and Avdol which I personally would have wanted to see. Even through there might be interpretation differences, I would be happy if you read the story sympathetically.

#jojo magazine #jojos bizarre adventure #JJBA #iggy #muhammad avdol

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Note

i’m so excited to see a second opinion on the PHF translation! please continue to share if you find any more misconceptions/errors<3

　　　Thank you for taking the time to send the comment.

　　　I was in doubt about sharing more, as further criticism could border on nit-picking. This uncertainty caused the delay in answering, but I do have an opinion which may be unfamiliar to fans of Purple Haze Feedback.

　　　The English translation has simplistic sentence structures compared to the original.

　　　I have no grounds to criticize as I am also guilty of simplifying the text in my own halfhearted attempts with Golden Melody and King of Infinity, which pales in comparison with the dedication, effort, time, and quality of the translated Purple Haze Feedback. However, this was one of the most noticeable characteristics of the English translation. For example, Paragraphs 3-5 of Page 72 of the English PDF in blockquotes, proceeded by the original (please excuse my horrible translation):

Pannacotta Fugo's former teammate Leone Abbacchio had once explained his power thusly:

"It's feral! Attacks explode out of it, then it vanishes like a summer squall."

He'd fought alongside Fugo a number of times. Each time Abbacchio investigated the crime, and Fugo executed the culprit.

It was nothing but gory business of Fugo executing the culprit of cases which Abbacchio had investigated.

Sometimes they were covering up business scandals in the name of 'protection', or eliminating those who tried to embezzle from the mob, or executing the minimal number of Passione members required to contain internal conflicts; nothing the police would be involved in, just problems that needed to be taken care of.

As the members of the gang of the city they were tasked with suppression of business scandals in the name of 'protection' by eliminating those who had tried to embezzle enormous sums of money and run, or executions to minimize to the fullest extent the loss of human life from the disputes between the subordinate organizations of Passione; at any rate, they were in charge of the dirty jobs which could not allow police intervention, but were necessary for the city.

The bulk of these requests came from Buccellati, but some came from Polpo, and these they often kept secret from Buccellati.

Half of these requests were instructions given from Buccellati, but the remaining half were orders from Polpo or ones unreported to Buccellati even after being completed in secret.

Their capo needed the job done, but they knew, for example, that their team leader would not be able to stomach the murder of a child. If Fugo decided a particular job would prey on Buccellati's conscience, he kept it secret.

Their capo needed the job done, but they knew, for example, that their team leader would not be able to stomach the murder of those with a young daughter. In situations where it seemed Buccellati would be inclined to feel more guilt than necessary under Fugo’s judgement, they kept it secret.

Abbacchio went along with this, never breathing a word. People around them seemed to view them as partners, but Fugo never once asked Abbacchio about his past, and Abbacchio never asked about his. Neither understood the other.

They both remained absolutely clueless about what the other was thinking.

If they had ever been in a situation where only one could survive, Fugo was certain Abbacchio would abandon him to his fate, and he felt sure he would do the same.

Although no such situation occurred, if they were in a situation where they likely had to cut off the other, Fugo thought that Abbacchio would easily abandon him, and felt that he himself would too.

They trusted each other, but they were not close. There was as little between them as the day they'd met.

It wasn’t that there were no trust between them, but there was no, say, a ‘bond.’ This was the same as from the beginning.

　　　Putting aside what makes a good translation, the omission of many adjectives and nouns was noticeable. I hope this second opinion was satisfactory.

#purple haze feedback #phf #jojos bizarre adventure #JJBA #ask #Pannacotta Fugo #leone abbacchio #Bruno Bucciarati #Bruno Buccellati

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Text

Shindo Junjo Interview (714 words)

Attempted translation of the JOJO Magazine interview with the author of La extraña aventura de JoJo: rey infinito.

Chapter 1 of La extraña aventura de JoJo: rey infinito Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Alternate translation of story by DailyJJBAWomen Speedwagon Foundation Column translation by MondoBizarro87

Interviewer: Please tell how you felt when accepting the offer for this story.

Shindo: Although I was given the offer about two years ago, I remember immediately thinking, “There’s no reason to refuse.” Even though I was swamped with a different serialization then, I pounced onto the offer on the spot it was given in. This kind of opportunity is rare to present itself in an author’s life. I was born in 1977 so JoJo is the framework and meat for making entertainment to me, being part of the generation which took a direct hit from that story. While thinking that there’s no higher honor than being able to take part in that masterpiece, I was also anxious of whether I would be able to do as well as I did for my original novels.

Interviewer: This story “The King of Infinity: rey infinito” is a spinoff which takes place between Part 2 and Part 3.

Shindo: I wanted to try writing JoJo from the approach of historical fiction. I wondered whether there was a way to restructure the enjoyment of JoJo as a saga which traverses different periods and settings one after another from the approach of a history novel. When you write spinoffs like these I think there’s two forks at the beginning, of either creating an adaption faithful to the original or sticking to your field of expertise and letting the characters go wild, and this time I aimed to go fifty-fifty with both approaches.

Interviewer: The setting is in Guatemala, Central America.

Shindo: I first outlined the story wanting to write about a different “bow and arrow” from the main series. The stone mask which appears from Part 1 originates from the Aztec civilization too, and JoJo harmonizes well with Latin American literature as well. I enjoy Latin American literature and the magical elements of the Ripple and Stands, the worldview where the human drama of a bloodline of one clan and conflicts with rivals can coexist coherently, and the narrativity of the actual and fictional mutually intersectingーthere’s many elements which is applicable to the magical realism of Latin America.

Interviewer: Why did Lisa Lisa appear?

Shindo: I wanted to try writing Stands in a period before Part 3 stared, where a name for Stands doesn’t exist. If Part 3 is the Bible, then I decided to write what would be equivalent to a section of the Old Testament and begged Lisa Lisa to deign to appear here. She has an unshakeable presence even in tumultuous ages, and seemed able to be extend her activities into revolution and change. I fleshed her out from diligently examining the main series like I was depicting a historical figure like Hojo Masako, Tomoe Gozen, or Joan of Arc.

Interviewer: New Stands appeared in the story.

Shindo: I became painfully aware of the greatness of such a monumental franchise like JoJo. First I asked, “How many Stands are allowed in this?” to confirm with the Editorial Board which graciously answered, “How many you please.” Then I became enthusiastic and wracked my brains, but then realized that Mr. Araki had precisely already thought of everything. But when writing novels, the more reckless it is the more I enjoy it. At any rate right now I continue to spend every day thinking of new perspectives to the Ripple and Stands, wanting to increase more opportunities of writing and reading JoJo.

Interviewer: Is there anything you kept in mind when conveying the world of JoJo?

Shindo: I’ve definitely thrown wide open a different circuit from my usual writing to compose this. From that overpowering horror when new enemies ambush the protagonists, to that unparalleled high level of entertainment from superpower battles, and how the celebration of humanity pierces you... I’m determined to go up to the point where all my ideas concerning JoJo are exhausted, with nothing left to expand upon at all.

Interviewer: A message for the readers, please.

Shindo: Nothing would make me feel happier than the readers being able to immerse themselves like how absorbed I was while writing this, being able to experience “writing JoJo.” But at the same time I also strove, and continue to strive to express the world of JoJo which was only possible within the realm of prose. Please go take a look.

#jojos bizarre adventure #JJBA #jojo magazine #guatemala #magical realism #latin america

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Text

La extraña aventura de JoJo: rey infinito (9,325 words)

Horribly formatted rough translated summarization of Chapter 3 of rey infinito - Volume 1 (Guatemala) by Shindo Junjo.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Alternate translation of story by DailyJJBAWomen Author Interview Speedwagon Foundation Column translation by MondoBizarro87

III

Finally, to the future generation to come.

To the people reading this immense record, and attempting to revive the past.

There is another detail which you should know about the two youths from Antigua. They did not worship and trail behind J. D. Hernández and Elizabeth Joestar, also known as Lisa Lisa, who chased after paranormal phenomena within the Speed Wagon Foundation, but rather they were the ones who were ahead at the frontier, and raced through the tempest-like periodーafter all, because the fact of the matter is that they were the central figures of history who should be talked about.

Look at this person. At this youth with both a large figure and voice. What stumbles into your vision is dark brown skin, obsidian eyes, cheeks and chin with shadows so thick as though carved with a machine, and a height of over 185 centimeters (6′1 feet) which was comprised of mostly legs. He was the descendant of the honorable Kʼicheʼ, but in regards to only his appearance he resembled more of like a fútbol (football) player from Uruguay, as his body was too large compared to the average height of Mayan people. When you faced his chiseled chest, anybody would become ashamed of themselves and feel the impulse to do 30 pushups on the spot. Although he had only turned 19, a valorous spirit overflowed from his brow, possessed a peerless regal presence that was dauntless and courageous, would unhesitatingly throw himself under the wheels to save a cachorro (puppy) about to be run over on a track, puffed cigarettes' oh so coolly, rattle off witty jokes, and was popular with all the muchachas (girls). A fine fellow who would not be out of place acting the role of Clint Eastwood’s childhood years, leaping into the Hollywood scene, if the circumstances of his birth and upbringing were different. And what was this man’s name, O? Octav?

Octavio!

It wasn’t just his own pride, he had actually never once handed over his position of número uno (the first person to do anything) in either the orfanato (orphanage) or on the streets.

Thanks to his halcón-like (falcon-like) eyes exerting a glare, the huérfano (orphans) had never experienced feelings of inferiority.

Despite these multiple merits, Octavio Luna Kan had a few burdensome quirks. He was addicted to maintaining his assertions, and if his buddies said or did something that was slightly witty or tasteful, he would become irritated and lash out. At least once a day he would call heap verbal abuse at somebody by calling them a pepino marchito (limp dicked bastard), and his self-esteem and ambition were both so strong that he would often go berserk, dragging people into his plans as collateral damage, leading to casualties and repercussions spreading around him. He had no fear and was over confident, and was a man who believed he could change todo (everything) with only his own power. On the other hand, the other mestizo had never wished to take it upon himself to change anything at all. Really, nada (nothing).

Look at this person. Look at Joaquin Luis-Holda.

In the years to come, people asserted as though it were truth that Lisa Lisa’s keen insight had been directed toward the potential that this other young man had been concealing. He did not possess the waggling tongue like his mate, nor a voice that carried well. He was just a young man that wanted to become as free as the fury of the elements, and longed to live without fearing murder or wars.

He had a memory capable of copying down word-for-word the sermon of a priest, equipped with a vigilance capable of being spread out to every nook and cranny of the scenery, and could solemnly accomplish any role he was assigned without grumbling or uttering a complaint. If there was anyone suited for becoming a Speed Wagon Foundation agent Joaquin would have been the most appropriate candidate, but if it were not for his buddy requesting this path, he would have never taken it upon himself to jump headfirst into change.

Ever since he could remember, Joaquin had functioned as Octavio’s bulwark. If we could have heard the overflowing words that actually existed within his breast, he might have said as muchーIf Octavio says he want to go somewhere, then I will go too. If he wants to escape from here, then so do I. Because I’m a burr to Octavio, and I’ve even trailed after his dates with muchachas (girls) many times. I’m Octavio’s foil, the role of urging Octavio to be cautious, like Pepito Grillo (Jiminy Cricket) who was the conscience of Pinocho (Pinocchio). Because I’m the bardo (bard) who transforms the deeds of the salvador (hero) into a song. My role is to pick up the pieces Octavio dropped as he races ahead without looking over his shoulder at his rear or front, and follow him. I’ve never once felt dissatisfied with this role. Octavio isn’t only a person of a plain and simple sense of justice and chivalry, he also has difficult and unpleasant parts too, but even then he was the only person since childhood who could come to a mutual understanding with me who couldn’t talk. We were always together no matter what.

So do you understand now? If Octavio wants to join the Foundation, then so do I.

If he believes that the world has prepared surprises and an adventure just for him, then so do I.

If we’re given am opportunity to leave Antigua, then I’m going to extend my hand into this to the best of my ability too. But these thoughts would never reach anybody in the form of living (spoken?) words.

The huérfanos de la tormenta (thunderous orphans) who were to share their destinies with the Speed Wagon Foundation by a bizarre twist of fateーthe first task assigned to Octavio and Joaquin was to discover if there were anybody with abilities like Fabio Ubufu, and where they might be hiding.

This is a piece of cake for us then! This was because they had already strung a web of information though everywhere. If there was anyone acting strange and saying crazy things, if there was anybody that had experienced fevers and illnesses of unknown origin, if there had been any odd incidents. They asked around everyone from the repairer of colonial architecture, priests, the officer in charge of vestibules, nuns, ladrón (robbers) selling stolen goods, pimps and prostitutes, carnival float craftsmen, to jade ware craftsmen. They managed to draw out information from even the most stubborn of sly foxes, and even got an eccentric lady to talk, who shrieked she shan’t engage in any forms of gossip as was her motto, by crying crocodile tears and crafting a sob story about a father in a coma at the hospital and the police who would not do anything to delve deeper. They prepared a thousand lies, and even scummy emotional manipulation were their forte, hauling together living information, examined and discarded the fiction, and assembled a solid picture of the city’s rumors as if creating a whole new drawing using the remaining fragmentos (pieces) from multiple puzzles.

The second task was then learning of how and when Fabio had gained the ability to sic those Balas de Invisible (iron flies). This was quite difficult. Even though they went to the maquiladora (subcontract factory) Fabio had worked at, and to inquire the landlord of his apartment, J.D and his team had mostly already done the research. Octavio was had a nagging anxiety that they were being pitted against the active duty agents to see which team reached the truth of the matter. There was no doubt that that woman was going to leave this country. If they failed to deliver useful information by then, then she would fly out the country when they least expected and then it would be adiós (goodbye) forever!

Octavio conversed with Joaquin, with the latter giving encouraging expressions of assent. Octavio theorises that Fabio was probably not born with that ability, from what he observed of the conversations between Lisa Lisa and the other agents. Either Fabio learned that ability of his from black magic, or sold his soul to the diablo (devil). There might be a limit to how much information they could find just by sniffing around Antigua. By the time Fabio had ended up here, with his family murdered in his village... Octavio paused, gritting his teeth. He was already hombre mosca (fly man). And he’d probably have met the devil in infierno (hell)... Before he arrived in this city? We need to look around for traffickers.

Octavio set his sights on the polleros (human traffickers) involved in illegal immigration. All sorts of people incessantly headed for Mexico in the north: fleeing guerilla fighters and civilians, teporochos (bums) and the poor down on their luck, and even the soñador (dreamer) aiming for greener pastures. But the border was securely guarded, and the polleros (human traffickers) managed several illegal routes. Almost all of them where shady businessmen, and there were incidents of being demanded tens of thousands of quetzals (Guatemalan currency), then being stripped of all your belongings and tossed out deep in the forest. As far as Octavio knew, “impaciente” (rash) Pedro Ochoa, “cuchillo” (knife-wielding) Enrique, and many others who had tested their luck had all vanished from the town, never to be seen gain. Fabio too had talked about his coworker from the factory who had attempted to cross the border. His coworker had failed and payed dearly for it, but he himself had managed to survive despite also being given a hard time, while all the others had either perished or been shot to death by the border security. Would it not make sense for Fabio to have gained the powers of the monstruo (monster) by that point?

They reached out beyond their hometown, and moved from neighboring village to village regardless of whether it was day or night. Now this was Octavio who had ruled Antigua’s underside. He was able to reach the pollero (human trafficker) who did not have any front-facing businesses, and from information transmitted orally and face-to-face he gathered all the whispered secrets and rumors, and finally found the pollero (human trafficker) who who’s turf included human smuggling from Fabio’s village.

“... And so it turns out that the boss of the polleros (human traffickers) there changed recently, just when Fabio was trying to cross the border. After the top changed, the whole organization also became more sinister from the bottom up, what with demanding outrageous prices, forcing people to take dangerous paths, and there’s even rumors of them deliberately letting people flee deep into the woods and using them for target practice, isn’t that evil? Like they’re hunting people down.”

Although their deadline was not close yet, it was still the fourth day after being given their task that the two already headed toward Lisa Lisa’s dormitorio (hotel) to present their report. Octavio was just short of announcing, How ‘bout this, this passes the screening doesn’t it? with a triumphant air, putting on a nonchalant façade toward J.D and his team which he had beat, trying to prove that the duo was capable and straining to convey with his whole body that role of an upcoming new star. But the truth of the matter was that he looked just like a Labrador retriever which had come back after retrieving the bone in its mouth.

Octavio continues to report that the polleros (human traffickers) are headquartered in a small settlement in a forest north east of Guatemala City. As they know the overall location, they could guide her toward it. In exchange, would she not consider letting them accompany her as an official member of the research team?

Lisa Lisa, who had been silent during the whole report as if scrutinizing the content, suddenly raised her head and gazed toward the fluorescent light that was lit on the ceiling of the restroom.

In a soft voice, she inquires whether the two know if fluorescent lights are actually flickering at a speed beyond which the eye can catch.

“Huh, is that so. But it’s still bright.”

Octavio pulled his chin inward, and flicked his eyes upward toward his eyelids. What’s this abuela (granny) on about all a sudden? He exchanged a dubious expression with Joaquin.

She explains that the light flickers over a hundred times in one second, and thus it cannot be seen by eye: circling and repeating light, dark, light, dark... Although her eyelashes trembled slightly, she did not blink, so absorbed as she was in the fluorescent light fixture. She continues that when she was a child she used to scrutinize the light like this, promising herself that she would definitely catch sight of the darkness trying to flee between the gap of light and light. But human eyesight is too limited.

Meanwhile, the light seemed to brazenly scatter around white light, as if trying to brazenly asserting the lie that there wasn’t any darkness concealed here, not one bit. Lisa Lisa says that humans are similar: they live as though walking on from one intermittent light to the next, but on the other end there are also people who cross over from momentary darkness to the next in the world. Octavio repeats, “Light, and darkness.”

She states that the other side of the chasm of this world, the side where our common sense and reason cannot be honoredーthere are shadows of death haunting there which darken the gloom of all things. The ones living in light and ones living in darkness are always close to the point of almost touching, but they never intermingle.

Lowering her face and gazing at the two with her limpid eyes, she concludes that their role is to capture that momentary darkness which appears. She asks them one last time if they understand the gravity of becoming an agent of the Speed Wagon Foundation: they are neither employees of ICPO (Interpol) nor intelligence agents. This is not a secret society like the Free Masons, nor is it a fraternity to protect vested interests. Even though agents wear black suits, there are no ostentatious symbols nor coats of arms nor decorations on the ties and cuff buttons. Agents must become a cypher itself, and hide themselves from the public. Do they have the resolve to accomplish this?

Ah-ha! Octavio was in high spirits, thinking that this was just like an oral exam for a job application. Erasing your presence and deceiving the eyes of the public were a piece of cake. He had the pride of already having lived like that as huérfanos (orphans), to tell the truth.

Lisa Lisa continues on, saying that their findings and today’s report was the result of their special power. She congratulates Octavio some more, which he thanks her for. One last question is asked: What is the greatest lie they have told in their entire lives?

Octavio immediately answers with, “Let me see. Well, I.... actually hate lying. I’ve even done wicked things and cruel things to avoid lying when I could.”

“I see. Joaquin, and you?”

Making a slight expression of deep thought, he took the memo pad next to the telephone and scribbled his pen across the surfaceーThe greatest lie would probably be, that I have never lied even once.

Lisa Lisa lifted the scrap, and seemed to like Joaquin’s answer. She orders them to pack their belongings, and lead them to the polleros (human traffickers).

Overhead, a black vulture was drawing a circle in the sky.

A wind that seemed to lull you to sleep drifted across the mountain path which cut through the tropical rain forest.

A procession of prepared four-wheel drives were racing though that mountain path. Of the three cars one was driven by J.D, and he was still experiencing difficulty in becoming used to the fact the two local cooperatives he had met were now accompanying him in the same suits.

Octavio and Joaquin were riding in the same car as Lisa Lisa. They had set out only after being thoroughly lectured on the Speed Wagon Foundation, which was established in the beginning of this century: its doctrine and official discipline, employee benefits, and the state of affairs within the section dealing with paranormal phenomena. As they were still trainees, they had not been issued any type of guns. To begin with, this section was not a department which the main focus was on combat, with firearms for self defense only being for investigations in areas of conflict and unrest; however, Lisa Lisa was the only exception with not needing any weapons beside herself.

An overlap of dense leaves and lush trees spread out, and a large triangle made of stacked stone appeared outside the window. There were four, five rising perpendicular to the ground. Those are the ruins of the Maya, informed Lisa Lisa. Lisa Lisa had knowledge rivalling a specialist when it came to the civilizations of this area, as she had been intimately involved in with the areas of research on archeology and old civilizations, which the Speed Wagon Foundation had a rare monopoly on in both achievements and scale.

Octavio and Joaquin had been given a lesson on ancient history. According to the viejo maestro (granny teacher), the dwellings of the ancient Maya civilization had built dwellings with buildings made using mainly limestone. By selectively breeding corn repeatedly they increased its yield, and from that cultivation and harvest a religion of nature worship was born. What was most valued was accurately predicting the cycles of wet and dry seasons, and those skilled algebra and astronomy were held as important figures. They stacked stone into a pyramid shape to acquire knowledge of the movements of the heavens, and shut in the uppermost observation room higher than the crown of the treetops, continued to meaningfully scrutinize the path of the sun and moon, the stars and planets. The precision of the Maya calendar was even theorized by some scholars to exceed the accuracy of the Gregorian calendar, with their calendar having already calculated one year as 365.2420 days. The ancient Mayans were that fully dependent on the deity known as nature, to the extent they had to obtain that advanced mathematical knowledge and highly accurate calendar. Rituals for determine the heaven’s movements were a must, and their faith reached such a fanaticism at times that they even offered their own blood and organs as sacrifice to grasp weather lore.

So, zero? Octavio said, hiding the tears from yawning. Lisa Lisa agrees that it is indeed zero, todo y nada (all is nothing). The truth and irregularity of this world. What they were searching for in the birthplace of zero, might be an existence like that of zero too.

The vibration of the car helped to make Octavio feel sluggish, but Joaquin was listening intently, comprehending everything. This was also a replication of their schoolboy days. The job of truly listening to the teacher’s classes was Joaquin’s job.

Lisa Lisa changed the topic by observing that the two were like the embodiment of the binary system of notation. Octavio was like the number 1 which could increase toward any possibility, while Joaquin was like the number 0 which was bottomless and seemed capable of swallowing anything.

The pyramids which had breached the treetops of the jungle were starting to fall behind of them. After the ruins which were over 70 meters tall (229 feet/76 yards) disappeared from sight, fields just freshly harvested then burnt spread out on both sides. The farms here yielded the white flowers and red fruit of coffee just lagging behind their counterparts in Antigua. In the trees different species of birds and deer flocked, and mixed alongside the female farmers picking the coffee beans with their hands to create a rich ecosystem. They followed an unmaintained gravel road splitting off from the main path, and after continuing further on the path with a landscape full of ceiba and mahogany trees they arrived at a village which was their destination.

The settlement was cut off the central part of Guatemala, and in here where it was hidden in the camuflaje (camouflage) of the forest, guerilla fighters who had flunked out from the People’s Army had driven away the original occupants to settle down. Where were the polleros (human traffickers) providing assistance to illegal immigration, who also dabbled in producing and transporting drugs, and profited from robberies and kidnappings? The settlement seemed devoid of human presence, and a depressive silence enveloped the entire place.

The Foundation slowed down their pace and continued forward, not letting their guard down. In the middle of the settlement encircled by trees was a round plaza, and from there a few houses were constructed spread out in a cross formation. The residences were simple with only sloping sheet iron roofs or rocks piled on top to act as a ceiling, and the walls were deconstructed, with a few even having their foundations in shambles. A large and shabby water tank was rusting and blackened in the corner of the plaza. Withered plants were flattened by the wind, and the undergrowth bowed and trembled in turn. There was a handwoven hammock slung from the trees, but it was empty and creaked noisily.

Gazing at the depressive sight before him, Octavio muttered that it couldn’t be that it was false information.

Joaquin rolled down the window of the car, and the wind carried inside the scent of wax, tree sap, and dirt.

To Octavio complaining that he hated the countryside, Joaquin nodded silently. J.D observed that the settlement had either been crushed by the government military forces, or they had sensed the exposure to come and moved somewhere else. So either we were too late, or that maybe it was all in vain? From this, conversely, Octavio became all stirred up, and to conduct a dedicated house search he opened the door and jumped out of the car, only to jump out with an “Ow!” as soon as he had gone out, holding up one foot, shoe and all. There was a sharp object made of iron which was sticking out from the ground. What Octavio had stepped on was a rake for weeding embedded in the earth.

“Shit, this is almost like a trampa (trap). This is why I hate the countryside.”

Octavio’s toes were injured. It must have been quite a serious injury, as he couldn’t lower the bottom of his shoe to the ground.

Certainly they were able to observe the traces of life. There were many things scattered around outside the houses, and the circles and squares drawn by lines of chalk by children were still fresh. Lisa Lisa poked out her face from the window and observed, Oh, hopscotch. Maybe it meant there were polleros (human traffickers) who had also lived along with their own families.

J.D suggests searching, as there may be people still remaining inside. At his command, agents got out of their cars which were parked in the tree shade. J.D also exited his car after requesting Lisa Lisa to stay inside and wait for them to report back. Joaquin too placed his foot anew on the ground to exist. From the car behind, a young agent exited and stepped foot on the ground, and it was this moment. There was a noise like the earth was rumbling which was crawling upward from below their feet, and rattled the ears and skin of the entire group.

In less of a blink of an eye, that agent disappeared down where he stood.

He had been swallowed by a hole which suddenly opened in the ground.

Accompanied by dust clouds and roaring sounds, the surface of the ground sunk as though gored, and collapsed inward surging like an avalanche.

Sand and stones flew upward. Not only did the agent’s upper body slide down, but his body disappeared completely, not even leaving the top of his head.

J.D instinctively called out that agent’s name, Oi, what happenedーー. He tried to determine the safety of that agent but no answer returned. His voice was swallowed inside the hole that was just made there.

What was that, what occurred? Was it a hoyo (trapping pit)? But the scale exceeded that. He ran up to the edge of the hole with another nearby agent, but they could not confirm the form of the agent who had fallen inside the pit 2 meters (6 feet) in diameter. It was much too deep. They could not see the bottom. This was completely different from a travesura (prank) dug with a shovel, concealed with dirt and leaves. This was a sinkhole. It was no different from a landslide or a landslip. Not even a bomb dropped from overhead could bore a hole this deep. This was a bottomless abyss.

“Oi, what the, what just happened!” Octavio shouted.

“It’s a hoyo (trapping pit), it must be a hoyo (trapping pit).”

“ーWait! This isn’t something as simple as that.”

“Then it must be a natural phenomenon, what’s wrong with the ground here?”

Agents who had been scattered in all direction gathered back together to help their fellow member. Of that group, another one was swept into the cave-in which had appeared on the surface of the ground.

They were able to observe more clearly than the first collapse. When he had tried to step over the white line of the chalk, he had dropped below screaming as though he had slipped at the edge of a cliff. His screams disappeared immediately. But just as soon, there were screams from the opposite direction, but when they looked backward the form of the agent was gone. All that remained there were holes, holes, holesー

J.D shouted, “No one move one step!” and with that Octavio and Joaquin too stopped right in their tracks. “This isn’t just a sinkhole disaster. It exceeds the categorization of natural calamities. This is a trampa (trap), this is aー”

An attack.

By who?

Was it the polleros (human traffickers)? Was this the trampa (pitfall) they had set up?

Trapping pits were a hunting method to capture large beasts, and it was taught was one tactic in modern wars too. Even in Guatemala, the FAR (Rebel Armed Forces) and the People's Revolutionary Army occasionally employed it as a guerilla warfare strategy. It was used as a response to the invading enemy troops, as a cautionary measure that was set up, and as a parting gift from their retreat. But this trapping pit was not something which could be prepared by human hands, everything from the hole’s depth and concealing coloration. If it were an attack it must be similar to the Balas de Invisible (Iron Flies). J.D had a gut feeling that hidden la maravillas (a wonderous power) was being activated once more. But then what were its principles, it’s laws?

Then Joaquin let loose a voice like a tropical bird, Ooーohーaah! He was repeatedly pointing to the ground’s surface. There were circular envelopments, triangular and square envelopments, many numerous diagrams drawn with lines of white chalk. Yes, that may be true, but why where there so many?

J.D shouted, “I understand what you’re trying to say, Joaquin, I see it clearly too! This is a peculiar attack, where you fall into a trapping pit if you step inside the envelopments drawn with lines of chalk! I’ll repeat: Do not step inside the chalk!” “But I’m already stepping inside it...” Octavio replied in a strained voice.

“Whaーdon’t move and stay put where you are!”

When J.D directed his line of sight at him, Octavio’s left leg was certainly inside the line of white chalk. But a cave-in failed to occur. Although Octavio was frozen still as though he had accidentally stepped on a landmine, not knowing how to react, Joaquin pointed at his buddy, mimicking Octavio’s stance of raising his right foot.

Octavio was standing still holding on to his right foot dripping blood.

I see, hopscotchー

Following Joaquin, J.D too comprehended a fragment of the principle law governing this phenomenon which was occurring.

Octavio raised his voice too, lagging behind. “I got it, this is rayuela (hopscotch)! Even los niños (little kids) in Antigua do that on the stone pavements back there. As long as you don’t step inside the chalk with both legs, as long as you move along hoppin’ on one foot we’re safe. Once you get it, it ain’t such a big deal at all.”

Joaquin, J.D, and even the remaining agents too switched to standing on one leg. J.D relayed an order, Return to the cars for now, we’ll discuss the methods to rescue the fallen once we return. The scattered agents started returning, hopping on one leg. Octavio wondered aloud, what kind of phenomenon is this? Our señora (employer) and hombre mosca (fly man) are something, but this is finally entering the realms of witchcraft and summoning circles!

“Jeez, you really can’t see the bottom. Mr. Hernández, what do you reckon happened to those guys, they drop down to the opposite end of Earth?”

“I don’t know, we need to get away from here for the time being...”

“Wait, look.”

Joaquin and Octavio both yelled out at the same time. Still standing on only one leg, J.D could not believe his eyes. There were no figures crouching down, not even chalk. Despite that there was a line of white powdery calcium which was being drawn smoothly on the ground in front of them. A large circle was drawn with curving lines, connected to the starting point securely, and right afterward next to that a square shape was drawn, one after another lined up to the others side. Diagrams both big and small overlapped their lines here and there, and appeared from the surface, like the ground was breaking out in hives, duplicating in succession like raised speckled rashes.

It was almost as though an evil spirit was drawing lines with chalk.

Summoning circles bringing hoyos (trapping pits) multiplied endlessly.

A dizzying number of circles upon circles overlapped, the sides of squares and sides of pentagons crossing, and increased like geometric patterns. They spread out all over like the mandalas of Tibet. On the ground, room where you could stand without stepping on the white lines were almost all erased.

“Ohーoh! Don’t set down both legs, return with only one leg!”

“Hopping on one foot is a walk in the park, like I’d step on it.”

“Don’t take detours, proceed with one foot!”

J.D almost lost this balance as he was issuing orders. It was by no means easy maintaining the one-footed stance, the confusion and unrest contributing to this. Dust clouds swirled, and their eyesight became hazy. The car to be returned to seemed so far away, despite being only a distance of at most 10 meters (33 feet/11 yards) awayーand it was then a dull pain shot through his left leg with a thud. His body leaned sideways, and he almost put two feet on the ground as his posture crumbled. “Mr. Hernández, your, your footー," one of the agents cried. What theーthe tip of a rusted sickle was sticking out of his own left thigh. Where had this thing come flying from?

“This means! This means that there’s definitely someone here.” Irritation too tinged Octavio’s voice. “They’re attacking us! So that weーwe won’t be able to hop on one foot!”

A surprisingly number of sickles, adzes, knives, and rakes started flying toward them. Anything that could be used as a lethal weapon was thrown. They could not even tell where these were thrown from, their eyesight hindered by the confusion and dust clouds. At the very least, there were multiple people throwing the objects. The enemy was dispersed all throughout the settlement, hiding in the abandoned buildings and behind the shadows of treesーeven when they felt they saw a shadow passing by, the figure immediately ducked and could be seen no more. Almost as if the entire settlement itself was a trampa (trap), the multiple hints of human existence launched a series of attacks on the unwelcome visitors, as if to try and knock them down by any means into hell.

Wahhh! yelled an agent. Unable to maintain the posture of standing upright on one leg after taking an adze to his other thigh, about to fall on to his other knee, he touched his hand onto the ground with difficulty. But even this activated the trampa (trap). In a flash, along with a rumbling noise the ground gave out from under him and another agent was swallowed.

“Even touching with your hands is out of question, there can only be one adjoining point with the surface.”

“ーWoah! That was way too close.”

Octavio dodged a flying adze, and the next second, a knife swooping in from the opposite direction gouged his other unhurt leg. He fell sideways from the force, but held out by touching his hand on the little buffer that still remained outside the white lines, yelping one Woaーoh!

After quickly assuming the same posture as before, Octavio shouldered J.D, who was unable to move due after receiving a sickle to his left thigh. He supported both of their weight on just one injured leg, and continued hopping up and down.

“Octavio, but you, your leg is alsoー”

“I’ve had enough of this crap, I’m at my limit. How the hell do you expect me to deal with this?!”

“Evacuate. At any rate, return to the car.”

“Joaquin! You alright?”

Joaquin yelled back Ohーoo, answering to Octavio’s voice.

Joaquin had not received any weapons on neither his left leg nor his right leg. He had swopped and ducked, nimbly dodging, and was nearer to the car faster than anybody else.

“What’s wrong, Joaquin?”

OhーohohーoーOoh

“What, there’s something with the car?”

Oーoーoh!

Joaquin was yelling. He was trying to bring attention to something.

“MrーMr. Hernández, that’sー”

“The outside of the car,”

“The chalk, it’s,”

At precisely that exact moment, a white chalk line was being drawn as if to envelope the four-wheel drive parked there. The invisible evil spirit was trying to tie together a large square.

Both Octavio and J.D arrived at the same conclusion. This trampa (trap) did not just activate for bipedal humans. A car was connected to the ground at four pointsー

　　　The instant the chalk enclosure was completed, there was a collapse like never before. The ground underneath the car shattered to pieces and swirled into the air, and the air itself crackled, splitting open with a rumble. Gravity and pressure both dragged down the four-wheel drive into the hole below. The dust-clouds and lumps of dirt collapsed like a waterfall, like an ice shelf plunging into the sea. The car Lisa Lisa was seated inー

Joaquin was unable to breathe due to the shockwaves from the collapse. The sound of the ground splitting deafened ears, like Avici and Raurava (two of the eight burning hells in Buddhism) of the earth. The four-wheel drives plummeted. How far would it sink? This is war, somebody said. Otherwise, it was a caricatura (caricature) of war. Joaquin and Octavio finally understood what it meant to confront “la maravillas (a wonderous power)” without possessing any abilities. There was no way of knowing where the trampa de muerte (traps of death) were laid out in the path ahead. Even the ground itself could not be trusted. Entering into the fog of warーit was like being unarmed in a maelstrom of flying weapons, booby traps, and grenades.

J.D was the one to jump inside the dust-clouds which was like a dense fog. Octavio and Joaquin followed. Even though they understood that this was equivalent to throwing themselves from a cliff, they tried to dive in the bottomless hole to pursue their mistress. If the response from below the pit had been delayed even just one moment, they might have actually do so. The debris, sand, and car fragments, which were supposed to fall down and down, soared like a spray, climbing above their heads and shining like grains of glass. The ones standing at the drop-off were showered with a energy that blew from the hole like the wind. When they grabbed the edge of the extending cloth, Lisa Lisa simply bounced as though with a booooooiiiiingーnot bracing herself and drawing them nearer to them at all, returning to them as though leaping during a pole vault. She arrived back without a single scratch on her.

“I’ve never seen something this surreal,” Octavio muttered in stupefaction.

As though she could use the scarf, which was stretched to its limit, as a powerful springーwhich was an ever so elegant and unyielding “weapon”ーleaping from the abyss, Lisa Lisa even displayed a performance of making only the tip of the scarf touch the ground, and then standing upright. The scarf was touching the inside of the chalk lines, but since the contact with the ground was only one point, she was safe.

Octavio praises her, asking how and what muscles she trained to be able to perform such a feat. Lisa Lisa sort of brushes him off and addresses Hernández, informing him that they will be forced to walk home now, since the cars are wrecked. Hernández shares his thought of retreating (since five agents were swept away), but Lisa Lisa rejects his plan of action. Still maintaining her peculiar posture, she explains that they have acquired valuable data. In these situations of limited warfare, you must discern the nature of battle. These are attacks by an opponent who does not show themselves in the fight. What we must do then is search for the enemy. It seems that they are unable to spread the ripples of the potency and sustainment of their power over a large area.

　　　She continues, This can be observed from the example in Antigua. The originator of the ability is always somewhere within the effective range. We can see that the speed of the collapse of the holes here too varies depending on their position. There is a visible disparity between the size of scale and depth. The direction where the most prominently destructive large holes opened are facing is whereー

　　　Alright, I got it! and so Octavio started running hopping one one leg, without listening to the end of his teacher’s talk. Joaquin followed after him, falling behind. They were both heading in the same direction, not needing to reach an agreement. In spite of the injuries on both his legs, Octavio kicked the ground powerfully, pounding one foot onto the ground with each step, and arrived at the water tank standing at the edge of the plaza. Looking closely at the rusted surface, there were peeping holes opened on there. Instantly climbing the ladder leading to the upper cover, he peered inside and shouted. Oi, they’re here! There’s people here!

The activator of that ability which would be recorded as “Hopscotch” in the Foundation’s files was placed under the protection of the Speed Wagon Foundation on the same day. She was a mestizo, and she was only still 15 years old.

It was as though you could hear the it opening, the pupil which was like a dark hole.

A gaze which had lost all hope, and driven to nihilism. She was bleeding from having gnawed too much on the soft skin of her lips.

Her canary-colored naturally curly hair was dirty and tangled as a tumbleweed. On her blackened and filthy cheeks there were still tracks of tears, but facing the Foundation it seemed that she had already dried up what was left to cry out.

　　　She told them that she had been ordered to push down anybody who came to investigate the settlement, whether they be government soldiers or guerillas. To ambush them, and to lay out the trampa (traps) like an ant lion. I was okay with being left behind, ‘cuz I didn’t want to go with them.

　　　Isabela Mena-Mena, who had not bathed nor washed her clothes for more or less three months, did not require the straitjacket which was used for the the Monstruo (Monster) of Antigua. It was recounted that as soon as she was found by Octavio all the strength left her body, and had faintly sneered at the bottom of the water tank. From there she showed absolutely no signs of resistance, and let herself be taken custody by the Foundation, along with several other children who had similarly been left behind. The children had been the ones throwing the sickles and knives, but as soon as Isabela had lost her combativeness the hoyos (holes) which had emerged from the ground sealed themselves. The ground returned to its previous state as though nothing had happened. Although the agents who had taken a nosedive were found collapsed in a glove of trees far off, the physical damage they had sustained from the tumble had not disappeared. They were nursing injuries which were similar to those sustained from tripping off a clip: multiple bone fractures all across the body, and two agents were even driven to a state of being permanently unfit to return working, their consciousness not returning. If the chalk traps had been laid out more ingeniously and persistently , then they may not have gotten off with merely this degree of casualties. Isabela said, I put out chalk, after being led to the Foundation headquarters.

　　　“I don’t get what this is, but people who step inside the chalk outline other than one foot, they drop down a trapping pit.”

　　　“When were you able to do this?”

　　　“Only I can do this. The other kids where only listening to my orders.”

　　　A giant abandoned building in Guatemala City had been renovated into the Foundation headquarters. Complete with medical equipment, the place also had testing facilities for inspect confiscated evidence. A map was fastened to the wall with a pin, and bundles of both new and old data were piled on top of each other, creating a ridgeline of paper stacks. There were lie detectors, something like an electric chair, and all sorts of equipment Octavio and Joaquin had neither ever seen nor had any clue of placed inside the room for interrogation. Isabela, who seemed like her emotions were numbed, was levelling a helpless gaze which was neither frightened nor relieved.

　　　Lisa Lisa was the one administering the inquiries. Like a psychiatric therapist, she made Isabela sit on a sofa while she was on a chair, crossing her legs. She asks, Was it not after you met the pollero (human trafficker) that you were able to put out the chalk?

　　　Isabela explains that her family had tried to move to Mexico, but had been tricked by them, and shot with an old-fashioned bow and arrow. They had said that the ones who survived would be of use, but it was farewell to those that did not. They said that. Her father and little brother had died as though they had poison running through them after being shot, and from some reason only she survived, and was led to that place.

　　　Her family who shared each other’s struggles and happiness. Hope for breaking new ground. The forest birds’ chirps which kindled their anticipation spread before her eye.

　　　After a blink of an eye, the blood and screams of her family, the sound of an arrow flying from behind. It had pierced through Isabela’s shoulder, and left with something beyond human comprehension in exchange with death.

　　　After another blink, she was enveloped in darkness and the world moved. She was trapped inside a place where outside light did not penetrate, and lived huddling with multiple other men and women who had similarly been dragged inside. They were only given slop to eat, and everyone laid down or hung their heads. When morning came, those who had not died rose, but with nothing to do they all huddled in the corners again. Everyone was terrified.

　　　There were only ten. She did not know whether they too had been pierced with the “arrow” and survived. They were led out and there were ones who never returned. It seemed that Isabela passed some exam, and before she knew it she was led out of the kidnapping room and used like a maid or livestock.

　　　With an uncharacteristic countenance of humility, Octavio, who had been listening to the Isabela’s pasión (suffering) in the adjoining room, whispered to JoaquinーHey, do you think I’m heartless for being glad that didn’t happen to me, while listening to all this?

　　　“It’s all war, wherever you visit in this country. One of us could’ve ended up sitting on that chair and it would’ve been the most natural thing, don’t you think Joaquin?”

　　　Completely exhausted, Isabela fell asleep and was transferred to the medical unit. On the night of the same day, Lisa Lisa entered the briefing room accompanied by J.D and took in anew the agents and two trainees who had been on standby. Her composed and thoroughly magnanimous visage was like that of a preacher climbing to a platform, bursting with topics to lecture on about.

　　　She reveals that Isabela, unlike Fabio Ubufu, has offered them many hints to the identity of what they are pursuing. After saying this, she points with her cane to one point on the map pinned to the wall. It was south of Guatemala, the mountain range of the South American continent along the border of Brazil and Peru.

　　　She recounts that seven years ago in 1966, the effects of the magnitude 8.1 earthquake which visited Peru also caused widespread crustal movements in the mountain range. Massive subduction occurred in a belt 40 kilometers (25 miles) from Pucallpa, which is connected to the capital city of Lima by highway. Workers from a research body entered that area to conduct geological surveys but an unidentified illness suddenly appeared causing fever, and most ended in an unnatural death. Only three survived. However, those three are said to have exhibited unnatural bodily changes, such as spontaneous combustion and electric discharge. It is believed that they had been infected with an unknown virus by coming in contact with some kind of mineral which protruded out of the earth in the process of conducting their geological survey. Presumably, a pathogen which had been confined underground was released above ground due to the crustal shift. In many cases, this virus turns the host into jambalaya as if prepared for a monster, but the virus also interacts in a peculiar inside the bodies of a small percentage of affected victims. While causing hyperacute symptoms, it encroaches the intrinsic soul and consciousness of humans, and overwrites their very foundationsーthat is what she theorizes.

　　　Like all other transmissible diseases which had swept the world until then, Lisa Lisa says that transmissible diseases and humans being brought together is natural outcome of time, a matter of fate. Viruses, which come from both polar areas and unexplored land, from virgin forests and the depths of caves, work for the better of their hosts in rare cases. But most people are unable to manage the rapid adaption of their bodies. From ancient time humans and viruses have built such a symbiotic relationship. From the microbes affecting the brain to the bacteria working in the intestines, humans are already a vehicle for millions upon billions of microorganisms.

　　　“This virus derived from minerals may not be limited to what was unearthed in Peru. They may have been brought back into the present day from a deep, earth-wide stratum and it may be the very thing which irrevocably changes the future of humanity. Like how the world was on no account able to return to its previous state after encountering tuberculosis, malaria, and influenza.”

　　　“... Um, what where we supposed to be talking about again?” Octavio whispered, confused, to Joaquin who was next to him.

　　　The other agents seemed to have already been briefed to a certain extent on the topic, but even they were unable to predict what direction the talk on the Foundation’s activities would develop. Octavio and Joaquin were breathless at Lisa Lisa tone of voice, imposing as the style of the biblia (bible), and cold and hard as steel.

　　　“Ever since I assumed the position of an advisor for the Foundation, I have poured many years into investigating this subject. What I discovered was that long ago, somebody became aware of the existence of these minerals and collected them from Peru or wherever it originates from, and transported it. That somebody processed the ore into the shape of an arrow, as a source of a transcendent virus which metamorphizes the human existence. This is the very same arrow which pierced her. In short, that arrowhead is made of the same material as that unknown virus.”

　　　Although Lisa Lisa and her section had already advanced the investigation across borders, this conclusion was still nothing but an unsettled statement.

　　　It was not fleshed out by testimonies from witnesses and evidence, and its existence was only permitted in the realm of fantasy and rumors such as that of the Bermuda Triangle or the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Until today, where she had conversed with Isabela Mena-Mena.

　　　“Who made the arrow, and whyー" spoke Lisa Lisa, as if hurling the vague question concerning the mystery of the world at Octavio, at Joaquin.

　　　It seemed as though the breathing and blood flow of all those in the briefing room stopped that moment. Octavio and Joaquin looked at each other, recognizing the same dazed expression coming from their perception tearing at the seams.

　　　“Somebody who wished for power of a perfect god. A blood relative who lived continuously from the ancient past, or somebody who descends from that lineage instinctually perceived the true worth of the nameless virus, and attempted to forge an arrow from the mineralsーthat is the hypothesis we have formed from the overall counsel of informed circles and researchers. That who is exactly somebody equipped with a sense of time no ordinary person can possess, who perceived the world which was to arrive, and bridged the past and future by uncovering an ancient mystery.”

　　　Lisa Lisa adds that there must be multiple arrow which have been made, more than just one or two. And from the inherent nature as arrows, they have traversed the world, passing through, and must have emerged obtrusively even in battlefields and conflicts.

　　　“That girl Isabela testified for us. It appears that a few of the forged arrows passed into the possession of of the pollero (human trafficker) who exposed those children to that situationーa leader called Al Horn.”

　　　Al Horn.

　　　Octavio repeated that name he had heard for the first time as though savoring it.

　　　What had been causing an awakening of an ability surpassing human understanding, of extraordinary power which appeared in here, Guatemala, at the same time was an arrow which had come flying from the pastー

　　　Not just Isabela. There was Fabio Ubufu, and many other targets who had been shot by the arrow.

　　　What was this man named Al Horn planning to do by breeding people who awakened abilties? Maybe he wanted to establish his own kingdom, organizing them into his personal army. Or maybe he was aiming to overturn society and nations, corrupting established values, or could this be investment toward his business linked to dominating illegal immigration or drug trafficking? Holding out her palms like the weighing pans of a scale, Lisa Lisa said, Whatever his purpose, he is not an illegal dealer, he is someone who should be the top most wanted fugitive worldwide. With the arrow that man Al Horn is sifting people’s lives. Of whether they are weeded out by being shot, or whether they resuscitate along with a new vitalityー

　　　“Our duty is to place every arrow in circulation under the Foundation’s administration. For the present, we will capture the subordinates of Al Horn and recover the arrows they possess in Central and South America.”

　　　 Night in Guatemala was encircled by the stars blanketed above, and the dark horizon seemed like the farthest reaches of the world.

　　　Completely affected by the conversation of their mistress and arrow, Octavio’s cheeks were still convulsively twitching despite coming in contact with fresh air after coming out onto the facility’s terrace after the briefing. His eyelids blinked sluggishly, drooping his head and words starting to trail off. Dropping his chin down to his chest, he could even pass for a crucifix if he hoisted his arms horizontally. He was probably unsettled from his fitful and raging emotions. Joaquin had never seen his mate like this before.

　　　Despite this there was an intent communicated between the two without needing words. Joaquin grasped it without requiring asking. Octavio wanted to say this, This is a upheaval that was set in motion toward me. This is a marvel which opened for me. It’s me whose actions and resolutions are being demanded of just nowー

　　　 Balas de Moscas (Bullets of Flies) was flying. Buzzing noises sounded from the distance. The sound of the disintegrating hoyo (hole) echoed.

　　　In the back of Octavio and Joaquin’s minds, the reverberations of the extraordinary were still continuously resounding. Confusion, tears, vomit, the mist of war. The blinding scenes of battle blacked out the back of their eyelids when they shut their eyes. When they looked up above overhead the curtain of night, like a hole housing infinite deepness, flipped upside down and it seemed as though their bodies would float unnoticed and be sucked into the depths. Joaquin was planting both feet firmly to avoid falling into the sky, but there was a hint of a sarcastic smile Octavio lips.

　　　“So a different ability awakens in each guy. If you’re chosen by that arrow abuela (gran) was talking about...”

　　　Octavio finally opened his mouth to state this. Joaquin sensed a dangerous foretoken in Octavio’s profile. An untiring ambition and yearning for power. It was the Octavio who howled incessantly that he wouldn’t balk at anything to escape from this realityーthis reality of sleeping like the dead, thirsting both night and day in this acrid land where all hope had evaporated.

　　　“Then what about me? Which do do reckon I’ll be, Joaquin? If I was pierced with that arrow, do you think I’d kick the bucket or awaken a unbelievable ability? After being forced to hear something like that, anybody would think so, right?”

　　　Joaquin groped at the boundary between his mouth and throat as if to confirm what was trying to scramble its way up thereーOctavio, don’t think of doing something so foolish. But his admonishment to his friend failed to knit itself into words.

　　　“After hearing something like that, you’d get all stirred up right?”

　　　A pulsating heartbeat, a palpitation grew more violent in the depths of each of their bodies. A new door had certainly opened. They could not retreat to their former world after listening to a story like that. It was like ceaselessly reeling from a monstrous vertigo, like being steadily encroached by cancer cells.

　　　They could see faintly white, faintly red fire wavering in the far-off distance of the horizon. It was in the northeastern direction of the forest, in the direction of the stonework towers and ruins. Then that would be the wildfires to raze the fieldsーbut that fire was not burning like radiant hope. The light was like the sigh after so many events had passed, precarious as a distant memory of a previous life. Joaquin nervously fidgeted his feet. It felt like his body could tear the screen of night noiselessly, and fly away like a torn kite. But as if to secure him, Octavio’s fingertips grazed his shoulder. Octavio’s face turned toward Joaquin. Like never before, he eloquently communicated an unspecifiable feeling with the expression in his eyes, pursed lips, stiff shoulders, his shifting face which never settled a moment. I don’t know how far I could go, how I can go but friend, won’t you come along up to where you can go too?

#elizabeth joestar #lisa lisa #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo magazine #guatemala #70s #JJBA

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Text

La extraña aventura de JoJo: rey infinito (3,397 words)

Horribly formatted rough translated summarization of Chapter 2 of rey infinito - Volume 1 (Guatemala) by Shindo Junjo.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Alternate translation of story by DailyJJBAWomen Author Interview Speedwagon Foundation Column translation by MondoBizarro87

Pascua (Easter) was hosted in honor of both Christ and the many victims of the monstruo (monster). The reading aloud of the Biblia (Bible), applying the unction, carrying out the coffins, mass for funeralsーhowever, these rituals had become part of daily life for Guatemalans. As order destabilized, family and relatives were swept into guerilla warfare, and reports surfaced of rural Mayan villages collectively murdered. As long as the FAR (Rebel Armed Forces) continued to rebel against the government forces of Guatemala, la muerte súbita (the sudden deaths) were always shoulder to shoulder with daily life.

The bereaved formed a long line to carry the coffins lowered from the front steps of the church smoky with incense, to the graveyard. Even if Balas de Invisible (Invisible Bullets) were eliminated, they never knew when bullets would come flying from the other side of the alleys.

The Speed Wagon Foundation employees brushed past the line and walked along the street corridors along with crowds. Before the church stood a market. Wearing a sunglasses, a scarf, and donning a purple cape, Lisa Lisa gazed at the market in front of her as she listened to Hernández’s report. La cruz (the cross) to lanterns and knitted objects in the shape of the national bird Quetzal decorated the landscape colorfully. There were no fish nor any raw food, so there were no unpleasant smells in the market. What did pervade the air was the flour made from corn and beans, and the aromatic tortillas baked by women. From angelic muchachas (lasses) to abuelas (old ladies) alike, women plucked off the corn flour kneaded with water into small balls, and flattened them on their palms and smacked them up and down. Charcoal was lit on fire under metal plates from cut drum cans, and when the tortillas were placed upon the metal the surface swelled and finished baking. She directed smiles toward the women who didn’t try the hard sell despite piling tortillas on top of another, and her face betrayed no ill expressions when someone knocked their shoulders against hers. Lisa Lisa was observing the life of the locals, listening intently to the bustle, and smelling the scent of the mundanity.

J.D continued his report, detailing the effects of the guerilla warfare on the citizens, leading to joblessness. The only way citizens could escape from their unemployment was either joining the guerillas, or escaping beyond the borders. All paths led to dying in a ditch and becoming a comedor (cafeteria) for the jungle animals... so those two had said. That was why they had chosen to assist in monster extermination.

Lisa Lisa replies back that the outcome had been immensely due to those two. This also contained a reprimand against J.D and the others: if not for the local help, they would have been unable to find the identity of Antigua’s monstruo (monster). J.D acknowledges this remark and his responsibility in putting them in harm’s way, continuing on to inform her that the two are now receiving medical treatment, and requesting to meet the head of the research team to perhaps ask for compensation. Lisa Lisa agrees to meet them.

Although the churches that occupy most of the city of Antigua seems to be of Catholic architecture, in actuality these were built on top of what was in reality the holy land of the Mayas, from the debris of towns burnt to the ground by the invading conquistadores (conquerors) who arrived here in the 1520s.

The Kʼicheʼ peoples back then were especially self-respecting and courageous even within the Mayans, and fought with the conquistadores (conquerors) who threatened the existence of the Maya in the Holy City of Qʼumarkaj until the very end. However, their swords shattered and arrows bent, the remaining few K'iche’ that survived were lectured by the Spanish missionaries preaching the sacredness of their God’s love. Believe in the Christian God. Kneel before la cruz (the cross).

The trasplante (enlightenment) of religion. This was one of the observable occupation policies that was seen all over the colonies of the world. At this point the Kʼicheʼ did not bother to resist, and as they pretended to cross themselves while kneeling, they never discarded their own faith in the depths of their soul. Thereby the native beliefs and Catholic doctrine merged together and the result of this mosaic-like belief system was Antigua itself. Even in the present day 400 and 500 years from then, the churches are filled with prayers comprised of words in two languages: Spanish and Kʼicheʼ. According to what church you visited, there were even altars unrelated to Christianity placed inside. Elderly couples appearing in the churches would offer flowers and candles to the Mayan altar, and after chanting a prayer in Kʼicheʼ they would leave without offering even a glance toward the crucifix and la cruz (the cross). This was a land where you could see this phenomena quite often.

At the center of the tragedy which occurred in front of the catedral (cathedral), there were also descendants of that Kʼicheʼ people.

One of them was the monstruo (monster) of Antigua, now in a cellー

　 Fabio Ubufu.

He was an indigena (indigenous person) of Mayan descent who had just turned 30 years old, and had been laid off from a maquiladora (subcontract factory) for dairy products. As for his custody, the Speed Wagon Foundation had handed him over to the Guatemalan police. Although analysis was still in-progress, they managed to conclude that Fabio’s ability could not manage to generate the flies, although he could freely control the moscas de hierro (iron flies). As long as Fabio was detained inside a sterilized cell with no air ventilators he could not blow a silbido (whistle) nor commit atrocities. In exchange for transferring the supervision of Fabio’s to the police, the Speed Wagon Foundation was given off-the-record visitation rights. Fabio, who had been maintaining his silence, finally gave in due to the repeated visits by J.D that was never deterred by the silence day in and day out.

He had received primary education in a Catholic boarding school, but his mother and younger brothers and sisters had been killed due to supposedly giving refuge to guerilla fighters in his hometown of Chichicastenango. They had been shot in the village plaza as an example. God was merciless. No matter how much they prayed, God had never replied to those prayers with anything but silence. He had tried to escape from this country by paying all of his savings to the pollero (human traffickers) conducting illegal immigration, but had been tricked and robbed of everything he had, and abandoned just short of the national border. Ending up at Antigua, Fabio had continued to be in turmoil over, Why did this happen? As he had walked upward toward Cerro de la Cruz (Hill of the Cross) from Ancha de los Herreros street, he became conscious of how much he abhorred designs of Christianity that completely covered the city. Because this was the same as those plantación de gringo (American farms)! The inflow of capital from that world power, the coup d'états puppeteered by the CIA behind the scenes, and the cause of the endless conflictsーall this Fabio picked out in the churches erected on top of the holy land of the Mayans. He attributed the cause, and was terrified. The reason that my family, us the indigenous people weren’t saved was because we’re praying to a heathen god that came from somewhere else. It’s because we’ve been living in this kind of world created by them. That was why Fabio decided to tear off the churches built on top, and the designs associated with it. He was unable to restrain his impulse that was becoming more high-strung as the Catholic national holiday approached, and wrecked holy icons and murdered devout believers who embodied his own abandoned faith. All this orchestrated by what he had named himself as “El Señor de las Moscas” (Lord of the Flies)ー

J.D interrupts, asking if this this title referred to his ability, or a new unique belief system he had formed for himself, or if it referred to himself who had become the new master of Balas de Invisible (iron flies).

Fabio dismisses J.D, laughing from behind the barred window saying that anybody else wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. He was crying as he laughed, and continued that J.D was the same as everyone else in being unable to see it. Nobody but himself could see it, and what could not be seen could not be explained. What was unknown was unknown and could not be conveyed, but there was no mistaking that this was him, and proof that he became his authentic self, and the true idol that he had newly discovered.

Fabio became so excited that the gist of the latter half of his testimony was almost incomprehensible.

There was definitely a tendency of hierophobia. The anger and hatred of someone who had his family stolen and left with nowhere else to go had transformed into desires of revenge and blasphemy, and a drive for destruction. Copying down Fabio’s testimony, J.D also scrawled “El Señor de las Moscas” (Lord of the Flies) outside the column of his file. A hallucination of a mentally disturbed individual? A metamorphosis of an alter ego? Or another image of his self?

Lisa Lisa decided to postpone an on-the-spot judgement after hearing his report. She requested J.D to continue taking notes of Fabio’s testimony. What is most important is where and how he gained that ability.

"So it turned out that mosca (fly) bastard was also a Kʼicheʼ, huh?” said another descendant of the indigenous people, when they visited a medical facility inside Antigua.

“I don’t know who he is, but he’s a disgrace of the Kʼicheʼ. Just between us, I’m way different from that murderer, and if I wasn’t attacked by those damn moscas (flies) I would’ve been able to take him down.”

“Then you would have been a salvador (hero).”

“Yeah, if it weren’t for this abuela (granny).”

“Excuse me, you need to watch you langu...”

Lisa Lisa interrupts the conversation between J.D and the young indigenous man by asking his what his name was.

The descendant of the Maya proclaimed his name as though it was renown though all the masses, as though he was announcing himself before a jam packed crowd. As though you were the ignorant one for not knowing his name, in this city.

My name isー

Octa?

Octavio!

The only one who applauded as though he was bursting to do so was Joaquin. He was, on the other hand, not an indigena but a mestizo born between parents of both white Spanish descent and indigenous. Although the two were different from both ethnicity, race, color of skin and eyes, they had both been raised in an orfanato (orphanage) and stuck together during their academic career and the same livelihood after that too. Maybe their upbringing was involved, but they were not just friends from the same hometown. The duo seemed to have an inseparable family-like bond that could be felt by other people as well.

“Really? You’re the boss behind Mr. Hernández and all the others, for real? Even though you’re an abuela (granny)?”

Octavio was pouring an unconstrained gaze filled with curiosity toward the Lisa Lisa, who had arrived with several men waiting in her. As reparation for their help the Foundation’s medical team had been treating Octavio, who had sustained serious injuries from the moscas bombardeo (concentrated attacks by the flies). He was recovering at an spectacular rate, due to the combined factors of medical resources which would usually be out of reach for normal hospitalizations, considerate and precise surgery, and his own astonishing vitality. That was when he had called upon the head of the investigation unit, and was now trying to have his share of all the contributions that the contributors could contribute toward him. Octavio continued to impolitely ask more questions, not minding that the edginess of the agents who had visited his room, nor J.D’s fretting.

“If I can’t call you abuela (granny), then what should I call you señora (ma’am)? What’s your name?”

“My name is Elizabeth Joestar. You’re free to call me however you please.”

“These guys said you’re Lisa Lisa. May I refer to you that way too?”

“I don’t mind.”

Although J.D and other others were breaking out in cold sweat unable to decipher the expression in her eyes hidden behind the sunglasses, Lisa Lisa herself did not react to any of the remarks each time, and continued to sit on the seat next to the bed, with her hands forming a steeple underneath her chin.

Contrary to the lack of courtesy exhibited in his language, Octavio was in his own way flustered as well. He was visibly confused by everything about the white woman across himーthe way she walked with her bottom swaying, her way of throwing her white hair behind her shoulder like a muchacha (young woman), and the way she sat with her legs crossed, which where still shapely despite her old age.

How old was this señora (woman)? There was no mistaking that she was elderly, but the impression he gained changed at a dizzying pace according to the moment-to-moment mannerisms from young, not young, young, not young. From the structure of her body a faint sexiness emanated like an old but powerful magnet, and it was Octavio’s first time interacting with what a certain movie producer had termed “a cougar-like eroticism,” which he was having a difficult time deciding how to grasp her in his own way.

Octavio proceeds to ask how Lisa Lisa managed to display that miracle of making the threads of the alfombras (rugs) soar and stop the moscas (flies), despite her lack of muscle on her arms, or the veins which were raised on her skin like the spider web. And what were they searching for anyway? J.D reins in Octavio from next to him, scolding him by saying that they had told him not to delve deeper on this subject. J.D said, “The agreement from the beginning was that this relationship lasts only until the murderer is apprehended, and that you do not let yourself become deeply involced in the details of this case. We appreciate your contributions. That’s why she came here personally to...”

“You expect me to calm down after you showed me all that?”

“You would best forget it. We also ordered the residents to keep silent.”

“Makes you all stirred up, doesn’t it Joaquin?”

“So you’re Joaquin...” Lisa Lisa looked back and forth between the two young men. “And you’re Octavio. Are you requesting hush money on top of the recompense? Or do you want to boast to your orphan friends by exposing how the trick was done?”

Fished for an answer by Octavio, Joaquin gave an affirmative Oーoh. Here, Lisa Lisa turns her face toward the other cooperative and states that he was the one who had guided Hernández in the underground passage. Although he did not have the commanding presence of his partner, he too was housing the light of curiosity in his eyes which was trying to discern the identity of the bruja (witch) as well.

Octavio says that isn’t the intent, heaving a deep sigh. Putting a long pause after this as if calculating to achieve the greatest emotional effect with this he continued, We’d been waiting. Joaquin grunted as if in sympathy, Oh-o-oh. Octavio continues that they had been waiting for just this to occur in this puny city, for such a long time. They had been waiting for this city, for this indifferent and boring to show them a different view. Though he did not know exactly what their jobs where, they would probably chase after more bad guys like the mosca (fly) bastard, right? And they would cross the border and go to all sorts of places, and solve the mysterious of the world and all that. Right, huh, I’m right, aren’t I? Octavio seemed to have a burning fire housed in his eyes, and even Joaquin leaned forward with his eyes wide open.

You probably didn’t even imagine. That us locals could be hiding such a ambition. But we’re not just part of a nameless mob (crowd of nobodies) that exists just for you to cozy up to, or a nube (cloud) a migrating bird passes by. Since you let us join once, bring us with you to follow along forever. We want to escape from here.

Have you ever imagined this?

Endless civil war.

Incessant din of urban warfare.

　　 Days of constant pasión (suffering) filled with blood, fatal wounds, and a penetrating stench.

　　 The bloom of your youth being of nothing but decaying, with no pay nor honest work available for tomorrow.

　　 The immobility of being stuck, with no heartrending adventure even after solidifying your position as the boss of the streets.

You can overlook the map of the stars rising above your head, and the color of twilight swallowing the landscape when you climb up the hill at dusk. But you can’t look see beyond the horizon. There’s only a monotonous sky like a dark wall there, stretching on and on. As if the landscape we can see from there is the extent of this world, no matter what we wish for outside of Antigua, and whatever we might believe. A life like this, of suffocationー

Can you imagine it?

I understand quite well, Lisa Lisa replied coldly at Octavio and Joaquin attempting to draw attention to their unfortunate circumstances. Unfortunately, the Speed Wagon Foundation does not extend its activities into humanitarian aid, nor does it recruit locally-hired personnel.

"Then don’t you have any official entrance exams or something? Me and Joaquin are both young and fit, and putting aside Mr. Hernández, we’re definitely more useful than the other cabrón (halfwit agents) who were shaking in their boots the whole time! Please let us take an interview or a field test or whatever.”

J.D yells at them to give it a rest, as he tries to restore order to the meeting. He reminds them that they initially agreed to help because they had wanted to protect their hometown. Octavio argues that that was until this woman had arrived. But after watching that... Octavio and Joaquin had had a deep talk. Joaquin chimes in with a Oーooh. J.D continues on behalf of his superior and lines word after word of rejection.

“The power utilized by this individual is not something you two can be involved with.”

“But you just said, and even praised us that we did a great job.”

“Your efforts were fruitful only due to the your networks and native knowledge of the local geography, and....”

“Ah, oh I get it, you’re belittling us! Mr. Hernández, you look down on us! It’s not because we were locals that we were able to contribute in getting that man arrested. We haven’t ever told revealed this to anyone else about us, but actually me and Joaquin are equipped with a special power too.”

Beside J.D parroting this back, a single wrinkle between Lisa Lisa’s brow twitched faintly.

“A special power?”

Octavio continues that although it is nothing as horrifying as that of the hombre mosca (fly man), because they were orphans and they were always close to God...They had inherited something like that. An eye and nose to instantly ascertain bad and good guys, light and darkness. It just clicks, right Joaquin? And that’s why we’d definitely be useful, señora, because we’ll work as your arms, legs, eyes, and nose.

Lisa Lisa raised her eyebrows without uttering a word, as if searching for the sincerity in Octavio’s words.

Let us join the Speed Wagon Foundation, bring us with youー

Lisa Lisa could not allow exceptions. She could not give in to the hopes of the two youngsters who where bursting with ambition and self-respect.

But she did allow her lips to form into a smile, as if she had secretly picked up on the two youth’s worth, the quantity of their resolve, and the fate they were burdened withーperhaps with that ability like a “ripple” which reached far and wide. She would not accept them here, immediately. But she would screen them. Present the two of them one assignment.

#elizabeth joestar #lisa lisa #jojo magazine #guatemala #JJBA #70s #jojos bizarre adventure

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Text

La extraña aventura de JoJo: rey infinito (6,253 words)

Horribly formatted rough translated summarization of Chapter 1 of rey infinito - Volume 1 (Guatemala) by Shindo Junjo.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Alternate translation of story by DailyJJBAWomen Author Interview Speedwagon Foundation Column translation by MondoBizarro87

1973, Guatemala

Although there was a terrifying monstruo (monster) in Guatemala’s ancient city of Antigua, the citizens there were too busy to mind the hoz de la muerte (sickle of death) that the murderer was waving around. Although an abnormality like a serial killer loose was the equivalent of having an epidemic or demon overtaking the city, back then in Guatemala there were more pressing concerns. From the forests, hills, and inside cities and towns the military regime and its opposing forces were continuing its never-ending guerilla warfare. More important for the citizens was escaping from the gran incendio (forest fires) destroying their hometowns, and turning their eyes away from the condors circling above like the shadow of death. .

Being a city of religion, Antigua had a ceremony called El Querpo de Cristo (Body of Christ) hosted before Vasco (Easter) hosted. During Semana Santa (Holy Week)—the Pasión (Passion) and Muerte (Death) that Christ experienced before his resurrection in Jerusalem. Floats were brought out carrying icons representing this, creating a line at the parade, and marched past the churches and baroque architecture from the época colonial (colonial period). When the parade started, the believers in ceremonial clothing leading put incense inside a can, and waved it at the front as they walked. The smoke moved into the streets, up the narrow stairs, and spread into the churches and monasteries. Then the brass bands entered, and floats. There were colorful sawdust, vegetables, flowers, the leaves of plants, pan (bread) which were placed above alfombras (rugs) where the crowd passed through, carrying statues of Christ and the Holy Mother. There were also religious paintings. calligraphy, and even objects made with bread. There were no objects that were exactly the same, and decorated the city’s landscape brilliantly. This custom of Antigua was especially worthy of appreciation, and people poured their hearts outs into the alfombras (rugs) regardless of whether they were rich or poor. There were even people that saved up money every year for these alfombras (rugs), and even the Guatemalan government military soldiers who were inspecting the parade from above their cars did not step on the alfombras (rugs) that were the crystallized result of the citizen’s lifework.

Young and old headed to the city and the streets were overfilled. Confetti rained from above. crackers exploded, the vendors sold gifts and tortillas, and the girls dressed up to dance after finishing primera comunión (first communion). Although Antigua was in the midst of the most intense celebration, there were a few men who were alert and did not drop their guard.

There was a high possibility the monstruo (monster) would appear in this year’s Semana Santa (Holy Week)ー

They were the investigators of an organization that had arrived here a year earlier, and conducted secret investigations before coming a conclusion. It was the Speed Wagon Foundationーan NGO that operated on an immense fund and worked across borders, and continued to expand its shares in the fields of science, welfare, medicine, and even had a department dedicated toward dealing with the paranormal. It all started when an article titles “A Serial Killer Midst the Guatemalan Civil War” published in an American opinion magazine. This was written by a Mexican journalist, and lamented that the police under the military regime were ignoring a serial killer, too focused on the investigation and capture of guerilla fighters and the left-wing parties. That, and the fact that information was restricted and inaccessible to citizens due to censorship. The journalist wrote that there was a “firma” (signature) which could be deciphered from the killings which amounted to over 20. Although the American CIA, which was propping up the United States-friendly dictatorship, tried to suppress this information, what was occurring in Guatemala was discovered by human rights organizations and various other NGOs. That was how the Speed Wagon Foundation decided to send in an investigation team focused on the killer’s “firma” (signature) to Guatemala. The investigation team comprised of professionals from various fields interviewed and collected information for five months pertaining to the incidents, from the local police officers,　the victim’s families, medical examiners, priests, psychiatrists, and the head of public relations for both the government military and opposing rebel groups. The representative of the investigation group, J. D. Hernández compiled a report if the incidents occurring simultaneously throughout the city, to the headquarters in Dallas, Texas. The report is as follows:

(i) The victims were all shot to death by a gun. All 27 victims seem to have a multitude of bullet wounds. However, not one bullet was recovered from the sites. There were none embedded either in the walls nor ground, and in the victims’ bodies. This is the “signature” which is the uniting characteristic of the serial killer, and the investigation unit calls this the “Invisible Bullets.”

(ii) All of these incidents locked room murders, with the car/home/sites all having been locked from the inside. Although the possibility of a long-distance shot was considered, there were no traces of a bullet breaking windows, and there were even sites where an air ventilator was the only passage connecting the inside to the outside.

(iii) Both men and women, old and young, mestizo and indio were victims. The one common characteristic was that they were all deeply religious.

(iv) To add on to (iii), at the same time as the murders started, icons/crosses were destroyed throughout the churches and monasteries throughout Antigua. These ranged from statues of Christ to the Holy Mother and Our Lady of Guadalupe. Upon inspecting the shards from the gypsum and bronze statues, they were found not to be destroyed by a baseball bat, but from a great number of holes. These holes caused cracks to appear and destroyed the statues, There is a high possibility that these are the same as the “Invisible Bullets”

(v) From what can be gathered from (i)~(iv) the perpetrator holds an intense fear/loathing/hostility toward religious items (statues, crosses, bibles, ceremonial items, altars) and these crimes are committed by a person displaying a severe case of “hierophobia” (irrational fear of sacred objects or people). According to scholarly sources, this occurs more toward a religion the perpetrator believes in themselves, than a religion which goes against their beliefs. We theorize that the suspect directed their desire to destroy sacred statues and items toward the victims’ worn crosses and gestures of drawing a cross. Or, the killer directed their hierophobia toward the victims’ very faith.

(vi) However, it stands that the details of the “Invisible Bullets” are unclear. It cannot be explained by our understanding of physics, and it may be a new paranormal phenomenon. We would like to wait for the conclusions of insiders on how this may relate to the “Ripple”

Although the team had tried to persuade the churches and local government of Antigua, they were unable to prevent Semana Santa (Holy Week). J.D Hernánde’z body was stiff, on high alert. To think that in this situation, the state of Antigua being flooded with religious iconography would continue for a whole week!

If the mysterious monstruo (monster)’s phobia was triggered by the multitude of crosses, statues on floats, the alfombras (rugs), and the “Balas de Invisible” (Invisible Bullets) started flying toward the masses of citizens and touristsー

Where are you? The suspect might be in the crowd, or even hidden in the parade. The priests, soldiers in the military, police, the children selling their products in the stalls, and even the teporochos (bums) could be the suspect. However, the team weren’t agents that could wield authority, nor were they intelligencia (secret agents) working for an intelligence agency. If there was someone suspicious, then they would question the suspect, and if the situation called for it they would try and capture the killer without a warrant. But if the killer, if they had “la maravillas” (a wonderous power)ーor something close to rivalling that unusual ability? The Speed Wagon employees gathered here had no such individual with that ability. Would they really be able to take on the monstruo (monster) threatening the daily life and festivities of Antigua?

On Friday of Semana Santa (Holy Week), the sky was already dark yet the parade showed no signs of stopping. The explosions of firecrackers could be head from everywhere. The investigators of the foundation split up into a few groups to prowl the landscape they had become closely acquainted with over the past five months. Every corner brought new smells to them: the heaviness of the air and density, the taste caressing their tongues, and the sawdust emanating from the alfombras (rugs) and the scent of flowers, mixed with the aroma of incense tumbled throughout the air. The torches made the passing crowd look like shadow puppets, and the people carrying the icons wavered with two to three layers echoing behind their movements.

A shadow approached J. D. Hernández just as he passed by the Monastery of Santa Clara-a-Velha. He knew who this was. A shadow lit by the torches, then two. They shadows separated from each other and lined up behind his back. The well-built young man on the left spoke to J.D.

“Señor (Mister), there’s some developments,” said a raspy voice. “The serial killer finally reached the limits of his patience on Friday.”

　 Ohーahーoaoh. The smaller young man on the right groaned, and tried to express something with his body and gestures. This man seemed to have a disability concerning speech since he was born. However, his amber eyes were shining with eloquence. Strangely, he could get his point across.

“A church, was an icon destroyed again?” said J.D with his eyes wide.

“At the Merced Church, right by the clock tower ahead,” said the taller man.

“The victims?”

“The officer in charge of the vestments was attacked.”

J.D ran to the church, led by the two youngsters whose hometown was Antigua. These two were the local cooperators that the Speed Wagon Foundation had hired. Their names were Octavio and Joaquin: the taller and more muscular one was Octavio, and the smaller one Joaquin. They were both from the same orfanato (orphanage) operated by a monastery in Antigua, and after they flunked out of becoming theology students they earned their keep on the streets. Although both were only 18 and 19, Octavio had managed to climb the ranks to becoming the face of the streets.

He had the deep eyes of a creature that only ate plants in the forest, but in an instant sometimes his face would contort into an expression of extreme danger, on the verge of doing something that had dire consequences. Octavio had his resolve hardened, of something important in his life. Meanwhile Joaquin was more like a persistent and annoying animal, yet his silent eyes contained an intense intelligence. The two had already stained their hands into even dirty jobs (probably crime), J.D did not care about their morality. At least, during the entirety of Semana Santa (Holy Week). The investigation unit of the foundation was just too limited to be able to pick up on everything in Antigua. Due to this they needed a silbar (whistle), and in that regard they were perfect.

If Octavio called out, the network of the backdoor alleyways spread the message immediately. From the huérfanos (orphans), to the teporochos (bums), and the traveling salesclerks, it flowed from alley to alley like blood and cells inside a body. They always managed to discern the flow of the parade, and gained the newest information orally, and fooled the watchful eyes of the soldiers and police. They ran and flew from roof to roof of the baroque architecture.

J.D had been the one to approach them for help. It was a choice based on his experience, on his expertise. They had a love for their hometown, and there was no loyal Antiguan that would be thrilled with a serial killer running loose in their beloved town, not even a tonto (nitwit). Octavio was determined to weed out the killer during Semana Santa (Holy Week).

J.D warns Octavio to run away from the killer when they find him, but Octavio argues that he can help. The two argue, despite Joaquin nodding and showing support for Octavio. After a long while they reach their destination. On the stone walls of the church, a tapestry with a bible verse sown in was pinned. Above the wooden doors was a high window with bars, and from there light spilled. When J.D knocked, they were invited inside. The officer in charge of the vestments was lying on the floor waiting to be carried off to the hospital, his ceremonial clothing stained with blood, though he had already been treated for his shoulder and stomach. He said that he had been shot. However, there had been no gunshots, and neither had he seen the flash of fire.

According to the officer (just a church associate in charge of the vestments), he had dozed off from about 10 PM and woke to the sound of the stone statues cracking, despite locking all doors. Maybe the infamous heretic had come here? When he had gone to look, the statue of Saint Francisco had been torn to debris, yet the window had not been smashed. He grabbed a candlestick and went outside, and sensing a presence he went out the backdoor. In the dark there was an unknown man standing. The suspect had leaned all his weight on one leg, and then on his other leg, swaying. He was of medium height, dark skinned, stout and with a beard. Basically, he looked like any indigena (indigenous person) you would find. The man had his arms clasped in front of his face and emitted a weak moan that indicated he was crying or trying to cry. However when he removed his hands, he was laughing, with no trace of tears. To the officer he looked like a drug addict, and when he tried to reprimand the strange behavior the other man had raised his right palm above his head, and snapped his wrist. The next moment, the officer felt tearing heat run down his right shoulder, and throughout his left stomach too. He could do nothing but pray to the Lord, so overcome with fear and pain, teeth chattering. He understood he had been shot, but the other man hadn’t been holding a gun. How? The officer felt as though the attacker had fired an invisible bullet through his shoulder, which had taken a U-turn to pierce straight through his left stomach on its way back. There was no mistaking it, J.D said. It was the monstruo (monster).

The bullet returned? If that was true, then this wasn’t “Balas de Invisible” (Invisible Bullets) anymore.

These were now “Balas Mágico ” (Magical Bullets).

Or, the monstruo (monster) was wrecking the icons akin to enjoying a drink to pump himself up before supper. Maybe he had finally shrugged off his remorse and started on the appetizers, reaching his hand out to sample the city.

Borrowing a brass carbide lantern and unsheathing a handgun for safety, J.D chased the fleeing monstruo (monster). He searched every crevice of the church’s surroundings, and though the two local cooperatives tried to accompany him, J.D sent them off to report back to the other search groups. Though Octavio was grumpy, he set off to do so.

Everywhere in the night streets the alfombras (rugs) had been damaged, and icons and statues and stone monuments with inscriptions had been destroyed. Following the path of sacrilege, J.D asked around if there had been anyone who had suddenly fell unconscious, or had become hurt for no reason. From the left corner of Ancha de los Herreros street which gave view to the Cerro de la Cruz (Hill of the Cross), a child selling souvenirs stumbled onto him. Policía, policía (police) they were crying. Listening to them, a few minutes before they had seen a man bending down at the monastery ahead of the road. When they had approached the man, the child had heard a groaning two, three times before a sound of vomiting. In front of the crouching man they had seen a collapsed nun. When the child had screamed the man had run inside the monastery.

Inside the hall of the monastery J.D looked at the ceiling. The smoke from the candles of the recesses slowly climbed the ceiling, a thick ocher colored cloud gathered, He could hear people running and heavy objects falling behind him, and told the other nuns collapsed in fear to go to their rooms. He moved toward the source of the noise, and a pillar holding a wooden statue of the archangel Gabriel was collapsed. The wooden hinge to the wooden door of the stairs leading to an underground staircase was also broken.

He lifted the lantern and the stone passage seemed to stretch forever, where the priests had made the stonemasons to build secret escape routes during época colonial (colonial period). The utter silence of the underground overwhelmed J.D.

This underground passage captures and binds up living time. A suffocating stillness and sluggishness permeated the passage, and he was just a clumsy object that had gotten lost insideー

He felt like a human sacrifice offered onto the altar of time. But the beasts and murders that lived in the shadows might feel at home in the darkness of the underground. He could hear sounds ahead. There was definitely the monstruo (monster) hereーmaybe he was imagining it, but there seemed to be so little oxygen here. The meticulously and precisely cut stone blocks sapped J.D’s warmth. He felt like he was smelling coldness itself. He headed straight ahead, and turned right, and again, and then went straight. There were almost no forks on the passage, and it was surprisingly wide. There must be a way out, but if he was unable to ever get out, thenー

　　There was no mud not water. There weren’t even any rats, but he happened across the corpse of a feral dog. It must have wandered in from another passage, and at least three days had passed since its death. From the dog’s mouth, nose, and raised ribcage maggots swarmed, and the skin and fur was undulating.

Bzzz, a shrill noise sounded. The next second, a stone-like object hit his lantern. The glass shattered, the carbide dish broke, and the lantern dropped. The fire was extinguished, His vison was swallowed by darkness.

ーWhat just happened?

He tried to make the fire start again, but it was no use. Had he just been attacked by the “Balas de Invisible” (Invisible Bullets)? Even if he was unable to stand off against a man with supernatural powers, he could at least follow and assist. This was the duty of an investigator. But he couldn’t chase the suspect like this. He couldn’t recognize the forks in the road without light. He placed his hands on the stone walls and moved slowly ahead. If he allowed too much of a distance to arise between him and the suspect, that would cause catastrophe. J.D felt himself almost suffocating from being dropped into the darkness. He would be buried alive within the ground of Antigua.

Why had the lantern been hit, but not his head or heart? That would be more thorough. Maybe the killer was toying with him. The thought caused a chill to run up his spine, and it pooled heavily within his stomach. His heartbeat became erratic, and his body temperature continued to drop. In the darkness where there was no difference in closing or opening his eyelids, and as he continued one step a time as though crossing an unstable rope bridge, his clothing was suddenly tugged. There was someone, and he heard a voice going Oaーohーao. Even though he had instructed him to stay back, it seemed like the local cooperatives had followed close behind.

“Joaquin, is that you?” asked J.D “You came all the way here without a light?”

There was no presence nor voice of Octavio. It was just his silent friend. Joaquin grabbed J.D’s wrist and started running, as though steering a stranded boa on the shore. Was he trying to catch up to the killer? With footsteps that showed no hesitation and no wavering. They didn’t bump into anything, and it almost made J.D want to ask if he could see. Could he? Impossible.

There was no human that could see in the darkness without even the slightest light source. This was the advantage of the people native to the area, J.D realized. The two well versed in the geography above ground also knew about the underground. They had walked through these passages enough times to be able to run through with a blindfold.

Oh―ooーoo! Joaquin suddenly groaned, and tugged J.D downward. He heard the sound of a horrifying large amount of flying insects, and hard and sharp objects attacked him. A sharp pain as though he stuck his face into a torture device pierced him. His cheeks were sliced, his forehead cut, and his lips and eyes welled with blood. This was unbearableーJ.D also tried to crouch more closely to the ground, and ran with his arms crossed, protecting his face. It felt like running though a swarm of thorns, and as he did this J.D felt like he had caught a glimpse of the silhouette of “Balas de Invisible” (Invisible Bullets). The existence of that which had destroyed all those icons, and killed numerous citizens must be this. If true, then this wasn’t the Ripple, but something completely differentー

　　Joaquin’s guidance had been correct, and the darkness slowly became diluted. There were slants of light dropping into the passage and gave glimpses of the aboveground. When they went up the narrow stairs, it was the square in front of a catedral (cathedral).

Right around this time at the square, the parade of Semana Santa (Holy Week) was welcoming the biggest float. It was Christ carrying la cruz (the cross) up the hill of Golgotha. The biggest state was finally approaching the end of the parade, and the float was surrounded by an innumerable crowd of people. The catedral (cathedral) was lit up in the night, and draped itself across the parade in commemoration of the holy festival, with confetti flying and the citizens wearing colorful costumes coming and going across the square with many stalls. The believers pushed and shoved at merchants to try and buy statues of Christ at the end of the festival, and the brass band loudly played religious music, which was carried by the wind everywhere. It was as if the living creature known as Antigua was shaking with excitement. J.D’s irritation increased as he climbed aboveground. Where was the manーif his impulsivity was triggered in the chaos of the crowdー! They had come so close to his trail, and now they had lost sight of him.

“Hey, here, here!” a voice rang out loud and clear. “There’s no doubt this is him, he just jumped out of the passageway!”

On the road Octavio was wrestling. He was holding someone down into the stone ground, and trying to grab the neck of the man kicking up dust-clouds and frenzied as a beast. It was the bearded, dark skinned indigena. He fit the description of the officer of the vestments had said. Like Joaquin, Octavio had known about the existence of the underground passageways, and after confirming J.D had gone down, sent Joaquin after the investigator, and he himself had stood by waiting at the end. J.D had to admit that Octavio was clever. Although Octavio had exceeded his expectations, and no matter how much confidence Octavio had in his fighting prowess, it was still dangerous. If that man was Antigua’s monstruo (monster)ー

“You can’t go anywhere, this is the end, so stop struggling already!” Octavio roared. J.D went up to him, saying to stop that. The other investigation units, and the military officers guarding the catedral (cathedral) also approached, blowing their whistles. A teporocho (bum) that was an old woman pushing a cart, and children selling in the stalls also gathered, J.D wanted to scream at the crowd in the square, you can’t be here, go home immediately! The man pinned by Octavio raised his arm, and as if to giving out hand flag signals, started to wriggle his fingers,

The air started to buzz.

Bz, bzzz, bzzzzz, the air shook.

Bz, bzzz, bzzzzzzzz.

From all four corners of the sky and between the buildings, and even underground they flew. It was like the din of leaved flying around in strong winds. And then the screaming of people. Moscas, a swarm of moscas (flies)!

An immense number of them gathered like a cloud above the sky, and filling the sky they seemed to increase the heaviness of the darkness of the night. If it had been during noon, they may have covered the entire sky as a pseudo eclipse solar (pseudo solar eclipse). ZZzzzzzZZZ, ZZzzzzZZ, ZZzzzZZ. The night shook with the sound of their wings. The very air palpitated. The citizens of Antigua looking above at the hanging curtain of moscas (flies) didn’t understand the significance of the sight in front of them. However, the instinct of the citizens living in this city of religion told them that this was the clear beginning of apocalipsis (apocalypse).

Bz!

As if he were engaging in pesca con mosca (fly fishing), the indigena flicked his wrist and the moscas (flies) descended in one group toward the ground. J.D understood these were not ordinary flies. these were the tools of the Holy Communion for the monster. Each and every one was an assassin's bullet. It was a bombing.

Bz!

Bzz! Bzzz!

Bzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

Bzz! Bzzzz! Bzzzz!

The descending bullets of moscas (flies) were aimed toward Octavio. They were not just moscas (flies). They pierced skin, and they were hardened enough to shatter meat and bone, and they were murder weapons that zoomed toward lights and body heat. Having been shot in his shoulder and back, Octavio stepped away from the man unable to bear it any longer, and curled up in a ball to protect his head, crawling toward the shadows of a large object to hide his body. It became surrounded by a black fog, and promptly exploded. It collapsed, and the square in front of the catedral (cathedral) became like a battlefield. They were like pebbles that brought upon Pasión (Suffering) and Muerte (Death). All the colors of the catedral (cathedral) was invaded by the black falling moscas (flies). The confusion was increased by people fleeing the chaos, hiding underneath the floats, and stomping down the stalls. In the center of the mess the manーthe monstruo (monster) of Antigua, was waving his arms to direct the moscas (flies), and chanting in something other than Spanish. He was either laughing from happiness, or crying from sadness, as his face contained both anguish and ecstasy, regret and rapture while sobbing.

He was dripping down tears from his chin. He didn’t know what was causing so much of that to squeeze out of the man, but it was almost as if the man was trying to push them out from himself uncomfortably like excrement. J.D wanted to move closer, but the his vision blurred. The monstruo’s (monster’s) silhouette 10 meters in front of him wavered, and it seemed like the air behind his back was swaying like an espejismo (mirage). The government military were shooting automatatic guns at the moscas (flies) and sending the flares used in guerilla warfare, but they couldn’t defeat the moscas bombardeo (concentrated attacks by the flies).

It was the worst case scenario, and like a scene from a nightmare. The moscas (flies) were clearly being directed by the man. In J.D’s hands there was nothing he had to combat this. The whistle that the monstruo (monster) was blowing was no doubt a silbido de masacre (whistle of massacre).

The chain of command for the government military was in chaos, and the equipment of the police and foundation were no match. The least that must be done is evacuate the civilians, but in this square there were no roofs to hide under. The moscas (flies) transmitting death would probably invade the catedral (cathedral) from the high windows and air vents even if they evacuated inside there. The brass band instruments were riddled with holes on the ground, the alfombras (rugs) too, and even the roof of the military vehicles was reduced to the nest of the flies. The children that were slow to run away had fallen on their bottoms, and old female teporocho (bum) lost her balance and fell, and the citizens jumped into the fountain in the square. The attacks from the moscas (flies) continued, and J.D wasn’t able to lend a helping hand to even one citizen of Antigua.

Was there no salvation? Was Christ also silent even in this old city? Did the prayers of the believers in the chaos not reach the heavens? Then suddenly, a flower petal fluttered down onto his nose. J.D looked at his feet. There were grass shards from broken bottles, and the fragments of a multitude of icons. The fragments reflected the light from the torches, and were slightly twinkling, Then, as if answering those twinkles, the flowers and leaves started to ascend up toward his head.

What theーThey moved straight up, or as if drawing a spiral, all the things part of alfombras (rugs). From the leaves of plants to flowers, and colorfully died threads all swooped upwards as if charged with life itself toward the heavens. Not the heavens, but as if blown by a wind from the groundー

J.D understood. This was a display of “la maravillas” (a wonderous power) he and his colleagues knew about. It was wizardly which originated in Tibet, and a secret method of generating a powerful stream of energy. The wafting threads and flowers and leaves were all a mediation of the “Ripple”, stacking together, creating a barrier, and becoming a great dome covering the entirety of the square. Acting like a mosquitero (mosquito net) that had electricity running through it, it knit together without any holes and didn’t allow the moscas (flies) to attack. With the same life energy as the rays of the sun, the dome reflected back the flies and did not allow them in.

She must be in the crowd. She had appeared just in time. He had never heard of such an application like this before. All J.D knew was the existence which the “Ripple” users had defeated more than a quarter of a century ago was bigger than the disaster occurring in Antigua, and possible even earth itself. Those people could do it, and only those people could accomplish it.

The confusion in front of the catedral (cathedral) had no name yet. It was the same for the manifestation of energy the citizens of Antigua had seen before their eyes, but after the incident, the name for his application was given, and recorded in the internal documents of the Speed Wagon Foundation. As, Thousand Color Overdriveー

The teporocho (bum) that was an old woman who had been lying on the floor raised herself slowly on top of an alfombra (rug).The person who had been bowing, or perhaps praying, and had clasped her hands together in a holy fashionー

She was no teporocho (bum) and her costume was something that drew eyes. But she was definitely and elderly woman. Pulling her hood down, her long plata (silver) hair billowed in the air like a waterfall. Half her face was covered with a scarf, but she displayed a surprising nobleness with only her eyes.

Her exact age? J.D didn’t know for sure. Her appearance? Apparently the breathing method of the Ripple increased the body function, and there was an effect of making the outer appearance look 20 to 30 years younger. They said that she had stopped being fixated on the anti-aging sometime ago. But she had aged gracefully naturally, and was overflowing with a pure and distilled energy. It was as though a rich alcohol had been concentrated, and increased in both sweetness and intensity. From her back to her hips there was a curve like the famous instrument Stradivarius, and wearing tall heels like a stake you would pound into a vampire. J.D quickly averted his eyes when he made contact with hers, and the person quickly dispelled the remaining moscas (flies) with her rosewood cane, and walked toward the agitated monstruo (monster) who still didn’t seem to have understood what had happened. She walked each step as though crossing the night.

The monstruo (monster) noticed the elderly woman walking toward him. He shouted something in the language of indigenas. He was shouting as though words of resentment were bubbling up from within him and couldn’t stop. On the other hand, the woman spoke fluent Queen’s English.

“The festival is over. What the night of this ancient city needs is some silence.”

Sending orders to the other research teams, J.D ran up to the elderly woman and the man.

One of the most powerful of the existing “Ripple” users had come to the scene by their own volition. They couldn’t allow their greatest research subject, and one of the yet unrecorded ability-wielding user to escape. Along with the other agents, he raised his gun and encircled the man. She asks if they need her help in case they fail.

I have no idea what this hag did, but my moscas (flies) are tied down nowーrealizing what had happened, the monstruo (monster) opened his mouth as if to give a death cry.

Following one mosca (fly) that escaped from his mouth with a bz, a crowd of them burst from his mouth like a fountain and charged straight toward her. However, she didn’t step back. Nor did she panic. It wasn’t particularly fast, but she just walked back to where she had decided was her spot. Not doing anything to show off, and not even a display of power. She simply directed the swarm of moscas (flies) to the left with her scarf that was luminescent as if weaved from the thread of silkworms, then carried her body expertly and closed the distance, and placed her hand on the neck of the monstruo (monster). Good night, whispering as if scolding a puppy that had soiled the carpet, or as if putting to bed a rosy-cheeked boy, she directed the energy of the “Ripple” to him, and the monstruo (monster) shook as though struck with a lightning rod. There was no room for J.D and his team to intervene. Even after creating that immense dome and knocking the man unconscious, she was able to control her breathing. Her lung capacity for the “Ripple” was extraordinary. You couldn’t help but be amazed. She had long been involved with the Speed Wagon Foundation as a special advisor, and had just taken the post of the top of the Paranormal Phenomena Section. She was supposed to act as the commander sending orders from the headquarters, but she had come to the front lines and left the agents in the dust, Even now, she was active.

Lisa Lisa apologizes for being late, stating that the certain incident in Peru had taken time as she hands the tied monstruo (monster) to the medic teams of the Foundation. The lovely boss didn’t forget to acknowledge the service of the employees. She draws their attention to the bullet on her palm, stating that the fly had hardened to the point of becoming like steel or cast iron, and also became aggressive. But now, the fly had returned to a normal fly. Most likely due to the wielder of the ability becoming unconscious. “Hernández, the question you raised in your report must be answered.”

“Misses, is this truly not the Ripple?” The suspicion that J.D had been having finally became a reality with the nod from his superior.

“The Ripple is the power of the sun. The flow of life energy. But this is something more... somber and from the deeper place, something that even embodies the depths of the human psyche. But thanks to this my conviction is strengthened. This world is trying to transmute, or already transforming. I must solve this case. The maelstrom of change is spreading from Central America to the entire world.”

In this year, in this land, past and future were encountering each other. A giant wave of time formed, which was to control the fate of the Speed Wagon Foundation. A turning point in history. According to the record, “The Monstruo (Monster) of Antigua” was to become the #1 of the manifested in the observation list of a certain peculiar group of abilities that the foundation deemed worthy of pouring all kinds of resources in to investigate. Though they may be connected deep beneath the ground by the same root, it was falsely similar with the Ripple. The world would come to know the existence of the yet unnamed nueva maravillas (new wonderous power) which was discovered in April of 1973. The woman was trying to get J.D and the other Foundation members to recognize the gravity of this knowledge. The awakening from within, the arousalーher lucid and clear blue eyes were even gazing into the fate of violence of her own descendants.

There must have been a cause for the ability of that man tonight to manifest, she said to the agents.

“He must have been pierced by that bow and arrow,” informed Lisa Lisa.

#elizabeth joestar #lisa lisa #jojo magazine #guatemala #JJBA #70s #jojos bizarre adventure

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

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Purple Haze Feedback Mistranslations

Continued from Part 1

②Giorno's parents did not justify their neglect and abuse Error: They tell me it helped me to grow, but that's hard to see. Can you sympathize at all? Correction: Even if you were to tell me to get over it, that's easier said than done—do you get what I'm saying? English Page 163 (Right), Paragraph 1 Japanese Page 282 (Right), Line 14

#purple haze feedback #phf #jojos bizarre adventure #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #JJBA

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

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Purple Haze Feedback Mistranslations

Continued on Part 2. Did anyone notice other errors?

①Buccellati was unable to stomach the murder of a father with a young daughter, not of children. Consequently, Fugo and Abbacchio did not murder children. Error: Their capo needed the job done, but they knew, for example, that their team leader would not be able to stomach the murder of a child. Correction: Their capo needed the job done, but they knew, for example, that their team leader would not be able to stomach the murder of those with a young daughter. English Page 72 (Left), Paragraph 3 Japanese Page 126 (Right), Lines 16-17

#purple haze feedback #phf #jojos bizarre adventure #bruno buccellati #bruno bucciarati #pannacotta fugo #leone abbacchio #JJBA

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bluecombelephant · 2 years

Text

Golden Melody (8,522 words)

Horribly formatted rough translated summarization of Golden Melody by Kitaguni Ballad. Advice on improving the formatting and tags for Tumblr is appreciated.

Thus Spoke Kishibe Rohan: Short Story Collection translations by onkei Kushagara: http://digitalscratch.pmsinfirm.org/8469 Censored Equation: http://digitalscratch.pmsinfirm.org/8764

Part 1

Human progress necessitates <pursuit>.

From sport, scholarship, to art.

Because there were predecessors in every field unforgiving of compromise and <pursuing> the ultimate, civilization was able to develop this much through the accumulation of time.

The history of this madness known as <pursuit> has always been opening doors to new inventions and discoveries, of new worlds.

And... This too will be a story about a new door opened at the end of such <pursuit>.

The story begins 7 years earlier, when 20 year old Rohan met Isaka Kyomei in the beginning of autumn, the descendant of a samurai family from east Japan tasked with managing the land of the old countryside Sakamochi village in T prefecture. Being the youngest of 3 sons, his laziness was indulged by family. His passion is music (favorite genre is alternative rock) and he even entered a university of music in Tokyo, but finding human relationships difficulty he withdrew after two years (and he was more of a listener than a instrument player). He returned home and began working at an audio equipment shore called Sakamochi Record owned by an old man, one of the properties managed by his family (they pulled some strings).

Although nearly in shambles, the store had valuable audio equipment from the early Showa period (1926 to 1989), and Kyomei struck upon the brilliant idea of selling them online, prompting unprecedented sales for such an isolated and obscure shop in the countryside. This made possible a cycle of selling old equipment→Money→Buying the latest high-tech equipment, eventually solidifying the reputation of the store in the audio equipment community. Assuring the old owner that he would look after the store and encouraging his retirement, Kyomei managed to completely take over the business. However, this success was completely based on <luck> and not a result of any inherent business savviness nor effort on part of Kyomei. Business a success, Kyomei enjoyed a life of stability and relative luxury... until he met Rohan!

One day in the evening when the sun hadn't quite completely set, Rohan walked into Sakamochi Record which was closing shop (he wonders why when the Google directions to the store states that it's still open at this hour). Rohan asks for a record player, and Kyomei, being annoyed, starts to try and overwhelm Rohan with information, blabbing on using overly-technical terms (companies, cartridges, equalizers). Being an arrogant <audiophile>, Kyomei had always gained pleasure in showing his superiority toward posers who acted like "know-it-all"s, asking overly detailed questions to poke holes in his opponents' knowledge ("Do you even know how many grams the stylus pressure of that company's record player is?"). This was how Kyomei planned to make an equally arrogant and annoying customer like Rohan to leave, but Rohan didn't react in a way he expected.

Rohan asks if the Kyomei's job is to intimidate customers by showcasing his knowledge, or if it's to sell products seriously. Kyomei is caught off guard and meekly replies that that wasn't his intention. Rohan berates Kyomei and tells him to take his job seriously, as he does similarly as a manga artist. Kyomei reveals he's a fan of Rohan, in possession of every single volume of Pink Dark Boy. Rohan explains that the character he's drawing now loves Led Zeppelin, so he needs to listen to that character's favorite songs to transfer the raw experience into his character (Rohan borrowed the album "Led Zeppelin"). The effort of buying a 20,500 yen ($205) dollar record player to fully enjoy the album is the <respect> showed by the listener toward the band. So, what Rohan is asking from Kyomei is to direct him toward what the best path for showing <respect> toward Led Zeppelin is, what record player is the most worthy for playing "Good Times Bad Times".

Kyomei is thunderstruck. Until then the <breadth of knowledge>, <amount spent on a collection>, and <largeness of a collection> were the only measuring sticks Kyomei had known in determining the hierarchy of audio equipment community members. He had never considered <paying respect toward the very experience itself>. He had never once interacted with such a pure mindset toward music, and through Rohan, for the first time in his life he tries to act like a real <professional>. He's also moved by Rohan's phrase of transferring the raw <energy of sound> into his character. Kyomei replies that he now understands that Rohan isn't motivated by brand names or knowledge, but by the resolution he has toward striving for the best audio quality. They both work together carefully, considering Rohan's budget and pouring all of Kyomei's expertise, assembling the necessary equipment set, and finishing the shipping procedure to Rohan's home.

This experience of pouring his all into such a pure and honest customer was extremely satisfying and so fulfilling that it changed the lazy Kyomei's life forever... and prompted his journey of seven years of <pursuit> which eventually led to the annihilation of Sakamochi village!

Part 2

(End of flashback, 7 years later, present-day)

7 years later, Rohan was still continuing his <pursuit> on the path of manga. However, <pursuit> depletes the finite capabilities of humans, usually sapping them of their <cleverness at living> (think of Rohan's abysmal social skills). This is why those who <pursue> one field to the limits are usually eccentric in one way or another—especially in the case for authors and artists. Who they are won't be stated, but they do exist.Therefore two dispositions are suitable for editors in charge of these artists: either possessing excellent communication skills and able to notice minute details, or those resistant to stress and are in a way <brazen>. Rohan's new editor, Izumi Kyoka, is of the latter type.It was on a summer day that they arranged to meet for the first time at Café Deux Magots, and Rohan is informed by Kyoka that he must complete another one-shot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine. They were originally here to discuss the art book Rohan was planning to publish in summer, so this is unexpected news. Rohan sarcastically asks if Kyoka had even remembered the original reason they came here for, and if her sudden order was given out of the goodness of her heart worrying that he needed more jobs because he was so poor. Kyoka asks if pace-wise, the workload of two one-shots/art book/serialization is too much even for the great Rohan, to which Rohan becomes unreasonably angry and retorts that Of course he's capable enough to do it (don't underestimate him)! Rohan marvels at her brazenness in requesting another one-shot without even an apology or presenting a gift, and feels that he won't be able to stomach any further conversations with her. Rohan asks her if anybody has ever informed her she's talented at making manga artists angry, to which Kyoka cheerfully replies that those types of criticisms don't bother her as she considers her positive attitude her strength ♡. Rohan sarcastically replies,That's great! Rohan is now desperate to leave, but then Kyoka immediately derails their meeting with small talk. Rohan interrupts by lecturing her that time is precious to manga artists and, he has a matter to attend to anyway. When Kyoka asks what the matter is, Rohan replies he'll think of one later.

Kyoka shows no signs of being affected by Rohan's toxicity, and plows ahead to inform him that she received a postcard addressed to him from an audio equipment store all the way from T prefecture in West Japan. Rohan relates the story of having shopped at the store (and eventually being forced to sell the pricey record because he went bankrupt). Kyoka expresses surprise at this, because from her research <Sakamochi in T prefecture> is rapidly undergoing <depopulation>, strangely restricted to that one village, with the population rumored to be approaching 0 soon. As she explains this her eyebrows shoot upward, which reminds Rohan that he's seen the same expression at a fish ponds.Rohan takes out his phone to search the address of the postcard and news about the surrounding area, and sure enough Sakamochi is mentioned in articles about depopulation in rural areas. Furthermore, upon searching for information about that area's businesses and apartments, <out of business> is plastered everywhere... except for Sakamochi Record continuing as usual like an isolated island in that village. It's nearly an abandoned village!

Kyoka informs Rohan of a rumors that the Isaka Family, the landowner, had requested an <eviction> of everyone. But being so rural, it doesn't make sense to <evict> everyone to build, for example, a large shopping center. And the mystery of the audio equipment store evading <eviction> also disturbs Rohan. He mentions to Kyoka about an incident a few years ago from Wyoming where everyone in a small town disappeared overnight. It caused a frenzy on the internet, and even started a conspiracy theory accusing NASA of infecting them with radio waves from outer space. Upon closer inspection of the postcard, Rohan realizes that it isn't an <advertisement>, but an <invitation> for a meeting one week from today, at exactly 4 PM. Kyoka searches the date and time on her phone to search, and Rohan marvels at the convenience of this age, able to immediately search for information on a fist-sized object. However, he concludes there's just some things you need to go and experience for yourself physically, not just through a screen. It turns out to be the <solar eclipse>, the first <annular solar eclipse> in nearly 25 years.

Then it dawns on Rohan that Kyoka is uncharacteristically <meticulous>, having searched beforehand about the postcard. Kyoka remarks that she in fact respects Rohan contrary to how she acts, and Rohan sarcastically replies he wouldn't have been able to guess. Kyoka defends herself, saying of course she values Rohan as member of the editorial department as he's a cash cow, but he's definitely difficult as he's hard to please, arrogant, and has a headband on top of it all... Rohan asks if she's picking a fight with him. Kyoka admits that she didn't even want to be a manga editor (wished to be a fashion magazine editor) but since the job of an <editor> is to fill the pages with <interesting things>, she must hand over any interesting which would make Rohan <want to draw>. Then Kyoka skillfully redirects the conversation to Doesn't this mystery seem like it's brimming with the opportunity to discover the thing that Rohan will <want to draw>? Rohan is irritated at her insolent attitude, but he has to admit that she's a competent manga editor, knowing that the scent of <ideas> entices a manga artist. That's also the tragedy of manga artists, as they're always starving for interesting <ideas> everywhere and anytime. Therefore Rohan is unable to resist the temptation of <fun>.

After confirming with Kyoka that research expenses will be paid by the editorial department (since he's bankrupt right now), Rohan plans a research trip to Sakamochi village 1 week from now.

Part 3

Rohan and Kyoka arrive at their destination on a muggy day where the humidity seems to lick at their skin, after riding on the comfortable bullet train, to a local train line where the damaged seats suggest lack of maintenance.<Hiruko town> was situated in the flat ground between mountains in T prefecture. Compared to Morioh the town had a warm climate, and the strong rays of the sun are intense. the population is less than 10 thousand people, and ever decreasing. Currently talks to integrate the town with the surrounding area are in progression, and the town is planned to be erased from maps next year.

Leaving the train station and heading west following a large road. They stepped into their destination, <Sakamochi>. Like the namesake (Sakamochi means "Hill Having"), there were many uphill and downhill slopes, and on each side of the twisting and winding path were buildings with tiled roofs and shops with lacquered walls, with wooden fences separating them all creating a maze of interconnected roads. Untamed and tangled electric lines trailed overhead like a lattice. It was like a time capsule from the Showa period (1926 to 1989).Even then, the town had a barbershop with only the billboard newly replaced, and concrete fences displacing wooden ones made by a craftsman—all signs and traces of people inhabiting the place. Those traces had all been wiped away with the lukewarm wind drifting from the mountains. Rohan says it wasn't this quiet even when he was here years ago, and Kyoka adds on that human presence had disappeared as soon as they had crossed the river from the train station. Even in this disappearing village, they could sense the change had been rapid instead of gradual. Rohan points out a yard with the clothes still left out to dry, and a wooden basin rolling around as though kicked to the side. But it still wasn't as though the inhabitants had fled in a hurry, and even from the windows Kyoka can see merchandise left intact. She had heard the population was declining rapidly, but this was too rapid! Rohan agrees it's too quiet, and with how the two of them were the only people existing in this area, the residents didn't leave. They must have been forced out instead for this oddness to happen. As they walked through the shopping district where the only sounds were their own footsteps, Kyoka is astounded to discover there is no WiFi reception. In this age it's impossible that the local wireless network would be terminated even if nobody lived here anymore, and as they talk Kyoka screams as she suddenly spots a dead cat which looked as though it had been deliberately poisoned, and clearly intentionally killed. Rohan muses that the lack of other animals must mean they're avoiding this village out of primal instinct (cat serving as a warning to them?).

They suddenly notice a thumping sound, along with the shifting noise of what must be music. With the sound of drums and guitar echoing, Rohan notes that it sounds like the intro of a song by The Kings Of Leon, but more electronic (and not too shabby). Kyoka asks what that is, and Rohan scolds her that as an editor in charge of a manga artist she ought to know a wide genre of topics, including listening to foreign bands too. Kyoka replies that music isn't her hobby, but even this song seems to pierce her from her stomach to her tailbone, and with how it makes her want to dance... She might just like this song! Kyoka excited asks if Rohan knows what band created this song, and at his I dunno, she complains he has no right to lecture her about music (a moment before he was acting like a know-it-all with throwing out a foreign music band reference). Rohan quickly changes the topic by saying some delinquents could be blasting the music after winding up here, and they could have been the culprit behind the cat-killing. Kyoka voices her concern that as a woman, she's more vulnerable, and as Rohan is scrawny and doesn't look really strong, they'll be beat up for sure!

Rohan ignores her and continues that country bumpkin hoodlums prowl around unpopulated places, and they continue even today to carry around baseball bats. If they've come by car, they'll have no choice but to escape through a narrow alleyway. Kyoka pleads with him to stop scaring her, and the sound approaches them. After a while, they're even able to discern the lyrics and Rohan thinks that whoever is blasting the music must have really good speakers. In this ghost town, the loudly reverberating music is a foreign object. In contrast to Kyoka who's scared, Rohan thinks it'll be a letdown if it was just some delinquents. For him, the failure of a research trip in gaining any fruitful information is worse than becoming surrounded by multiple scary men. Due to Rohan (intentionally?) frightening her, Kyoka is thinking about running away immediately if she sees a shady looking man, but Rohan is still undecided on whether to run away as that'll render his research trip a total waste of time. But then, the person that was behind the cat killing, and scaring off crows was something unexpected! It was neither a ghost nor a human... <It> was a <monster>, and Kyoka screams as it's <grotesque>.

It was either a humanoid machine, or a machine integrated into a human body. What was most horrifying was the face, because it had none. Instead of a head, there was a <siren> attached at the back, and the face was replaced by a large speaker (can't see eyes or nose). The figure was nearly <nude>, and <cables> were wrapped around the arms and legs in a spiral pattern, threaded into the skin. The palms were covered by parts similar to the earmuff parts of headphones. The skin was mottled and purple, like a corpse, and on its back was a box like a large wicker basket. The box was filled with <record players> and <batteries>, and the whole creature was fit to be called an <audio human>.In a panic, Kyoka continues to scream as Rohan realizes that it's not a <stand>, it's <physical>, casting <shadows>, and what more Kyoka clearly sees it too. Kyoka screams, runs, then trips. The <monster> faces her and proclaims in an artificial and synthetic voice, as if produced from singing software voicebank —There is a <noise>.However, the voice showed a clear consciousness, cold and intelligent, as if announcing that there was garbage on the side of the road.

It reaches out and grabs hold of Kyoka's throat and starts to strangle her, smoothly and showing no hesitation. Enraged, Rohan yells, What do you think you're doing! and immediately rushes to help her with his right hand poised to unleash Heaven's Door. However, the next second.

"Rohaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan ♬"

Kyoka begins to sing! Surprised, Rohan stops. Her voice was beautiful enough to want to listen to it all day. But to be more precise, it wasn't her voice at all. It wasn't just Kyoka's voice, but also the quaking of drums and a guitar strumming the chorus. In fact, the song they were hearing before was being issued from her throat! As the song's melody flowed from her mouth, her chest, skinny arms, start to rhythmically jerk around as if shocked.

"—<thrum thrum>—Rohan-sensei♬<Thud thud thump>—Sensei'♪"

" —<Twang twang>—Can't stop'♪—<Twang twang>—can't stop'♪—<Twang twang Thump-a-dump-dun dun da>—but it feels goooood♪"

Rohan, being too dumbfounded and pleased by the melody opts to observe. If only it was a clear <threat>, then he could have dealt with it. The more confusing something is, the more people hesitate. The more they hesitate, the more questions they have, which gives rise to curiosity... And so Rohan watched on. Furthermore, the music was <comfortable>. The sound was something that stirred happiness in the listener, to the extent they would want to listen to it forever, so the defense mechanism doesn't kick in. Slowly, Rohan realizes that the <monster>'s palm had a headphone speaker stuck on its palm, which it was digging against Kyoka's neck. The sound was reverberating though her skull, and using her mouth as an amplifier. The sound was intimately resonating throughout her body, tens of time more potent than how Rohan heard it. The melody was fulfilling her, making her body respond to the music to the point of dancing unconsciously. Her arms swung around powerfully, and her hips rocked back and forth sensually. She swept back her hair, and started to dance to a step that seemed to erupt from her primal instincts in time with the rhythm of the drum beats. It was as if Rohan had wandered inside a night club. Rohan expresses surprise and wonder, and reacting to his voice the <monster turns to face him>. Rohan had been identified by it, so he prepared for another hand to reach out to grab him, but

——Well if it isn't Rohan-sensei

The monster spoke as though greeting an old friend on the side for the road, while still continuing to strangle Kyoka. Overwhelmed, Rohan froze both in body and thought. The <monster> asks if this <noise> is Rohan's luggage, perhaps his lover...? If so, he apologizes, but could Rohan either shut it up or make it leave? If not, <it> would die. Kyoka continues to dance merrily away, clearly receiving pleasure from soaking in such good music. However, with the monster's palm digging into her throat and obstructing her breathing, she was turning purple. It was an <attack>, sending chills up Rohan's spine. Although she had clearly been receiving violence the entire time, both Kyoka and Rohan hadn't been able to register it as a threatening act.The body's signals for pain and fear hadn't been working! Rohan thinks, "No, it's not that they had stopped working...It was that it felt good, to continue listening to <that sound>!" The sound was like an anesthetic, numbing the ability to feel pain, still coursing through Kyoka's body. The <monster> asks what Rohan will do. It explains that Kyoka's voice irritates him. Her screams are interrupting the <good sounds> even now, becoming <noise>, and if Rohan doesn't deal with her he'll have no choice but to <eliminate> her. Sense of danger fully returned, Rohan asks it to let her go, agreeing to accept its conditions. It replies that it called him here just for that purpose, and Rohan writes with Heaven's Door "Stay silently unconscious for 3 hours" into her. Confirming that she's now silent, the <monster frees her>.Rohan had done so because he felt a clear sense of self from the creature, along with a definite intelligence. First of all, the original invitation (postcard from Sakamochi Record) had only been addressed toward Rohan, so Kyoka was uninvited and thus an <unwelcome guest>. Guessing that there was some sort of rule existing for both the <monster> and this land of <Sakamochi>, Rohan had thought there might be consequences for breaking the "only one invitation rule".Facing the creature, Rohan notes that it's otherworldly enough to drive people mad, observing that it must not be relying on eyesight, as he feels no presence when he stares into the faceless head.

"... Are you... <Isaka Kyomei>?"

—Yes. It's been awhile, Rohan-sensei.

Along with conviction, Rohan also feels despair. In his memory, Kyomei had been an unreliable employee, but not taking on such a grotesque form. He realized that a irreparable and irreversible change had taken place. In this new form where his appearance, voice, and very existence had all completely changed, the <monster>—<Isaka Kyomei> started to walk, guiding Rohan down to the inner depths of the town.

Part 4

Translator’s Note: <Pure audio> is a loanword which probably means "high end audio" or "high fidelity (sound reproduction)" according to Wikipedia. Does anyone know what term would be more appropriate for <pure audio>?

Kyomei somehow walks without emitting any footsteps, slowly as though his feet are heavy. Being led by a grotesque monster though the silent streets of the uninhabited town, Rohan feels as though he's walking the road to Hades (he also brings up a comparison of a part of Dante's Divine Comedy, and the Pied Piper of Hamelin). Kyomei makes small talk by saying Rohan hasn't changed at all, while Rohan shoots back that compared to somebody became a freak, it would seem so. He's vigilant, ready to use his stand at any moment, while Kyomei continues to talk.

He says that he was slowly reborn since that fateful day (when he met Rohan) 7 years ago. Until then, he used to be completely insincere, not paying respect toward anything, and living his life like a slacker. But when selling Rohan that record plater, he experienced the joy of earnestly working on something (the satisfaction of putting 100% of you effort in something) for the first time. That made him want to <pursue> at least something. So he chose to become an <audio professional>.

He asks if Rohan has heard of the word <pure audio> (high fidelity sound reproduction), to which Rohan replies that it's where audiophiles strive for better sound quality. Kyomei continues to say that the philosophy of <pure audio> requires sound to be <pure>, and the final goal is the complete elimination of (audio) <noise>. At the back of the store, there was an audio room he prepared. First he cleaned it, and threw away anything that would obstruct the echo of sound (Rohan was distressed by this issue when choosing the placement of his bookshelves and sideboard). Then he cleaned all the equipment, but then realized that dust and fabric of his own clothes prevented total cleanness, so he became nude and finally was able to finish cleaning. He forgot to put his clothes back on as he played a record afterward, and this was great because the sound reverberated through where his manhood was.

Rohan tells him that he doesn't want to hear a confession about a deviant fetish, and if that was the creation of a 'nude audio theory' then he could make some cash by introducing it on YouTube. Kyomei ignores this and continues that until then he hadn't known clothes could be a barrier against sound echoing through his skin and bones. The common sense of wearing clothes was an impurity that had been seperating <sound> from <him>. Even his own vocal cords are the source of unwanted background noise, so he replaced it with an aritifical vocal cord he can switch on and off, and used a speaker. Even removing his face was simple, because essentially, all it was just abandoning anything that obstructed him from listening to <sound>.

Kyomei starts to explain his philosophy, lecturing that the identity of <sound> is <sound waves>. <Waves> are the origin of all energy: oceans which birthed life have <waves>, the light from the sun is <electromagnetic waves>, and people's minds are comprised of <brain waves>. Power spreads like a ripple (hamon), turning the Earth. Anything that obstructs <waves> are unnecessary. Rohan tells him that he's falsely interpreting the world to make it fit into his theory, but Kyomei argues that Rohan just experienced it too. The face of Kyoka flashes through Rohan's mind.

Kyomei explains that even <alpha waves> (brain waves which calm people) are <waves> which can be reproduced with the power of <sound>. It's simple enough to make fear dissapear from a person listening, including making a person feel no pain as they're being strangled, and stopping them from panicking. A truly <good sound> can even make someone reject their fear of death ("I reject my humanity" reference?). <Sound waves> are a life energy powerful enough to directly interfere with the soul, or more like free the soul and make it bare. Even as he says this, Kyomei's synthetic voice is robotic as ever, lacking any tension and disturbing. However, Rohan understood that there was a definite result (truth) from that theory, and that Kyomei's speech is passionate.

Kyomei proclaims that he wanted to pursue that (freeing the soul and making it bare with the life energy that is sound), of how <pure> he could transform his passion for <sound>, which was defined by how much he could eliminate <what could be noise> which stood between him and sound (common sense, worldview, embarrassment, compassion, ethics)… that was the true theory of pure audio (high fidelity sound). Although what Kyomei said had some logical reasoning, Rohan became certain in that moment that Kyomei had a screw loose .Rohan begins to breach a topic despite knowing how dangerous it would be, starting with saying he understood his passion, but that <cat> corpse, and the houses with laundry left out to dry, with bicycles and cars still left out… people didn’t leave here out of their free will, did they?

Kyomei is silent as Rohan continues that what more, there was a children’s glove lying beneath a porch with what seemed like there was something inside. Although the Isaka family is the land owner here, it was dubious that Kyomei had the ability to manage everything. Where were the rest of his family? How many things had he eliminated by categorizing them as <noise>? Kyomei corrects him by stating that this isn’t about that, but a question of <pursuit>.

Once you start <pursuing>, there’s no meaning unless you continue our <pursuit>. His <Analysis Plus> cables, <Majico> speakers, <Jeff Rowland> amplifiers, <funds> to choose from the highest quality equipment, and <knowledge> that enables him to discern the compatibility between them and choose the best setup are all nothing but something that time and money can solve, only the basics. These are all wholly inadequate in reaching the ultimate <purity>. Rohan is immediately shocked by the mention of <Analysis Plus> cables, as Kyomei probably means <Gold Oval> cables which cost enough money to buy a house (Google search shows $26,400 for 1 cable). He asks Kyomei if he’s mad. Kyomei calmly replies that as you can observe, he’s perfectly sane. Rohan disagrees.

Then a strange white noise leaks from Kyomei’s speakers. First, Rohan that he’d finally made Kyomei angry. But then, he realizes that it was a laugh. Then he taunts Kyomei, saying that he’s actually sane still despite his outrageous looks. He says that Kyomei’s odd insistence of sanity (the more you insist you’re normal, the more you seem dangerous), his outrageous appearances are all overcompensation, like method acting of faking it till you make it. Although physically and mentally he had changed, he still retained humanity in his mannerism and speech, where Rohan was able to see glimpses of Kyomei from 7 years ago. What was most telling was that Kyomei was so friendly and placid toward him, which had been bothering Rohan all along. Anyway, Rohan couldn’t deny that he gained an interest in this situation. All the brands that Kyomei had brough up were high quality and legendary companies, the types were multiple lifetimes wouldn’t be enough to afford collect their merchandise. Rohan couldn’t deny wanting to see the impossible collection of the highest quality that Kyomei had somehow assembled. That was why, no matter what happened, Rohan decided he needed to see Kyomei’s collection.

Rohan asks how he managed to buy all that, even if business was booming (adding that he wasn’t looking down on audio equipment stores). Kyomei replies that that’s what <pursuit> is, of doing the impossible. For example, the <radio waves> emitted from indoor lighting, <ear wax> that builds up in your ear, the faint <vibrations of air> which occur with ventilation systems, <muscles and fat> which prevent sounds from penetrating your body’s core, your <body hair> which absorbs sound, <radio waves from phones>, sounds of <cars driving> outside, sounds of <neighbors>, even his <family> who refused to let him access the Isaka family assets even though he needed to buy audio equipment… He would never falter in his efforts to eliminate all the <noise> which prevents him from reaching the purest sound. That is what <pursuit> is.

Rohan repeats his question of how many things Kyomei eliminated, but he continues to talk about how the power of sound is supreme, people throwing away their lives just to listen to it. Even without portable speakers, one that echoed just loud enough was enough to immobilize an entire village (talking about alpha waves?). Rohan quickly changes his opinion that Kyomei was sane. However, one thought still bothered Rohan, which was how easily Kyomei spiraled into insanity. Even a person born in a cushy first-world country like Japan still retains a tough mentality, so it would make sense for a hardcore audiophile to spiral into self-destruction with their fanatic belief in high fidelity sound. But that wouldn’t usually result in them transforming their body, harming others, and even destroying an entire village. Something would have stopped them.

Rohan had had experience with a deranged serial killer (Kira) in the past, who had committed multiple crimes based on his own selfish desires. But even he hadn’t annihilated an entire village. When he had met Kyomei 7 years ago, he had been normal, and certainly not somebody who didn’t understand the gravity of human life. There must have been a <decisive something> which prompted his downward spiral. Of course he could use Heaven’s Door, but in this moment Rohan had a desire to connect with Kyomei through mutual understanding, via conversation. Even though Kyomei had discarded other people, his own body, and even his vocal cords, he had left his ability to <speak> intact. That must have meaning.

When Rohan asks what happened, Kyomei replies that <sound> happened. He asks if Rohan knows about the <Golden Ratio>. He launches into an explanation of it, specifically citing the <Golden Spiral> which occurs inside <Golden Rectangles>, saying this law contains <infinite energy>. Found in many art works and in humanity’s pursuit of beauty, it is a <perfect ratio>, and one of truths carved into the universe. During this monologue, Rohan notes that all the surrounding buildings have been painted black. They finally enter a house, and Rohan realizes it’s the building which used to be Sakamochi Record. There’s nor solar panels and electricity storage, because electricity from a powerplant affects the sounds.

Kyomei continues that there is a <Golden Ratio> for sound too, the <833 cents scale>. If you were to produce a song that perfectly followed that interval, then that song would surely be a <Golden Melody>. Rohan notes that Kyomei’s audio room where he was led was like a concert hall, completely black (unknown to Rohan was that it was special carbon paint to heighten the reflection of sound), with large windows to reduce dependency on electrical lighting with radio waves, and sound reflection boards. The whole room was filled with equipment that would rival the prices listed in real estate catalogues.

His room had pure oxygen free copper electric cables running from electric outlets, amplifiers that were in the form and as thick as a sealed safes, five big standing speakers that were stacked on top of each other, and everything was arranged geometrically, and wired stylishly. And in the middle of a room was a <record player> growing from the ground. It was attached so securely to the ground to reduce any recoil, and everything in the room was optimized. Rohan starts to praise the room, genuinely impressed (even the record player and speakers cost enough to be able to build a house). However, Kyomei says that spending money on equipment isn’t enough, and that he still wasn’t able to truly experience the <833 cents scale>. Even with this setup, subtle <noise> would always penetrate the room. Rohan is incredulous, but Kyomei explains that with normal means, the vibrations in the air, radio waves, and little noise disturbances all distort the pure sound. As long as you live on Earth, there’s no escaping the little discrepancies that occur, below the decimal point. Even if it isn’t recognizable with human ears, <compromise> will not let him reach his ultimate goal. Kyomei lifts his head to stare at the sky above (the windows to reduce dependency on indoor lightening), and as he does, the blue sky above slowly begins to darken. He casually brings up the <Golden Ratio> and the <infinite energy> it contains. That was why he though that if he eliminated <noise> 100% and played the <golden melody> precisely (that is, release the <golden ratio> sound which contains <infinity>), then he could listen to the sound of <infinite energy>.

Rohan was still dubious. Nobody could go to such extremes without firm conviction that they would find the truth. To begin with, where did Kyomei even discover that word <golden melody>? Then he realizes. Pointing his finger at Kyomei’s back (where he pulled out a single record from the box he carried), he says that he has it right there, doesn’t he? In that record player was one record. Rohan continues that normally you can’t <pursue> something because there is no end… It’s nearly impossible to devote yourself completely to an abstract ideal. People can’t climb <mountains without peaks>. Without a clear goal, you can’t strive for something… but Kyomei had <something definite> right there. If you have a goal, if you know that there a <truth> known as a correct answer you can reach, then people can start to strive!

History has proved this with heliocentric theory, the theory of evolution, the neutrino, and Fermat’s last theorem. If people can see the shape of an answer, they will desperately research the path to lead them to that answer. People will even be willing to throw away their lives to walk that path. As long as humans think that there’s a chance they’ll be rewarded for their long years of effort, then no matter how much civilization develops people will always <pursue>.Printed on the record that Kyomei held in his hand, was The Golden Melody. The <Golden Melody> (this is repeated twice because it’s printed in both English and Japanese).

This was the name of the song Kyoka and Rohan had been forced to hear. Rohan says that this record was the <culprit> behind Kyomei’s change, and Kyomei takes offense at the negative word <culprit>. Kyomei admits that the sound containing the <833 cents scale> lies inside here though, and that the source of the universe, the ripple (hamon) of infinite life energy is packaged inside here. After listening to this, he decided to devote his life for the record. This record wants to be heard by other people, and he wanted to release the sound stored here in its most faithful form. It told him that this was his duty.Rohan scrutinizes the 7 inch EP (extended play) vinyl record. If what Kyomei was saying was true and the record truly contained the <golden melody>, then it was able to express <infinity>. But Kyomei had been irrevocably changed by the <immense energy> contained within the record. If it was 7 inches, then the song would be around 3 minutes. Rohan warns Kyomei that however he got his hands on that thing, one thing was for sure: it was dangerous! He must abandon it, and this may be the last chance to do so, while Kyomei was still cognizant. Izumi (Rohan calls Kyoka, Izumi) was reduced to that just by the sound quality of his portable setup, so there was no telling what would happen if he played it full blast at the highest sound quality inside this room!Kyomei refuses to let it go, saying that each person and object has a <fate >, and this record was destined to meet him. This was the duty that he was ordered to fulfill, weaved into his <fate>. And what more, the time is just right. The <conditions> will be met. Before Rohan had realized, the room was dark, and looking out the window too, he saw the sun was clipped. He remembers the meeting time on the invitation card, and the solar eclipse about to happen for the first time in 25 years.

Kyomei mentions that the last time this <event> occurred in Southeast Asia (he’s talking about the 9 March 2016? So the first time in 25 years could be applying to only Japan? This is also referencing the solar eclipse Rohan mentions at the beginning of Millionare Village), it opened a hole in the ionosphere which comprises the atmosphere of the Earth. When the electromagnetic waves of the <sun> and the gravity of the <moon> combine, both powers are equalized, creating a <hole of power>. This phenomenon has the power to create a <hole> in the wall between Earth and outer space. And during this phenomenon, there is no <noise>, nor <disturbances>. A completely clear and pure environment. It was in the same environment that the same <phenomenon> occurred, and he was going to <replicate> that right now.

As he speaks, the sky becomes darker, and the electromagnetic waves raining down from the sun are intercepted. To Rohan, it feels like the god of death of death is approaching. Kyomei carries on, asserting that he finally cracked the code, and that it wasn’t a problem about money not technology… it was about <reproduction> all along! If he wanted to <reproduce> the recorded sound as faithful as he could, he would need to <reproduce> the same environment which gave birth to that <raw> sound! This was the ultimate pure audio (high fidelity) environment.And then, the a hole opened in the sun.This was the true identity of <The Golden Melody>, pure sounds recorded in the moment of both sun and moon, a product of birthed from pure power. Music which contained <infinity>.

As Kyomei prepares to insert the record inside the record player, Rohan warns him that he’ll attack as soon as he tries to press the play button. Rohan already knew of the danger of this music, robbing fear and Izumi Kyoka of her sensibility, and even controlling her body. It had immense energy stored, and it was certain that music inherently had energy which could interfere with the soul. That was why too intense an energy was dangerous for music to have. For people and all living things in general, <100% purity> is harmful. 100% pure oxygen is poisonous, and 100% alcohol cannot be drunk wither. And if that music contains <infinite energy>, people will die as they aren’t capable of accepting <infinity>. He cautions Kyomei that he will will die.

Kyomei replies that he knows this already, and he continues to set up everything. Rohan urges Kyomei multiple times to draw back the stylus (needle) from the record, and as he begins his attack, he suddenly notices that the <cable> isn’t connected to the <speaker>. The end of the <cable> was <headphones>. Rohan is stunned, and asks if Kyomei wasn’t here to make Rohan listen to the song. Why did Kyomei send an invitation card to Rohan, and why did he find Rohan necessary here?

Kyomei clarifies that since he was the one who reached the <Golden Melody>, he should be the only one allowed to listen to it. But he still wanted to leave behind evidence that he reached his goal (as he’s a weak person). Rohan taught him the joy of his actions linking to a definite result, of being <earnest>. He wanted to show Rohan his growth, and boast about <having found the Golden Melody>. For once in his life, he wanted to leave behind a mark. He wanted his actions to lead to a invaluable result.

Knowing that there wasn’t any time left until Kyomei dies, Rohan remarks that he doesn’t look down on people, to the extent that he’s arrogant enough to believe that he had dictated Kyomei’s future. What Kyomei did was entirely his fault and no one else’s (so don’t try to pin the blame in him). But also… the success of Kyomei was entirely on Kyomei himself, and by no one else. With this, Rohan lowers his hand that he was preparing for Heaven’s Door. He continues that Kyomei was the one who reached the <Golden Melody>, and… that this success was entirely his own. Although Kyomei didn’t say anything nor laugh as his face was incapable of expression, he let out a white noise in response. That was the last <noise> Kyomei produced. His last words are, I hope this results in some good ideas for your manga, and switching off his artificial vocal cords, he dropped the stylus onto the record.

Part 5

The song lasted 3 minutes and 20 seconds, and with his headphones on Kyomei danced throughout it all as though possessed. When the song ended just as the sky began to brighten again, Kyomei was no longer alive. Showered in a melody too pure, his soul melted into the music, and his soul disappeared unable to withstand the sound waves radiating infinite energy. Rohan crouched down and touched Kyomei’s body, activating Heaven’s Door. As he read Kyomei, the words started to disappear slowly, showing that the memories of his soul were crumbling away. Rohan tried to read what was available, while it was still available.

Described in Kyomei’s memories was the <Wyoming Mass Hysteria Incident>, which occurred on the day of the solar eclipse in America. A band called the <Golden Melodies> was one of the victims, and they created the song <The Golden Melody> after hearing the sounds produced by the solar eclipse and becoming inspired. They produced that record half crazed, as though possessed.(Page 69/75) Kyomei was a fan of this band, gaining energy from their songs when he was a sickly child throughout his childhood. To Kyomei, <sound> was precisely energy which fueled life. Because of the Wyoming Mass Hysteria Incident, he was no longer able to hear the <Golden Melodies>, but then he was able to acquire their very last record <The Golden Melody> at an auction where he splurged all of his family’s assets. This was the decisive point of his downward trajectory. Once he got his hands on <The Golden Melody>, he wasn’t able to stop, and had no choice to move ever forward.

So sounds had showered down from the heavens, which a rock band had reproduced onto a record, and which only Isaka Kyomei had heard. These sounds would never reverberate across the earth ever again. This was the end of the story, and since the solar eclipse was ending, it would take a few more decades to completely replicate the same conditions under which Kyomei had listened to the record again.

In front of Rohan’s eyes, the sentences in Kyomei’s book slowly crumbled, and was overwritten by a five line stave, which eventually warped into a large spiral that spanned the entire page. The infinitely rotating five line staff was a golden spiral. His book became illegible, and Kyomei’s self disappeared. Eventually, his life would reach it’s end too.Both the <solar eclipse> and <music> ended. Even manga has an end… but some things continue. Everything has an end, including life and the end of <pursuit>. However, the result of <pursuit> can still continue on into different forms. Rohan retraced his steps and found Kyoka still lying on the road. Above her palm, a mouse was scurrying. Although Rohan felt a small amount of guilt at leaving a woman lying unattended (abandoned) on a road, it was a good sign as it meant life was slowly returning to the village. He pulled her into a sitting position, and woke her.

“Good morning Izumi… No, I’m sorry. To tell you the truth, I’d half forgotten about you until now. I knew you were a young lady (so I shouldn’t have left you)… But since I came back for you (it’s OK, right?)…”

“…Rohan-sensei…”

“Oh, the <monster> isn’t here anymore. A lot happened… And well, if I were to explain everything it would be a long story…”

“…Sensei… I have no idea what’s going on, but can I ask one question?”

“What is it?”

“Did you find any inspiration?”

“… Heh heh.”

As Rohan had been wary of Kyoka becoming angry at him, even slapping him, this was completely unexpected. At her answer, he laughed for a few seconds, noise rumbling at the back of his throat. She truly was fit to be manga editor.

Part 6

Rohan thought that manga was truly something worth the <pursuit>. From ghost stories, mythology, science, crime, comedy, tragedy, and life itself. Inspiration was gathered from all sorts of incidents, and the energy expressed on paper. Both deceased and living people became the objects of inspiration, and if they were expressed in the world of manga, even already-ended lives could begin experience a new story. The history of other’s <pursuit> could also become a source of ideas in manga. And so Rohan continued to write many new lives, and many new adventures. It was on a day where summer’s presence was rapidly approaching, and one of the many meetings conducted at Café Deux Magots. Izumi Kyoka and Kishibe Rohan faced each other again to write another new story. Kyoka had her elbows propped on the table, her chin lifted upward. Same as usual, an attitude lacking in any respect toward the manga artist, but Rohan was used to it now. She asks if Rohan has finally decided what to write for the 45 page one-shot due at the end of summer.

After such an intense experience, there were many ideas available. Which one should he begin to turn into a manga, and to draw? Sometimes, when he had too many ideas stocked, he wavered. But that was happiness, as having no ideas terrified him. In those times, he felt as anxious as if he were cast off into the sea at night. Compared to that, the inconvenience of becoming lost in too many ideas was a luxury, like drowning in a mountain full of treasure. He was confident any of his ideas would make for a good story, but as he looked above at the bright sun in the blue sky, he became convinced. He replies to Kyoka, What about – a story about the <annular solar eclipse>?

It might be okay to use it now as an idea now. A story about an ordinary young man burning out his life. A story about an infinite energy weaved from two celestial bodies, the sun and moon. You could say that he was an evil person. He had taken away lives. Nevertheless, he had devoted his life to <pursue> on answer… and tried to entrust that legacy to someone. Rohan thought he could respect that part. That was why he decided he would be able to write about it, finally. Thinking this, he suggested the idea, but then –

“Wow, that sounds like such an interesting idea ♡”

Upon hearing Kyoka’s voice, Rohan jerked his head up. For some reason, he had a bad feeling that she was going to suggest something superfluous to him. And he was right!

“But putting that aside~… What about writing a manga about buying a <villa deep in the mountains> along that one too?”

“… What did you just say?”

Rohan coughed in an obviously unnatural manner, to communicate his displeasure. But, he was probably going to get wrapped up in something again by her. The wind seemed to suggest it.

“Doesn’t it sound interesting~? A-hahahahaha (23 ha’s). But doesn’t it~? Hee hee hee hee”

“Why you little…”

But worst of all was that she said <along that one too>. She just casually informed him that she expected another one-shot. If it were any other manga artist, it would have been an impossible demand.

However, Kishibe Rohan was not one of them, and so of course he could.

For goodness’ sake, he would never know how much he had to <pursue> manga to be able to ever see the end. Even when he finished one story, finished one serialization, even then, it never truly was over. He would again search for new ideas, continue to draw new manga. The journey of relentless study to hone his craft was still long, and tomorrow, next month, next year… the manga he would write would become ever more interesting. That was why, no matter how irritated he would become… he would continue to research, and draw. As long as he had chosen this path, there was no way to go but up.

Kishibe Rohan. Manga Artist. 27 years old.

The <pursuit> he’d staked his life on wouldn’t approach an end just yet, for a very long time.

#thus spoke kishibe rohan #rohan kishibe #izumi kyoka #kings of leon #audiophile #jojos bizarre adventure #JJBA

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