novelraw Chapter 24: Spread
Chapter 24: Spread
Nohara Hiroshi's voice wasn't loud, but it was like a pebble tossed into a pool of stagnant water, rippling clear, concentric circles through everyone's heart.
That was a kind of almost unreasonable confidence, allowing no room for interference or comment, yet nonetheless making it impossible for people to refute.
That despair inside the office, solidified like iron, was lightly tapped by this voice, and a trace of a crack actually appeared.
Suzuki Kiyoto looked at this young man before him. In those eyes, bloodshot from staying up late and anxiety, reflected Nohara Hiroshi's calm and profound face.
He recalled the kind of composure and insight, surpassing his age, that this young man had displayed from the very moment he took out the 'Yamishibai' manuscript.
Perhaps... perhaps he really should believe him one more time.
"Continue working." Suzuki Kiyoto took a deep breath, crumpled that glaring report into a ball, and threw it into the trash can.
This action was akin to a ritual, separating yesterday's failure from this moment's decisiveness. His voice regained the majesty a Section Chief should possess: "Tonight, there is still the third episode. Before the final results are out, none of us are qualified to give up."
"Yes!"
This time, the response was no longer the hyper-excitement of being pumped with chicken blood, but carried a kind of solemn and stirring, "breaking the cauldrons and sinking the boats" resolution....
Tuesday, late night, Tokyo.
This massive steel behemoth, having experienced the hustle and bustle of the day, finally fell into a deep slumber. Only countless tiny nerve endings remained, still stubbornly shining light in the darkness.
Shinjuku, Mizukami Sho's Midnight Diner.
Every seat at the L-shaped bar counter was taken, yet the atmosphere was entirely different from the usual proposing of toasts and exchanging of cups. Most of the customers were silent, barely touching the food and alcohol in front of them. Everyone's gazes were like iron filings attracted by a magnet, firmly glued to that old television set in the corner of the wall.
Shinagawa, taxi dispatch center.
A group of drivers who had just finished their shifts unprecedentedly didn't gather together to play cards and complain, but instead crowded in front of the television in the lobby. Amidst swirling smoke, their weather-beaten faces were written full of tension and anticipation.
Setagaya, a boys' dormitory at a certain university.
A few university students who had just returned from a mixer were squeezing in front of a small television. The air permeated with the smell of cheap beer and youthful hormones.
"Hey, hurry up, it's about to start!"
"Is it that legendary animation that can scare people from going to the toilet?"
"Stop talking, it's starting!"
Countless corners like this, countless pairs of eyes like these, at the same moment, jointly awaited the arrival of a specific time.
12:20 AM.
That familiar opening, carrying the eerie children's rhyme, rang out punctually.
"Step right up, don't walk on by..."
The man wearing the mask arrived as promised.
[Yamishibai · Family Precept]
The scene unfolded. It was a little boy wearing shorts, following his father back to their hometown in the countryside. An ancient Japanese-style house, creaking wooden floors, and a group of relatives with blurred faces and solemn expressions.
Everything revealed a tranquility far removed from the clamor of the world, yet beneath the tranquility lay hidden a trace of inharmonious oppression.
At dusk, the boy's father called him to his side and told him in an unprecedentedly severe tone: "Listen, tonight is our Family Precept. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, you must not come out, and you must definitely not cry. All of us must keep smiling, smiling for an entire night. Only this way will 'that thing' not come in."
In the Midnight Diner, Tanaka subconsciously straightened his back, an inexplicable chill rising from his spine.
At the taxi dispatch center, Kenji forgot to light the cigarette dangling in his mouth, his brows locked tight.
In the university dormitory, the boys who were just joking around uniformly quieted down.
The story continued.
Late at night, the boy was awakened by the urge to urinate. He tiptoed out of the room, preparing to go to the toilet in the courtyard. But when he passed by the main hall where the family members were gathered, he was stunned by the sight before him.
The paper sliding door of the main hall emitted a bright, even somewhat piercing light.
Even more bizarrely, bursts of laughter drifted out from the crack in the door.
"Hehe... hehehe... hehehehe..."
That laughter wasn't loud, but it was incredibly dense, as if countless people were simultaneously forcing out smiles in an extremely awkward, extremely strenuous manner. There wasn't the slightest bit of joy in that sound, only a hair-raising, mechanical repetition.
The boy's curiosity overcame his fear. He quietly leaned close to the paper sliding door, poked a small hole with his finger, and peeked inside.
With just one glance, the boy's pupils instantly contracted to the absolute limit.
Inside the room, his father, his uncles, his aunts... all the relatives were sitting in a circle. Under the illumination of the light, their faces presented a bloodless, ghastly pallor, as if painted with white powder.
And on their faces, hung exactly the same identical smile.
The corners of their mouths were stretched open to an exaggerated arc, the muscles of their cheeks twitching stiffly due to excessive exertion, yet their eyes were empty, devoid of any vitality, holding only endless exhaustion and fear.
They were like a group of string puppets, performing a terrifying play titled "Joyous Laughter."
"Hehe... hehehe..."
Right at this moment, the grandfather sitting furthest inside slowly, slowly turned his ghastly pale, stiff face toward the direction of the door, toward the small hole the boy was peeking through.
His empty eyes seemed to pierce through the paper door, locking dead-set onto the boy's line of sight.
Then, the corners of his mouth stretched open even further.
"Ah—!"
The boy let out a heart-tearing shriek.
The scene abruptly ceased!
Black screen.
The two characters "The End" floated up ruthlessly.
...
"Holy shit!"
In the university dormitory, a boy violently jumped up from his chair, startling taking his roommate behind him who was peeking at the study materials on his computer.
In the Midnight Diner, Akemi covered her mouth tightly to keep the scream from rushing out of her throat, but her body uncontrollably trembled violently.
The taxi dispatch center was dead silent. The hot tea in Senior Driver Kitagishi's hand had gone completely cold at some unknown time.
This time, there was no immediate visual impact, no bloody scenes.
But that bizarre ritual originating from unknown folklore, originating from within the family, and the psychological critical hit brought about by that final glance of eye contact, made people shudder with fear even more than any ghosts or monsters.
"That... that thing, exactly what was it?"
"Did they... succeed? Will that boy's scream attract 'that thing' inside?"
"I think they're all dead! Look at the way they were smiling, they weren't living people at all!"
"No! I think they succeeded! That's why the grandfather smiled so happily! He was telling the boy we're safe now!"
Following the silence was a fierce discussion that erupted like a virus.
In the Midnight Diner, the customers forgot to eat.
At the taxi dispatch center, the drivers forgot to take orders.
In the university dormitory, the boys forgot to sleep.
In countless households, countless offices, and countless social network groups, discussions about the third episode of "Yamishibai", "Family Precept", thoroughly detonated the next day.
People were no longer merely satisfied with the sensory stimulation of "how scary it was," but began frantically analyzing the plot, deciphering details, and guessing the ending.
What happened to that boy? What was the fate of that family? Behind that bizarre "Family Precept," exactly what terrifying truth lay hidden?
This kind of open-ended, unresolved ending was like a massive hook, firmly snagging the curiosity of every single audience member. It forced people to think, to communicate, to recommend it to the people around them—"Hey, did you watch it? That animation on TV Tokyo called 'Yamishibai', last night's episode was incredible!"
The snowball of word-of-mouth, having experienced the silence of the initial two days, finally began to frantically roll at a speed exceeding everyone's imagination.