Chapter 22: Turbulence!
“I… fuck…”
No one knew how much time had passed when that college student who had been acting cool suddenly burst out with a curse. His glasses were crooked to one side, his face was deathly pale, and he was panting heavily. “This… this is fucking a story any human could come up with?!”
No one answered him.
Because everyone was too scared to speak.
Bai Can was truly a niche but universally known method of transferring bad luck in neon folklore.
But no one had noticed, nor cared.
Now it was blatantly presented in an animated film.
And so directly.
So straightforwardly.
So effectively!
They thought back to how they had even jokingly Bai Can-ed others before, been Bai Can-ed by others, or even out of jealousy or hatred, really used Bai Can to Bai Can others!
Now, their faces weren’t just pale; even their hearts were pounding fiercely.
They were terrified!
……
Meanwhile, in the dispatch center of a large taxi company in Shinagawa, Tokyo.
The place was brightly lit, with dozens of drivers who had just finished their shifts or were waiting for fares gathering in small groups to smoke, chat, and kill time.
The dispatch center’s hall also had a television hanging there.
“Hey, Kitakishi senior, I heard that new animation on Tokyo Television Station yesterday was really scary?” A young driver in his early twenties named Kenji, cigarette in mouth, said disdainfully to an old driver with graying hair beside him.
The old driver called Kitakishi was sipping hot tea in small mouthfuls. Hearing this, he didn’t even bother lifting his eyelids. “Kids’ stuff, how scary could it be? Better think about where the next long-distance fare is going.”
“Heh, I’ll see just how great it is.” Kenji feared neither heaven nor earth. He picked up the remote control and switched the channel to Tokyo Television Station.
Right at that moment, 《Bai Can》’s story had reached the scene where the young man arrives at the hospital.
“Tch, the same old trope.” Kenji curled his lip.
Horror films in hospitals—those kinds of horror stories had already been done to death.
But as the plot continued.
Weird things started happening.
Especially toward the end, when on screen, that taxi driver let out that shrill, hysterical scream, trying to drive the protagonist out of the car, and that big truck’s blinding lights grew closer and closer…
“Clang!”
The thermos in Yamada senior’s hand fell to the ground, spilling hot tea everywhere.
In the entire dispatch center, all the drivers’ laughter and chatter came to an abrupt halt!
Everyone’s eyes were fixed dead on the screen!
That crashed taxi, that scene of despair, pierced like a steel needle into the hearts of these men who called cars their home!
“Fuck…” The cigarette fell from Kenji’s mouth to the ground. He felt his calves trembling. “This… is this real or fake…”
“You… you can’t leave this village alive…” A middle-aged driver unconsciously repeated the line from the show, his voice filled with trembling.
Fear, like a plague, instantly spread through the entire dispatch center.
A driver who had just returned from a long haul in the mountains of Chiba Prefecture went pale in an instant. He recalled passing by a deserted village earlier and seeming to see a few strange human shadows by the roadside…
“No way! I’m not driving tonight! Park the car!”
“Me neither! Fuck, who knows if the next passenger is human or ghost!”
“No more fares to the mountains or countryside, not even for triple pay!”
Panic spread rapidly.
What was originally just an animated film had now become a curse hanging over their heads. They drove on the roads every day, dealing with strangers every day—this terror so close to reality was devastating!
Yamada senior slowly squatted down to pick up his thermos. For the first time, a look of shock appeared on his weather-beaten face.
He had driven nights his whole life—what strange people or events hadn’t he seen?
But he had never imagined that one day, a three-minute animated film would scare him into not daring to grip the steering wheel again.
This thing called 《An Shizhi》… was toxic!
……
In Suzuki’s Classroom.
When the words “The End” appeared, Kiyoto Suzuki realized he had unconsciously stood up, his back soaked with cold sweat.
He looked around; everyone in the office had an expression of aftermath of a disaster.
“Suc… success…” Roji Hase murmured to himself.
“Too amazing… Nohara-kun, you’re practically a devil…” Yō Kitagawa looked at Hiroshi Nohara, her eyes filled with awe and worship.
Kiyoto Suzuki let out a long breath of turbid air. He walked to Hiroshi Nohara, heavily patted his shoulder, and all his words ultimately became three words:
“Good work.”
Hiroshi Nohara just smiled calmly as always.
An Shizhi’s first episode was, if anything, a gradual buildup of terror with real ghosts and monsters.
Then the second episode was terror caused by the human heart.
Rather than ghosts and monsters.
It was more like… malicious human hearts!
“Now it depends on tomorrow’s ratings.” Kiyoto Suzuki slowly relaxed, turning to everyone and saying, “Go rest. Tomorrow morning, remember to come to the office on time so we can check the results together.”
“Yes!” Everyone replied.
……
Masao Iwata finished his entertainment in Akasaka and returned to his apartment in Minato Ward, reeking of alcohol and women’s perfume, when the clock hands had quietly slipped past midnight.
He yanked off his tie and threw himself heavily onto the soft sofa, his mind still echoing with the flattery and compliments from the wine table.
A smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
He really enjoyed that feeling of being flattered and complimented by others.
“Private Marseille! This is the finest product from Toshiba Industries! Everyone, take a look!”
“Wow! So strong!”
“Yoshi! This is the future of our great neon industry!”
He turned on the television casually, and the screen was showing a boring late-night shopping advertisement.
Masao Iwata picked up the remote control, inexplicably wanting to see how far Kiyoto Suzuki’s joke had gone. But when he saw the time displayed as 00:35, he chuckled self-mockingly and turned off the television.
Why bother?
A trash show with a premiere rating of only 1.75%—what waves could it make on the second day?
It should go to the shrine to give thanks if it could hold at 1.5%.
Watching that thing was simply a waste of his precious time savoring the taste of victory.
He preferred to reminisce about the exquisite original artwork for 《Oni-bō Samurai》 that his animators had presented—now that was art, the perfect product of money and talent.
……
Likewise, in another even quieter study room, Deputy Director Toshihide Takada had long since cast aside the name 《An Shizhi》.
In his view, this chess piece was done for. Not only had it failed to help that guy Asumi, it had become a joke.
What he needed to consider now was how to completely marginalize Asumi’s faction in the second half of the year’s S-level proposal.
The entire Tokyo Television Station, even all of Tokyo, seemed to have no one caring about that eerie animation quietly broadcast in the midnight corner that night.
Except Aiai Takeshita.
