電車の中でも寝る前のベッドの中でもサクサク快適に。
もっと読みたい！がどんどんみつかる。
「読んで」「書いて」毎日が楽しくなる小説アプリをダウンロードしよう。
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電車の中でも寝る前のベッドの中でもサクサク快適に。
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「読んで」「書いて」毎日が楽しくなる小説アプリをダウンロードしよう。
テラーノベル
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A medium-sized jetliner was flying over a mountainous region as the sun began to dip low. In the cockpit, the captain and the co-pilot chatted casually while glancing at the autopilot display.
“The weather’s good, and there’s no turbulence. Looks like a smooth flight the rest of the way in.”
The co-pilot nodded in agreement.
“Times have certainly changed. Back in the day, we couldn’t let our guard down for even a minute while flying a passenger jet.”
“True, but the responsibility for our passengers’ lives remains the same. We can’t afford to be complacent.”
“I know. Oh?”
“What is it?”
“I thought I saw something ahead that looked like another aircraft. Did you hear about any scheduled flights in this area?”
“No, unless it’s a Self-Defense Force scramble, that shouldn’t be … Hmm? I see it! What on earth is that?”
Back in the fifty-seat cabin, an announcement played instructing passengers to fasten their seatbelts. A young elementary school girl spoke to her parents, who were seated on either side of her, in an anxious voice.
“Dad? Mom? What’s happening?”
Her father gazed out the window and replied.
“It’s probably just some turbulence or something. It’s fine — just stay in your seat.”
Because the black shape was silhouetted against the setting sun, its form could not be clearly identified. Just to be safe, the co-pilot radioed air traffic control to report an anomaly.
The captain switched to manual control and hurriedly tried to make a sharp turn away from their course. The aircraft shuddered violently.
Seeing the massive shape looming just beyond the windshield, the captain shouted:
“Is that … a bird?”
The next instant, the massive shape and the nose of the airliner collided head-on with tremendous force. The cockpit was crushed, and the plane plummeted at a steep angle, crashing near the summit of a small mountain.
Upon the initial impact, the fuselage snapped in two, and several passengers were flung onto the ground, still strapped to their seats.
The bouncing forward and aft sections of the plane slid down the slope; the fuel tanks exploded, engulfing the wreckage in flames.
The young girl from earlier lay amidst the trees on the mountainside, staring in a daze at the color of the flames filling her field of vision.
As the sun set and darkness began to fall, a winged shadow — something roughly the size of the passenger airliner — fluttered through the sky above her.
One early autumn evening, ten years later, a female student sat on a bench in a corner of the Teito University of Science campus.
As Associate Professor Toyama happened to walk by, he saw a crow swoop down toward her. He hurriedly rushed up behind her.
“Hey there — are you all right?”
Startled, the student turned around, the crow still perched on her right shoulder.
“Oh, Dr. Toyama from the Biology Department. Is something wrong?”
“Well, I thought that crow was attacking you.”
“Oh, this?”
She laughed, holding out the piece of rye bread she was carrying in her left hand toward the crow’s beak. The bird pecked at the bread and began to eat.
“He’s fond of me. I come by to feed him like this every now and then.”
Toyama was dumbfounded.
“Do you keep him? That crow?”
“No, I don’t keep him. He’s a wild one. It seems birds — crows especially — just tend to like me.”
Once the crow had finished most of the bread, the student stood up from the bench and gave the bird’s leg a gentle tap with her finger.
Clasping the final scrap of bread in its beak, the crow flapped its wings vigorously and took flight into the sky.
Toyama looked up at the departing crow and murmured:
“They say crows are exceptionally intelligent, but can they really get this accustomed to humans?”
The student stepped in front of Toyama, straightened her posture, and gave a polite, quick bow.
“My name is Sayaka Inagaki; I’m a second-year student in the Faculty of Science. I have a favor to ask. I heard that you’re close with Prof. Watari from the Department of Earth Sciences.”
“Ah, Prof. Watari. Well, ‘close’ might be a strong word, but we have worked together on various projects.”
“Could you introduce me to him? I’d really like to accompany him on his fieldwork.”
“Huh? Well, I suppose I could introduce you, but why? You aren’t one of his seminar students, are you?”
“The place Prof. Watari is visiting this time is a mountain in Okayama Prefecture, isn’t it? Do you know about the plane crash that happened there ten years ago?”
“Ah — I was still a student back then, so I don’t know the full details, but I recall it was a passenger plane crash with an unknown cause. I think there were only a few survivors.”
“Actually, I’m one of them. I was one of the survivors of that crash.”
Twenty minutes later, Toyama and Sayaka were sitting in Prof. Watari’s office. Watari spun his chair around from his desk and, stroking his beard, spoke to Toyama.
“I thought you were bringing me another headache, but one can never have too many assistants. Very well — Ms. Inagaki, was it? — I’ll grant permission for you to accompany me.”
“Thank you very much!”
Sayaka bowed deeply. Toyama smiled, a look of relief washing over his face.
“That’s a relief. It saves me the trouble of trying to persuade a tough person.”
Watari’s eyes bulged.
“Who are you calling a tough person?”
“Oh — no, it’s nothing. Well then, Prof. Watari, I leave her in your hands.”
“Don’t talk as if this doesn’t concern you. You’re coming along, too. I’ll clear it with the Academic Affairs Department myself.”
“Huh? Why do I have to go?”
“I’m a married man. I can hardly go off into the deep mountains alone with a female student, now can I?”
“Well, you see … I’m a biologist, so I’m not really cut out for fieldwork.”
“If you’re a biologist, that makes outdoor activity all the more essential! The marine biology professors are still scrambling over rocky shores even after they turn sixty.”
Sayaka spoke up timidly.
“Um, if I may be so bold … I’d like to make a quick stop along the way.”
She pointed to a map she had taken out of her bag.
“There’s a memorial monument right near the route you’re taking, Prof. Watari. I’d like to visit it.”
Watari asked, his gaze fixed on the map.
“So, this is the site of that airliner crash from about ten years ago? Was someone you knew among the victims?”
“I was actually one of the survivors. The accident happened while I was traveling back from a trip with my parents. I was thrown into the mountains along with my seat; I was badly injured, but I managed to survive and was rescued.”
“I see. And your parents?”
“Their bodies were never found. I was taken in and raised by my father’s older brother — my uncle — and his wife. I had physical limitations for a long time due to the aftereffects of my injuries, but now that I’ve recovered, I want to visit the memorial.”
“So, that’s why you want to tag along? Very well; it’s not an investigation that requires haste. A detour like that would make for a pleasant change of pace for me, too.”
Toyama, who had been looking at the map from the side, asked Watari:
“It doesn’t look like an unusual place, but … Prof. Watari, what exactly are you going there to investigate?”
Watari took the map from Sayaka and pointed to a few locations.
“It’s a volcanic area in Okayama Prefecture called Hiruzen. Interestingly, there’s a place called Ningyo-toge (Doll Pass) located between there and Tottori Prefecture. Do you know it?”
Both Toyama and Sayaka shook their heads. Watari handed the map back to Sayaka as he spoke.
“It’s the site of what is essentially Japan’s only uranium vein. I’m interested in studying the relationship between volcanic activity and uranium deposits. In short, I figured I’d go take a look at the area myself.”
A few days later, Watari, Toyama, and Sayaka were hiking up a mountain slope — where the autumn foliage was already beginning to turn—dressed in hiking gear.
Toyama, bringing up the rear, was already crying out in distress.
“Prof. Watari, Ms. Inagaki, could we slow down a bit? *Huff, puff … How about a break soon?”
Watari grimaced and snapped at him.
“We just took a break ten minutes ago! Honestly, it’s pathetic — and you’re only in your thirties.”
Ignoring Toyama, Watari continued his ascent with his large backpack. Sayaka, also carrying a pack, followed behind, wiping away sweat.
Without turning around, Watari asked Sayaka over his shoulder:
“You were lucky to survive that accident, though. You were still in elementary school back then, right?”
“Actually, a crow stayed by my side until the rescue team found me.”
“A crow, you say?”
“Yes. My head was in a fog, so I don’t remember the fine details, but it was a very smart bird. It carried a bag of emergency rations from the plane wreckage over to me in its beak. I remember sharing the biscuits with that crow.”
“Hmm. Toyama, is something like that even possible?”
Toyama — who was struggling desperately to keep up despite carrying a pack much lighter than the others’ — answered between gasps for air.
“People often use the phrase ‘stupid like a bird,’ but recent research has shown that the intelligence of certain bird species is extremely high. Crows, in particular, have intelligence comparable to at least a four-year-old human child. Some researchers even say it’s higher than that.”
Watari made his way toward the summit, pausing here and there to dig up the ground and collect small soil samples in a container.
Eventually, he reached a somewhat flat, wooded area near the peak. Pushing through the undergrowth, they came upon a clearing where a memorial stone, about a meter tall, stood.
Sayaka knelt before it and pressed her palms together in prayer; Watari and Toyama stood behind her, also offering their prayers to the memorial.
Sayaka took a photograph from her backpack. As Watari and Toyama leaned in to look, she spoke.
“These are my parents in the picture.”
The weathered photo showed Sayaka as she had looked ten years ago, flanked by a man and a woman — appearing to be in their early forties — who looked refined in both their attire and features. Gazing around with a look of nostalgia, Sayaka said:
“While I was waiting to be rescued, I used to show this photo to that crow and talk to it, saying things like, ‘This is my mom and dad.’ That helped take my mind off things; it might be the reason I managed to stay conscious.”
Watari looked up at the sky and spoke to the other two.
“Well, we’d better start heading down. We need to reach the inn at the foot of the mountain before the sun goes down.”
As the three of them descended the mountain slope and neared the edge of civilization, they heard the sound.
It was the flap-flap of wings — but the sound resonated with unnatural volume. Suspicious, the three looked up to see the silhouette of a massive black bird diving straight toward them.
Watari instinctively forced Sayaka to the ground and shielded her with his own body. Toyama dove behind a nearby tree.
The giant bird grazed the top of Watari’s head before soaring back up; hovering a few meters overhead while continuing to flap its wings, it let out a harsh, guttural squawk.
Toyama kept filming the massive bird with his smartphone, gasping in sheer astonishment.
“It’s a crow … but that’s impossible. Its wingspan must be twelve meters. A crow this huge couldn’t possibly exist in Japan — or anywhere on Earth!”
The giant crow made several more steep dives, skimming just inches above their heads. As the three scrambled desperately for cover, the sound of a car horn blared repeatedly.
A light truck — likely belonging to a local farmer — rushed toward them, and an elderly man leaned out the driver’s side window, shouting:
“Are you all right?”
Startled by the sound of the horn, the giant crow abruptly turned and flew off toward the upper reaches of the mountain.
Watari had Sayaka ride in the front passenger seat, while he and Toyama rode in the bed of the truck to get to the city.
That night, the three of them stayed at an old inn in the town at the foot of the mountain; after bathing and changing into the inn’s yukata robes, they gathered in Watari and Toyama’s room.
Once Sayaka arrived from her own room, Toyama displayed the photo of that mysterious bird on his smartphone screen.
Watari pointed to one of the shots and said, “Is the photo blurry? It looks like it has three legs.”
Toyama hurriedly checked the other photos. In every picture where the bird’s legs were visible, three legs could be clearly seen.
“Is it a ‘Yatagarasu?’”
Watari murmured. Sayaka’s eyes widened as she asked, “Is there a kind of crow like that?”
“No, it’s a mythical bird from Japanese folklore. Legend has it that when Emperor Jimmu marched to conquer eastern Japan, the bird guided his path and emitted a light that overwhelmed the enemy forces. It was called Yatagarasu and was said to have three legs. But, of course, it’s strictly a legendary creature.”
Toyama crossed his arms and murmured with his eyes closed, “A mutation.”
Watari asked, “You mean a mutant species of crow?”
“Prof. Watari, you mentioned earlier that there’s a uranium deposit nearby, right? Uranium is a radioactive element — meaning it emits radiation. It’s possible that somewhere around here, there’s a spot with higher-than-normal natural radiation, and once every few decades or centuries, a giant mutant is born. That’s a possibility.”
Sayaka looked at Watari with an impressed expression.
“Even though you’re a science researcher, Prof. Watari, you’re really knowledgeable about the classics.”
Watari grinned and replied, “Are you unfamiliar with the concept of integrating the humanities and sciences? That old dichotomy is meaningless for the scholarship of the future; one needs to be well-versed in both fields. Besides, legends of three-legged birds exist not only in Japan but also in various parts of mainland China. If Toyama’s theory holds water, it is possible that — once every few centuries — such that giant crow had periodically inhabited regions across East Asia.”
Toyama spoke, his eyes fixed intently on the photograph.
“In any case, let’s send Ms. Inagaki back to Tokyo tomorrow. We can’t keep her any longer in a place where a monstrous bird like that is prowling around.”
The next morning, after finishing breakfast in the inn’s main hall, the three of them changed into their mountaineering gear and decided to return to Tokyo together.
As Watari and Toyama were organizing their backpacks, a sudden, deafening tearing sound erupted; the entire building shuddered violently, and a faint scream from Sayaka rang out.
When Watari and Toyama rushed into Sayaka’s room, they found the shoji paper window smashed wide open, with the head of a gigantic crow thrusting through the gap.
One of the creature’s talons had seized Sayaka — who was dressed in her climbing gear — by the back.
Before the stunned eyes of the two men, Sayaka was dragged from the room, clutched in the giant crow’s talons, and carried straight up into the sky.
Leaning out through the shattered wall, Watari and Toyama watched as the colossal crow, dangling Sayaka from its talons, flew off toward the mountain summit.
Alerted by the commotion, the innkeeper and local residents gathered at the scene. Watari asked them to contact the police, then dashed off toward the mountain with Toyama.
Upon reaching the site of the memorial monument they had visited the day before, Watari and Toyama pushed aside the grass and branches to venture deeper.
“Whoa!”
Toyama nearly slipped and fell, but Watari hurriedly grabbed his arm.
The ground dipped unnaturally in that spot, concealed from above by a canopy of low-hanging shrubbery.
A voice drifted up from the bottom of the hollow. When Watari and Toyama peered down, they saw Sayaka. Standing beside her was that massive crow, its wings folded.
Sliding down into the hollow, Watari and Toyama approached Sayaka. She showed no signs of fear; instead, she was holding out a biscuit she had taken from her pocket to the crow.
“Ms. Inagaki … are you all right?”
Toyama called out, his voice trembling. Sayaka smiled as she replied.
“I’m fine, Dr. Toyama. This one doesn’t attack people. It’s the same crow from back then — the one that stayed by my side at the scene of the accident.”
Sayaka pointed to the edge of the hollow. Two sets of human skeletal remains lay side by side. Watari cried out.
“What are those bodies?”
Sayaka approached the remains and pointed to specific items.
“They’re my parents — the ones who were never found. That Swiss-made wristwatch and the necklace on this body … they definitely belong to my father and mother.”
Watari and Toyama stepped closer to the remains and examined them intently. Toyama spoke up.
“If that giant creature had eaten them, the bones wouldn’t be left in such pristine condition. Does that mean it found the bodies, brought them here, and kept them safe?”
Watari, too, spoke in a tone of disbelief.
“She also said she showed that photograph to the crow. Crows can distinguish colors. That bird found your parents’ bodies — which even the search party had failed to locate — brought them here, and waited for ten years. Waited for you to come back here, Ms. Inagaki.”
“Waited ten years for me?”
Sayaka murmured this as she stroked the giant crow’s cheek. Watari spoke while intently observing the massive bird.
“It seems that third leg isn’t functional. A deformity caused by the gigantism? But ten years ago, she was in elementary school age. Her features and physique should have changed drastically. Can this bird really tell it’s her?”
Toyama also spoke in a low murmur, his eyes fixed on the giant crow.
“Even so, traces of her former self remain. This creature must be able to sense them. Its intelligence is terrifying.”
Just then, the harsh, mechanical clatter of approaching aircraft reached them. As the three emerged from the hole and scanned the sky, they saw two helicopters drawing near.
Toyama murmured, a look of relief washing over his face.
“Help has arrived.”
But Watari frowned.
“Wait. One of them is an attack helicopter. Is that a Self-Defense Force chopper?”
With a shrill, cawing cry, the giant crow scrambled out of the hole. Watari tried to step in its path.
“Stop! That’s not an enemy! Don’t go!”
But the crow effortlessly soared over Watari’s head and flapped toward the helicopters.
Watari, Toyama, and Sayaka stepped to the edge of the mountainside, waving their arms at the helicopters and shouting until they were hoarse.
“Don’t shoot! That creature isn’t dangerous!”
Inside the rescue helicopter trailing behind, Self-Defense Force personnel spotted them. One spoke into the radio:
“This is Shiratori-2. Visual contact with the survivors confirmed. They’re waving frantically — understandable, considering they’re in the nest of a monstrosity like that. Arawashi-1, requesting elimination of the giant creature. Over.”
The voice of the pilot in the lead attack helicopter replied:
“This is Arawashi-1. Commencing attack.”
The attack helicopter opened fire with its machine gun. The giant crow nimbly shifted position in mid-air, dodging the line of fire and darting about erratically.
Although a few rounds occasionally struck home, the massive creature merely shuddered slightly before surging upward again, preparing to lunge at the helicopter.
Standing on the mountainside, Sayaka screamed:
“Stop! Don’t kill it!”
The next instant, the attack helicopter fired an anti-air missile. Trailing orange flames, the missile arced through the air and struck the giant crow in the flank.
A sphere of explosive fire and black smoke blossomed in the sky, and the massive black body plummeted straight down.
As the words “You’re safe now” echoed from the speakers of the rescue helicopter hovering directly overhead, Sayaka sank to her knees, covered her face with her hands, and wept.
The next day, Watari, Toyama, and Sayaka climbed the mountain again, accompanied by the local police mountain rescue team. Their mission was to recover the bodies of Sayaka’s parents.
On the way down, Sayaka suddenly veered off the path and into a densely wooded area.
Concerned, Watari and Toyama followed her.
Sayaka had climbed the trunk of a massive tree, ascending to a height of over ten meters. Puzzled, the two men climbed up after her.
Reaching Sayaka, who was clinging to the base of a large branch, Watari spoke in a scolding tone.
“What are you doing at a time like this?”
Sayaka pointed to another large branch a short distance away.
“I caught a glimpse of it when that huge crow carried me here.”
There sat a bird’s nest large enough to hold several adult humans. Inside lay two eggs, each the size of a rugby ball.
Toyama gasped.
“The presence of eggs suggests there might have been a pair. Is there at least one more of them out there?”
Gazing at the eggs, Sayaka murmured:
“If you hatch safely, I’ll come back to see you. It’s my turn now. I’ll be the one waiting for you.”
コメント
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このエピソード、めちゃくちゃ引き込まれました…！10年前の墜落事故で彩花を助けたカラスが、まさか三本足の巨大な“八咫烏”だったとは。遺体を守り続け、10年後に彼女を連れて行ったシーン、鳥の知能と執着に震えました。最後の卵の伏線も美しい。ただ、自衛隊の攻撃であっさり倒されたのが少し惜しい。もう少しカラスの知略を見たかったなあ…！
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