小説『無題（第一稿）』のGoogle翻訳プロジェクト—(1)第１章の英語化

まえがき

人間（私）と物語生成システム・生成AIとの共同で制作している実験小説（または流動小説）『無題（第一稿）』を、Google翻訳を用いて、可能な限り多くの言語に翻訳することを試みる。

第一回は、第１章の英語への翻訳を掲載する。

Google翻訳による翻訳語、人手でチェック・修正する、といった作業は、原則として行わない。やりっ放しとする。

今調べたところでは、Google翻訳で日本語から翻訳可能な言語は、２５０程度である。これらすべての言語に翻訳してみようと思う。

今は『無題』として、note上に第８章まで公表した（全１２章を予定している）。
但し、原文そのままではなく、「暗号化」をかけた文章となっている。（また、その文章に基づき、画像生成AI、音楽生成AI、朗読ソフトを用いた「マルチメディア版」も、一部公表中である。）
しかし、翻訳の対象は、暗号化以前の原文そのものとする。

なお、小説『無題』は、完成版ではなく、第一稿であり、今後バージョンアップを続けて行く予定である。

『無題（第一稿）』第一部英語版

I decided that today would be the day to carry out the breakthrough operation. I left my den, crossed the river, and walked between the buildings. I arrived in front of today's battlefield, a grotesque building with a Japanese-style roof and a skyscraper on top. Many people were gathered in the small square in front of the building. Some men and women were wearing flashy or expensive clothes, but some were dressed simply. It seemed that the operation would not fail because of the clothes themselves. I splurged and washed my clothes to get rid of the smell. I myself had been to the public bath several times, probably for the first time in over a year, and got rid of the stench that had been clinging to me. Before I could indulge in my thoughts, several doors in front of the building opened, and many people came out in a line one after another. They mixed with the people gathered in the square. However, the people who had been gathered in the square did not move from their spot, and the people who came out of the building walked through the crowd and onto the roads in all directions. They were then swallowed up by the city. This happened again and again. Two minutes, three minutes, five minutes. According to the preliminary investigation, after this incident continued for about 10 minutes, after a while, the people who had gathered in the square entered the building. The plan was to enter at that timing. However, when I saw a large number of people coming out from what looked like a temporary exit on the left side of the building, I changed my mind. It would be very difficult to enter at the official entrance timing. So, now is my chance. The battle begins. I shrink myself and blend into the people coming out from the other side, approaching the exit, that is, the entrance, and say loudly to the middle-aged woman I met, "Ah, wait a minute. I left something behind." Then I headed straight for the exit, that is, the entrance. I chanted in my mind that I should break through with confidence. There was a man in black clothes standing next to the exit, that is, the entrance, as an attendant. I must have heard the voice. I forced a natural smile and quickly entered the red carpet area inside. The male attendant could not hold ● (Kuromaru, from now on I will call him Kuromaru) with his bare hands, and for a moment he made a gesture as if he was going to ask him a question, but then he pretended to be a man rushing back to get something he had forgotten, and advanced further into the area behind the red carpet. The attendant would probably contact another attendant. He had made a man his enemy, but it couldn't be helped. He had no choice but to carry out his mission while running around. There was no time to be lost in emotion, and he passed in front of the main exit through the still crowded building, and went up the stairs to the second floor. The second floor was a larger space than the first floor, and there were many people of all ages and genders sitting on the red benches that were placed there just like in the hallway. There was no sign that Kuromaru was being suspected. Feeling relieved for a moment, he sat down on the edge of an empty red bench. Then he noticed a female attendant in green clothes at the other end, approaching each person sitting on the chair, and seemed to be doing something. He squinted his eyes. This was bad. It seemed like he was checking the tickets. I guessed that according to the posters posted everywhere, the previous performance's "day show" had ended, and he was checking the tickets of the audience who would be watching the next performance, the "evening show". I casually got up, took a detour so as not to run into the female attendant, turned right and entered a narrow corridor, where I saw a sign for the restroom, so I ran in, entered a private room, and locked the door. As I hid still, beyond the silent silence, I could hear the commotion of the whole building, that is, the theater. First success. I had finally gotten in. Suddenly, footsteps approached, but then turned into the sound of another private room door opening and closing, then it quieted for a moment, and then the sound of water. At the same time as the footsteps left, I heard the footsteps of several people, and then there was almost no pause in the footsteps. It seemed that the audience for the evening show had entered. If that was the case, then the initial operation was confirmed as a success. Kuromaru had finally infiltrated this theater that had seemed impregnable for a long time. But of course, infiltration itself is not the purpose. The real purpose is yet to come. If he hides in the bathroom the whole time, the chances of being caught will be small. But not being caught is not the purpose. He is not here to play a child's game of tag. Watch. Kuromaru looks at the watch on his left wrist. It is the first time he has ever worn a watch. It was stolen from an empty house in a distant area as a preparatory operation, just for the day of the operation. It was a preparatory operation so dangerous that it would end there, but it was successful. It doesn't matter if he gets caught or what happens after tomorrow. It is just for today, this moment. As expected, there are fifteen minutes left until four-thirty in the afternoon. The admission of the customers for the evening performance is almost over. Most people should be seated. Except for Kuromaru, who does not have a ticket. I wonder how many of Kuromaru's companions there are. However, this operation is a lonely fight from start to finish. There is no solidarity with others. The absolute order is to get organized in fifteen minutes. He opened the door to the restroom outward, passed by the restroom where several people were waiting, and entered the red carpeted corridor, where he passed a male attendant dressed in black. Kuromaru's face seemed to be distorted with surprise. However, the attendant did not react at all, and instead passed by, saying, "The performance will begin shortly." He could not tell if this attendant was the same person who had been arranging the exit, which was the entrance for Kuromaru, when they had forced their way through the building earlier. He tried to act as confident as possible, but he could not bring himself to look the attendant in the face. In any case, he realized that even if he bumped into the attendant, he would not be able to check his ticket. Now was the time to act confident. He walked forward along the narrow corridor to the front and came out again into a relatively spacious area on the second floor, a lobby-like area. There were more people there than before. Then, without hesitation, he entered the auditorium from the side of the wide-open red-black door. For a while, his eyes were flickering and he could not see anything. But gradually it becomes clear. Finally, we enter the battlefield. This is the real scene. The real battle is about to begin. Ten minutes before the start of the show. A grand strategy is formulated and executed away from the scene, but some creations can only be judged on the scene at that time. Kuromaru walks to the aisle between the front and back of the second floor auditorium, and when he confirms that there are many empty seats, especially at the very back of the back part, he quickly turns back and leaves the auditorium, running up the stairs to the third floor that he sees at the back left. There are various shops lined up there, and quite a number of customers who have not yet entered their seats are walking around looking at them, but he blends into the crowd and enters through an open door, standing in the central aisle and looking over the entire theater. Until then, he had passed a female attendant in a green uniform several times, but nothing unusual had happened. Even now, a female attendant is standing near the door, but she does not seem to be paying particular attention to Kuromaru. Just as he was feeling relieved, a female attendant approached him from somewhere and asked, "Are you looking for a seat?" I was surprised, but I pulled myself together, replied with a smile, "No," quickly memorized the floor plan of the venue, and left. I seemed to be a little too conspicuous. Next, I went down the stairs to the second floor, walked around a little, and went down again to the first floor. Looking down from the third floor, I saw a path to the central stage on the left side of the first floor, which I think is called the hanamichi. I was seized by a sense of mission that I needed to get a closer look at the hanamichi, and if possible, I needed to touch it. I went around to the front of the first floor, where there were already very few people, entered the audience space from the left entrance, and walked a little further, and saw the hanamichi right in front of me. I think the characters were going to appear from there. At that moment, a female voice reverberated throughout the theater. It was an announcement that the performance would start soon, and that I should hurry up and take my seat. I was anxious. Looking around, it seemed to be full. There seemed to be some audience members who had not yet entered the venue, and the seating situation was not yet completely confirmed. I stood in the aisle between the front and back of the first floor audience seats, and squinted my eyes. He passes many people, some of them bumping into him. The front is packed. The back is also pretty packed. However, he sees one empty seat near the very back, in the middle. It's likely that seat belongs to a late-arriving customer. His strategy is simple then. He pretends that he's confused the first and second floors. It's a careless strategy. Kuromaru himself, of course, has no luggage, but many of the people seated are carrying bags or department store bags on their laps. He pushes his way through them. It would be worse if he acted timid or reserved. He mutters "Excuse me," "Please excuse me," and bends, but his attitude is one of dignity as he moves forward. He then sits down firmly in his seat. He presses his buttocks firmly into the far corner of the chair and stretches his back. It's already dark inside the auditorium, and almost directly ahead of him, he sees a huge curtain. It shines gold. The woman in Japanese clothing to my right smelled faintly of makeup, and the edge of the black clothing of the woman to my left occasionally brushed against the back of my hand, which was resting on my knee. I was surprised when the woman in Japanese clothing suddenly started talking to me. "Could you possibly be Professor ** of Nagauta?" I immediately tried to deny it, but I stopped myself several times and said, "Yes, well." I needed to respond strategically. But if it turned into a full-fledged conversation, it would be a disaster. At that moment, without any signal, the curtain - I think it was a drop curtain, it was raised from the bottom up, and the hall was filled with silence. It seemed that Kuromaru had blended in with the audience as a decent person. Perhaps it was the anticipation and excitement of the play that was about to begin, or the anxiety and joy of being noticed by the woman next to me, but my heart was pounding. But my eyes were drawn steadily to the bright stage. I could see cherry trees and pine trees on both sides, and a large bell was hanging to my right. It looked like the grounds of a temple. However, the scenery behind me was closed off by a large red and white curtain. Pink ribbons of decoration hang down from above. Young, mysterious monks, wearing white robes, or perhaps monk's robes, walk in a line from the runway to the stage. Their faces are pure white. There are twelve of them, they are wearing monk's wigs. It doesn't seem like they've made an effort to make it look natural. It's as if they don't really care. Perhaps this is the Dojoji Temple mentioned in the title. Kuromaru has, of course, never been there. But is it a temple that actually exists? I don't know. The twelve young monks, all dressed the same, move from the runway to the stage, and line up in a row. The tall monk on the far right is standing right under the bell. The runway seems to have been likened to a road leading to Dojoji Temple. As they move, the monks strangely keep chanting the phrase "Have you heard? Have you heard?" One monk says, "Did you hear it? Did you hear it?" and all of them reply, "Yes, I heard it." Then one monk says again, "Did you hear it? Did you hear it?" and all of them reply, "Yes, I heard it." Then the monk says again, "Did you hear it? Did you hear it?" and they all reply, "Yes, I heard it." Repeating this simple call-and-response, the twelve monks move from the runway to the stage. And it continues persistently afterwards. One says, "Did you hear it? Did you hear it?" and all of them say, "Yes, I heard it." One says, "Did you hear it? Did you hear it?" and all of them say, "Yes, I heard it." There is a certain decision in the final "Yes, I heard it?" and the one monk in charge of calling out the lines can no longer repeat it. Then, one of the monks said, "Yes, yes, you are at the front," and added, "I asked if you had heard," and at that moment, "What on earth did you ask me to say?", he heard a faint voice from a woman in kimono beside him say, "Um...", clearly aimed at Kuromaru. He was sure it was a message aimed at Kuromaru. Although he had a feeling that he should not say anything unnecessary at such an important time, another monk said, "And so it is I," and continued, "I asked if you had heard," and added, "Today at the temple," "That there will be a memorial service for the bell," and he desperately tried to listen to the voice and follow the figure on stage. That's right, he would just ignore it. But the next moment, one of the monks said, "I once again saw my master's monk being taken in by a Buddhist wife," and continued, "I thought you asked if I had heard," and from further away came a small but determined voice, clearly aimed at Kuromaru, saying, "My lord..." Shut up. This was the first major act of sabotage or a more obvious attack from the enemy. Or, to be precise, a clear declaration of war from the enemy forces. He had been training to do two things at the same time for this moment. Now was the time to calmly put it into practice. Now was the time for the real battle to begin. There was no time for contemplation in this battle. Contemplation, action, and concentration on the stage all had to be carried out simultaneously, in the moment and at the same time. This was what Kuromaru called hybrid warfare. Meanwhile, the lines and the play continue: one monk says, "Because there is a memorial service for the bell," another says, "And my teacher's monk," another says, "I thought I would hear a long sutra," and yet another says, "Now I'm feeling depressed." He focuses his eyes on the center of the stage and looks to the left with the left corner of his left eye, and sees a female attendant standing in the dark, and a man in a dark suit carrying a bag next to her. He realizes that he is in a very tricky situation. However, compared to the travel mission that awaits him after this, this is just the beginning. He has delayed it quite a bit with his stubborn tactics, but if he goes any further, he may become suspicious and be marked. It would be better to assume that he is already suspicious and marked based on his entrance tactics. Don't stand out. "Oh, that's the famous medicine for depression," one monk said, and the other added, "I've brought this here, Hannya-yu," and all the monks rose to their feet in unison as they chanted "Yoi." Luckily, they had nothing in their luggage. They'd also managed to get rid of as much of the smell from their clothes as they could. They'd also bought new underwear for the first time in years. They wouldn't be suspected. They were just a customer who'd mistakenly got their seat in. Just one of the most ordinary customers. There were surely plenty of customers like that. Particularly the attendants would experience this every day. It wasn't unusual at all. Once this moment was over, no one would remember it. They'd only look back and think that there was a nuisance customer. They were absorbed in the performance itself and quickly forgot about it. If they'd been there wearing underwear and clothes they'd been wearing for years, it wouldn't have been possible, but deodorization was an important plan. They'd even taken a bath. They'd done everything they had to do. But would that be enough to get rid of the body odor that had been building up for years, deep in his skin, and even in his flesh and internal organs? Should he have used some kind of medicine? Is there a surefire way to deodorize the body? In fact, it seems that Kuromaru's legs were still not cleansed enough. If you throw a stone at a flea louse, a blood clot will form on the flea, and the stone will bounce, hit your leg, and bend it. But now is the time to endure it. At least, it's not the time to think about that. You shouldn't think about the future, either. You should concentrate on this one shot, this moment. "I'm sorry..." I bent down in front of several people, bumping into their knees, and sometimes stepping on the edge of my shoes, as I stepped out into the narrow passage to the side. When I looked up, the man's eyes flashed for a moment as he looked at Kuromaru, but he quickly moved to the seat where Kuromaru had been sitting, saying the same thing, "I'm sorry..." and sat down, with a body that was also completely embarrassed. The seat-switching operation, which was a preliminary step to the movement operation, was a success. Meanwhile, the lines and the acting continued, and both eyes and minds were focused on them. The runway was the road leading to Dojoji Temple. The main stage was in a place that seemed to be the temple grounds. Twelve monks were lined up. Cherry trees. A huge bell. In one man's mind, he argued with another man about whether the temple bell was hanging down or not, and they made a bet, until a young man appeared and mediated between the two men, took the money, said it was hanging down, and took it. In the midst of the simultaneous work of carrying out a mission in an instant, adding any extra thoughts, or even delusions, was known to be an immediate path to disaster. But at this point, it was no longer a question of efficiency. The theater attendant whispered twice, "Customers, we will show you to your seats," but he adopted a tactic to thoroughly imitate the attitude of the audience, who were engrossed in the unfolding of the play, and stood motionless in the narrow passageway beside the row of seats. On stage, one monk said, "No, there's no point in just drinking Hannya-yu," and another monk replied, "I've brought a canopy for this." Everyone then chanted, "Iyo!" The strategy to stall out the time began. A monk received some mochi from someone, ate it, and said, "It's become a crescent moon," and gave it to another monk, who said, "The moon has set on the edge of the mountain," and while eating the mochi, said that it rains when the moon sets, at which point Kuromaru poured oil on his urine. When one monk interacts with another, they start to imitate each other. Now, when a monk has sex with his wife, she rubs the monk's saliva on the peddler, the peddler rubs it on the cow, the cow rubs it on the cliff, and everyone picks up the monk's habit. That's why everyone speaks in the same tone. The only way to delay the time further is to start a fire. When one monk reports a fire, the village headman goes to the scene and the fire is put out, but the magistrate scolds the village headman and warns him to knock on the house to inform the magistrate from now on. The village headman knocks on the magistrate's house with a log, and when the magistrate asks the village headman where the fire is, the village headman says, "Is it okay to report it by knocking this much from now on?" The village headman's lover dies, and the village headman cuts his hair and offers it to the man, and when the servant asks why, the village headman answers. When the servant tells him the story, the village headman pours oil on the futon and says that he doesn't need a long futon for a man with long legs. And he becomes a monk. A dizzying array of fragmented thoughts explodes in my head, but I know from the start that this in no way prolongs the action onstage. The attendant has already left for the time being. But he is surely keeping watch somewhere. He must have also alerted the other attendants, and perhaps their superiors. That's for sure. "No, there's no point in just drinking Hannya-yu," says one monk, to which another adds, "I've brought a canopy for this," and all the monks say "Let's go." The play continues. Thoughts of the next strategy - which scene they should play until, and how long they should stay there - run through my head, and while I stare at the stage, I look around me. The grounds of Dojoji Temple, the cherry trees and pine trees, the large bell hanging from above, the long red and white rope that suspends the bell, the red and white curtain behind them, the thin cherry-pink strings hanging upwards, and the twelve monks in white robes. I glance around the hall from the corner of my eye. He has already trained to look in two directions at the same time. Of course, his hearing is also functioning. His whole body is preparing to flee. He has trained many times on methods he saw by chance in a military training video of some country, such as a quick crawling forward, a threatening forward movement with arms spread wide, and an extreme jumping forward to confuse the enemy's vision up and down. If necessary, he will carry them out. This place has a low ceiling. So he cannot see the upper floors. Directly above must be the front seats on the second floor. On the left side of the first floor are special seats facing the audience. I wonder if they are called box seats. At a glance, there are about 20 or 30 people sitting in a spacious space, watching the stage diagonally forward to the right. The right end facing him is also lined with similar box seats, and it seems to be packed with people. There is no room. The middle is vague and unremarkable. However, it is certain that it is divided into two by the runway on the left. The space to the left of the runway is narrow, and the space to the right of the runway is wide. Both are packed with people. There doesn't seem to be much room. The stage is the grounds of Dojoji Temple, with cherry trees and hanging bells. The lights are shining brightly. Twelve monks are lined up. The beginning of the play unfolds with an exchange of idle chatter, but it feels like it's nearing the end. How long will they keep repeating this? One monk says, "That's a much better idea," and another says, "Then nibble at that canopy," and another says, "Listen to the Hannya-yu," and another says, "Farewell to the storekeeper, are you all in?" and another says, "Listen to the Hannya-yu," and yet another says, "Farewell to the storekeeper," and all the monks join in, chanting, "Are you in?" At that moment, my eyes are fixed on a seat in the middle of the area between the left side of the runway and the box seats to the left, where I can't see anyone's head. The lights from the main stage don't reach that far, so it's unclear, but there is definitely one seat available. This perception leads directly to action without intermediate contemplation. During this time, a dream-like scene unfolds in one's head. Once upon a time, a man was staying at a shrine in a certain place, when the birth god appeared and told him that his child would die from horseflies and a hatchet. When the man returned home, a boy was born. The man threw his belongings into the sea, searched for the place where it sank, and obtained the treasure white. The boy was drawing a picture as he walked, so the man followed him. The boy was staying at a house, and told the man that the daughter of the house was going to be eaten by a mouse. A mouse appeared, but the cat killed and ate it. The wind blew, and dust got into the boy's eyes, causing eye disease. The child's stepmother abused the stepdaughter, putting stones in her lunch box. The man looked for a new wife, and proposed to the first, then the second, and then the third. The girl he proposed to was eating corpses, so the man was very scared and ran away. The girl's grandfather and grandmother pray, and the child born becomes very strong. The child is called Konbi-Taro, and Mido Kotarou, Ishi Kotarou, Tekatsuki, and a certain man become his companions. Mido Kotarou, Ishi Kotarou, Tekatsuki, and a certain man help the child, and the child defeats the monster. When the ship anchors at sea, Kashiki scoops up sand, speaks, and shows him an object, which turns into gold. The monster drinks a worm and gets sick. The monster drinks a goldfish, which chases the worm and the goldfish flaps its wings. Torisashi puts a mask on his hat, takes the goldfish, and forgets his hat. Torisashi gets sick. Konbi-Taro's older brother goes to borrow silkworm eggs, and when the younger brother gives them to his older brother, the eggs hatch. The hunter goes to sleep. The hunter puts the wolf on his shoulders and climbs a tree, where the wolf attacks the hunter, and the hunter cuts the wolf down. The wolf orders the hunter to bring the old blacksmith woman. The old woman comes, and the hunter wounds and kills her. The old woman turns to bones, pieces of flesh, snot, and ash. The rats multiply, gnaw at the barrel, and the barrel maker makes money. Konbi-Taro steals the salt, runs away, produces salt, and the boat sinks when it becomes full of salt. The father ties Konbi-Taro to the mortar with hemp cloth. The kappa says that he cannot catch Konbi-Taro. Now Kuromaru is Konbi-Taro. There is no one in this world who can get in his way. A sudden action brings Kuromaru to the very edge of the stage with quick movements. It is an extremely smooth movement. There is no one who can get in his way or get in his way. Do they all think that if they get in the way of Kuromaru here, something will explode? On the stage, the twelve monks who had been standing in a group near the center just a moment ago are starting to walk in a line, with the tall monk at the front and all the other monks following behind. Is the play over? Everyone knows that this is not the end of the performance. If this is the end, they need to get their money back. Everyone must be thinking that. The situation is the same for those who have not paid. They simply have not paid because they do not have the money, that is all. There is no deep reason. They do not say anything complicated like, "Even if you do not pay, you have the right to watch the play." It is simply because they want to watch it, that is the only reason. And they have no money. So they do not pay. Instead, they are carrying out a desperate operation that puts their lives on the line. However, whether they have paid or not, everyone in this theater feels the same now. If it ends here, the theater must return everyone's money. Kuromaru will not refuse that. Let's not refuse anything that is returned, let's accept it. It is unnatural to refuse. But the curtain doesn't close. It's still going on. There seems to be a slight commotion in the theater. It makes sense that walking down the aisle near the seats here is a good opportunity to do so, but at the same time, people's eyes are fixed on the stage, so it feels like you're slightly free. So it also makes sense that a person walking down the aisle now is more likely to catch people's eye and consciousness. Maybe you stand out. But walking itself should not be an unnatural act. Then he was shocked to realize something important. It was a matter of position. Or a matter of the route. It was not uncommon for passages to be blocked or missing important parts in battle scenes. But in this delicate, rare battle scene, the polar opposite of barbarism, what is physically possible and what is realistically feasible are clearly different concepts. He would jump up onto the stage here. Then he would move to the base of the runway. Then he would jump again and descend to the walkway between the runway and the box seats. This would solve the whole problem. But that only means physically. If he really did it here, he would be an open disturbance and several attendants, as well as security guards who were supposed to be waiting somewhere, would rush over, grab Kuromaru, and drag him out of the auditorium. And then he would be warned, and not only that, but interrogation would begin. If the male attendant dressed in black who saw Kuromaru at the theater's temporary exit, which was Kuromaru's entrance, were to come there, he would definitely remember Kuromaru. And the questioning would be harsh. He would definitely ask to see his ticket. The police would not tolerate anything. Should I turn back? If he was a careless customer, a customer who was watching a show at this theater for the first time, there would be no problem if he turned back from here. From past experience, he should not have been asked to see his ticket. But in that case, the path would be quite long. I would turn around. I would turn back along the aisle and go to the exit at the back of the aisle where I had been standing for a while. I would go out, turn right, and walk around on the red carpet to the door that I could see in the far right. I would enter from there. I would pass under the box seats and reach my seat. Just before that, I would repeatedly say, "I'm sorry..." and enter, touching the knees of several customers. Meanwhile, there seems to be a lot of female attendants in dark green uniforms. In such an emergency, it is inevitable that they will ask to see the ticket as they will guide you to your seat. Of course, it would be fine to say that you know and will go by yourself, but this customer has already chosen the wrong seat once. The attendant must be worried. Amid the worry and doubts that are beginning to grow, the temptation to see this customer's ticket must be quite strong in the attendant's mind. This accumulation leads to hell. Being caught is good in itself. Not being able to see is hell. The father adds fuel to the fire by telling Konbi Taro that he will take him as a bride. The father of the family who was consulted consults his daughter about getting married. The first sister refuses, the second sister refuses, and the youngest daughter agrees to get married. The snake becomes a young samurai, and the young samurai comes to pick up the bride. The youngest daughter follows the young samurai with a gourd and a needle. The young samurai takes the youngest daughter to the pool, and the youngest daughter tells him she is going to get married and throws the gourd into the pool. The young samurai drowns. Konbi Taro has become a hunter and makes an arrow, and counts the women who have pet cats. The women hate the hunter, but when he goes hunting, they come to pick her up. The hunter shoots at his prey, the prey catches the arrow, and the hidden arrow hits the hunter. The hunter goes hunting. The woman pulls a spinning wheel. The hunter shoots the woman with a gun. The woman laughs. A man teaches the hunter. The hunter shoots the woman with a bullet. The woman disappears. The monkey dies. Soil is brought to bury the monkey. The youngest daughter returns home. The father consults his daughter about getting married. The first sister refuses, the second sister refuses, and the youngest daughter agrees to get married. The kappa turns into a young samurai and comes to get his bride, and the youngest daughter, carrying a gourd and a needle, accompanies him. The young samurai takes the youngest daughter to a deep pool, tells him that the youngest daughter will become his bride, and throws the gourd into the pool. The kappa gives up on marrying the youngest daughter. The ogre kidnaps the youngest daughter, but is swept away by the rapids and dies. The youngest daughter marries Konbi Taro, and the youngest daughter becomes happy. This is not the time to fantasize about such a long story. Rather, recently, Kuromaru was traveling with a dog. The dog boasted that he was a god who could tell the future. When Kuromaru crossed a bridge with the dog, the dog barked, and Kuromaru fell into the river. The dog laughed, saying that Kuromaru would not be able to tell the future either. There was no particular prediction at the moment, but there was no time to waste. Return. The twelve monks in white robes walked in a line across the stage and began to sit down. Furthermore, a pair of men dressed like black ninjas appear from the left carrying something large, place it on the left side of the stage, and disappear immediately. It looks like a small wooden gate. The monks walk towards the gate and sit facing forward, not beyond it. The monks on the left side in particular are right in front of me. They are not the faces of the characters on stage, but the faces of men passing by on the street. But they are the faces of suspicious people, painted white. All those faces, faces, faces are right in front of me for a moment. The other person is also looking at Kuromaru. The gaze from the stage and the gaze from the aisle of the audience collide violently. It's just like a battle. As Kuromaru starts to turn back, he feels as if he sees something strange in the corner of his left eye. It's a hole. When the aisle hits the stage, the aisle directly under the stage definitely extends to the right side. Otherwise, the audience in the front seats will have no way to pass. That's obvious. But right now, he wants to go to the opposite side, beyond the runway. The runway now extends to the immediate left of the aisle along which Kuromaru had walked and where he was about to stop. However, between the runway and the aisle there was another seating area with several seats. Looking down from above, this was the seating area that extended backward along the right side of the runway. In contrast, the area he was heading for was the seating area on the opposite side, along the left side of the runway. This meant that at the end of the aisle he was in, where it turned left, there had to be at least an aisle for the guests using the front row seats in the seating area to the right of the runway. And this actually existed, and Kuromaru could see it. And that aisle should have ended when it hit the right end of the runway.