After retiring, Murai took a part-time job as a superintendent at an eight-story apartment building about a ten-minute walk from his home. Working four days a week from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. was a bit long for a part-time gig, but he figured it was far better than sitting at home listening to his wife nag him.

As a baby boomer who had spent his career working tirelessly in sales for a major manufacturer, being an apartment super felt a bit underwhelming. His daily duties ranged from morning cleaning to afternoon building inspections, handling move-ins and move-outs, and coordinating with contractors, but repeating the same set routines left him feeling somewhat understimulated.

Even so, being a workaholic at heart, Murai took his duties seriously. He never failed to greet both residents and neighbors, never cut corners when cleaning, and thoroughly inspected every corner of the property. His reputation among both the tenants and the management company was stellar.

About four months after starting the job, Murai was doing his usual floor-by-floor inspection. When the elevator reached the sixth floor, a young boy caught his eye. The boy was peering intently at the ground through the gap in the emergency staircase railing next to the elevator. Murai checked his watch; it was just past two in the afternoon. The boy looked about six or seven years old. Murai wondered what he was doing there so early, as school hadn't let out yet.

"Hello there."

Murai called out to the boy, but got no response. Thinking the kid was just shy, Murai walked away and went back to work. From that day on, however, he began spotting the boy frequently.

Some time later, on a day with light rain, Murai reached the sixth floor during his routine check and saw the boy gazing down from the railing as usual. I wonder what he's always looking at. Is he waiting for his parents to come home? Thinking this, Murai spoke up.

"Hello there."

Once again, there was no reply. Normally Murai would have walked away, but that day, unusually concerned about the boy, he spoke to him once more.

"You're always looking down from here, aren't you, buddy? What do you see?"

After a brief pause, the boy shifted his gaze to Murai. He stared intently at Murai for a moment before turning his eyes back down below. Then, he pointed downward.

"Let's see. What's down there?"

Murai slowly crouched down to meet the boy's eye level, then looked down in the direction he was pointing. All he saw were streets and houses—nothing out of the ordinary, just a few scattered pedestrians.

"Is there something interesting down there?"

The boy didn't answer Murai's question. He simply kept pointing at the ground. Murai stood up, leaned slightly over the railing, and peered further down.

"Makes you want to die, doesn't it?"

The instant he leaned out, a chillingly low voice whispered right into his ear. Startled, Murai tried to pull back, but something slammed down on the back of his head, forcing him forward. Sensing mortal danger, he struggled to pull himself up, but the overwhelming force pinned him down, tilting his body farther and farther over the ledge. Using the railing as a fulcrum, his body began to lift, and it took mere seconds for his feet to leave the ground.

"H-help me!"

Doubled over like someone attempting a forward flip on a high bar, Murai cried out for help to the boy in his line of sight. But at that exact moment, he noticed something. There was no one standing near the boy. In other words, whatever was pressing his head down was completely invisible.

"I'm going to fall."

The next moment after that thought flashed through his mind, he woke up in a hospital. As you might have guessed, his memory cut out entirely because Murai had plunged from the sixth floor of the building. Miraculously, a delivery truck happened to be parked right where he fell; landing on the truck bed saved his life, though he suffered severe injuries, including compound fractures to his pelvis and other bones.

"What happened to Mr. Murai after that...? He passed away. Yes, it was suicide. He jumped—from that very hospital."

Upon receiving word that the super had fallen from the building, Noguchi was put in charge of handling the situation. This was the story Noguchi heard from Mr. Murai once he regained consciousness and recovered enough for visitors, when Noguchi asked him about what had transpired. Given the nature of the incident, Mr. Murai had initially hesitated to divulge everything. Perhaps thinking the boy had pushed him off as a prank, Mr. Murai seemed to cover for the child at times, reluctant to speak the whole truth.

What finally prompted Mr. Murai to tell the full story was a single revelation from Noguchi. Mr. Murai's initial explanation was that he had accidentally fallen while looking at the ground with the boy from the emergency staircase. However, when Noguchi checked the security camera footage, there was no trace of any boy anywhere. In fact, that same footage was provided to the police, who officially ruled the fall an accidental fall by Mr. Murai. Yet Noguchi wasn't convinced. Because even though the boy was nowhere to be seen, Mr. Murai was clearly behaving as if he were talking to someone.

"Mr. Murai, you said you were talking to a boy, but no such child appeared in the footage anywhere. Please, Mr. Murai, tell me what really happened."

Hearing this stunned Mr. Murai, and he recounted the events detailed above, looking half-doubtful of his own words as he spoke.

Despite his terrible injuries, Mr. Murai had shown a strong determination to return to work. His employer, while shocked by the tragic accident, eagerly awaited his return because of his fine character and work ethic. Many residents expressed concern for Mr. Murai the super as well. Just as Mr. Murai was starting physical therapy to prepare for his return to work, he leaped from the hospital rooftop.

"Can you believe that a man who had only just managed to walk on crutches would climb over the rooftop fence and jump?"

Noguchi asked me, his tone sharpening. It was indeed hard to believe at first.

"It was after Mr. Murai died that people started jumping to their deaths at that apartment building. Always from the sixth floor. Up until Mr. Murai's accident, not a single person had ever jumped from that building—not once, I swear."

And even now, the jumps at that apartment building reportedly continue.