He headed for the landing, as if lured there.

"That's weird."

There was nothing unusual about the machine's basic appearance: a waist-high rectangular box with a handle, a slot for coins, and an opening where the capsules came out. One capsule cost 100 to 300 yen. When you put coins in the slot and turned the handle, a globe-shaped capsule containing a toy or a figurine would drop out. There were thousands of varieties of capsule toys and figurines, from kiddy toys to items intended for otaku types like Tomoya.

What was strange was the machine's location and its exterior. Nakano Broadway had a number of capsule-toy shops in Nakano Broadway, but none of them would have installed one lone vending machine on a stairway landing.

"What kind of figures, I wonder."

Squatting down, Tomoya looked the machine over. There were no labels or signs of any kind on the outside. These machines usually had stickers on them showing the various toys that were inside the capsules. The capsules had some sort of dark coating on them, so there was no way of knowing what was inside.

And yet, before he realized it Tomoya had his wallet out. It was comical: put him in front of one of these machines and he automatically reached for his wallet. He used a commuter pass to get to and from school, so he didn't have to worry about spending his train fare. With a wry smile at his own expense, Tomoya dropped the coins in the slot and gripped the handle.

For some reason, even though it was winter, the handle was warm. He turned it, and it came off.

"What the . . .?"

He stared wide-eyed at the handle—the ex-handle —in his hand. He hadn't applied force. It had just popped off.

Meanwhile, the machine had begun to shake. Tomoya watched dumbstruck as a stream of capsules slid down the rails inside the machine.

The capsules were spewed out all at once with unbelievable force. Within seconds they overflowed the exit chute and started spilling out onto the ground. Tomoya started to back away, lost his footing, and landed unceremoniously on his rear end. Capsules poured down on him.

When he opened his mouth to call for help, a capsule dropped right in.
"Hel—uck!"

Just as Tomoya thought he was going to drown in them, the deluge of capsules exhausted itself.

No doubt about it: the worst kind of unlucky day.