Welcome to the NHK! Read online

  Welcome to the NHK!

  Tatsuhiko Takimoto

  The novel that inspired the manga and anime!

  Twenty-two-year-old Satou, a college dropout and aficionado of anime porn, knows a little secret — or at least he thinks he does! Believe it or not, he has stumbled upon an incredible conspiracy created by the Japanese Broadcasting Company, N.H.K. But despite fighting the good fight, Satou has become an unemployed hikikomori — a shut-in who has withdrawn from the world…

  One day, he meets Misaki, a mysterious young girl who invites him to join her special “project.” Slowly, Satou comes out of his reclusive shell, and his hilarious journey begins, filled with mistaken identity, Lolita complexes — and an ultimate quest to create the greatest hentai game ever!

  Welcome to the NHK!

  by Tatsuhiko Takimoto

  Preface

  In this world, conspiracies exist.

  However, there is a more than a ninety-nine percent chance that the plausible-sounding conspiracies that you hear about from others are simple delusions or even intentional lies. When you visit a bookstore, the books with titles like The Great Jewish Conspiracy to Ruin the Japanese Economy! or The Super Conspiracy of the CIA That Hides Their Secret Pact with Aliens! are all just trivial delusions.

  Even so … people love conspiracies.

  Conspiracies. We are hopelessly fascinated by the sound of that word and its bittersweet echo.

  Consider, for example, the process by which The Jewish Conspiracy theory comes to be: The author has multiple, terrible complexes and feelings, such as, “Why am I poor?”; “Why is my life not more comfortable?”; “Why can I not find a girlfriend?” His mind and body constantly are pressured, from both within and without.

  Those pent-up grudges become endless feelings of hatred toward society. They become rage.

  However, the largest source of rage is his own personal cowardice.

  He is poor because he lacks the skill with which to earn money. He has no girlfriend because he lacks charisma. But the process of seeing this truth and acknowledging his own incompetence requires quite a bit of courage. No human beings, regardless of who they might be, want to look directly at their own shortcomings.

  At this point, the conspiracy theorist projects his cowardice onto the outside world.

  He creates a fictitious “enemy” outside of himself.

  Enemy. My enemy. Society’s enemy.

  “Because an enemy conspires to do evil, I cannot find happiness. Because of this conspiracy, I cannot find a girlfriend. That’s right! This is all because of the Jews. Because the Jews are scheming away out there, I can’t find happiness. Damn you, Jews! I won’t forgive you!”

  Truthfully, this kind of thinking also inconveniences Jewish people.

  All conspiracy theorists need to look a little more closely at reality.

  “Enemies” don’t exist externally. “Evil” does not exist externally. One has to assume blame oneself for being a worthless person.

  It’s definitely not a Jewish conspiracy, nor a CIA conspiracy, and — obvious as this may be—it’s not an alien conspiracy. Before all else, one needs to keep this fact firmly in mind while living one’s life.

  Even so…

  A tiny percentage of people actually have stumbled upon a real conspiracy. There is, in fact, one person who witnessed with his own eyes a conspiracy that exists, at this very moment, in the most extreme secrecy.

  Who is this person?

  It’s me.

  Chapter 01. Birth of a Soldier

  Part One

  On a cold, cold January night, I learned about the existence of a conspiracy.

  In my tiny six-mat[1], one-room apartment, I had ensconced myself next to my kotatsu stove.[2] It was a painfully dreary night.

  Despite it being a new millennium, there was no hope in sight. I even cried while eating my New Year's soup[3].

  For an unemployed, twenty-two-year-old, male college dropout, the winter chill was piercing. In the middle of my filthy room, where thrown-off clothing littered the floor and the smell of cigarette smoke had soaked into the walls, I sighed over and over.

  How could things have come to this?

  It was all I could think about.

  “Ah”, I moaned.

  If I didn't break out of my present condition soon, I would fall behind completely and disappear from normal society. Even worse, I was a college dropout already. I needed to find work fast and return to society.

  I just… couldn't do it.

  Why? What was the reason?

  The answer is simple: Because I am a hikikomori.[4]

  Currently, the hottest, most popular new social phenomenon— hikikomori. That's me. A recluse.

  They say that there are now approximately two million hikikomori living in Japan. Two million is a tremendous number. If someone threw a rock on the street, they would hit a hikikomori…. Of course, that wouldn't really happen. Hikikomori don't go outside, after all.

  Anyway, I was one of the hikikomori currently so popular here in Japan. Not to mention that I was somewhat of a veteran hikikomori. I left my apartment only once a week, and then I'd just to go to a convenience store for food and cigarettes. My friends numbered zero, and I slept sixteen hours a day.

  This year would mark four full years of living as a hikikomori. My lifestyle had caused me to drop out of college.

  Seriously, I was such a frightful hikikomori that I should have been approaching professional status. No matter whom I might be up against, I really doubted I'd lose easily to other hikikomori.

  In fact, I was confident that if an “International Hikikomori Olympics” were to take place, I would score pretty well. I was certain I would beat out other hikikomori regardless of country, whether it was a Russian hikikomori who escaped through vodka, an English hikikomori whose escape was through drugs, or an American hikikomori who found escape by randomly shooting guns indoors.

  Right! The famous founder of kyokushin karate[5], Mr. Masutatsu Ohyama, also known as the “Godhand”, supposedly holed up in the mountains during his youth in order to hone his spirit before going on to become the world's strongest karate master. If you think about it from that standpoint, then I—who have been holed up continuously in this apartment for a number of years—must be, at this very moment, incredibly close to becoming the strongest man in the world.

  Well, it was worth a try. I decided to set up a beer bottle and try to break it with a chop of the hand.

  “Hiii-ya!”

  ***

  While wrapping my bloodied right hand in a bandage, I sat back down at the kotatsu.

  Any way you looked at it, my mind hadn't been working properly of late. Could it be because I get sixteen hours of sleep per day? Or was it because I'd avoided contact with other people for more than half a year?

  All day long, my brain remained in a fog. Even when I walked to the bathroom, my gait was unsteady.

  But I didn't care about all that.

  The more immediate problem was how to break out of this helpless hikikomori lifestyle.

  Yes! I have to escape this festering hikikomori life as fast as possible. A return to human society! A rebound from dropping out! I'll work, find a girlfriend, and lead a normal life!

  If I continue this way, I will become a trauma victim. If I continue like this, I will be disqualified as a human being. I need a resolution right now!

  Resolutions, however—such as “Today is the day I go outside and make myself find a part-time job!”—just faded away like mist, in fewer than ten minutes.

  Why? Why is this?

  Probably my ridiculously long life as a hikikomori had rotted away the very roots of my spirit.

  I can't go on like t
his. I must do something quickly.

  At that point, I decided that in order to force my thoroughly weakened spirit to recover, I would try taking some of the White Drug I ordered online.

  Even though it's called White Drug, it's not a major stimulant or anything. It's a perfectly legal, relatively powerful hallucinogen. However, although legal, it's said to have nearly the same effect as LSD. It acts directly on the serotonin receptors in the brain and reputedly causes unbelievably intense visions.

  Exactly. To escape my gloomy situation, I had no choice but to rely on pharmaceutical power. I'd been pushed to the extreme of trying to stimulate my own worn-out brain with violently strong hallucinogens.

  It's just as the famous Tatsuhiko Shibusawa[6] said: “The enlightenment you receive through religious training and the enlightenment you receive from drugs are, in the end, one and the same.” Or something like that.

  If that's the case, then let me be enlightened through drugs.

  I will gain enlightenment and escape my hikikomori self. I will shatter my feeble spirit and replace it with a strong, sturdy courage. I will place just a small amount of the White Drug on top of my kotatsu and, in one breath, I will snort it up my nose!

  Part Two

  Oh, how wonderful, how pleasant!

  In my tiny, grimy, six-mat, one-room apartment, with a kitchen sink filled with dirty dishes and a floor littered with cast-off clothing, I actually experienced a trip!

  The walls wobble and squirm while the air conditioner breathes deeply. Mr. Stereo Speaker is talking.

  Oh! Everything is alive. We are all one world.

  Mr. Refrigerator, good evening.

  Mr. Kotatsu, thank you for warming me.

  Mr. Bed, you're the most comfortable bed ever.

  Mr. TV, Mr. Computer, and everyone else I've met up to this point, thank you all.

  “Mr. Satou, break out of your hikikomori life soon!”

  Oh, everyone, you're all supporting me? Thank you, thank you. Nothing could make me happier. Now, I'll be fine. With everyone's warm support, I can escape from my life as a hikikomori.

  Please watch. Look, right now, I am about to go outside. It's three o'clock in the morning, but that does not concern me. I'm about to escape from this room into the vast world.

  However, because it's cold, I must dress properly. Here we go. Put on my clothes, hat, and jacket. There, all ready.

  Okay, I'm going outside. Time for me to say goodbye to all that hikikomori stuff. See you.

  Goodbye.

  For some reason, the door to my apartment didn't open. Why? Why wouldn't the door open?

  Anxiety consumed me. Someone was trying to interfere with my escape.

  “That's right. Mr. Satou, if you leave, you won't be a hikikomori any longer”, my speakers informed me.

  So?

  “Someone is getting in your way.”

  The complete shock I received from that one phrase, transmitted by my speakers, was absolutely indescribable.

  Interference.

  Now that they mentioned it, I was reminded of the time when I first started my life as a hikikomori.

  It had been a painfully hot summer day.

  I stomped along, trudging up the slope to my school. Sweat dripped constantly and uncomfortably down the nape of my neck.

  There were very few people on the road—maybe a couple of housewives heading home from shopping and some young people heading for the same school I was. I passed very few, though.

  However, my journey to school that day was decidedly different than it had been every other day. Everyone I passed looked at me. And I was absolutely positive that though it was very, very quiet—almost so quiet as to escape my hearing—each one of them let out something akin to a giggle. Of this, I was certain.

  It's true.

  I'm positive.

  They each saw me and then began to ridicule me! The housewives and then the students, they all noticed me and laughed.

  I was astonished. Why? Why should they laugh at me?

  “Hey, look at that guy. There's something wrong with him, huh?”

  “Ew, how awful. I wish he wouldn't leave his house.”

  “Ha ha ha. He looks like such an idiot.”

  It couldn't be … probably wasn't … might not have been … just a persecution complex on my part.

  Listening carefully, I was sure I had heard them, their voices mocking me.

  Ever since then…

  Ever since then, I have been afraid of going outside.

  The speakers crackled. “That's right. Those people who laughed at you were interference operatives. It's definitely not just a persecution complex, Mr. Satou. They used your easily hurt, naive soul against you, setting you up to become a hikikomori.”

  Ah! That's what happened! At that moment, the deep darkness that had covered my spirit for such a long time finally was driven away.

  In short, up to this point, someone had been psychologically manipulating me. Thinking about things that way, everything now made perfect sense! Who could have done such a thing? Why?

  I had no idea. No idea at all.

  Just then, my television suddenly whispered, “The N.H.K. is operated with the help of subscribers like you.” Those words, usually barely noticeable, began to agitate me for some reason. N.H.K…. I felt that, within those three letters of the alphabet, some kind of grave secret might be hiding.

  This absolutely was not some simple delusion of grandeur or ridiculous nonsense. Even though I was currently right in mid-trip on a powerful hallucinogen, it didn't mean that I had lost my ability to make a sober judgment. In fact, my brain was working far better than it had in the previous twenty-two years of my entire life.

  One plus one equals two. Two plus two equals four. Look, my logical thought processes work perfectly!

  That's why I need to think. Right now, I need to think!

  N.H.K. In those three letters hides a tremendous secret having to do with me.

  For all intents and purposes, it was nothing more than a simple hunch, but I could no longer have any doubt about its accuracy. We might as well call the idea a divine revelation. It wouldn't even be an exaggeration to call this enlightenment.

  However, hm … My prior familiarity with N.H.K. came to mind. Thinking about it, I remembered that when I was little, I had liked N.H.K. In elementary school, I saw Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water.[7] It was such an interesting anime.

  Huh. Anime…

  Mentioning anime brings up images of otaku.[8] When it comes to otaku, they tend to be poor at human contact. People who are poor at human contact tend to become hikikomori.

  Really?

  I see! At this point, the direct connection between N.H.K. and hikikomori finally should be obvious to everyone. In short, by broadcasting such interesting anime, N.H.K. mass-produced anime otaku, thereby essentially creating hikikomori on a large scale. Dammit! What a dirty thing to do!

  However, now I had stumbled upon their conspiracy. Having come this far, I was only a step away from the perfect solution to the mystery. Resting my head on the kotatsu, I devoted myself to thought.

  Thanks to the drugs, my field of vision was spinning. All the furniture in my room cheered for me in unison.

  Right! With the help of my furniture friends, no one could stop me. It wasn't as though the cowardly interference operatives would pursue me forever and ever. This is the time to counterattack. I'll make you all regret having mocked me.

  Only one more step…

  I'm this close to solving all these mysteries. TV, kotatsu, computer, please lend me your strength!

  And then, at that moment, I had a divine revelation. Specifically, it was sent directly to my brain in the form of a proverb: “The name says it all.”[9]

  Basically, the very name N.H.K. should reveal the reality of the organization. N.H.K. stands for “Nippon Housou Kyoukai”,[10] but that couldn't be all it meant. Another meaning, a secret double-meaning, had to exist.

  N.H
.K., N.H.K., N.H.K…. I kept mumbling these three letters to myself, over and over again.

  N stands for Nippon. If that's so, then H must be…

  I understood! It was all so simple! The mystery was finally solved. I had discovered the truth behind everything. H stood for Hikikomori! In other words, N.H.K. represented “Nippon Hikikomori Kyoukai”![11]

  ***

  My battle began that day.

  While I was tripping on hallucinogens, I failed to realize that the reason my apartment door wouldn't open was due to nothing more than the fact that I had locked it. That was just the tiniest of issues at hand, though.

  No matter what, I have to fight it out. Until the day I have defeated the N.H.K., I must fight it out bravely. I absolutely will not lose.

  Though sometimes, I do want to die…

  Chapter 02. Jihad

  Part One

  Several months after the night I'd decided to fight the N.H.K., I looked out the apartment window at the neighborhood park across the street. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom—a cheerful, endlessly beautiful scene.

  However, no victory was in view. I saw no sign that I would win this battle.

  For starters, I didn't know where my enemy was hiding.

  I thought maybe I should blow up the N.H.K. headquarters.

  No, if I did something like that, I'd just be shot and killed by the police.

  I rejected that plan.

  Most important, I knew my enemy was the N.H.K. I had to believe this—or at least pretend that I believed it. That had to be it. I needed to refrain from making any careless moves.

  If I continued like this, my situation would never improve.

  Recently, I'd been increasingly depressed over the signs of spring, which mercilessly invaded even my gloomy six-mat, one-room apartment.

  Another student had arrived to replace the one who had just vacated the apartment next door. Now, freshmen walked along the road to school, smiles spread across their faces. Opening the window let in a cool spring breeze, cherry blossom petals, or people's lively voices.