NHK ni Youkoso!

Chapter 09
Days of the End
Part One
To a hikikomori, winter is painful because everything feels cold, frozen
over, and lonely. To a hikikomori, spring is also painful because
everyone is in a good mood and therefore enviable.
Summer, of course, is especially painful.
It was a summer loud with the sound of cicadas. From morning to
night, they kept whining and whining. The summer was also cripplingly
hot. Even if the air conditioner ran constantly, it remained hot. I didn't
know if my air conditioner was wearing out or if this summer was just
especially hot. Either way, I was thoroughly boiled.
Sometimes, I wanted to yell, "Whoever is responsible, show
yourself!" I didn't even have the energy to do it, though. The summer
heat had worn me down completely. My appetite was depressed, and my 
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nerves were exhausted. No matter how much Lipovitan D27 I swigged,
my weariness was impossible to dispel.
Only my next door neighbor was energetic. He unabashedly made
noise. From early morning until the middle of the night, anime songs
rang out at loud volumes. He said that recently, he needed only four
hours of sleep a day. He was working hard on his creative projects, with
the help of anime songs. Bloodshot eyes flashing, he vigorously applied
himself to these meaningless activities.
One day, Yamazaki said, "I've finally gotten through a big part of my
game."
"Oh, really?"
"Tomorrow, I'm going to start making a bomb."
"What?"
Without answering Yamazaki silently gnawed on some white bread.
It was a pretty half-assed breakfast. As I wasn't as lazy as he was, I
properly toasted my bread and quickly fried an egg.
"Like I told you before, don't take food out of other people's fridges
without permission."
I pretended not to know what he was talking about.
Misaki was wearing long sleeves even though it was summer. She was in
a good mood, though.
"This is so fun, so fun, so fun," she said. She really did seem to be
having fun. She was swinging happily on the swing set.
Of course, tonight felt tropical. It was so hot that I sweated even 
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without so much as speaking.
Misaki, however, seemed cool enough. Hair streaming behind her as
she energetically swung back and forth, she said, "By the way, Satou, do
you want to eat the leftover cat food?"
At some point, the park's black cat had gone missing. It had been
quite a while since he had shown himself. Either he had been hit by a car
and gone to heaven, or he'd taken off on a journey somewhere.
At any rate, I turned her down. "I don't need it."
"I stocked up on that cat food. Ah, what a waste."
Jumping down off the swing, Misaki stepped into the cozy sandbox
next to the jungle gym. Picking up a green shovel that one of the
neighborhood kids had left behind, she started making something in the
sandbox.
I asked, "What is that?"
"A mountain."
She was right. It certainly was a mountain. Set in the middle of the
sandbox, it was a sharply peaked mountain. It angled steeply, like
Mount Fuji drawn by Hokusai,28 thus looking as though the slightest
vibration would make it crumble. But the sand mountain soon was
perfectly complete. It was wonderful work, using sand wet with the
evening dew.
Clapping her hands to brush off the sand, Misaki circled the
mountain once. She looked expectantly at me. I said, "It's a nice
mountain."
A little smile on her face, Misaki shouted, "Yaaah!" and aimed a
forward kick at the mountain. "Things with shape will one day fall
apart." 
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"That's right." I nodded.
There was actually a huge variety to the books Misaki pulled out of her
backpack, night after night. She apparently borrowed them en masse
once a week from the library. There were novels, poetry collections,
practical guides, and reference books. Misaki read books of all different
shapes and sizes, and then she would read them to me.
"Well then, the text for tonight is The Last Words of Famous People.
Its title refers to the words that exemplary people leave behind at the
moment of their deaths. . . "
Refers to. . . ?
"Let's think about what life is!" she cried.
It was a dramatic line, and I was done in by Misaki's ability to make
such grand, unusual declarations with an utterly normal expression.
Then again, seen from another perspective—well, compared to
yesterday's topic of "Let's think about what it means to live," it wasn't
that big a deal.
Regaining my composure, I urged her to continue, and Misaki
immediately started reading the text aloud.
The book collected the last words of famous people from all around
the world, from ancient times to modern days. I listened quietly and
respectfully. As she read from the book, however, Misaki seemed to
grow bored with it, and her theme changed along the way.
"'More light. . . ' Well then, whose words could these be?"
What, a quiz?! 
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"Three. . . Two. . . One. . . Time's up! The answer is Goethe. Well,
that line is too cool, isn't it? I think that Mr. Goethe must have thought
it up far, far ahead of time."
"M-maybe he did."
"Okay then, next question. 'Mikka Tororo29 was delicious.'"
I knew this one. "It's the marathon runner Kokichi Tsuburaya's
death note."
"Ping pong, ping pong!30 That's right! It's amazing you knew that."
I couldn't really brag about knowing famous people's last words, but
Misaki praised me anyway. She sounded oddly taken with the contents
of that death note, "Mikka Tororo. . . this is like some kind of joke, isn't
it?"
"Conversely, that might be why people are struck by it."
"I see. That really clears things up for me," she said, nodding
repeatedly. "Tsuburaya, the runner, apparently went home to the
countryside right before he died. Then, he ate grated yam with his
mother and father, it says."
"Hm."
"I guess everyone wants to return to their hometowns before they
die, after all."
"Now that you mention it, Misaki, are you from this city?"
"No, I'm not. The north star is in that direction. . . so I'm probably
from over there." Misaki pointed in a north-by-northwest direction.
She said the name of a town I didn't know and explained that it was
a small town on the Sea of Japan, with a population of five thousand.
According to her, it supposedly had a beautiful cape, but that cape had
become a somewhat notorious spot for suicides. 
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"Ever since some famous person jumped off its cliff during the Meiji
era, it's like it's become a Mecca for suicides. They say that so many
people either jumped deliberately or slipped and fell accidentally that
they had to construct safety barriers to prevent further incidents. When
I was little, I didn't know anything about that and was always, playing
on those bluffs. One day, I saw a strange woman there."
Misaki continued, "She was by the cliff's edge, on the high cape. It
was a beautiful early evening and the sky was a bright red. The woman,
too, was beautiful."
"And?"
"I took my eyes off her for just a moment, and she vanished. Even
now, I sometimes see her in my dreams. It might have just been a dream
to begin with, though. I mean, she had a really cheerful smile on her
healthy-looking face. Alone, she stared at the ocean and late-afternoon
sun. And then, in that one short instant, as I glanced away, she
disappeared. A strange story, isn't it?"
It was a strange story.
"What could have happened? I think she should have at least left a
suicide note—maybe about grated yam or something," I joked, trying to
lighten the mood.
"I want to eat some grated yam."
"It makes you itchy."
"Yeah." She nodded.
"It's delicious, though, isn't it?"
The conversation had begun to stray. I, too, was exhausted, after all.
But Misaki was laughing. "Ah, how fun, how happy. You think so, don't
you, Satou?" 
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"Sure."
"We're coming to the end. The last day of the project is
approaching." Misaki returned the book to her bag. "I've given all these
helpful lectures, Satou, so you should be just about ready to become a
model adult, right?"
Standing up from the bench, she said, "You understand now, don't
you? Why you've become a worthless person? Why you've become a
hikikomori? You should understand by this point."
I didn't answer.
"If you think about it properly, you should definitely understand."
Still seated on the bench, I looked up at her. The park was so dark
that only her silhouette was illuminated. I couldn't see the expression on
her face.
"I'm nearly out of time. I can't cause any more trouble for my aunt
and uncle, so I'm going to leave town."
Her tone was absolutely casual, so I listened to her calmly.
"Where are you going?"
"A city. . . someplace where there are lots of people; someplace where
no one knows me; someplace where I don't know anyone. That's why, by
the time I go, Satou. . . Satou, you have to become an outstanding
person."
I couldn't tell where the discussion was going; then again, she was a
girl who said terribly unreasonable things.
Dazed, I shook my head from side to side.
"That won't change anything," said Misaki.
"Okay, I understand. I'm fine now." All I could do, at that point, was
try to convince her of her success. "No, because of you, I really have been 
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reborn. You should rest assured of that and start a life of your own in a
new city."
She still seemed somehow dissatisfied.
In an optimistic tone, I said, "Thank you! I owe you my life. Oh,
that's true. Want to take my stereo with you? It's a necessity for living
alone. If you want it, I'll give it to you as a present. . . "
"That isn't what I mean."
"It isn't what you mean?"
I waited patiently for her to continue, but Misaki turned her back on
me without saying anything else.
I stood up, too. "Well then, goodbye."
I started walking toward my apartment; as I did, Misaki called out.
"No! Wait a second!"
"What?"
"Let's go on a date. It'll be your graduation exam to test whether you
really have become an outstanding, socially adept person, Satou. Meet
me at the station, Sunday at noon. And we're definitely going even if it
rains!"
With this defiant declaration, Misaki quickly strode away.
Meanwhile, Yamazaki really was making a bomb. He had gotten hold of
a bomb recipe from the Internet and was really, truly manufacturing a
bomb.
First, he needed to make black gunpowder. The history of black
gunpowder went way back into the distant past. For example, it was 
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used during the Genkou period of Mongolian invasions31; and the
weapon called the tetsuhou,
32 which surprised the samurai, also used
black gunpowder. Despite being an extremely primitive compound of
potassium nitrate, sulfur, and coal, its force is tremendous. They say
that when used in an enclosed space, black gunpowder generates enough
power to break all the windows on an average car and instantly kill the
people inside.
"What are you going to use a bomb for?"
"It's obvious, isn't it? I'm going to blow up something!"
Well, yeah, that was true. It was, indeed, obvious. There was no
other use for a bomb.
"I meant, what are you going to blow up? That's what I wanted to
ask you."
"My enemies."
"Who are your enemies?"
"Villains. I'm going to get those villains with my revolutionary
bomb."
"I see. Well, who are the villains?"
"Like, politicians or something."
"Do you even know the name of the current prime minister?"
Yamazaki grew silent and went back to his work. Before long, he'd
completed the black gunpowder and the airtight iron pipe. His
detonator, which used an analog clock, also was finished. The only thing
left was to attach the detonator to the pipe, and then he could set it off at
any time.
"Yay, I'm done! I'm a fighter! I'm a revolutionary!" Yamazaki was in
high spirits. "They'll all be blown up! I'll kill all the villains!" 
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He was in high spirits, but he was also entirely self-aware.
"Ah, that was fun," he concluded.
In the end, though, the bomb didn't blow up any villains.
To start with, we didn't know where to find any villains. Because
there was nothing we could do about that, we tried to blow up the
neighborhood park on Saturday night. So no one would see us, we
crawled deep into the brush to set the detonator. The bomb actually did
explode, but it was more a whimper than a bang.
It was a sad story.
Amid these distractions, Sunday arrived. As I had promised, I met
Misaki in front of the station. We had our date, and I returned to my
apartment.
I slept all night. When I awoke, it was morning. I had nothing to do
and was bored. I decided to try ingesting my entire stash of stockpiled
drugs. I started having a good time. Everything became pleasurable. I
laughed.
Part Two
In general, drugs can be classified into one of three large categories:
uppers, downers, and psychedelics. Uppers are drugs that make you
energetic. Cocaine and stimulants are famous uppers. Downers are
drugs like heroin, which make you sluggish. I'd never tried them, so I
didn't know firsthand, but it seemed that taking them would feel really,
really good. And psychedelics are hallucinogens. LSD and magic 
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mushrooms represent that category.
For the most part, I really preferred legal hallucinogens. They had
few side effects—unlike uppers and downers—and more than that, they
were easy to get because they were legal.
On the day after my date, I took drugs again. I decided to take a
rather aggressive approach.
First, I set the groundwork with thirty milligrams of AMT. AMT is
an antidepressant that was studied by Russian scientists. After they
discovered that a large dose could cause hallucinogenic effects, it was
prohibited for medical use. Still, it was originally just an antidepressant.
After taking it, for the first two hours, a person would be plagued with
terrible nausea; once that was over, however, it became entirely
pleasurable. It also happened to be the best thing ever for combating bad
trips.
Next, I boiled down the seeds of a harmal plant and drank the
yellow layer of liquid that floated to the top. Harmal, a plant I think is in
the goathead family, originated in Tibet and contains the Indole-type
psychedelic components harmine and harmaline. Using it by itself
doesn't produce any real effect; in combination with other hallucinogens
like magic mushrooms or DMT, though, the effects are amplified
dozens of times over. That's the Ayahuasca method. As harmal is an
MAO inhibitor, it could be life-threatening if ingested with cheese or
other dairy products; but as long as those foods are avoided, it shouldn't
cause any problems.
Well, my real opportunity had arrived. My consciousness already
was dimming, and the edges of my vision wavered wildly—but here, my
true trip would begin. I would keep going and going! 
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Grinding five grams of dried magic mushroom with a mortar and
pestle, I washed the powder down with a single gulp of orange juice. On
top of that, I screwed up my courage and ingested a ten-milligram crystal
of 5-MeO-DMT. DMT is a drug containing only the effective
components of hallucinogenic plants like chacropanga, which natives of
the Amazon use in their Ayahuasca ceremonies. Though legal, this drug
is reputedly one of the strongest anyone can find. According to one
theory, the hallucinogenic effects are more than one hundred times more
powerful than those of LSD. It's truly the ultimate psychedelic.
In just one second, I had become paralyzed! The drugs had taken
effect!
The Satou Special—my wonderful, ultimate method, devised
through research and trial-and-error—was complete.
By effectively combining four types of drugs into a single cocktail, I
was promised the ultimate trip, one that even illegal drugs couldn't
touch. With a hard thrust, as if riding a rocket ship, I was shot into the
far reaches of outer space. Time stopped entirely. Space began to warp
thoroughly. My physical body disappeared.
"This is no good, Satou. I found out something terrible! I've had an
epiphany!" Yamazaki declared. "This is really, really bad!"
I tried to say something but my mouth wouldn't work.
Yamazaki was getting agitated. "Are you listening? Listen closely:
This is a really bad thing!"
As there was nothing else I could do, I listened closely. 
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Pulling himself to his full height and wearing the largest grin
imaginable, Yamazaki said, "I was able to logically prove that I am the
monotheistic God who created the cosmos!"
I died.
Then, I came back to life.
"Please watch, and I'll clean up your room now, using my
superpowers." Yamazaki pointed his finger at the rubbish scattered
about the floor and screamed, "Move!"
Naturally, the rubbish did not so much as twitch.
"Hey! I'm ordering you! Why are you resisting me?" Yamazaki
fumed.
Observing this situation, I felt something rise up inside of me. It was
a strange sensation, bubbling up from the very depths of my body.
Folding my arms, I thought carefully about this feeling. Finally, after
what seemed like an eternity, I realized what it was. I know, this is. . .
It was nausea! I was attacked by violent nausea. I tried to dash to the
bathroom, but the path there was challenging. My legs wouldn't move
forward. The hall seemed to have stretched into a fifteen hundred foot
tunnel. The bathroom was so far away. Would I make it? Could I get to
the bathroom before spraying-vomit everywhere?
I'll be fine. Calm down.
Yamazaki had just said it. He had said, "I am God."
But I knew. I knew that his words were completely mistaken. How
did I know? Because I was God! I had confirmed that truth just a
moment earlier, using a thoroughly logical thought process.
I would definitely make it in time. I am God. I will make it to the
bathroom in time. 
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I made it.
Prostrating myself before the toilet, I threw up. Afterward, I felt
much better. Then, I became energetic. I was enjoying myself. Skipping
slowly back into the room, I found Yamazaki squatting there, still
grinning.
"It's no good. Elementary students are no good." Muttering under
his breath, he looked like he was thinking of something criminal.
For some reason, his situation triggered an extreme sense of déjà vu.
This sort of thing has happened before, hasn't it. . . ? While I thought about
it, ten consecutive aggressive feelings of déjà vu suddenly hit me.
Everything I was looking at had happened before.
I decided to engage Yamazaki in a discussion about this sensation.
After a moment, I became unsure what was really going on. "Huh, have
we had this discussion before?"
"What are you saying, Satou? I have no idea what—"
"Wait just a second. Let me think carefully about it."
Lying face down on the floor, I thought as hard as I could. When I
did, I was able to remember. . . I was a soldier from an ancient
civilization several thousands of years ago, who had transmigrated
through time and space to come to this world. Naturally, I decided to
keep this revelation from Yamazaki. It was a gravely important secret,
after all.
After a little while passed, Yamazaki broke in on my thoughts. "You
should breathe. You're dying."
I breathed. I came back to life. Sincerely thanking Yamazaki, I
pondered the way that the world was wrapped in love. I bowed my head
to say, "thank you, thank you." 
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However, as if to balance out my return to life, Yamazaki abruptly
acted like he was in extreme physical distress. Clutching his throat, he
rolled about on the floor, writhing in agony. When I asked, ”What's
wrong?" he just uttered an inhuman cry and, without speaking,
continued convulsing.
Finally, he picked up a notebook and ballpoint pen in order to
communicate the problem to me. Hands shaking, he wrote something
down in the notebook.
Taking my time, I carefully deciphered his letters: "I forgot how to
use my voice."
Yamazaki gripped his throat, looking miserable. I whacked his back
as hard as I could.
"Ouch!" he said, and then he gave me a thumbs-up. His broad smile
returned.
I decided it was time for us to head out. It was already the middle of
the night, so I wasn't afraid that we'd be seen by the police or any
neighbors.
We headed toward the neighborhood park. Yamazaki was walking
like a robot. Maybe he really was a robot. In the end, could I have such
thoughts and also be human? I found the idea a little mysterious.
At that point, I tried banging my head against the streetlamp in the
park. This was bad: It didn't hurt. It didn't hurt at all. I am actually a
robot...
Thus, I discovered a new truth.
Be that as it may, the park at night was wonderful. Though the
streetlamps were the only light source, the park shone and glowed like a
photograph taken using a long exposure. The park was full of life. 
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Everything there pulsed with life: the gentle creaking of the old bench,
the steady breathing of massive trees lining the road, the dynamic twists
of the branches and leaves. All this, every last thing, was alive.
While I was transfixed by the scene, Yamazaki said, "I can hear
music."
I heard it, too. From somewhere in the park, inexplicably beautiful
music was playing.
We were looking for the music's source—pushing our way through
the grass, shoving our heads under the bench, combing the park for quite
a while—when, at last, we found a speaker. It was buried in the roots of
the largest tree by the road.
However, it was strange. We didn't really understand the speaker's
mechanism. Yamazaki and I considered it together. We concluded that
the speaker was a "white hole," which pushed out matter rather than
sucking it in.
We walked into the white hole and emerged near a beautiful lake.
Yamazaki slowly shed his clothing and dove headfirst into the lake.
However. . . "Argh! It's a sandbox!"
It seemed that the lake was, in reality, just a plain old sandbox. It
really had looked like a lake to me. I decided that I couldn't trust what
Yamazaki told me.
In any event, it felt as if time had been playing tricks on us. First, we
were going back in time, and then we were headed forward into the
future. I thought about this. When could "now" possibly be?
"Hey, Yamazaki. What day of the week is today?"
There was no answer. It seemed as though he had gone back home
already. 
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Having grown sad, I climbed into the brush, picking the spot where
we had detonated Saturday night's bomb.
In the brush were Yamazaki and myself—from three days ago!
"Okay, it will explode after three minutes. Please, back far away
from it."
Me, myself, and Yamazaki retreated.
"I wanted to be a revolutionary, but that dream didn't come true, I
wanted to be a soldier, but that dream didn't come true. My father it
dying, and then I'll have no choice but to go home. I wonder whose fault
that is. I think there's some evildoer out there somewhere. I wanted to
blow him up, like in a Hollywood movie, with this bomb. You know. . . "
As I could see only our backs, there was no way for me to check
Yamazaki's expression as he said that. But I already knew.
"Huh? Three minutes already have passed, but it didn't explode."
Yamazaki walked over in the direction of the bomb. As he did, I heard a
loud bang, and Yamazaki fell over.
I knew. I knew that he had been crying. "This has no force at all.
This bomb I worked so hard to make only has the power of a few
firecrackers. This is no good. I'm going back home. See you."
And then, he went back home to the countryside.
When I returned to my apartment, only the life-sized anime doll
that Yamazaki had left was waiting for me. She asked, "Aren't you
lonely?"
"No, I'm not lonely. . . " 
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On that warm, sunny day, I had gone on the date with Misaki. It
unfolded as wholesomely as a date between middle school kids in the
countryside would have.
We took the train into the city. There were large crowds, so we
nearly lost sight of each other. Neither of us owned a cell phone; so, if we
were separated even once, it would be the end of everything. In this large
city, we never would be able to find each other again. We had to be
careful.
Even so, Misaki was wandering heedlessly. I, too, was mostly just
plodding along. "Where should we go?" I asked.
"Somewhere."
"What about lunch?"
"We just ate together, didn't we?"
"What about a movie?"
"Okay."
We watched a movie. It was an astounding Hollywood action flick.
Someone was being blown away by bombs, and he swung his arms
around in circles as he floated high up into the sky. Then, he died. I
longed to be like him.
"That was very interesting. Do you think I should buy the
informational pamphlet?"33
Misaki was blown away by the thousand-yen price tag, though, so
she didn't end up buying it. "Why are they so expensive?!"
"That's the price they usually are, isn't it?"
"Hm, really?" It seemed that she hadn't known.
When we exited the movie theater, we were once again at a loss over
what to do. 
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"Where should we go?"
"Somewhere."
"What about lunch?"
"We just ate, didn't we?"
We kept walking aimlessly. We had no place to go, and I didn't
know what to do. Misaki felt the same way, and we both were troubled
by it.
Eventually, we arrived at a needlessly large city park. There were a
lot of people there, of course—and in the very center was a large
fountain. Pigeons fluttered around us.
Seated on a bench, I was dazed. We chatted amiably until sunset.
Finally, we ran out of conversation topics; when only our restless silence
remained, Misaki pulled her secret notebook from her bag.
"Let's walk toward our dreams!"
I responded, "It doesn't matter anymore. This stuff isn't going to
change anything."
"Don't say such negative things."
"Even if I try to believe these lies, in the end, there's nothing I'd be
able to do."
"Actually, they've made me quite normal."
"What part of you?"
"You don't think I seem normal?" she asked.
"You're strange," I stated. "You've always been strange. Ever since I
first saw you, I thought you seemed rather off."
"Really. . . "
We both grew silent. 
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In front of us, a pigeon waddled by. Misaki tried to catch it.
Naturally, the pigeon escaped. She repeated her attempt several times;
after they all failed, she simply stared at the fountain in front of us.
Then, she said, "Satou, when it comes to you and me, and the idea of
which of us is more worthless, you must be more worthless then I am,
right?"
I agreed with her completely.
"Well, that's why. That's why you were selected for my project,
Satou."
It seemed she had finally decided she wanted to discuss the heart of
the matter. At this point, though, it really didn't make any difference, as
nothing was going to change. At least, that was my conviction.
Misaki was smiling a fake smile that would have made anyone seeing
it nervous. It was an uncertain, manufactured smile that touched only
her lips, unnaturally pulling them upward.
She began, "The initial premise is that there's no way anyone could
end up liking someone like me."
"You really think that?"
"It's been like that since I was born. It was so bad that my mother
and father hated me, and it was even worse with other people."
I didn't have any response.
"My uncle and aunt took me in, but I just create problems for them,
too. Their relationship is getting worse, and they say they want to
divorce soon. It's all my fault, and I'm really sorry about it."
"You're just thinking about it too much."
"No, I'm not," she said. "I probably was born useless, and normal 
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people wont have anything to do with me. Eventually, everyone starts
hating me and, because of me, everyone starts feeling bad. I have actual
evidence that what I'm saying is true."
Misaki rolled up her sleeves. Holding out her arms, she made me
look at them. Many, many sad scars from old burns marred her white
skin.
"It was my second father. I don't even remember his face. He drank
continuously. While he drank, his mood would improve—-but even
when he was in a good mood, he always was getting angry at me, burning
me with cigarettes." She said all this, her bright smile unwavering.
"I was even scared of school and couldn't go. Of course, I was
scared. . . There was no way I could fit in with everyone else. I was
terrified. Because if they were normal people, they were absolutely sure
to start hating someone like me."
"What about the people at your church?"
"Those are good people. Everyone there is pretty normal, and they're
working their hardest. So, of course, they won't have anything to do
with me."
I didn't say anything.
"Finally, I was able to find someone more worthless than I was: A
really worthless person. A totally worthless person—the kind you can't
find just anywhere. Someone who can't look people in the eye when
speaking, who is unbearably afraid of others. Someone who lives among
the dregs of society, a person whom even I could look down on."
"Who was it?"
"Satou." Her words were exactly what I expected. 
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193
Then, Misaki pulled a sheet of scrap paper from her bag and handed
it to me. It was the second contract.
I felt unsure what I should do. The sun was nearly beneath the
horizon, and the number of people walking around the park had shrunk
considerably.
Misaki handed me a marker and a vermilion ink pad,34 saying, "A
thumb print will be fine.
"After all, someone like you, Satou, might start liking me, right?" she
asked. "I mean, you're even more worthless than I am, after all. As I've
been carrying out this plan for such a long time, you should be my
prisoner by now, right? Please, be nice to me, and I'll be nice to you, too."
"No. This won't work."
"Why?"
"It's no use. Nothing's changed. This agreement just makes
everything more painful. On top of that, it's too empty." I got up and
returned the marker and ink.
I tried to be enthusiastic. "You'll be fine, Misaki! This is just a
momentary lapse of confidence. Have a rubdown with a dry towel, and
train your mind and body! If you do that, these stupid thoughts will
disappear. A cute girl like you will be able to have a great life! Don't look
down! Look up, and you'll be okay!"
Then, I ran away.
The contents of the contract had seared themselves into my brain. 
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194
Contract Regarding Mutual Support for
Worthless and Lonely People
Defining Satou Tatsuhiro as party A and Misaki Nakahara as party
B, the two parties agree to the following:
A will not start to hate B.
In fact, A will start to like B.
A will never change mind.
A will never have a change of heart.
When one party is lonely, the other always will be at his or her side.
As B is always lonely, basically A always will be at B's side.
If we do this, I think our lives probably will move in a good
direction.
I think the painful times will go away.
If you break this contract, the penalty is ten million yen.
"Hey! Aren't you lonely?" Misaki called out.
Turning around, I answered in a loud voice, "No, I'm not lonely."
"Well, I'm lonely!"
"I'm not.
"Liar."
"I'm not lying," I said." I'm the strongest hikikomori in the world, so I
can go on living by myself. Pain doesn't mean anything to me. Misaki,
you, should stop relying on other people, too. In the end, everyone is 
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alone. Being alone is best. I mean, it's true, isn't it? In the end, you'll be
absolutely alone; therefore, being alone is natural. If you accept that,
nothing bad can happen. That's why I shut myself away in my six-mat,
one-room apartment."
"Aren't you lonely?"
"I'm not lonely?"
"Aren't you lonely?"
"I'm not lonely."
"Liar." Someone spoke in a low, muffled voice.
I turned around to look behind me.
I found myself standing in the middle of my six-mat, one-room
apartment. In the corner, I sat hugging my legs to my chest, melting into
the deep darkness.
It was night, and I couldn't see, hear, or do anything. Despite the fact
that it was summer, this six-mat, one-room apartment, devoid of
furniture or anything else, was cold. A dark and terrible chill filled the
isolated space. I held my head and trembled.
I said, "I'm lonely."
"I'm not lonely."
"Liar."
"I'm not lying."
"I'm so lonely."
"I am lonely!"
The quivering, shaking, shivering me was clack-clack-clacking his
teeth. The me standing in the middle of the room watched this. I
thought I'd gone crazy. But I wasn't crazy.
There were only two things that I understood: I was alone, and I was 
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196
incredibly lonely. I didn't want to be in this state. I didn't want to be
lonely.
"Anyway," I screamed, "that's why!"
I kept shouting, "Being lonely is natural! Of course, I hate being
lonely! That's exactly why I shut myself off from the world, why I lock
myself away. Thinking about it for the long term, this is the best
solution. You understand, right? Hey! You understand me, right?"
There was no answer.
"Don't you understand? Listen carefully to what I'm saying. If you
do, you'll get it. You can grasp this easily. In short. . . in short, I shut
myself in because I'm lonely. Because I don't want to face any more
loneliness, I shut myself away. Hey, do you understand? That's the
answer!"
There was no reply.
"I'm greedier than anyone. I don't want some half-assed happiness I
don't need some partial warmth. I want a happiness that goes on forever.
That's impossible, though! I don't know why it is, but in this world,
some interference is sure to come. Important things break right away.
I've been alive for twenty-two years, and I know at least this much. It
doesn't matter what the thing is, but it will break. That's why, from the
beginning, it's better not to need anything."
That's right! You should learn this truth, too, Misaki. If you do, you won't
come up with more ridiculous plans. You'll stop looking to people like me for
help.
She was terribly stupid. She was clinging to a horrifyingly enormous
despair. I was appalled by the loneliness that caused her to seek help
from a piece of human trash like me. I cursed the misfortune that had 
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197
fallen upon her. I cursed the unreasonable fact that children couldn't
choose their parents. I wanted a cheerful girl like her to live a strong,
healthy life.
Please, do your best, somewhere. I'm all right. I'll be fine on my own. It's
best for me to be alone. I'll live alone and die alone.
Even still, I had hope. I had hope. . . .
Look, just over there—it's shining, pale, and gentle.
It was my hometown, the one that drew forth nostalgic, bittersweet
tears. Autumn plains that continued forever. Memories from long ago.
The eternally fleeting glances from giggling little girls. The peace of the
black cat, hit by a car. There was no longer anything painful or difficult
anywhere. I was fine now.
"That's right. You are now," said a little girl.
The life-sized anime doll, which Yamazaki had left behind as a
present, stared at me. She was an angel. She started to move, and she
guided me forward.
We traveled to a faraway planet. It was beautiful: a blue sky with
white clouds, the cool wind blowing across a spring field that stretched
into the distance. We stood in the middle of the field, and the girl picked
one pure white flower and held it up in front of me.
With her slender fingers, she grasped a petal and pulled it out. "Life."
Then, she pulled out another petal. "Death."
She was telling a flower fortune.
"Life. . . Death. . . Life. . . Death. . . Life. . . Death. . . Life. . . Death."
The last petal fluttered to the ground.
The girl smiled gently. 

Chapter 09

Days of the End

Part One

To a hikikomori, winter is painful because everything feels cold, frozen

over, and lonely. To a hikikomori, spring is also painful because

everyone is in a good mood and therefore enviable.

Summer, of course, is especially painful.

It was a summer loud with the sound of cicadas. From morning to

night, they kept whining and whining. The summer was also cripplingly

hot. Even if the air conditioner ran constantly, it remained hot. I didn't

know if my air conditioner was wearing out or if this summer was just

especially hot. Either way, I was thoroughly boiled.

Sometimes, I wanted to yell, "Whoever is responsible, show

yourself!" I didn't even have the energy to do it, though. The summer

heat had worn me down completely. My appetite was depressed, and my 

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173

nerves were exhausted. No matter how much Lipovitan D27 I swigged,

my weariness was impossible to dispel.

Only my next door neighbor was energetic. He unabashedly made

noise. From early morning until the middle of the night, anime songs

rang out at loud volumes. He said that recently, he needed only four

hours of sleep a day. He was working hard on his creative projects, with

the help of anime songs. Bloodshot eyes flashing, he vigorously applied

himself to these meaningless activities.

One day, Yamazaki said, "I've finally gotten through a big part of my

game."

"Oh, really?"

"Tomorrow, I'm going to start making a bomb."

"What?"

Without answering Yamazaki silently gnawed on some white bread.

It was a pretty half-assed breakfast. As I wasn't as lazy as he was, I

properly toasted my bread and quickly fried an egg.

"Like I told you before, don't take food out of other people's fridges

without permission."

I pretended not to know what he was talking about.

Misaki was wearing long sleeves even though it was summer. She was in

a good mood, though.

"This is so fun, so fun, so fun," she said. She really did seem to be

having fun. She was swinging happily on the swing set.

Of course, tonight felt tropical. It was so hot that I sweated even 

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174

without so much as speaking.

Misaki, however, seemed cool enough. Hair streaming behind her as

she energetically swung back and forth, she said, "By the way, Satou, do

you want to eat the leftover cat food?"

At some point, the park's black cat had gone missing. It had been

quite a while since he had shown himself. Either he had been hit by a car

and gone to heaven, or he'd taken off on a journey somewhere.

At any rate, I turned her down. "I don't need it."

"I stocked up on that cat food. Ah, what a waste."

Jumping down off the swing, Misaki stepped into the cozy sandbox

next to the jungle gym. Picking up a green shovel that one of the

neighborhood kids had left behind, she started making something in the

sandbox.

I asked, "What is that?"

"A mountain."

She was right. It certainly was a mountain. Set in the middle of the

sandbox, it was a sharply peaked mountain. It angled steeply, like

Mount Fuji drawn by Hokusai,28 thus looking as though the slightest

vibration would make it crumble. But the sand mountain soon was

perfectly complete. It was wonderful work, using sand wet with the

evening dew.

Clapping her hands to brush off the sand, Misaki circled the

mountain once. She looked expectantly at me. I said, "It's a nice

mountain."

A little smile on her face, Misaki shouted, "Yaaah!" and aimed a

forward kick at the mountain. "Things with shape will one day fall

apart." 

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"That's right." I nodded.

There was actually a huge variety to the books Misaki pulled out of her

backpack, night after night. She apparently borrowed them en masse

once a week from the library. There were novels, poetry collections,

practical guides, and reference books. Misaki read books of all different

shapes and sizes, and then she would read them to me.

"Well then, the text for tonight is The Last Words of Famous People.

Its title refers to the words that exemplary people leave behind at the

moment of their deaths. . . "

Refers to. . . ?

"Let's think about what life is!" she cried.

It was a dramatic line, and I was done in by Misaki's ability to make

such grand, unusual declarations with an utterly normal expression.

Then again, seen from another perspective—well, compared to

yesterday's topic of "Let's think about what it means to live," it wasn't

that big a deal.

Regaining my composure, I urged her to continue, and Misaki

immediately started reading the text aloud.

The book collected the last words of famous people from all around

the world, from ancient times to modern days. I listened quietly and

respectfully. As she read from the book, however, Misaki seemed to

grow bored with it, and her theme changed along the way.

"'More light. . . ' Well then, whose words could these be?"

What, a quiz?! 

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176

"Three. . . Two. . . One. . . Time's up! The answer is Goethe. Well,

that line is too cool, isn't it? I think that Mr. Goethe must have thought

it up far, far ahead of time."

"M-maybe he did."

"Okay then, next question. 'Mikka Tororo29 was delicious.'"

I knew this one. "It's the marathon runner Kokichi Tsuburaya's

death note."

"Ping pong, ping pong!30 That's right! It's amazing you knew that."

I couldn't really brag about knowing famous people's last words, but

Misaki praised me anyway. She sounded oddly taken with the contents

of that death note, "Mikka Tororo. . . this is like some kind of joke, isn't

it?"

"Conversely, that might be why people are struck by it."

"I see. That really clears things up for me," she said, nodding

repeatedly. "Tsuburaya, the runner, apparently went home to the

countryside right before he died. Then, he ate grated yam with his

mother and father, it says."

"Hm."

"I guess everyone wants to return to their hometowns before they

die, after all."

"Now that you mention it, Misaki, are you from this city?"

"No, I'm not. The north star is in that direction. . . so I'm probably

from over there." Misaki pointed in a north-by-northwest direction.

She said the name of a town I didn't know and explained that it was

a small town on the Sea of Japan, with a population of five thousand.

According to her, it supposedly had a beautiful cape, but that cape had

become a somewhat notorious spot for suicides. 

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"Ever since some famous person jumped off its cliff during the Meiji

era, it's like it's become a Mecca for suicides. They say that so many

people either jumped deliberately or slipped and fell accidentally that

they had to construct safety barriers to prevent further incidents. When

I was little, I didn't know anything about that and was always, playing

on those bluffs. One day, I saw a strange woman there."

Misaki continued, "She was by the cliff's edge, on the high cape. It

was a beautiful early evening and the sky was a bright red. The woman,

too, was beautiful."

"And?"

"I took my eyes off her for just a moment, and she vanished. Even

now, I sometimes see her in my dreams. It might have just been a dream

to begin with, though. I mean, she had a really cheerful smile on her

healthy-looking face. Alone, she stared at the ocean and late-afternoon

sun. And then, in that one short instant, as I glanced away, she

disappeared. A strange story, isn't it?"

It was a strange story.

"What could have happened? I think she should have at least left a

suicide note—maybe about grated yam or something," I joked, trying to

lighten the mood.

"I want to eat some grated yam."

"It makes you itchy."

"Yeah." She nodded.

"It's delicious, though, isn't it?"

The conversation had begun to stray. I, too, was exhausted, after all.

But Misaki was laughing. "Ah, how fun, how happy. You think so, don't

you, Satou?" 

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178

"Sure."

"We're coming to the end. The last day of the project is

approaching." Misaki returned the book to her bag. "I've given all these

helpful lectures, Satou, so you should be just about ready to become a

model adult, right?"

Standing up from the bench, she said, "You understand now, don't

you? Why you've become a worthless person? Why you've become a

hikikomori? You should understand by this point."

I didn't answer.

"If you think about it properly, you should definitely understand."

Still seated on the bench, I looked up at her. The park was so dark

that only her silhouette was illuminated. I couldn't see the expression on

her face.

"I'm nearly out of time. I can't cause any more trouble for my aunt

and uncle, so I'm going to leave town."

Her tone was absolutely casual, so I listened to her calmly.

"Where are you going?"

"A city. . . someplace where there are lots of people; someplace where

no one knows me; someplace where I don't know anyone. That's why, by

the time I go, Satou. . . Satou, you have to become an outstanding

person."

I couldn't tell where the discussion was going; then again, she was a

girl who said terribly unreasonable things.

Dazed, I shook my head from side to side.

"That won't change anything," said Misaki.

"Okay, I understand. I'm fine now." All I could do, at that point, was

try to convince her of her success. "No, because of you, I really have been 

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179

reborn. You should rest assured of that and start a life of your own in a

new city."

She still seemed somehow dissatisfied.

In an optimistic tone, I said, "Thank you! I owe you my life. Oh,

that's true. Want to take my stereo with you? It's a necessity for living

alone. If you want it, I'll give it to you as a present. . . "

"That isn't what I mean."

"It isn't what you mean?"

I waited patiently for her to continue, but Misaki turned her back on

me without saying anything else.

I stood up, too. "Well then, goodbye."

I started walking toward my apartment; as I did, Misaki called out.

"No! Wait a second!"

"What?"

"Let's go on a date. It'll be your graduation exam to test whether you

really have become an outstanding, socially adept person, Satou. Meet

me at the station, Sunday at noon. And we're definitely going even if it

rains!"

With this defiant declaration, Misaki quickly strode away.

Meanwhile, Yamazaki really was making a bomb. He had gotten hold of

a bomb recipe from the Internet and was really, truly manufacturing a

bomb.

First, he needed to make black gunpowder. The history of black

gunpowder went way back into the distant past. For example, it was 

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180

used during the Genkou period of Mongolian invasions31; and the

weapon called the tetsuhou,

32 which surprised the samurai, also used

black gunpowder. Despite being an extremely primitive compound of

potassium nitrate, sulfur, and coal, its force is tremendous. They say

that when used in an enclosed space, black gunpowder generates enough

power to break all the windows on an average car and instantly kill the

people inside.

"What are you going to use a bomb for?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? I'm going to blow up something!"

Well, yeah, that was true. It was, indeed, obvious. There was no

other use for a bomb.

"I meant, what are you going to blow up? That's what I wanted to

ask you."

"My enemies."

"Who are your enemies?"

"Villains. I'm going to get those villains with my revolutionary

bomb."

"I see. Well, who are the villains?"

"Like, politicians or something."

"Do you even know the name of the current prime minister?"

Yamazaki grew silent and went back to his work. Before long, he'd

completed the black gunpowder and the airtight iron pipe. His

detonator, which used an analog clock, also was finished. The only thing

left was to attach the detonator to the pipe, and then he could set it off at

any time.

"Yay, I'm done! I'm a fighter! I'm a revolutionary!" Yamazaki was in

high spirits. "They'll all be blown up! I'll kill all the villains!" 

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181

He was in high spirits, but he was also entirely self-aware.

"Ah, that was fun," he concluded.

In the end, though, the bomb didn't blow up any villains.

To start with, we didn't know where to find any villains. Because

there was nothing we could do about that, we tried to blow up the

neighborhood park on Saturday night. So no one would see us, we

crawled deep into the brush to set the detonator. The bomb actually did

explode, but it was more a whimper than a bang.

It was a sad story.

Amid these distractions, Sunday arrived. As I had promised, I met

Misaki in front of the station. We had our date, and I returned to my

apartment.

I slept all night. When I awoke, it was morning. I had nothing to do

and was bored. I decided to try ingesting my entire stash of stockpiled

drugs. I started having a good time. Everything became pleasurable. I

laughed.

Part Two

In general, drugs can be classified into one of three large categories:

uppers, downers, and psychedelics. Uppers are drugs that make you

energetic. Cocaine and stimulants are famous uppers. Downers are

drugs like heroin, which make you sluggish. I'd never tried them, so I

didn't know firsthand, but it seemed that taking them would feel really,

really good. And psychedelics are hallucinogens. LSD and magic 

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182

mushrooms represent that category.

For the most part, I really preferred legal hallucinogens. They had

few side effects—unlike uppers and downers—and more than that, they

were easy to get because they were legal.

On the day after my date, I took drugs again. I decided to take a

rather aggressive approach.

First, I set the groundwork with thirty milligrams of AMT. AMT is

an antidepressant that was studied by Russian scientists. After they

discovered that a large dose could cause hallucinogenic effects, it was

prohibited for medical use. Still, it was originally just an antidepressant.

After taking it, for the first two hours, a person would be plagued with

terrible nausea; once that was over, however, it became entirely

pleasurable. It also happened to be the best thing ever for combating bad

trips.

Next, I boiled down the seeds of a harmal plant and drank the

yellow layer of liquid that floated to the top. Harmal, a plant I think is in

the goathead family, originated in Tibet and contains the Indole-type

psychedelic components harmine and harmaline. Using it by itself

doesn't produce any real effect; in combination with other hallucinogens

like magic mushrooms or DMT, though, the effects are amplified

dozens of times over. That's the Ayahuasca method. As harmal is an

MAO inhibitor, it could be life-threatening if ingested with cheese or

other dairy products; but as long as those foods are avoided, it shouldn't

cause any problems.

Well, my real opportunity had arrived. My consciousness already

was dimming, and the edges of my vision wavered wildly—but here, my

true trip would begin. I would keep going and going! 

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Grinding five grams of dried magic mushroom with a mortar and

pestle, I washed the powder down with a single gulp of orange juice. On

top of that, I screwed up my courage and ingested a ten-milligram crystal

of 5-MeO-DMT. DMT is a drug containing only the effective

components of hallucinogenic plants like chacropanga, which natives of

the Amazon use in their Ayahuasca ceremonies. Though legal, this drug

is reputedly one of the strongest anyone can find. According to one

theory, the hallucinogenic effects are more than one hundred times more

powerful than those of LSD. It's truly the ultimate psychedelic.

In just one second, I had become paralyzed! The drugs had taken

effect!

The Satou Special—my wonderful, ultimate method, devised

through research and trial-and-error—was complete.

By effectively combining four types of drugs into a single cocktail, I

was promised the ultimate trip, one that even illegal drugs couldn't

touch. With a hard thrust, as if riding a rocket ship, I was shot into the

far reaches of outer space. Time stopped entirely. Space began to warp

thoroughly. My physical body disappeared.

"This is no good, Satou. I found out something terrible! I've had an

epiphany!" Yamazaki declared. "This is really, really bad!"

I tried to say something but my mouth wouldn't work.

Yamazaki was getting agitated. "Are you listening? Listen closely:

This is a really bad thing!"

As there was nothing else I could do, I listened closely. 

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184

Pulling himself to his full height and wearing the largest grin

imaginable, Yamazaki said, "I was able to logically prove that I am the

monotheistic God who created the cosmos!"

I died.

Then, I came back to life.

"Please watch, and I'll clean up your room now, using my

superpowers." Yamazaki pointed his finger at the rubbish scattered

about the floor and screamed, "Move!"

Naturally, the rubbish did not so much as twitch.

"Hey! I'm ordering you! Why are you resisting me?" Yamazaki

fumed.

Observing this situation, I felt something rise up inside of me. It was

a strange sensation, bubbling up from the very depths of my body.

Folding my arms, I thought carefully about this feeling. Finally, after

what seemed like an eternity, I realized what it was. I know, this is. . .

It was nausea! I was attacked by violent nausea. I tried to dash to the

bathroom, but the path there was challenging. My legs wouldn't move

forward. The hall seemed to have stretched into a fifteen hundred foot

tunnel. The bathroom was so far away. Would I make it? Could I get to

the bathroom before spraying-vomit everywhere?

I'll be fine. Calm down.

Yamazaki had just said it. He had said, "I am God."

But I knew. I knew that his words were completely mistaken. How

did I know? Because I was God! I had confirmed that truth just a

moment earlier, using a thoroughly logical thought process.

I would definitely make it in time. I am God. I will make it to the

bathroom in time. 

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185

I made it.

Prostrating myself before the toilet, I threw up. Afterward, I felt

much better. Then, I became energetic. I was enjoying myself. Skipping

slowly back into the room, I found Yamazaki squatting there, still

grinning.

"It's no good. Elementary students are no good." Muttering under

his breath, he looked like he was thinking of something criminal.

For some reason, his situation triggered an extreme sense of déjà vu.

This sort of thing has happened before, hasn't it. . . ? While I thought about

it, ten consecutive aggressive feelings of déjà vu suddenly hit me.

Everything I was looking at had happened before.

I decided to engage Yamazaki in a discussion about this sensation.

After a moment, I became unsure what was really going on. "Huh, have

we had this discussion before?"

"What are you saying, Satou? I have no idea what—"

"Wait just a second. Let me think carefully about it."

Lying face down on the floor, I thought as hard as I could. When I

did, I was able to remember. . . I was a soldier from an ancient

civilization several thousands of years ago, who had transmigrated

through time and space to come to this world. Naturally, I decided to

keep this revelation from Yamazaki. It was a gravely important secret,

after all.

After a little while passed, Yamazaki broke in on my thoughts. "You

should breathe. You're dying."

I breathed. I came back to life. Sincerely thanking Yamazaki, I

pondered the way that the world was wrapped in love. I bowed my head

to say, "thank you, thank you." 

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186

However, as if to balance out my return to life, Yamazaki abruptly

acted like he was in extreme physical distress. Clutching his throat, he

rolled about on the floor, writhing in agony. When I asked, ”What's

wrong?" he just uttered an inhuman cry and, without speaking,

continued convulsing.

Finally, he picked up a notebook and ballpoint pen in order to

communicate the problem to me. Hands shaking, he wrote something

down in the notebook.

Taking my time, I carefully deciphered his letters: "I forgot how to

use my voice."

Yamazaki gripped his throat, looking miserable. I whacked his back

as hard as I could.

"Ouch!" he said, and then he gave me a thumbs-up. His broad smile

returned.

I decided it was time for us to head out. It was already the middle of

the night, so I wasn't afraid that we'd be seen by the police or any

neighbors.

We headed toward the neighborhood park. Yamazaki was walking

like a robot. Maybe he really was a robot. In the end, could I have such

thoughts and also be human? I found the idea a little mysterious.

At that point, I tried banging my head against the streetlamp in the

park. This was bad: It didn't hurt. It didn't hurt at all. I am actually a

robot...

Thus, I discovered a new truth.

Be that as it may, the park at night was wonderful. Though the

streetlamps were the only light source, the park shone and glowed like a

photograph taken using a long exposure. The park was full of life. 

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Everything there pulsed with life: the gentle creaking of the old bench,

the steady breathing of massive trees lining the road, the dynamic twists

of the branches and leaves. All this, every last thing, was alive.

While I was transfixed by the scene, Yamazaki said, "I can hear

music."

I heard it, too. From somewhere in the park, inexplicably beautiful

music was playing.

We were looking for the music's source—pushing our way through

the grass, shoving our heads under the bench, combing the park for quite

a while—when, at last, we found a speaker. It was buried in the roots of

the largest tree by the road.

However, it was strange. We didn't really understand the speaker's

mechanism. Yamazaki and I considered it together. We concluded that

the speaker was a "white hole," which pushed out matter rather than

sucking it in.

We walked into the white hole and emerged near a beautiful lake.

Yamazaki slowly shed his clothing and dove headfirst into the lake.

However. . . "Argh! It's a sandbox!"

It seemed that the lake was, in reality, just a plain old sandbox. It

really had looked like a lake to me. I decided that I couldn't trust what

Yamazaki told me.

In any event, it felt as if time had been playing tricks on us. First, we

were going back in time, and then we were headed forward into the

future. I thought about this. When could "now" possibly be?

"Hey, Yamazaki. What day of the week is today?"

There was no answer. It seemed as though he had gone back home

already. 

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Having grown sad, I climbed into the brush, picking the spot where

we had detonated Saturday night's bomb.

In the brush were Yamazaki and myself—from three days ago!

"Okay, it will explode after three minutes. Please, back far away

from it."

Me, myself, and Yamazaki retreated.

"I wanted to be a revolutionary, but that dream didn't come true, I

wanted to be a soldier, but that dream didn't come true. My father it

dying, and then I'll have no choice but to go home. I wonder whose fault

that is. I think there's some evildoer out there somewhere. I wanted to

blow him up, like in a Hollywood movie, with this bomb. You know. . . "

As I could see only our backs, there was no way for me to check

Yamazaki's expression as he said that. But I already knew.

"Huh? Three minutes already have passed, but it didn't explode."

Yamazaki walked over in the direction of the bomb. As he did, I heard a

loud bang, and Yamazaki fell over.

I knew. I knew that he had been crying. "This has no force at all.

This bomb I worked so hard to make only has the power of a few

firecrackers. This is no good. I'm going back home. See you."

And then, he went back home to the countryside.

When I returned to my apartment, only the life-sized anime doll

that Yamazaki had left was waiting for me. She asked, "Aren't you

lonely?"

"No, I'm not lonely. . . " 

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189

On that warm, sunny day, I had gone on the date with Misaki. It

unfolded as wholesomely as a date between middle school kids in the

countryside would have.

We took the train into the city. There were large crowds, so we

nearly lost sight of each other. Neither of us owned a cell phone; so, if we

were separated even once, it would be the end of everything. In this large

city, we never would be able to find each other again. We had to be

careful.

Even so, Misaki was wandering heedlessly. I, too, was mostly just

plodding along. "Where should we go?" I asked.

"Somewhere."

"What about lunch?"

"We just ate together, didn't we?"

"What about a movie?"

"Okay."

We watched a movie. It was an astounding Hollywood action flick.

Someone was being blown away by bombs, and he swung his arms

around in circles as he floated high up into the sky. Then, he died. I

longed to be like him.

"That was very interesting. Do you think I should buy the

informational pamphlet?"33

Misaki was blown away by the thousand-yen price tag, though, so

she didn't end up buying it. "Why are they so expensive?!"

"That's the price they usually are, isn't it?"

"Hm, really?" It seemed that she hadn't known.

When we exited the movie theater, we were once again at a loss over

what to do. 

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190

"Where should we go?"

"Somewhere."

"What about lunch?"

"We just ate, didn't we?"

We kept walking aimlessly. We had no place to go, and I didn't

know what to do. Misaki felt the same way, and we both were troubled

by it.

Eventually, we arrived at a needlessly large city park. There were a

lot of people there, of course—and in the very center was a large

fountain. Pigeons fluttered around us.

Seated on a bench, I was dazed. We chatted amiably until sunset.

Finally, we ran out of conversation topics; when only our restless silence

remained, Misaki pulled her secret notebook from her bag.

"Let's walk toward our dreams!"

I responded, "It doesn't matter anymore. This stuff isn't going to

change anything."

"Don't say such negative things."

"Even if I try to believe these lies, in the end, there's nothing I'd be

able to do."

"Actually, they've made me quite normal."

"What part of you?"

"You don't think I seem normal?" she asked.

"You're strange," I stated. "You've always been strange. Ever since I

first saw you, I thought you seemed rather off."

"Really. . . "

We both grew silent. 

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191

In front of us, a pigeon waddled by. Misaki tried to catch it.

Naturally, the pigeon escaped. She repeated her attempt several times;

after they all failed, she simply stared at the fountain in front of us.

Then, she said, "Satou, when it comes to you and me, and the idea of

which of us is more worthless, you must be more worthless then I am,

right?"

I agreed with her completely.

"Well, that's why. That's why you were selected for my project,

Satou."

It seemed she had finally decided she wanted to discuss the heart of

the matter. At this point, though, it really didn't make any difference, as

nothing was going to change. At least, that was my conviction.

Misaki was smiling a fake smile that would have made anyone seeing

it nervous. It was an uncertain, manufactured smile that touched only

her lips, unnaturally pulling them upward.

She began, "The initial premise is that there's no way anyone could

end up liking someone like me."

"You really think that?"

"It's been like that since I was born. It was so bad that my mother

and father hated me, and it was even worse with other people."

I didn't have any response.

"My uncle and aunt took me in, but I just create problems for them,

too. Their relationship is getting worse, and they say they want to

divorce soon. It's all my fault, and I'm really sorry about it."

"You're just thinking about it too much."

"No, I'm not," she said. "I probably was born useless, and normal 

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192

people wont have anything to do with me. Eventually, everyone starts

hating me and, because of me, everyone starts feeling bad. I have actual

evidence that what I'm saying is true."

Misaki rolled up her sleeves. Holding out her arms, she made me

look at them. Many, many sad scars from old burns marred her white

skin.

"It was my second father. I don't even remember his face. He drank

continuously. While he drank, his mood would improve—-but even

when he was in a good mood, he always was getting angry at me, burning

me with cigarettes." She said all this, her bright smile unwavering.

"I was even scared of school and couldn't go. Of course, I was

scared. . . There was no way I could fit in with everyone else. I was

terrified. Because if they were normal people, they were absolutely sure

to start hating someone like me."

"What about the people at your church?"

"Those are good people. Everyone there is pretty normal, and they're

working their hardest. So, of course, they won't have anything to do

with me."

I didn't say anything.

"Finally, I was able to find someone more worthless than I was: A

really worthless person. A totally worthless person—the kind you can't

find just anywhere. Someone who can't look people in the eye when

speaking, who is unbearably afraid of others. Someone who lives among

the dregs of society, a person whom even I could look down on."

"Who was it?"

"Satou." Her words were exactly what I expected. 

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193

Then, Misaki pulled a sheet of scrap paper from her bag and handed

it to me. It was the second contract.

I felt unsure what I should do. The sun was nearly beneath the

horizon, and the number of people walking around the park had shrunk

considerably.

Misaki handed me a marker and a vermilion ink pad,34 saying, "A

thumb print will be fine.

"After all, someone like you, Satou, might start liking me, right?" she

asked. "I mean, you're even more worthless than I am, after all. As I've

been carrying out this plan for such a long time, you should be my

prisoner by now, right? Please, be nice to me, and I'll be nice to you, too."

"No. This won't work."

"Why?"

"It's no use. Nothing's changed. This agreement just makes

everything more painful. On top of that, it's too empty." I got up and

returned the marker and ink.

I tried to be enthusiastic. "You'll be fine, Misaki! This is just a

momentary lapse of confidence. Have a rubdown with a dry towel, and

train your mind and body! If you do that, these stupid thoughts will

disappear. A cute girl like you will be able to have a great life! Don't look

down! Look up, and you'll be okay!"

Then, I ran away.

The contents of the contract had seared themselves into my brain. 

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194

Contract Regarding Mutual Support for

Worthless and Lonely People

Defining Satou Tatsuhiro as party A and Misaki Nakahara as party

B, the two parties agree to the following:

A will not start to hate B.

In fact, A will start to like B.

A will never change mind.

A will never have a change of heart.

When one party is lonely, the other always will be at his or her side.

As B is always lonely, basically A always will be at B's side.

If we do this, I think our lives probably will move in a good

direction.

I think the painful times will go away.

If you break this contract, the penalty is ten million yen.

"Hey! Aren't you lonely?" Misaki called out.

Turning around, I answered in a loud voice, "No, I'm not lonely."

"Well, I'm lonely!"

"I'm not.

"Liar."

"I'm not lying," I said." I'm the strongest hikikomori in the world, so I

can go on living by myself. Pain doesn't mean anything to me. Misaki,

you, should stop relying on other people, too. In the end, everyone is 

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195

alone. Being alone is best. I mean, it's true, isn't it? In the end, you'll be

absolutely alone; therefore, being alone is natural. If you accept that,

nothing bad can happen. That's why I shut myself away in my six-mat,

one-room apartment."

"Aren't you lonely?"

"I'm not lonely?"

"Aren't you lonely?"

"I'm not lonely."

"Liar." Someone spoke in a low, muffled voice.

I turned around to look behind me.

I found myself standing in the middle of my six-mat, one-room

apartment. In the corner, I sat hugging my legs to my chest, melting into

the deep darkness.

It was night, and I couldn't see, hear, or do anything. Despite the fact

that it was summer, this six-mat, one-room apartment, devoid of

furniture or anything else, was cold. A dark and terrible chill filled the

isolated space. I held my head and trembled.

I said, "I'm lonely."

"I'm not lonely."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying."

"I'm so lonely."

"I am lonely!"

The quivering, shaking, shivering me was clack-clack-clacking his

teeth. The me standing in the middle of the room watched this. I

thought I'd gone crazy. But I wasn't crazy.

There were only two things that I understood: I was alone, and I was 

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incredibly lonely. I didn't want to be in this state. I didn't want to be

lonely.

"Anyway," I screamed, "that's why!"

I kept shouting, "Being lonely is natural! Of course, I hate being

lonely! That's exactly why I shut myself off from the world, why I lock

myself away. Thinking about it for the long term, this is the best

solution. You understand, right? Hey! You understand me, right?"

There was no answer.

"Don't you understand? Listen carefully to what I'm saying. If you

do, you'll get it. You can grasp this easily. In short. . . in short, I shut

myself in because I'm lonely. Because I don't want to face any more

loneliness, I shut myself away. Hey, do you understand? That's the

answer!"

There was no reply.

"I'm greedier than anyone. I don't want some half-assed happiness I

don't need some partial warmth. I want a happiness that goes on forever.

That's impossible, though! I don't know why it is, but in this world,

some interference is sure to come. Important things break right away.

I've been alive for twenty-two years, and I know at least this much. It

doesn't matter what the thing is, but it will break. That's why, from the

beginning, it's better not to need anything."

That's right! You should learn this truth, too, Misaki. If you do, you won't

come up with more ridiculous plans. You'll stop looking to people like me for

help.

She was terribly stupid. She was clinging to a horrifyingly enormous

despair. I was appalled by the loneliness that caused her to seek help

from a piece of human trash like me. I cursed the misfortune that had 

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fallen upon her. I cursed the unreasonable fact that children couldn't

choose their parents. I wanted a cheerful girl like her to live a strong,

healthy life.

Please, do your best, somewhere. I'm all right. I'll be fine on my own. It's

best for me to be alone. I'll live alone and die alone.

Even still, I had hope. I had hope. . . .

Look, just over there—it's shining, pale, and gentle.

It was my hometown, the one that drew forth nostalgic, bittersweet

tears. Autumn plains that continued forever. Memories from long ago.

The eternally fleeting glances from giggling little girls. The peace of the

black cat, hit by a car. There was no longer anything painful or difficult

anywhere. I was fine now.

"That's right. You are now," said a little girl.

The life-sized anime doll, which Yamazaki had left behind as a

present, stared at me. She was an angel. She started to move, and she

guided me forward.

We traveled to a faraway planet. It was beautiful: a blue sky with

white clouds, the cool wind blowing across a spring field that stretched

into the distance. We stood in the middle of the field, and the girl picked

one pure white flower and held it up in front of me.

With her slender fingers, she grasped a petal and pulled it out. "Life."

Then, she pulled out another petal. "Death."

She was telling a flower fortune.

"Life. . . Death. . . Life. . . Death. . . Life. . . Death. . . Life. . . Death."

The last petal fluttered to the ground.

The girl smiled gently.