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
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21
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.
Argh, how could this happen? I alone had been left behind by the
gaieties of spring. No, more than that: I was being actively mocked by
the rest of the entire world, ail of which was in high spirits due to
spring's onset. At least, that was the message I got.
I hadn't had proper contact with another human being for almost a
year.
I felt like I might forget how to speak Japanese if I kept going at this
rate. I sensed that I was constantly getting farther and farther from my
return to society. That would not be good; it would be very bad. If I
didn't escape from my life as a hikikomori soon, I would be socially laid
to rest by the world forever.
First, I needed to consider my independence. I knew I had to find
work. Thus, I recently bought a job information magazine from the
convenience score. After reading through it, however, everything
seemed impossible.
Oh, it's impossible. Absolutely impossible. I'm a dropout from a thirdrate
college, with zero qualifications. That's me. If I were the personnel
manager at some company, I'd definitely never hire a hikikomori like
Welcome to the N.H.K.
22
myself. In this day and age—when it's hard enough to get work—there's
no way any company willingly would hire a useless person like me.
Eventually, though, at some point in time, every human being, no
matter who, must work. That's the fact of the matter.
I couldn't just keep riding my parents' coattails forever.
And I couldn't keep tricking my parents with the worst kinds of lies
like, "It's all right! Even if I did quit college with only a few
qualifications, I'll have no trouble finding work! Right now, I'm studying
for all kinds of certifications, including the IT-administrator certificate,
the TOEFL, word processing, computing, and abacus proficiency,
among other things. Please, send me just a little more allowance!"
Yeah, my time limit was approaching. It might even be just a few
months away.
Before my parents stopped sending my allowance, I needed to
reform my leechlike personality and escape this rotten hikikomori
lifestyle.
I had to take down the N.H.K.
Could I do it? Could I do something that reckless?
The world outside my apartment was full of danger. Cars drove at
fearsome speeds, cedar pollen floated on the wind, and random killers
sometimes haunted the streets. Could I really launch myself into that
dangerous world? Would I really be okay?
Quite honestly, I was very anxious about it.
Actually, it was impossible.
A loser like me could never lead a regular life within society. A
normal social life would be impossible for someone who, just yesterday,
woke at the decent hour of seven o'clock in the morning for the first time
in a long while, only to lie in bed, lost in thought, until afternoon. Yes, a
Jihad
23
decent life in conventional society would be impossible for someone
who, after that, decided to take a quick nap, closing his eyes only to sleep
soundly through the day and night until five o'clock this morning.
A normal life within society would be impossible for someone like
me, who cried so unsuccessfully to apply Freudian analysis to last night's
dream. My dream featured indulging in an impure heterosexual
relationship in a small room with the female upperclassman from high
school, and my analysis suggested only that it indicated a subconscious
desire to indulge an impure heterosexual relationship in a small room
with the female upperclassman from high school. My final result
concluded, "What part of this is a dream interpretation? You're just
reiterating the same thing!"
Impossible for me, who went to eat breakfast and, upon opening the
refrigerator, realized that there was not a single item of food inside.
Impossible for me, who then decided to ignore my empty stomach and
take a bath, only to discover that I was entirely out of both soap and
shampoo.
And impossible for me, who responded to the horoscope read on the
TV morning show—Virgo's luck in love is up today. An unexpected person
may profess their love to you—with the pathetic comment, "How are they
going co profess it to me if I don't leave my room all day? Huh? Let's see
them try it."
A normal life within society was totally impossible for me.
Argh.
Maybe I should just die!
Welcome to the N.H.K.
24
Maybe I should just die. No. I won't die because I am a strong, capable soldier.
I was determined to live until the day I defeated the N.H.K., even if
that meant I would have to crawl along the floor.
I would win or I would lose; I was still uncertain which. Anyway,
what I required was a good amount of courage; thus, I needed to make
efficient use of every ounce of courage in my body. For the time being,
however, first I needed to make breakfast.
After slowly rising from my bed, I opened the cupboard and
removed the cup of ramen I kept for emergencies. I poured hot water
from the hot pot I stored on top of the refrigerator. And then I waited—
listening to the faint notes of an anime song that echoed from room 202,
the apartment next to mine, I waited patiently for three minutes.
Not that it was important or anything but my next door neighbor,
who had just moved in this spring, really seemed to like anime. While it
didn't really matter, school should have started already. Was it okay that
he hadn't left his apartment? I felt like warning him, "Morning is no time
to be engrossed in the theme song to Ojamajo Doremi.
12 You're going to
be late!" Of course, I didn't do any such thing. My next door neighbor's
lifestyle wasn't my concern.
While these thoughts ran through my mind, three minutes passed in
what felt like a matter of seconds.
My ramen was ready.
Just then, it happened.
At the very moment that I was about to thrust my disposable
chopsticks into the noodles, my doorbell's resounding "ding dong, ding
dong" interrupted the entire process.
Who could it be?
Jihad
25
Naturally, I didn't panic. The unexpected visitor disturbing my
breakfast was probably just a bill collector, coming to pick up my electric
utility payment. As I would be in trouble were I to lose my lifeline, I
obediently put down my chopsticks and headed toward the door, still
clad in my pajamas.
I flung open the door and quickly said, "Oh, electricity! The
electricity, right? I can pay you now. Um, I'll pay right. . . "
My words trailed off. Alerted by the smile plastered across the
visitor's face and the subtle aura emanating from her entire body, I
realized there was no way this middle-aged woman possibly could be the
bill collector for the electricity company.
"Please, forgive us for interrupting your busy schedule,"' said my
visitor. The woman's face was lit by the morning sun. "We're actually
handing out these pamphlets," she beamed, passing me two small
pamphlets.
Printed on the cover was: "Awaken! Tower of Druaga."13
A refreshing spring breeze blew in through the open door. Outside,
the mild, April morning was calm and cheerful.
Part Two
At Mita House's14 room 201, the door separating the inside of my
apartment from the outside was now standing open. The woman on a
religious mission and me—nothing separated us any longer.
Then, I saw it. Diagonally to the right, behind the woman with the
Welcome to the N.H.K.
26
bottomless evangelical smile, stood another woman.
Did they plan to use two people to recruit me? Were they tipping
the balance of power, two against one? How cowardly!
Then, further realization dawned. I noticed just how young the
other religious recruiter was.
For some odd reason, even on this serene April morning when the
sun shone so gently, she shaded herself with a pure white parasol.
Although I couldn't see her face, which was hidden by the parasol, I
could tell nevertheless that she was young, particularly compared to the
middle-aged woman. In fact, it was obvious that she was even younger
than me.
Holding her parasol, draped in a plain, light-colored, long-sleeved
dress, she gave off a sanctified, pure air. As if guarding the older woman,
she stood calmly, clean and quiet.
Without my even realizing it, tears had sprung to my eyes,
unbidden.
This young girl, no older than seventeen or eighteen by my estimate,
was being taken advantage of by some idiotic cult. Just thinking about it,
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