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-mat1
, 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. 
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11
"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 j.a.pan. 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
j.a.pan. 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 
Welcome to the N.H.K.
12
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 kyokus.h.i.+n karate,
5
 Mr. Masutatsu
Ohyama, also known as the "G.o.dhand," 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 
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13
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 tins. 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 s.h.i.+busawa6
 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. 
Welcome to the N.H.K.
14
I will gain enlightenment and escape my hikikomori self I will shatter my
feeble spirit and replace it with a strong st.u.r.dy 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 
Birth of a Soldier
15
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 pa.s.sed very few, though.
However, my journey to school that day was decidedly different
than it had been every other day. Everyone I pa.s.sed looked at me. And I 
Welcome to the N.H.K.
16
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. 
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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. 
Welcome to the N.H.K.
18
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. ma.s.s-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. 
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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. . .