Chapter 5 of 11

CH 5

23 min read5,850 words

Chapter 05

A Humbert Humbert for

The Twenty-First Century

Part One

"Take fireflies, for example. Try to imagine their beauty, the evanescent

beauty of their lives, which don't even last a week.

"Female fireflies flash their lights only to have intercourse with the

males; males twinkle just to have intercourse with the females. And once

their mating has finished, they die. In short, their reproductive instinct is

the single, absolute reason for fireflies to live. In that simple instinct and

their simple world, no kind of sadness can intervene. This is precisely

why fireflies are so fleetingly beautiful. Ah! Fireflies are the best!

"In contrast, please consider the human species this time. You'll find

extremely complex society before you.

"I believe Freud stated something like 'Humans are creatures with

A Humbert Humbert for the Twenty First Century

broken instincts.' Whenever I deal with any kind of frustration, rage, or

sadness in life, I can't help but to remember those words.

"Modern concepts such as 'love' and 'romance' have made man, this

creature with broken instincts, bury his original nature. It's all a lie, of

course. To cover up the deception, mankind has to create still more

entirely new concepts. This is why the world becomes increasingly

complex with each new day.

"However, that complexity cannot hide the various contradictions

born from our broken instincts. They create hopelessly fundamental

oppositions: words and instinct, ideas and the physical self, reason and

sexual desire. These opposing concepts are like two snakes biting at each

other's tails. The two snakes constantly are locked in a fierce battle for

superiority, so they turn and turn, causing us more and more pain.

"Do you understand? Do you get what I'm explaining? What? You

don't understand the meaning at all? Well, that's okay.

"What I'm trying to say—"

I threw my pillow at Yamazaki. "Shut up! Die!"

Yamazaki, seated on top of the kotatsu, bent back his upper body to

avoid the pillow and quietly continued his speech. "Because of our

broken instincts, we are in pain. We continue in pain because our

instincts have been twisted by reason. So, what are we supposed in do?

Should we abandon knowledge? Throw away reason? In any event, that

wouldn't be possible. For better or worse, we ate the fruit of knowledge

long, long ago. This was written in that religious pamphlet 'Awaken!'

that I got from that woman earlier."

"What?! What the hell are you thinking, waking me up at two

o'clock in the morning, starting an unreasonably obscure speech and

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drinking in my room?"

"Our reason and instinct are in opposition, but we can't get rid of

either one. Given that, what are we meant to do? Compromise

appropriately and start trying to date girls? Get married and try having

kids? That is, after all, the conventional path. However, I discovered. . .

women. . . those things just aren't human. Instead, they may, in fact, be

closer to monsters. About a year ago, I realized the truth. While I was

working at a convenience store to earn my tuition, all kinds of things

happened. They're really terrible memories, and I don't want to think

about them anymore." Having said all this in one breath, Yamazaki took

a second beer from my fridge.

Before I could stop him, he opened the pull tab and guzzled it down

in one swallow.

Suddenly, he screamed, "Women are crap! Screw women!"

Yamazaki's face was alarmingly red. He already seemed to be drunk.

He gets drunk quickly yet keeps drinking all the time, anyway. I once

wondered if he might not be a budding alcoholic; then, at some point, he

explained, "My family home in Hokkaido was a wine factory. I've been

drinking since I was in middle school. Don't worry about me—I'm

totally fine!"

I wasn't sure which part of him was totally fine. Once Yamazaki got

drunk, he wouldn't stop his tirades until he ran out of steam, even if you

yelled or ignored him. I'd learned this the hard way.

I had no idea what to do with him.

Then he seemed to deflate; his shoulders dropped with his voice.

"Women are crap. There are still times when I'd like to date a girl,

though. I'm human, after all, and that can't be helped. . . Anyway, I had

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another terrible experience. There was the cutest girl in my class. Her

name was Nanako. At my school, where otaku girls from around the

country gather, she alone had a decent-looking face. I don't even have to

tell you that I'm rather good looking myself. My delicate body and

attractive features got me picked on and teased by the girls in grade

school—now, though, I figured that my good looks had to be

advantageous.

"I said to Nanako 'Let's go out!' She replied, 'Sorry, Yamazaki, but

you're kind of, you know. . . On top of that, I'm dating Kazuo.'

"What do you mean by 'you know'? What am I 'kind of''? And by

Kazuo, you mean that greasy guy? I. . . I went out of my way to confess

my feelings for you politely, so what's this all about?!"

Yamazaki waved both arms around, shouting, "Know your place,

you bitch! I mean, you could at least let me do you! Don't screw around

with me!"

I felt an intense wave of fear. It seemed I had stumbled upon another

of his hidden facets. As if noticing my appalled expression, Yamazaki

hurriedly gave me a big fake smile. "Ha! Ha ha ha! No, no, I'm just

kidding. Just a joke! How could a guy like me have confessed anything to

a girl? Real-life women are all crap, anyway. Ever since the time in

middle school when I was almost raped by my big sister's friends, I gave

up on them."

This was an even more shocking disclosure. Trying to appear

composed, I continued smoking my cigarette. Meanwhile, Yamazaki's

voice became increasingly loud. "Or something! That was all a lie.

Everything I've said has been lies. Ha ha ha, I'm a little drunk, huh? Eh?

What's wrong, Satou? Don't look at me like that. What's with those

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expressions that seem to mix pity, derision, and fear? Don't. . . don't look

at me. Don't look at me with those eyes!"

I had no idea in the least what I should do.

I guess Yamazaki basically was trying to say that women screw up men.

"Real women aren't decent at all. Being human is about our instinct

for sex with women. Our reason naturally would reject women, yet our

instinct really, really desires nothing more than sex with women. So,

we're in trouble." This seemed to be the way his discussion was heading.

Why are you telling me this?! I wanted to yell at him. However, like a

grown-up, I endured it.

Thinking about it, he really was an unfortunate person. Because of

modern society's own warped nature, his mental state likewise had

become thoroughly twisted.

Poor guy.

"No, don't feel sorry for me!"

"Calm down. Hey, here's an idea! Why not go to a brothel? If you

do, maybe this confusion will be cleared away."

"Haven't I just been explaining this? How I don't even notice real

women?

"What other kinds of women are there, besides real women?" The

second I asked him this, he shifted and looked as though he were about

to break into tears at any second. Then, his expression turned to pride.

Grinning slyly, he said, "They're right nearby, aren't they? You

haven't realized yet? Satou, this week, you must have been overcome by

their charms, too."

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I was speechless.

'You realize now what I'm trying to say, don't you, Satou?"

I blinked.

"How lovable," he continued, "are the girls who live in the twodimensional

world. How wonderful are those girls inside my monitor."

All right, given his lengthy speech, I had to at least acknowledge

Yamazaki's passion. "Okay, Yamazaki, erotic games have an amazing

culture."

"As long as you understand, that's all that matters. Erotic games are

the sole signpost guiding human reason to triumph over instinct. So long

as we have erotic games, we don't need anything more to do with real

women. Erotic games are our hope. So, Satou, have you just about

finished your plan for the game?"

"J-just a little longer. . . Anyway, don't you think the games you lent

me are sort of skewed?"

"Skewed how?"

"Well, you know. . . I mean, the characters in the games are a bit too

young; like, the heroines all appear to be no more than elementary

school children. . . "

"Ha! What are you saying now, Satou? This isn't like you. To start

with, the heroines of erotic games are no more than fictional characters,

drawn with two-dimensional computer graphics. In order to express

innocence, purity, and femininity, there's no personification more

appropriate than a little girl, is there? We're relaxed by the symbol of the

little girl. And when they're 2D characters, they have no chance of

dealing any blows to our fragile emotional state. On top of that, the

motif becomes that of the weakest character possible in social, physical,

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and emotional senses—the little girl. Because of that double safety lock,

we are protected from being hurt, and we can escape the fear of being

rejected. That is to say, this is the true meaning of moe: ideal, young,

innocent femininity. Do you understand? You do understand, don't

you?"

I mulled over his words. . . I don't understand at all! I tried to scream,

but by that time, Yamazaki already had disappeared from my room.

On top of my kotatsu, he'd left a present: a single CD.

Part Two

I thought carefully about it the next morning. It sounded like Yamazaki

had been dumped by a girl previously. In response, he'd gotten drunk in

despair and had decided, "Screw real women—I have erotic games!" At

least, that might explain what had happened.

However, if that were the whole story, he wouldn't have had to go

out of his way to share his embarrassment with me. He hadn't needed to

declare that he was this huge lolicon. He had hedged the confession with

a rather incomprehensible theory; ultimately, though, he was still I

lolicon who liked erotic games. He was dangerous. Or, at the very least,

Yamazaki was more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

When I put the CD he had left the night before into my computer, I

was horrified by the contents. This was no good; it was too dangerous.

The 700MB CD-R had been stuffed with JPEG images. They were

photographs—portraits of a girl who appeared to be in the latter years of

A Humbert Humbert for the Twenty First Century

elementary school. Worse, she was completely naked. In short, they

were nude photos.

Deliberately, I closed the curtains of my room. The recent child

pornography laws made this CD way too dangerous. Although

innocent, I could be thrown in jail, all because of Yamazaki. What the

hell was he thinking? Just constrain yourself to some CG, dammit! I wanted

to berate him, but he was at the Yoyogi Animation Institute.

On my fifteen inch computer display, the naked girl smiled perkily.

My chest hurt, and I couldn't breathe. Holding my head, I decided

to explore the entirety of the CD, for the time being. As I did, I found a

text file, which I opened in a text editor. It was a message from

Yamazaki.

"Well, what do you think, Satou? You're pretty scared, aren't you?

Remember, in order to make a high-quality erotic game, you need realworld

references. Please, let these real-life images fill your imagination.

This is Rika Nishimura's photo book. She's known as the greatest

treasure of the lolicon world. Because they're all soft-core images, you

can relax. Okay then, let's make a great erotic game using Rika's smile!"

That bastard! I trembled with rage. For one thing, when had I even

agreed to make a Lolita-style erotic game? Oh, come on, don't push your

tastes onto me.

Hm. It occurred to me when I considered it more carefully—maybe

he was trying to convert me!?

It might have been different back in the time of Genji Hikari; in the

modern age, however, society considers lolicons deviants to be

destroyed. Thus, it must be extremely difficult to find others to share

your interests. That must be why Yamazaki planned to make me his

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partner in creating an erotic game, into one of his lolicon pals.

No, these suspicions of mine were, plainly put, nothing more than

simple guesses, and he simply might be trying to make a high-quality

erotic game. After all, in the current erotic game scene, games with little

girl heroines were fairly common. In fact, it could even be said that

Lolita-type characters directly symbolized this diseased media genre.

Now that I thought about it, another description for an erotic game

was to call it a bishoujo game. Not a "beautiful woman" game but a

"beautiful girl" game. I thought that some deep nexus of the problem was

hidden around this point.

What will happen to Japan, where these bishoujo games are establishing a

huge market? Pretending to consider this lofty social problem, I forced

myself to stop worrying. Then, timidly, I loaded the Rika Nishimura

photo collection onto my computer screen.

A few seconds passed.

I shuddered. . . Rika Nishimura was actually pretty cute.

"N-no, no! I'm just temporarily confused!" In my dim, six-mat, oneroom

apartment, my cry echoed emptily. And Rika smiled at me with

that innocent smile, displaying her protruding ribs, her endlessly pliant

body.

I gulped and clicked the mouse with trembling fingers. The next

image was displayed on the monitor. Oh, Rika. . .

This is wrong! I raised my head and, with the entire force of my body,

slammed it into the wall. It made a thumping sound. Tears fell from my

eyes. It hurt. Yet Rika was still smiling. . . Oh, Rika.

No, no!

I hurriedly opened Internet Explorer. Right! The problem was

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simply that Rika herself was too cute; that didn't mean I was a lolicon or

anything. I just happen to be affected by her beauty, but I'm still normal. To

prove it, I needed to find other Lolita images on the Internet. It was

obvious that any Lolita images other than Rika's wouldn't excite me in

the least.

However, thanks to the new child pornography laws, it was much

more difficult to find Lolita images on the Internet than expected. I tried

skimming the surface, but all I found were fraudulent sites using

overseas telephone numbers.

But I'd be damned if anyone could doubt my net-surfing skills. I was

a veteran, with four years of intensive connection to the Internet. To

find valuable data, the best thing was to make the rounds on the message

boards. These were the laws of the wired world. I decided to start with a

'bot-style search engine to scan the porno-image info message boards.

What was this? Several thousands of pages of results. . . Even after

refining my search conditions, I still got several hundred hits. There

were just too many.

For the moment, I tried opening the very first page. Instantly, with

frightening energy, a seemingly endless number of browser windows

opened on their own.

"Dammit! A trap!" I swore. It was one of those multiple-browseropening

attacks, using JavaScript, often found on pay pages. Even so, I

didn't flinch. Got it! It's too big a task for Internet Explorer.

For a case like this, I needed to switch to a tab browser. Tab

browsers: These excellent browsers allowed one to view multiple pages

at once, in a single window. I downloaded Donut, the browser widely

reputed to be most stable among the tab browsers, and opened in

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immediately. Oh! This makes browsing so easy! At this rate, I would find

the page I was looking for soon.

I opened as many simultaneous pages as my computer's resources

would allow and searched them all. Lolita images, Lolita images. . . In new

tabs, I opened all the pages linked to the message boards, then clicking

on further links from the initial pages, and checking them all, top to

bottom. I was looking for an underground-type porno message board.

Don't be tricked by pay pages! Beware of files with .exe extension! Suppress

the annoying ads with pop-up blocker software!

The hands on my clock advanced; outside my window, it was

already night. The blue-white glow of my monitor was the only light in

my six-mat, one-room apartment. Even the time it would have taken to

turn on the fluorescent lights would have been a waste. My wondrous,

Godlike typing speed blows through the wide-open Internet with wild intuition!

Fear my light-speed mouse skills!

I'm an untamed beast!

I'm a wolf!

Part Three

When I returned to reality, a week had passed. I liberated myself from

the mouse and keyboard for the first time in several dozen hours and

entered the bathroom. Reflected in the mirror was an unbelievably

dangerous person—in short, me. The stubble from not shaving, my

greasy hair, empty eyes, slack jaw. . . a dropout, unemployed hikikomori

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who anyone would avoid, who no one would want to go near. . . a dirty,

disheveled, stinking, nightmarish. . .

A lolicon stood there.

"Ugh." I weakly slid onto the bathroom floor.

How could things have come to this?

What had been done could never be undone. I had. . . I had collected

Lolita images from all over the world. And I hadn't been satisfied with

images alone. I had even gotten involved with video data, in formats like

MPEG and RealMovie. My 30GB hard drive was full of the indecent

bodies of little girls who, in truth, I pitied.

I can’t go on. I just can’t go on. A lolicon hikikomori is pretty much the

worst thing ever. I'm less than human. I'm a monster. I can’t keep living. I can

never walk in the light of day again.

True, I certainly was a hikikomori. I was fairly certain that I wasn't a

lolicon, though. My tastes were pretty conventional, and I had, in fact,

even liked older women. Even so, now. . .

"Ahhh… hunh hunh!" Unbearable sobs poured forth, and my tears

gushed onto the floor. They were tears of atonement. Yes, I

acknowledged my mistakes, and I wanted to reform myself now. I

wanted to change. But it was already too late.

As soon as I had started whispering things to myself like, "Nozomi is

beautiful," I knew I was going to hell. As soon as I had begun to mutter

thoughts like, "Kiyomi is amazing. Even for a first-year middle school

student, she's amazing," to myself, I was ready to fall into hell. As soon as

I had begun to opine, "Wow, Russians are hardcore, and Americans do

terrible things, also," grinning to myself, I knew that there was a one

hundred percent chance that I was going to hell.

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I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I apologize, I didn't really want to do it. I didn't mean

any harm. It was just a joke at the start. But now. . .

"Argh!" It hurt. I was in pain. My chest hurt. My heart was breaking

with guilt. I didn't want to be a lolicon or anything of the sort. But now,

nonetheless, I was a first-rate lolicon hikikomori, the most worthless

piece of human garbage who ever lived.

Still, listen: You're wrong. You're making a mistake! I don't want to lock

up a girl in my room or anything like that! I don't want to kidnap anyone!

You're wrong. I'm not the one who committed that crime! Please, believe me!

Trust me! Don't look at me like that! Don't look at me!

But. . . red schoolbags. And recorders. And innocent girls playing in

the park. Gah!

"You want to play with big brother?"

"I'll give you candy."

"Just lift up your skirt."

"Let's play doctor."

"Here's your shot!"

I'm done for, done for, done for! I should die, die, die, right away. What's

that noise? Shut up. . .

"Satou! You're here, aren't you? Please, open up!" From somewhere

far away, someone was calling out, "Satou! Are you alive? Are you dead?

If you're alive, please open the door!"

Someone was pounding on my apartment door. I didn't have the

capacity to show myself in public anymore, though. Leave me alone. . .

"What, are you really not there? I just wanted to lend you this

marvelous illegal video."

Standing up, I wiped away my tears and opened the door.

Hearing my story, Yamazaki crumpled his face into a frown of pure

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disgust. "You locked yourself up for a whole week and just collected

porn? You're a failure as a human being."

"First off, this is all your fault."

"You say that, but I guess it's your nature, after all. Right, Satou?"

"D-d-don't you feel guilty, dragging me into this, and then saying

that?"

"I told you those were just character references, right? Look, Satou,

you're not normal at all if you've collected thirty gigs of porn. I don't

even want to come close to you. Don't come near me—you're freaking

me out!"

"G-gr-grrrr!" As a result of intense rage, I literally saw red. Both of

my fists trembled.

"W-well, to change the mood, let's start talking seriously about our

plan for making the game. I'll lend you this tape, okay?"

Snatching the tape from his hands, I smashed it against my leg and

broke it in two. "Wh-wh-what are you. . . ?" Yamazaki stuttered.

At that moment, I saw my only escape from the lolicon world.

I glared at Yamazaki. "Yamazaki."

"What? Please, pay me back for the video."

"Lolicon material is inhuman; it's monstrous."

He was silent.

"Let's escape, let's escape together! If we don't get away right now,

we'll be lolicons until we die! Hurry!" Forcefully grabbing Yamazaki's

hand, I pulled him out of the room.

Stopping by Yamazaki’s room for his digital camera, we headed outside,

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walking quickly through the town.

It was an early May afternoon. Although it was warm in town, there

were few people outside.

"Where are we going?"

Without answering, I kept trudging forward.

On the way, I ducked into a convenience store and bought a

disposable camera, which I gave to Yamazaki. I then continued to hurry

toward my destination, Yamazaki in tow.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon. The best time possible.

"A digital camera and a disposable camera? What in the world do

you want me to use this for?" Yamazaki asked, out of breath.

When I reached my destination, I answered, "Take a picture of me."

"Why?"

"Well, do you know where we are?"

"Hm. This looks like the front gate of an elementary school."

"Right, the Ikuta Elementary School, a public elementary school

with about five hundred students. And I'm going to hide in the shrubs in

front of the gate. Yamazaki, you hide, too. Hurry up!"

"Huh?"

"The end-of-the-day bell will ring soon. When that happens, the

students will come pouring out of this gate."

"That's true. So?"

"I'm going to take pictures."

"O-of what?"

"Of elementary school students."

He didn't say anything.

"I'm going to take some great pictures of beautiful little girls, using

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your state-of-the-art digital camera."

Silence.

"You understand, Yamazaki? I'm going to sneak some pictures soon.

I'll hide and take pictures of little girls in the spring. I might even

'accidentally' take some panty shots. It'll be fine. If we stay still and hide

in these bushes, no one will find us. I'm going to photograph these

elementary school students. I'll take as many pictures as I can—only of

the cutest girls, of course."

The bell rang. In a few minutes, the students would come through

this gate.

"Yamazaki, you take pictures of me with that disposable camera.

Take as many pictures as you can of ugly me, the filthy lolicon guy, while

he's taking pictures of elementary school kids! You understand? This is

the only way we can escape from lolicon! You see that, right? You

understand? It's an ugly picture. However, at the same time, this is your

appearance, too. You need to burn this disgusting, pathetic, dirty

appearance onto that film. We'll develop it together and objectively look

at our own ugliness, dirtiness, and unsightliness. And then, we'll be able

to escape from lolicon and return to normal."

The voices of the little girls echoed out from the entrance to the

stairs. I readied the digital camera. Only a little more. . .

"Ready, Yamazaki?! I'm going to take the pictures. In just a moment,

the first girls will arrive. I'll secretly take their pictures! Then, you take

my picture! You get it? If you understand, answer me, Yamazaki.

"Oh, the first one is beautiful! In a white dress, black tights, and dark

brown boots, she's amazing! Moe, moe! Are you listening, Yamazaki?!

I'm clicking the shutter! Now, you click the shutter, too. Don't use the

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flash, though—if you do, they'll find us and call the police right away.

"Ah, this thrill, this blood-boiling, flesh-crawling thrill. I'm excited!

My heart is pounding! Elementary school students nowadays are so

cute. I'm clicking the shutter! Click! Click! Nice shot!

"Let's call that wonderful elementary school student—she looks to be

about a sixth-grade girl—let's call her Sakura, for now. The second that

Sakura turned back around to meet her friends, I couldn't let that

perfect diagonal, forty-five degree angle get away from me! Heh heh heh,

are you listening, Yamazaki? Are you making sure to get photos of me,

Yamazaki? Capture every last detail of my hideous lolicon appearance,

or else I'll just be a normal pervert.

"Whoa! More and more students are pouring out of the building.

Look at those pretty girls, so full of life. I'm taking their pictures, taking

their pictures, taking their pictures! Blow, spring breeze! Rise up,

sudden wind! And lift up their skirts!

"Are you still there, Yamazaki? I'm looking into the digital camera's

finder, so I can't tell if you're there or not. You're standing diagonally

behind me, aren't you, Yamazaki? Be sure to photograph my distasteful

appearance. You understand, don't you? Come on, Yamazaki, are you

really listening? Hey, say something! I'm doing my best to get a panty

shot of these little kids. You should be infected by my enthusiasm and

doing your best, too. Are you listening? Hey, I said to say something!

Oh well, whatever. We are committing a crime, after all. If you're too

scared to talk, that's only natural. You have a soft voice, anyway.

"Hey, what do you know? Taking secret pictures is fun. And I am

ugly now. . . Hm, that's right—I didn't really want to become this sort of

scum. When I was little, my dream was to go to Tokyo University and

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become a great scholar. I wanted to invent something that would help all

mankind. And now, I'm a lolicon hikikomori! You should cry. Yeah,

that's right. Cry! Shed tears for my repulsive appearance!

"We wanted to smile casually and happily each day; we wanted to

enjoy a normal, average, invigorating daily life. The incomprehensibly

rough waves of fate have made it impossible, though—so, cry in despair!

We really wanted to be useful to everyone, to be respected by everyone,

to live in harmony with everyone. Now, though, we're lolicon

hikikomori—so, cry in despair! You must cry!

"Oh, I'm sad. I'm so sad. But the elementary school kids are cute. I'm

excited.

"Ah. Ooh. My tears won't stop. The finder is fogging up, so I can't

see too well. But I'll keep taking pictures of these little girls—so,

Yamazaki, you need to work hard to keep taking pictures, too. It's sad,

but let's try hard. We can't stop crying, but let's do all we can. We'll do

our best to photograph the elementary school kids!

"Huh? What? Why are you suddenly tapping my shoulder? Is

something wrong? Hey, hey, cut it out. We're just getting to the good

part.

"See? Look at that one, the short-haired girl wearing knee socks.

She's so cute; I want to take her home. Put her under my arm like takeout

and carry her home. Eh? What a pain in the ass you are. I'm busy

right now! Come on, what's wrong with you, Yamazaki. If you tap me

like that, the picture will blur. Hey, hey, you're really annoying me.

What happened to you, all of a sudden?"

"Satou! I said, Satou!"

"Shhh! Quiet, or we're going to get caught!"

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"What are you doing in a place like this, Satou?"

"It should be obvious. That short-haired girl. . . "

"The girl?"

"Taking secret pict—"

At that moment, I just happened to take my eyes off the finder. As I

did, the palm resting on my shoulder entered the corner of my vision.

Those slender, pliable fingers couldn't possibly belong to a man. . .

I turned around.

Misaki was there. My heart started pumping at fifty times my

normal pulse rate.

A gentle breeze was blowing.

Time stopped.

Somewhere along the way, Yamazaki had disappeared, only to be

replaced by Misaki.

To make things worse, Misaki was decked out in her religious

outfit—the plain, long-sleeved dress and white parasol. Dressed like that

she was crouched down in the bushes with me.

"Wh-wh-when did you get here?"

"Just a few seconds ago."

I thought about asking how much of my frenzied prartle she had

heard, but I gave up. Either way, this was a huge crisis.

A shady man, digital camera hung around his neck, hiding in the

shadows near the gate of an elementary school. Anyone would take him

for a pervert—and rightfully so. I was already out of options. Gah! I'm

A Humbert Humbert for the Twenty First Century

sorry, Mother and Father. I wasn't content with dropping out of college. I

needed to be thrown in jail for sex crimes, also. I'm a complete failure as a son.

How can I atone for this crime?

I was already out of time. Misaki, who kept looking into my face,

would start screaming soon. "There's a pervert here! Someone, come

quick!"

No, no. No doubt, it wouldn't end with that. After all, she was

dressed in her religious clothes. And religions have strict

commandments like, "Thou shalt not commit adultery." Naturally,

lusting after a child would be beyond the pale—which is exactly why

God's rage rains down on lolicon men.

That's right. Misaki likely would threaten me with something like,

"The Lord knows all your sins!"18 She would say, "For if our heart

condemns us, God is greater than our heart and knoweth all things.!"19

and set me shivering with fear. Saying, "For the wages of sin is death,"20

she likely would try to throw me into the hellfire of God's rage!

This was the absolute end. Looking up at the sky, I prepared for the

moment that God's punishment would descend upon me. In that

moment, my life would come to a close. My future would be sealed. It

was just a second away.

Time passed while I waited, though, and Misaki didn't denounce

me. Looking back down at Misaki, she was still gazing at me. Our bodies

hidden in the bushes, we stared at each other silently.

Finally, Misaki explained, "I just saw Yamazaki, face covered with

both hands, run off in the direction of your apartment. I wondered what

was going on; and when I peeked in here, I saw you, Satou, so. . . "

"You know Yamazaki?"

Welcome to the N.H.K.

"The man in room 202, right? He looked pretty happy to get

'Awaken!' from us. That's unusual."

"He did? What a strange guy."

"Am I bothering you? You did look pretty busy, after all, Satou."

"N-no! Not at all. I mean, not really. By the way, Misaki, what were

you doing in this area?" I tried to change the subject. I was beginning to

feel as though I might actually get away with the whole thing.

"I'm on my way home from our religious recruiting. Auntie Kazuko

and I were just passing by here. I had Auntie go on home ahead of me

when I found out you were here."

"Yeah? By the way, I really like your religious outfit. The parasol

really gives off a spiritual aura."

When I said that, Misaki cast her eyes downward. "This is a

disguise." Her face turned pink as she spoke.

"Huh?"

"I really hate doing this religious solicitation stuff, so I go out of my

way to carry a parasol. That way, no one will remember my face." Her

reason was strangely reassuring. After everything, she remained

mysterious. I still couldn't tell who she really was.

This was my chance to escape. Run away now!

"Well then, I've got to be going." I stood up.

Misaki also stood, closing her parasol.

Just like that, I started walking away awkwardly. I made it to the

sidewalk from behind the bushes, and then I briskly headed up the path

toward my apartment.

"Satou?"

"What?" I asked without turning around or slowing down.

A Humbert Humbert for the Twenty First Century

"So, you're actually a lolicon?"

I felt as though my heart would stop. Pretending I hadn't heard, I

walked even faster.

Misaki continued, "It's fine if you are a lolicon. In fact, it might even

be more convenient for you. If you say you're a lolicon hikikomori, it'd

be the absolute best. You'd be at the very lowest rank of human society,

after all."

I stopped walking and turned around.

Misaki wore her habitual smile. "Yeah. Thinking about it, lolicon is

better. That way, I think you're even more perfect for my project." She

jumped lightly, excited. It seemed, once again, to be somewhat forced.

In the calmest voice I could possibly manage, I stated, "I have no idea

what you're talking about. Anyway, I'm not a lolicon hikikomori, you

know. I'm a creator! I was just taking reference pictures."

"Hm. . . "

"It's true."

"Well, let's meet again. Don't do anything that would put you on the

news, okay?" With that, Misaki marched away.

It was a May afternoon.