Tatsuhiko Takimoto - Welcome to the NHK!

“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 to 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 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 look 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 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 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.”

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 two-dimensional 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, 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?”