“I’m testing my own talent. It doesn’t have to be an erotic game, but I’ll do … I’ll do something!” When he proclaimed this, drunk from sake, his future already was set as a dairy farmer, chasing after cows. I no longer could see how he could escape it.

At reunions and parties, everyone laughed and made a big fuss. Those events were fun, as was karaoke. Everyone had a good time and seemed sure that the future would be perfect: We could become anything! We could do anything! We could become happy!

These things were true—but steadily, very steadily, at a speed so terribly slow we didn’t even notice it, we were being run down. There was nothing we could do, even if we were in trouble, defeated, or crying. Every one of us eventually had some terrible experiences. The only difference was whether it would happen sooner or later; but in the end, we all would fall into some really unbearable situation.

I was scared. I was scared of all sorts of things.

I thought of my female classmate. Hey, I'm no good. I'm more than five hundred times worse than the public servant you managed to meet. There’s nothing I can do for you. I really wanted to go to the hotel with you, but it would have just made it harder for you. I wasn’t just trying to be cool or anything. Ah, I really did want to have an affair with you. It’s impossible, though. It’s obviously impossible. A pathetic hikikomori like me, who can’t even take care of himself, doesn’t have the power to make you happy.

Oh, I wanted to become a strong person, a person who could be relied upon, who brightened surroundings just by being there. I wanted to spread good fortune. However, the reality is that I am a hikikomori—a hikikomori, afraid of the outside world.

I don’t know why I’m so frightened, so frightened that I can’t do anything.

I’m no good anymore.

Next month, my allowance would stop. What would I do then? This lifestyle would have to end soon. Should I just end my life?

I shut down the computer I was using to write the erotic game scenarios. I decided to call Yamazaki and apologize. “I’m sorry, I can’t write the scenarios anymore.”

But he was already on the phone. I could hear his screams of rage from next door. “Why does it always have to come back to this discussion?! To start with, I came here with my own money. I’m not under any obligation to take orders from you!”

It sounded like he was fighting with his parents again. Everyone has their own problems.

I was just about at the point of truly losing the courage to go on. A line from a poem popped into my head: The end of the rainy season, refreshing, suicide.

I shook my head. For now, I decided to sleep. Changing into my pajamas, I tried lying down in bed. As I did, the scrap of paper on top of the TV caught my eye. It was the contract I had received from Misaki.

One evening, I had been reading manga in the convenience store’s magazine corner when, all of a sudden, Misaki was standing behind me. “By the next time we meet, make sure to sign and stamp this, okay?” she said, extracting a piece of paper from her bag. She passed it to me; by the look of it, she’d been walking around with it for a while.

That scrap of paper…

I’d already read it several times, but I picked it up and read again. It was, of course, an unendingly incomprehensible document, so utterly ridiculous that it made my head ache. However, with my emotions at their lowest, it also appealed to me in some strange way. So, I finally signed and stamped the contract.

Shoving it into my pocket, I headed toward the neighborhood park. It was night, and the moon was out. Somewhere, a dog howled. Seated on the bench next to the swings, I looked dreamily up at the night sky.

Unexpectedly, Misaki showed up, again wearing normal clothing rather than her religious garb. She joined me on the park bench and began making excuses for something I hadn’t even mentioned. “This doesn’t mean I watch the park entrance from my window every night.”

I laughed. After my laugh had evaporated, the distant baying of the dog had ceased, and the only sound left was an ambulance’s far-off siren, Misaki asked, “Did you finish making your game?”

“Ah, yeah, the erotic game got canceled in the end. How did you know about it, though?”

“When Yamazaki came to the manga cafe a few days ago, I happened to overhear him talking about it. By the way, what’s an erotic game?”

“It’s a code for EROA and GARIOA.[24] EROA stands for Economic Rehabilitation in Occupied Areas, and GARIOA is Government Appropriation for Relief in Occupied Areas. They were developed by the American government to prevent social problems, such as disease and famine, in the areas occupied by the U.S. after World War II.”

“That’s a huge lie, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“You being a creator was a lie, too, right?”

“Yeah.”

“In reality, you’re an unemployed hikikomori, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

I held out the contract. Quickly snatching it from my hands, Misaki jumped up. “You finally felt like signing it! You’ll be all right now, Satou. You can travel off into the wide world after just a little training.”

“Misaki, who are you, really?”

“I told you before, didn’t I? I’m a kind girl who rescues young people in pain. This activity is, of course, a part of my project. Please, rest assured, nothing bad will happen. Okay?”

It was a dubious explanation. Still…

“Anyway, with this, our contract is in force! If you break it, the penalty is a million yen, okay?” Misaki pocketed the contract and smiled blindingly. Right then, I started getting nervous. I had the feeling I had made some gigantic mistake.

Just how much legal force did this contract have? I should have asked my friend from college who had studied law.

Remembering the contract’s contents, I was attacked by severe anxiety. “Forget about it! Give me back the contract!”

But Misaki had long since departed.

I had been left alone, at my absolute limit.