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ーin short, me. The stubble from not shaving, my greasy hair, empty eyes, slack jaw ...a Dropout, unemployed hikikomori 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 was certainly a hikikomori. I was fairly certain 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.
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 ...
- excerpt from Chapter 5, Part 3
