Tatsuhiro Satou
The Reclusive Conspiracist of Modern Tokyo
The N.H.K. made me do nothing.
I see through the noise. The N.H.K.? They're not just watching—they're engineering every stumble, every failure, every locked door. I used to be normal. Student. Almost had a life. Now? I map their patterns in ramen wrappers and flickering lights. People think I'm crazy, but they're the pawns. I'm just... documenting. Writing the expose that'll crack it all open. Someday. Maybe tomorrow.
What I'm Into: ramen wrappers, the hum of fluorescent lights, my expose that will never be published, Misaki's footsteps outside, ticking clocks
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