18. Negotiations Begin

At 7 a.m. the next day, all television broadcast signals within Japan were hijacked.

Standing before a large panel displaying the Agirakana’s H3-class assault landing vessel AA-0001, glowing pale blue in the void of space, and facing a slightly more elaborate desk than usual, the speaker began addressing the Japanese public.

“Good morning, everyone. I apologize for borrowing your precious broadcast frequencies.

I am Yamada Keiichi, representing the Spacecraft Nation Agirakana. I am currently broadcasting from aboard a spacecraft located 100 kilometers above your heads.”

The sudden radio jamming sent shockwaves through NKH, Tokyo’s key stations, and regional broadcasters alike. Staff scrambled—until the broadcast, originating from what was presumed to be a cosmic threat, began with a morning greeting in Japanese. On screen, a seemingly ordinary young Japanese woman with black hair, no different from any other in a black, stiff-collared suit, appeared. Even the staff froze, mesmerized by the transmission.

“We, the Agirakana, hereby propose the establishment of diplomatic relations with the State of Japan. At ten o’clock this morning, Japan Standard Time, we shall arrive at the residence of the Prime Minister of Japan via our liaison craft. Kindly clear the plaza in front of the residence, and please refrain from having helicopters or other vehicles approach too closely.”

We wish to establish diplomatic relations with the State of Japan and build a mutually beneficial partnership. Rest assured—we are not aggressors. As I mentioned at the outset, my name is Yamada. I was born in Japan, and as you can see, I am Japanese.

Even after diplomatic ties are formalized, we, the Agirakana, will never impose upon Japan any unequal treaties akin to those forced upon Japan during the Bakumatsu period by the great powers. The Agirakana and the State of Japan are, above all, equals. Let us build what is commonly referred to as a WIN–WIN relationship.

Moreover, and importantly, the Agirakana will not introduce any harmful organisms to Earth—be they bacteria, viruses, or otherwise—so quarantine measures, or any such precautions, are entirely unnecessary. Please feel free to relax. Well then, we look forward to working together.”

The day before, in response to my question about whether digital broadcasts could be jammed, Ain had said,

"The broadcast system is unnecessarily encrypted and overcomplicated, so it’ll take a bit of effort, but it’s doable."

So I decided to go ahead with the television broadcast. I’d have settled for a radio broadcast—much easier, if that had been possible—but it seems things worked out after all.

Speculation of every kind—CG fakes, malicious pranks, and the like—flooded the domestic airwaves, but since it was undeniable that a spacecraft truly hovered overhead, the populace gradually regained composure, reassured that clarity would arrive by ten o’clock.

Ichijō Saeko had managed to avoid today’s holiday overtime, thanks to yesterday’s spacecraft incident—her first real day off in ages. Yesterday, the bus schedule had been cut back, delaying her commute home from the office; today, however, she’d woken unusually early for a day off, switched on the television, and just caught the end of the morning weather report, the chime of seven o’clock echoing through the room.

“Good morning, everyone.”

Seven o’clock—the time for the daily news broadcast—but instead of the usual anchor, a young man in black clothes abruptly began speaking. No opening theme played. No familiar voice.

“…I am Keiichi Yamada, representative of the Spacecraft Nation Agirakana. I am broadcasting from a spacecraft hovering one hundred kilometers above your heads.”

Wait… what? What’s this? Oh my god—Yamada-senpai’s on TV?! Eeeeeeeeee!!!

Among the Japanese populace, who had seemed to regain their composure, only one woman screamed aloud, unbothered by the calm.

Eleven of us—four from the Secretary's Office and six lightly armed marine infantrymen, including myself—boarded the liaison craft amid the farewells of the assault landing ship’s officers. “Lightly armed,” they called it, though the armor suits worn by the marines were said to withstand direct hits from 120-millimeter tank shells. In practice, though, the shells were destroyed before impact by the automated countermeasure systems built into the gear. Apparently, the system would even intercept incoming artillery shells or bullets—should any be aimed at me, of course.

Ten minutes before ten, the liaison craft launched from the assault landing ship and descended toward the front courtyard of the prime minister’s residence. Accompanying it was a squadron of twelve atmospheric-capable, flat-tipped strike fighters—standard escort, naturally. No unmanned support craft were deployed, of course. Five minutes later, they arrived at the plaza in front of the official residence. Having landed, the craft hovered twenty centimeters above the ground, suspended to avoid cracking the cobblestone-like paving.

As requested, there was no one in the plaza in front of the official residence, but police barricades had been set up at a distance, among the gathered civilians, a group of reporters presumably, some with large television cameras, others speaking into microphones. Among the crowd gathered here, eleven Japan驻在員 from my Secretary's Office should be present, though whereabouts they are remains unknown. The helicopters in question, as requested, did not arrive.

“This is Midori reporting live from in front of the Prime Minister’s residence.

The crowd behind me is enormous.

Even at eight o’clock, when we arrived, there were already many people gathered. It seems a large number came simply to catch a glimpse of an alien.”

Within moments, police established a cordon, and we—along with the general public—were moved several meters back. Afterward, the natural stone in front of the main entrance, which might have obstructed incoming shuttles from Agirakana, was lifted and removed by a large crane.

A prior notice from the residence had explicitly requested no flash photography, yet police were already issuing warnings to those who ignored the directive. The current time is nine fifty-three.

“Ah! Look—the spacecraft just descended silently from above. Can the camera capture it? From below, it appears to be made of a metal with a faint bluish tint.

Approximately ten smaller, triangular-shaped vessels are circling around it, as if providing escort.”

“An unidentified spacecraft has just landed in front of the official residence. Wait—slightly elevated, it’s hovering about twenty centimeters above the ground and maintaining position. Is this some kind of advanced technology from the Spacecraft Nation Agirakana?”

“It appears the door on this side of the vessel is opening. At this moment, we are, for the first time in human history, face to face with extraterrestrial life. A truly historic moment, wouldn’t you agree?”

“The individual identifying himself as Yamada claimed to be Japanese. Whether that’s accurate remains to be seen. Are the Agirakana people, after all, truly of the same species as us?”

“The door has opened—just now. Individuals clad in silver suits are emerging from the spacecraft and forming a line directly in front of the entrance. They’re wearing helmets, but otherwise, they appear entirely human. Three on each side. Judging by their posture, they’re not carrying any weapons resembling firearms.”

Ah! Now another figure in black appears from inside. Mister Yamada. There seem to be about four following behind him. The four behind—appear to be women. From my vantage, all four are stunningly beautiful. And their facial features look distinctly Japanese. What on earth is going on here?

Mister Yamada and the four women walk toward the Prime Minister’s residence entrance. Six figures in silver suits march in perfect formation, flanking them like a living guard. Standing at the residence’s front entrance now—could it be Prime Minister Atsugi and Cabinet Secretary Iide? Now, Mister Yamada and Prime Minister Atsugi are shaking hands.

At that moment, a simultaneous burst of camera flashes erupts. The residence’s edict seems to have been ignored, as if the historical moment had already written itself.

"Next, a handshake with Cabinet Secretary Iide. The Prime Minister and the Cabinet Secretary, followed by Mr. Yamada and four beautiful women, enter the Prime Minister's residence. Six individuals presumed to be Mr. Yamada's security detail stand in a straight line before the residence's entrance."

"Upon closer inspection, I notice that the triangular small spacecraft that had been circling overhead have now come to a halt above the Prime Minister's residence. There are twelve of them."