The Dissociation of Haruhi Suzumiya

by Nagaru Tanigawa

It was a decent challenger to the steep hike up the hill to get to North High, I said.

  “At least that’s good exercise. I should’ve gone to a city school. I’m jealous of Sudou.” I had no idea what was so funny, but Sasaki suddenly chuckled in a way I couldn’t possibly imitate. “By the way, Kyon, what brings you to the local private rail line today? If we’ll be boarding the same train, we’ve got more catching up to do, and I wouldn’t mind sitting with you.”

  I checked my watch. Crap. Only three minutes to go until the rendezvous.

  “Sorry, Sasaki, I’ve got to meet up with my cohorts. One of them’s really picky about punctuality, and if I’m late there’s no telling what’ll happen to me.”

  “Cohorts? From school? Huh, how ’bout that. Well, I’d better hurry up and park my bike, then. Oh, don’t worry—since I lock it up here every morning, I’ve got a monthly pass to a parking area. As for where it is—”

  Sasaki placed her bike into an open space in a nearby bicycle parking area, locking it up and then peering at me.

  “—it’s right here. Kyon, would you mind terribly if I came with you to meet your companions? Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, after all. I’d very much like to see their faces.”

  She’d receive no benefit for paying her respects, but if Sasaki wanted to meet them, I didn’t mind. Introducing her to them wouldn’t bring anything positive into her life, but I always felt a little bit of pride in showing off the lovely Asahina, even though that didn’t have anything to do with my own achievements.

  I looked for an open space in the bike parking area, then parked my bike and paid for the spot, while Sasaki followed me, bag over her shoulder. As we walked we chatted about junior high, but just as the SOS Brigade’s official meeting spot in front of the station came into view—

  “Kyon, you haven’t changed at all,” Sasaki murmured.

  “I haven’t?”

  “Nope. It’s a relief.”

  Why would Sasaki be relieved? She hadn’t changed a bit herself, I pointed out.

  “If so, then I haven’t matured a bit. If my physical measurements are to be believed, there should be at least some change.”

  Okay, sure, I’d gotten a little taller too.

  “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. You can change your appearance if you want to. Even something as simple as growing or cutting your hair can make a pretty big difference in impressions. What you can’t change is what’s inside—either for the better or for the worse. If human consciousness is material in nature, then without changing the medium there won’t be much change in patterns of thinking or perception.”

  This was strangely nostalgic. I remembered now—back in junior high, Sasaki was always going on about obscure stuff like this.

  “At least,” she continued as we walked, “so long as there’s no St. Paul–like change in direction or no Copernican revolution. Changes in the world equal changes in ideology. You could say that’s all there is, because humans can’t understand any phenomena whose cognitive ability exceeds their own. Our eyes can’t see infrared radiation, but snakes have heat-sensitive vision. When the frequency of sound rises above a certain level, our ears can’t hear it, but dogs can hear into ultrasonic ranges. While neither of them is detectable to humans, both infrared rays and ultrasonic sounds do exist. We merely cannot perceive them.”

  Man, I wish you’d come to North High, Sasaki. I know a guy who sounds just like you. Lucky for us, he will be at the meeting spot we’re headed to, I said, so shall I introduce you to each other?

  As I made the proposal, the forms of every SOS Brigade member—save myself—came into view a short distance ahead of us.

  “You certainly did bring a singular individual along with you,” said Koizumi, diluting the shade of criticism that had colored his speech a bit. “In a way, she would’ve made a good counterpart to me. But in essence, I’m nowhere near her level. Our positions are too different. Since I know my own limits, there are quite a few people whose viewpoints I envy. You would be one of them, in fact.”

  He could flatter me all he wanted—not unlike a priestess of Delphi, I would not convey his words to the Oracle.

  “Oh, I know. There is nothing so terrifying as an act of God—something you can see and hear but can do nothing to control.”

  Anyway, I knew that Sasaki was a force to be reckoned with, since I’d gone through my last year of junior high with her, but how did Koizumi know that? I wanted to know.

  “It’s hardly surprising. Surely you must know that the Agency has thoroughly investigated you. We’ve gone through most everything in your life. And the conclusion is that you are an entirely normal individual.”

  Gosh, thanks. So I had a Certificate of Normalcy from his organization, huh?

  “If you wanted one, I could arrange it. Sorry, that was a joke. What isn’t a joke is how I felt once I learned that you attended junior high with Sasaki and were even close friends.”

  And why is that? I wondered.

  Koizumi continued as though reciting poetry. “Because while she appears to be a normal person, when viewed another way, your friend Sasaki may be something quite different. She may seem like a particle but accomplish the work of a wave. Just like light.”

  I didn’t know anything about acts of God. I was tired of hearing the word “coincidence.” To say nothing of things like the dual nature of light, which I hoped never to concern myself with.

  In any case, Sasaki and I continued on toward the station, stopping at the spot that had become the club’s usual meeting place.

  It was a familiar area, and four familiar faces greeted me. Three of them were wearing casual clothes; the fourth was in a school uniform.

  And then there were the words from the brigade chief I so longed to hear.

  “You’ve got some guts being late. I’ve told you over and over, but not only are you the last to arrive, but you’re actually late! Is the spring weather making you lazy? Kyon, you’ve gotta treasure every single second. Your time does not belong only to you. It’s equal to the time you’ve kept all of us waiting, so I’m gonna add a penalty charge to make up for the lost time. We can’t do anything about the time that’s passed, but at least it will cheer us up a little bit.”

  Haruhi finished her spiel, took a deep breath, and regarded strangely the person standing next to me.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, this is my—” I started to introduce Sasaki.

  “Close friend,” interrupted Sasaki, finishing my answer.

  “Huh?” Haruhi’s eyes widened, and Sasaki shook her head slightly and explained.

  “From junior high, I should say. Just third year, though. Maybe that’s why he’s been so stingy about keeping in touch. I guess that goes both ways, though, but I think if you can have a conversation with someone without many pleasantries at all, that counts as a close friend. As far as I’m concerned, Kyon, that’s what you are.”

  I supposed that was what a friend you were close to amounted to. I hung out with her quite a bit, and of the friends I hung out with after school, she was probably the one I spent the most time with, I thought. But—

  I was getting a bad feeling about this for some reason. Let me just say that I have no memory of ever doing anything that would be cause for gossip, because I did no such thing. But for some reason when Sasaki stood next to me and claimed to be my close friend, the strange expression on Haruhi’s face made me feel like I’d gone outside without an umbrella despite an impending thunderstorm. Why was that?

  When I thought back, I realized that the frequency of Asahina’s blinking rose, and I seemed to recall Koizumi making a thoughtful expression and putting his finger to his chin. I don’t remember any change in Nagato’s silent uniform-clad form, but I was really only looking at Haruhi’s face at the time.

  I sensed movement beside me, and Sasaki took a half step forward, her mouth curved into a crescent moon of a smile as she extended a hand to Haruhi. As if trying to shake her hand.
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  “I’m Sasaki. And you’re Suzumiya, I presume. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Haruhi’s eyes flicked toward me, as though she’d been falsely charged with some crime.

  “I didn’t say anything about your evil deeds! Sasaki, why do you know about Haruhi?”

  “Because I live in the same city she does, and rumors about interesting people get around. You’re not the only person from our junior high who went on to North High, Kyon.”

  Oh, right—Kunikida, I said.

  “Him, too, yes. How’s he doing? Taking it easy as always, I’ll bet. He could’ve gone to a tougher high school, but that weirdo went out of his way to get into a so-so public school.” Having offered her comment on her fellow alumnus, Sasaki regarded Haruhi once again. “I hear Kyon’s been under your care quite a bit at North High. Thanks again.”

  Sasaki’s proffered hand remained extended, and she smiled pleasantly.

  Faced with Sasaki’s Western-style greeting, Haruhi at first looked like she’d put a piece of chocolate in her mouth only to discover it was a pebble, but she soon accepted the hand.

  “Sure,” she said, gripping Sasaki’s hand and looking her straight in the eye. “I guess I don’t have to introduce myself, then.”

  “I guess not.” Sasaki returned Haruhi’s gaze with a smile, then laughed like a tree frog making the first croak of its life. “So who are your friends?” Sasaki reluctantly let go of Haruhi’s hand and looked over the group.

  Perhaps realizing that introducing the brigade members was the chief’s duty, Haruhi rapidly did so. “The cute one there is Mikuru; the one in the school uniform is Yuki. This is Koizumi,” she said, pointing to each one in turn.

  “O-oh, hello, I’m Mikuru Asahina.” Wearing a cheerful spring ensemble that would no doubt fly off the shelves if an Asahina brand were ever launched, the brigade’s sole upperclassman stiffened and hung on to her purse, reintroducing herself.

  “I’m Koizumi,” said the assistant brigade chief, with a pleasant courtesy that made me wonder if he’d been studying under Arakawa.

  “…” Nagato, wearing her uniform as though she were still at school, did not move a muscle.

  After hearing each of the trio’s different responses, Sasaki skipped the handshake—maybe it would’ve been too much trouble—and simply said, “Nice to meet you,” gazing at them amusedly.

  Asahina fidgeted slightly, Koizumi returned to his usual serene smile, and Nagato observed Sasaki with her eyes like pools of water ladled up from the deep ocean.

  Sasaki paused for a moment as though carving their names and faces into her memory, but then turned to me.

  “Well then, Kyon, I’ve got to catch my train, so you’ll have to excuse me. I’ll drop you a line later. See you!”

  She gave a quick little wave, smiled again to Haruhi, then strode off toward the turnstiles.

  She was rather brisk about everything. I was vaguely stunned, and watched her go until she disappeared.

  Although we hadn’t seen each other in quite some time, we hadn’t had much of a conversation. At this rate it would be another year before we met again.

  After a few seconds of silence, Haruhi spoke. “She was a bit odd.”

  For Haruhi to think someone was odd, they had to be seriously weird, I said.

  Haruhi turned her gaze away from the turnstile gates. “So your friend—has she always been like that?”

  “Yeah. She hasn’t changed a bit, outside or in.”

  “Huh.” Haruhi cocked her head slightly, as though trying to pour whatever thought she was having out through one ear. But she soon gave it up, righted her head, and spun around with a little hop. “Well, whatever. Anyway, Kyon, we’re going to the café. Your treat. You better have brought extra money. If there are any treasures to be had at the flea market, we gotta buy ’em!”

  Haruhi smiled like a fluorescent light display at an appliance store and took up the lead as she began to walk.

  Geez. I guess I didn’t mind having to carry her stuff around, but couldn’t she at least use her own money to buy whatever crap she wanted? I’d have to keep an eye out for Nagato’s sake, lest Haruhi lay a hand on the literature club’s budget.

  “As for what happened later,” I said to Koizumi, “you know the rest. We went to the café and I paid the tab, then we headed to the flea market where Haruhi bought a whole pile of crap we don’t need, then we headed back to that fancy little ocean view place for lunch, stopping by Sakanaka’s house on the way.”

  Koizumi better not tell me that just because he carried around a go board he bought from an old couple at the market, he’d forgotten that it was me who’d lugged most of our stuff around all day. I’d wound up hauling our “bargains”—like desert rose mineral samples—all over the event grounds. The only good parts were Asahina looking through a kaleidoscope that looked like it was made by a little kid and exclaiming, “Wow, such a primitive toy! It’s lovely!” and Nagato staring intently at a random tribal mask that seemed perfect for a sorcerer.

  “Is your memory of things any different?”

  “Fortunately, it seems not,” said Koizumi, looking carefully at the back of the monitor. “As far as the objective events go, your explanation is quite correct. However, regarded subjectively, your interpretation and mine have some serious inconsistencies.”

  Koizumi gave me an appraising look. I didn’t like it at all.

  “Here, then, is the question. Earlier I told you that incidents of closed space were on the rise. To be accurate, it’s at about the level it was when Suzumiya started high school. The amount at which I was called upon to perform my ‘job’ had been decreasing last year and on into this one, but it suddenly returned to its former level right after spring break. Why do you suppose that is?”

  I fidgeted. “What’re you trying to say?”

  “I don’t want to have to come right out and say it, but some things cannot be conveyed otherwise. In fact, times when wordless communication suffices to transmit an idea are quite rare. There is a causal relationship. In this case, the cause can be traced back to a significant event on the last day of spring break. The effect is clear: closed space and . So what does this mean? That is my question to you.”

  “…”

  I sank into a Nagato-like silence. The back of my head itched.

  Koizumi wore a smile like a mask excavated from a Jomon-era archaeological dig, an expression that couldn’t be described as anything other than a smile.

  “Since Suzumiya began creating closed space at the same time the new semester started, we can conclude that whatever the problem is, it began at the end of spring break. When we consider what happened that day, it seems to have been typical SOS Brigade activities, with nothing especially momentous happening. We simply enjoyed ourselves at the flea market. There was only a single irregular element that interrupted our routine. I’m quite sure you’ve already realized what that was.”

  Sasaki.

  “But why?” I said. “I just happened to come to the meeting spot with a classmate from junior high. Why would that have anything to do with Haruhi’s stress levels?”

  Koizumi closed his mouth as though surprised and regarded me more triumphantly than searchingly, just like Shamisen watching a cicada brought home for him by my sister. He did this for a full ten seconds.

  I was considering waving my hand in front of his face to check for consciousness when the harmlessly handsome esper slowly and heartily shook his head.

  “If you must know,” he said exaggeratedly, “this girl Sasaki, who proclaimed herself to be your good friend, is such an attractive girl that she’d probably catch the eye of eight out of ten guys!”

  Koizumi’s voice sounded like a grand vizier who’d decided to assassinate the king.

  It was two years earlier, around this time of year.

  It was the spring I’d entered the third and final year of middle school, and I had been forced to attend cram school by my mom, who feared for my h
igh school future.

  Sasaki was in the same class and was the only one there who also wound up in the same classroom as me in school—what’s more, our desks were even pretty close. That’s how we wound up talking, without either of us really being the one to initiate it, if I remember right. I’m not sure, but it was something like, “Oh, hey, you go here too?”

  That was the trigger, and it got so we’d chat sometimes in the classroom.

  I didn’t pay much attention to it, but I soon noticed that she had a certain stiff formality to her speech that she only ever used when she was talking to boys. When she was with other girls, she talked the same way they did.

  I wondered if there was a reason for that. Perhaps her use of masculine language was because she didn’t want to be seen as “just” a girl—it was a signal not to view her as a romantic object. Maybe I was overthinking this.

  Of course it didn’t matter to me, so I didn’t give her any trouble about it. For one thing, I didn’t have so much confidence in my own grammatical usage that I felt qualified to critique others’.

  Sasaki was interested in my name.

  “Kyon is a rather unique nickname. How’d you get it?”

  I reluctantly explained the episode behind it, and my younger sister’s antics.

  “How about that. So what’s your actual name?”

  I gave her its pronunciation, at which Sasaki tilted her head and eyes in different directions.

  “And you get ‘Kyon’ from that? What kanji could possibly—wait, no, don’t tell me. I want to try and figure it out.”

  Sasaki was quiet for a while, then snickered to herself.

  “It’s probably something like this, I bet.”

  Her mechanical pencil scratched on her notebook paper. I looked at the characters that appeared and felt genuinely impressed. She’d correctly written my given name.

  “Can I ask how you got it? There’s got to be a reason for such a grand, majestic name.”

  I repeated the reason my dad had given me when I’d asked him the same question as a kid.

  “Hey, that’s nice.”

  When Sasaki said it, it made me feel like I actually did have a good name.