Was that so? I asked.
“There was a person a long time ago who said so. It was a very evocative phrase, so I remember it even now. I’ll bet you want to say something crazy like without romantic love, there would be no marriage and no children.”
I was silent. What did I want to say?
“Just look at wild animals. Some of them certainly seem to be affectionate to their children, to protect them, to raise them. But that’s not love.”
Sasaki quirked her lips, trying to seem more evil than she was. She seemed to want me to ask her, so I did.
“What is it, then?”
“Instinct,” said Sasaki.
Then she made me listen to a one-sided exposition on whether instinct and emotion were separate things or were they unified, and if they were unified could they be differentiated, which at some point shifted to a rhetorical analysis of whether human nature was fundamentally good or evil, at which point the shadow of a third party fell across my desk. It was Okamoto, a member of the beautification committee attached to our section, bringing guidance counseling application paperwork…
…
…
…
The chime sounded lightly, such that all I heard was its following echo.
I woke up before I remembered Okamoto’s face. I immediately confirmed my location. It was classroom 2-5 at North High. At some point it must’ve become break time. Haruhi seemed to still be busy dreaming. I could hear her quiet, regular breathing.
It was shocking that two people in a row had gotten away with sleeping in class. Close to a miracle. It might have been that the teacher had simply given up on us entirely, which might make Haruhi happy but for someone as academically lackluster as I was, this wasn’t something to be pleased about. Despite appearances, I did hope to go to college, or at least my parents hoped I would.
I’d used my open textbook as a pillow, so I felt my face to make sure there weren’t any marks on it, by which time whatever I’d been dreaming about had been mostly erased from my memory. Huh? I felt like there had been an important line somewhere in there. I knew Sasaki had been in it but couldn’t clearly remember the contents of our conversation.
I flicked myself on the temple. It hurt.
So this was reality, and that had been a dream. It was easy to say, “Sure, obviously.” But sometimes I found myself needing to confirm that what I was currently experiencing was indeed real. I had to get some life into my retrospection-tending subconscious.
Sasaki, Kuyoh, Kyoko Tachibana—they were all real, as far as that went, but my position was not with them; it was here. Here with the slumber-craving brigade chief who was right behind me.
I could not let myself forget this reality, nor would I.
If it were ever threatened with destruction, I would restore it, no matter what that took. I was utterly determined.
It wasn’t because anybody told me to or for anybody’s sake. I didn’t want anyone to call me a hero or a philanthropist. It was entirely for myself. That’s what I’d decided, around Santa-day last year.
Come the lunch break, Haruhi vacated the classroom, and I pushed my desk up against Taniguchi’s and Kunikida’s to enjoy my lunch.
The reason I hung out with people I already knew was not because I found adding names to my list of friends difficult, but because I was already pretty good friends with these two and saw no reason to distance myself from them. Responsibility for this lay with the school administration, which had failed to properly move students around classrooms—so given that, I was just gonna keep being friends with the people I was already friends with.
“Hey, Kyon, can I ask you something?” asked Kunikida with an absent expression as he carefully peeled the skin from his broiled salmon.
“What?”
“Have you seen Sasaki recently?”
I nearly swallowed the pickled plum I was about to eat, pit and all. “… Why?” Surely Sudoh’s middle school contact network hadn’t reached Kunikida yet.
“Earlier, around the beginning of April,” said Kunikida, putting down his chopsticks, “I took the national mock exams at cram school. I saw her there. We didn’t talk, though, and I don’t think she noticed me.”
Why was he asking about her now, of all times? I asked. The new semester started a while ago.
“Because I got the exam results yesterday. Complete with rankings. When I was looking for my own name, I found hers ahead of mine. Sure enough, her composite score was better than mine.”
Kunikida started moving his chopsticks again.
“And so then I started thinking that next time I want to score higher than her. Just as a rough goal. She’ll be my temporary rival. I doubt her score will change much, so if I can get my name higher than hers it would confirm my own ability. So I thought you might know which college she’s aiming for.”
“No idea.”
I needed to end this conversation and move it along as quickly as I could. Otherwise—
“Hey, now, I can’t let that one go.” Taniguchi grinned. “Sasaki, you said? You mean the girl who got along so well with Kyon in middle school?”
I knew it—the persistent guy had swallowed the bait, hook and all.
I immediately exercised my veto rights, taking a vow of silence and continuing to eat my lunch, but Taniguchi had the brazen curiosity of a cat. “What kind of girl is she?”
“She’s very cute. Smart, too. And sort of strange, honestly, but… in a strangely purposeful way, like it’s a performance. Yes, she’s an odd one.”
Sasaki had said Kunikida was weird too, I said. How appropriate.
“Is that so? I think there’s a difference in nuance, though. Sasaki is very self-aware, but when people call me strange, I don’t understand it. But she does understand, and she fits herself into that frame. I get the sense that she’s very careful not to go past its edges.”
It was true that her way of speaking was strangely formal.
“I was wondering if she’s still like that now. Because, I mean, didn’t she get into a famous prep school? Most of the students there are going to be guys. If she keeps forcing herself into that mold, I worry she’s going to get tired.”
Kunikida didn’t sound particularly worried as he said it.
Taniguchi popped a piece of broccoli into his mouth and replied. “She’s outta my area of operation, that’s for sure. I’ve had enough of weird chicks. Take Suzumiya—well, no, I never had anything to do with her. But look, why don’t I have any connections with nice, normal, cute girls? I mean, I’m running outta time. Gotta do something about that before summer’s here.”
All I could tell Taniguchi in response to his sudden rapid-fire speech was that he should do whatever he wanted. But I’d met Sasaki just the previous day for a meeting with three other bizarre creatures, and suddenly my appetite was gone. While it was obviously a coincidence that Sasaki and Kunikida had some kind of random connection, hearing her name with such strange timing gave me a very unscientific feeling of foreboding—an eerie unease as though someone were summarizing this story and telling me not to forget someone.
Was it a warning? Going by yesterday’s meeting, it didn’t feel like Fujiwara or Kyoko Tachibana had been giving off any particular threat or pressure, to say nothing of Sasaki. Ditto Kuyoh. And while she was plenty eerie in her own right, I had Nagato, and even Kimidori had been at the café. All of which made me feel like I had room to maneuver.
Just thinking about it, it was obvious that no matter what happened, the SOS Brigade would stay united. But the same was not necessarily true of their side. Their esper did not seem as powerful as ours, and their time traveler was more self-centered than Asahina the Elder, and their newly minted alien didn’t know the first thing about life on Earth, so the bond among the three was just as weak as it seemed. And the girl whose apotheosis they wanted to aid—Sasaki—wasn’t interested.
It didn’t seem like a cast of characters capable of taking out Haruhi. They should’ve done s
ome more maneuvering, but even then they’d be half-cocked. What were they thinking? If they thought I’d be talked over to their side like some kind of weak-minded politician, they’d better think again.
I continued eating my lunch, despite the vague fogginess in my head, which felt like when you slept well but too long.
Taniguchi had shifted topics to whether there were any AAA-ranked girls among the freshmen, which for the moment was outside my scope of interest. It wasn’t like there were going to be any new applicants to the SOS Brigade.
Because word of Haruhi Suzumiya and her brigade’s heroic deeds had already spread throughout the region. According to Sasaki.
After class that day, just as homeroom ended and Mr. Okabe vacated the teacher’s desk, Haruhi and I stood and put the classroom behind us.
Just as I was wondering whether we were going to the clubroom per the usual routine—
“Kyon, will you go on ahead? I’ve got to stop by somewhere.”
Haruhi tossed her bag to me, then strode off like a curling stone sliding along the ice.
Could it be she had keener eyes than Taniguchi and had discovered an AAA-ranked freshman, whom she was now going to abduct? Surely not, I thought, but even if she had, there was nothing that could be done about it. I had long since developed the perspective that it was best to let Haruhi do as she liked.
It seemed the freshmen who joined sports clubs were starting their practices, and the former third-year middle school students now sporting freshman colors could be seen on the grounds and in the hallways—a refreshing sight indeed. “Fresh” seems a cliché word to use, but there really is no other.
If the literature club had gotten a new member, Nagato would’ve been able to show her upperclassman side a bit. She was, after all, a humanoid interface that enjoyed reading human literature to the tune of around three hundred books a year. I doubted that Nagato would appear particularly pleased if she gained some club underlings, given her always-on transparent force field, but surely having reading pals to exchange impressions and swap books with was more convenient than silently seeking out reading material on one’s own. I had no skill at discussing books I’d read, and while I’d borrowed books, I’d never lent them. Maybe I should send her a library card as a gift or something.
As always, I did not neglect to knock on the clubroom door before entering, to confirm whether someone was there or not. Silence was the only response. I opened the door and saw that the room was empty. I was first, for once.
I tossed my bag onto the table and sat on a folding chair. I felt a tinge of loneliness, and as I thought about why that would be, the answer suddenly came to me.
Of course. Nagato was so reliably here that she was like an installation, but today she was gone.
I guessed even Nagato pulled classroom cleaning duty or had her homeroom period run long. Or maybe she was visiting the computer club.
As I waited for the other four brigade members, I picked up the hardback book that Nagato had evidently been reading and had left on the table, opened it to a random page, and scanned it. It seemed to be a story about a piece of equipment eternally searching for its original home.
α—6
After freezing for a moment, Haruhi gave her first order, which was to chase everyone save Asahina and Nagato from the room. The reason was simple.
“Mikuru, you need to get changed. Into your maid outfit, of course. The cheongsam… It’s frustrating, but I don’t think the size works for you, unfortunately. I’ll work something out later, so just hang in there until then.”
“Wha… change now?” Asahina held her own shoulders unsteadily as she watched the group of boys and girls obediently filing out of the room. “I…”
She cocked her head like a parakeet. Haruhi immediately held up a chiding finger. “Mikuru, what do you think you are to the SOS Brigade? I should think you’d be well aware by now, but just in case, let’s hear you say it.”
“Er… um… what am I? Um… what was it again…”
In contrast to the tremulous Asahina, our damned brigade chief seemed filled with the confidence of a mad cult leader as she thrust her finger at Asahina’s nose and spoke in a haughty voice.
“You’re our mascot! If you’re not playing a sexy character, what’s the point? Of course, that’s not all you do. But those elements are what you’re founded on. And that extends to receiving new prospective applicants. If you don’t, it’ll confuse our new brigade members. First impressions are critical. I guarantee it. You have a gift, Mikuru. So put on that outfit and become our maid character! Got it?”
Haruhi grinned, making it obvious that she was planning something.
“Just wait a bit. And don’t let them leave! We’re going to hold an introductory SOS Brigade meeting. If anybody tries to escape, hit ’em with a tranquilizer shot and tie ’em up!” she said, then closed the door.
From inside the clubroom-turned-dressing-room, we could hear the suggestive sounds of cloth rustling along with Asahina’s half laughs, half cries. “Waah—Suzumiya, that tickles… yaaah!” Neither Koizumi nor I could see anything obvious to do, so we just stood there in the hall with the group of freshmen, watching them as ordered.
They should’ve escaped while they had the chance, but the tenish freshmen stayed right there just as Haruhi had told them to, eyes shining with curiosity and anticipation. When I counted, I saw that there were actually eleven of them. There were seven boys and four girls, and the green stripes on their school slippers proved that they’d been high school students for just shy of a month.
I wondered if I should say something—give them some kind of warning as someone with more life experience.
I glanced at Koizumi and saw that the lieutenant brigade chief in name only had his usual bland smile and relaxed posture. From what I could tell from his eyes, which radiated ease, it didn’t seem as though any of these students were plants from his organization. This was the same scene that played out at every other school: prospective members visiting a clubroom. Didn’t they know that the SOS Brigade was an unauthorized student organization? I asked Koizumi.
“Surely they do,” Koizumi murmured in my ear. “So far as I’m aware, the young students here are entirely sincere. It’s clear that they genuinely wish to join the brigade as new members. At the very least, there are no aliens, time travelers, or espers among them.”
I hoped he had a reason to actually believe that, I said. Now that Kyoko Tachibana, that time traveler jerk, and Kuyoh Suoh had appeared, it wouldn’t have surprised me if some of their confederates had infiltrated North High and were trying to sneak into the SOS Brigade.
“We’ve investigated the background of all entering freshmen,” said Koizumi mildly. “And Kyoko Tachibana’s faction would hardly come here. The Agency has been monitoring them closely. Likewise, if an interface like Kuyoh were here, Nagato would hardly be unaware of it. And if there were any time travelers among them, that would actually be quite convenient. We could capture them and learn their true intentions. But I’m sad to report that among this group, there are zero potential time travelers.”
He glanced over the assembled students, his pleasant smile never wavering. “There are no problematic individuals here. As for what problems remain”—Koizumi lowered his voice even more, to a whisper, such that only I could hear—“it will come only from those people who Suzumiya admits as new members. She certainly won’t groundlessly bring them all in as members, so the problem is who—and how—she will choose. It would be nice if she left even one of them out. I can’t help but feel bad for those poor, naively courageous freshmen. They want to play with us, but they’re all just normal students.”
If some amateur were going to jump into the lion’s cage, I’d try to stop him or her, but if I couldn’t make it in time, it wasn’t my problem.
I took a quick glance, and from what I could tell of the ten-and-change students, they didn’t have any particularly outstanding characteristics. They just seemed very n
ormal and young, but maybe I was biased, given that they’d been middle school students just a month earlier. Some grinned as though trying to hide their embarrassment, while two of the girls listened carefully, giggling. I got the sense that the girls in the group were looking at Koizumi and me and weighing us against each other, but my inferiority complex might have been making me think that.
I just stood there silently.
“Hey, all done!” The door burst open with enough energy to give the illusion of a blast of hot wind, and Haruhi gestured inward. “Everybody can come back in now! Also, Kyon, we don’t have enough chairs, so go borrow some more—the computer club or one of the other clubs should have enough.”
Evidently she wanted to treat me like an errand boy.
“What, don’t just stand there, hurry and go! What’re the freshmen supposed to do in the clubroom? Hurry, hurry!” Haruhi gave me a rapid-fire sequence of abstract directions.
“I’ll go along too. One trip won’t be enough to bring chairs enough for ten people. Ten chairs are too much for him to carry in one trip.”
Koizumi straightened from the wall against which he was leaning, and I helplessly nodded to Haruhi, quickly scanning the room.
Asahina was in her maid outfit and standing next to the table. Perhaps because of the sudden shift of the boy-girl ratio of the room’s occupants, she was blushing like a shy young lady from a well-to-do family, her shoulders drawn inward. On the other hand, there was no change at all in Nagato’s positioning or activity level.
After knocking on doors all over the place, Koizumi and I managed to return with enough folding chairs to seat everybody, whereupon we saw the freshmen all lined up as though preparing for an inspection.
Haruhi was reclining in the brigade chief’s chair, Nagato was in her usual spot, and Asahina stood still as though she were unsure what to do, an obvious expression of relief passing over her face when she looked at me. Given that the normally low population density of the literature clubroom had suddenly been tripled, even glancing at all the people felt unnatural. You didn’t have to be Asahina to feel uneasy about it all.
The Dissociation of Haruhi Suzumiya Page 15