The Wavering of Haruhi Suzumiya

by Nagaru Tanigawa

  “I cannot explain now. But you will understand soon enough. You have two choices. You can join me and help advance the universe toward its ideal form, or you may side with her and snuff out the possibilities of the future.”

  As I recall, perhaps a third of this line was ad-libbed by Yuki. Was it really meant only for Itsuki, I wonder?

  We’ll set aside for a moment the implication of Nagato’s—I mean, Yuki’s—words. Itsuki’s face looked troubled as he contemplated.

  “I see. So either way, he… or, in this scene, it would be me, I am the key, am I not? And the key itself has no power. At best, a key can only open a door. When that door is opened, something will change. The thing that will change is…”

  Itsuki paused for a moment and for some reason looked directly at the camera. Just who the hell was he looking at, and what the hell was he trying to say?

  “I understand, Yuki. But as I am now, I do not have the right to decide. I think it is too early to draw any conclusions. Shall we table this matter, then? We still need time to consider. Of course, if you’re willing to divulge everything, then that’s a different matter.”

  “That time will come soon. But it is not yet upon us, that is certain. We customarily view a lack of information as a flaw. We do not act without certainty.”

  It was an opaque conversation, but there seemed to be a kind of incomprehensible understanding developing between Itsuki and Yuki.

  Yuki nodded slowly, and after glancing at Mikuru’s flushed face, clambered out the window and disappeared. She didn’t fall from the second floor, though; she was just standing on the eaves, but in any case, you couldn’t see her anymore.

  Itsuki resumed his thoughtful expression and looked back at the sleeping Mikuru.

  When Mikuru awakes, will she comprehend the particulars of her situation and, enraged, throw whatever’s handy at Itsuki? All alone with a boy, unconscious, wearing nothing but a T-shirt—it’s not unreasonable that she’d conclude that something had happened to her and blame Itsuki, right? I’d like very much for that to happen.

  But instead of fulfilling any such expectations, it’s time for another commercial break. Please enjoy our two leading ladies delivering a promotion for Yamachi Model Shop.

  …

  After the commercial, the story hit a turning point. The combat-themed plot thus far was completely and inexplicably eclipsed by a romantic comedy.

  Mikuru seemed to have moved in with Itsuki, and the resulting cheesy cohabitation story was so terrible you want to pass out rather than endure the embarrassment of watching it anymore.

  Here was Mikuru cheerfully offering Itsuki her terrible cooking, and there she was blushing furiously and making a big fuss over accidentally brushing his finger while seeing him off to school from the house’s front door, and now she was doing the cleaning and laundry, and finally she happily greeted Itsuki as he arrived home from school.

  It was enough to make me want to scream, “Oh God, please stop this,” but such pleas were likely to fall upon deaf ears, as Itsuki and Mikuru’s touching love story dragged on for an eternity. Hey, Koizumi—want to trade places?

  Incidentally, Itsuki Koizumi lived with his younger sister, it turned out, so a ten-year-old fifth grader was hauled in—sorry, her birthday was last month, so I guess she was eleven. Anyway, now she was fooling around with Itsuki and Mikuru on-screen in yet another scene that makes the fate of the story quite a mystery. What was the point of giving Itsuki a sister, anyway?

  Amidst all of this, the incomprehensible battle between Mikuru and Yuki over Itsuki’s fate had now moved to Itsuki’s school.

  Shockingly, Yuki transferred to Itsuki’s high school. Why we’re using such sluggish filler material, I have no idea, but in any event, Yuki abandoned her black robes and pursued a more indirect method of pursuing her target, cleverly attempting to push Mikuru aside while becoming closer to Itsuki. She left no psychological attack untested—she left love letters in his shoe locker, brought two box lunches and forced one on him at lunchtime, staked out the front gate and intercepted him as he left school, secretly took photos of him and kept them in her wallet, and so on and so on. That all seemed more like a frontal assault than a clever scheme, though.

  Of course, Mikuru struck back. She also transferred into Itsuki’s school. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to just have her there to begin with? If her raison d’être is protecting Itsuki, it wouldn’t have been strange for her to be in school with him—on the contrary, it would’ve made more sense that way.

  Without any explanation whatsoever, for some mysterious reason Mikuru and Yuki never fought with laser beams and magic spells on school grounds. Apparently their goal had become trying to be the first to capture Itsuki’s heart.

  The story went completely off the rails, devolving into a narrative about two girls vying for the affections of one boy.

  Of course, Yuki had a huge problem. After all, Mikuru lived under the same roof as Itsuki, giving her an advantage that was like the Great Wall of China, making Yuki (where did she live, anyway?) an invading Hun, totally unable to get over the barrier.

  To make a comeback, Yuki would have to resort to extreme methods.

  “…”

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  Yuki started hugging Itsuki regardless of time and place. No doubt the sudden feminine physical contact was meant to leave Itsuki shaken, but Yuki’s face was so expressionless, it’s hard to ascertain what, if anything, she was feeling, and it was more eerie and off-putting than anything else.

  Her facial expression had no relationship to her actions.

  Although Mikuru managed to act jealous every time she saw the two of them, from outside Itsuki appeared not to care one way or the other, so there was no real emotion conveyed at all.

  It was as though it didn’t really matter what happened to Itsuki.

  And owing to time constraints, it was about time to gather everybody together for one last gasp at the finale.

  Perhaps because they were bored with the lighthearted school scenes and the cease-fire that applied on the school grounds, or perhaps because their true identities simply came through sometimes, Mikuru and Yuki now resumed their original roles of Battle Waitress and Alien Sorcerer and skirmished sporadically.

  With each scene, the depth of the plot’s confusion increased as it progressed thusly:

  —Mikuru fighting Yuki and Yuki’s cat familiar, Shamisen, in an apartment complex courtyard.

  —Mikuru and Yuki (with Shamisen) tossing firecrackers at each other in the bamboo forest behind the school.

  —Mikuru and Yuki wrestling each other in front of some unknown person’s house, with a bored Shamisen looking on.

  —Mikuru and Yuki chasing each other around Itsuki’s living room, while Itsuki’s little sister holds Shamisen and laughs.

  And just when you think we’ve made it through these pointless scenes, the film flirted with exhaustion yet again as it dredged up the school/love-triangle plot.

  Itsuki thus far had remained indecisive on the matter of Mikuru and Yuki, which of course would earn him cries of resentment from all around him—from the other boys, that is. But the Ultra Director who ruled this story like a god chucked all such complaints out of the ring and obstinately imposed her own will.

  Which would explain why the story so far had careened out of control, like a chimpanzee playing a racing game, crashing at every corner then rampaging ahead anyway.

  But even the Ultra Director eventually realized that despite the play-it-by-ear philosophy she’d used thus far, if she didn’t wrap things up soon, they’d never get to the ending at all.

  Of course, it was already too late, if you asked me.

  Anyway, perhaps she realized that at this rate there’d be no story at all, so all the little scenes with the characters doing who-knows-what got forcibly mashed together as we rushed toward the end.

  Yuki suddenly remembered her original purpose and informed Mikuru of their final
confrontation.

  One morning, Mikuru opened her shoe locker to find a note reading LET’S FINISH THIS in mechanically written letters that looked like some printer had spit them out.

  But still—if Yuki had really wanted to take out Mikuru, she’d had scores of opportunities thus far, and she wouldn’t have had to go to the trouble of informing Mikuru ahead of time. And yet who can fathom the mind of a space alien who goes around pretending to be a normal, expressionless high school student while constantly battling with her opponent? What did she want, anyway?

  And who had any idea what Mikuru wanted either? After reading the missive from Yuki, she looked off into space with a steely gaze, gripping the note and nodding decisively as though having realized something. What had she realized? I know I’ve said this before, but I had no idea. The only one who knows won’t ever be on-screen.

  As for me, behind the camera, well, comprehension was impossible, but thankfully I knew that everything in this world comes to an end eventually, giving salvation from this eternal hell.

  We had arrived at the climax.

  Appearing again for another cameo, Tsuruya came up to the troubled-looking Mikuru.

  “What’s the matter, Mikuru? You look like you’re worried about some old man stalking you. Did your doctor tell you that you have athlete’s foot or something?”

  Crouching in the corner of the classroom, Mikuru replied.

  “The time has finally come. I must go and face the final battle!”

  “Wow, how ’bout that! I’ll leave you to it, then—Earth’s in your hands!”

  Tsuruya kept a straight face when she delivered the line, but then her face twitched and she burst out laughing.

  “… I’ll do my best…”

  Mikuru’s reply was so soft that the mic could barely pick it up.

  Incidentally, although it’s probably pointless to point out any more problems with this terrible story, just when did Mikuru become friends with Tsuruya? Tsuruya’s first appearance was as a mind-controlled puppet in the pond scene, and Mikuru seemed to already know her at that point, which means that she knew Tsuruya even before Mikuru transferred into this school. But if that’s the case, Yuki’s mind-control attack should have happened later. At the very least, the knowledge that Tsuruya and Mikuru were friends would have improved that scene, and the fact that it didn’t play out that way is frankly a mistake.

  Of course, the voice of God believed herself to be infallible, and she had no time for such observations, instead pouring all her energy into immediately filming whatever scene popped into her head. With no idea of when her instinct-driven activities might cease, ordinary humans like me were run totally ragged in both mind and body.

  Thus did the final battle come to be held on the school rooftop.

  During the lunch hour, the black-robed Yuki waited with Shamisen draped over her shoulder.

  After a few seconds, the doors to the roof opened and out came Mikuru, dressed in her combat waitress outfit.

  “D-did I keep you waiting?”

  “Yes.”

  Yuki answered honestly. Mikuru had needed to change in a stall in the girls’ bathroom, and while I didn’t know whether that was why she had taken so long, she’d kept the cameraman waiting for quite a while too.

  “Well then,” said Yuki.

  Her honesty was dispensed with, and she now launched into the lines that had been prepared for her.

  “Let us settle this now. We do not have much time. We must end this in a few minutes, at the most.”

  “I agree, but… but! Itsuki will definitely choose me! Um… this is embarrassing, but I believe it’s true!”

  “Unfortunately, I do not plan to respect his wishes. I require his power, and I will have it. If I must, I will conquer Earth to get it.”

  Why couldn’t she just go ahead and conquer Earth, and then gain control of Itsuki after she’d done so? No one would be able to resist her then, and Mikuru would be left to struggle alone as the majority went ahead and handed over Itsuki—not even the loveliest of battle waitresses would be able to stop them.

  And anyway, if she had the power to conquer Earth, shouldn’t capturing just one person be no problem?

  “I won’t let you! That’s why I’ve come from the future!”

  Oh, right. Mikuru was a waitress from the future. That fact had been used hardly at all so far, so I was starting to wonder.

  The laser-beam fight scenes between Yuki and Mikuru now started again.

  On one hand, you had Mikuru firing beams, trip lines, missiles, and micro black holes while shouting “Shazam!” and “Kapow!” and so on, while Yuki wordlessly waved her wand around.

  The word of God came down that there were some effects you just couldn’t do with CG, so a variety of firecrackers were set off atop the school, and although they were old castoffs from the shopping district’s toy store, they were still plenty loud when lit. The resulting racket attracted the attention of several teachers down below, and we all got an earful.

  That’s what happens when you play with fire at school, obviously.

  If anything bad was going to go on my permanent record as a result, I’d ask that it instead be attributed to the director. But even if she shouldered Asahina’s, Nagato’s, and Koizumi’s burdens as well, she’d still be able to get by without any problems, thanks to her excellent grades. If she’d just sit down and shut up, nobody would have any complaints about her.

  Despite the cameraman’s internal monologue, the battle raged on.

  This is thanks to the director’s stubborn assertion that if the teachers forced us to withdraw from the rooftop and abandon this important scene, she would file a claim against the school for trying to stifle students’ freedom of expression.

  I was afraid she’d actually do it too.

  The teachers retreated from the rooftop with an impotent request to please not play with fire on school grounds, and we were getting more and more of an audience coming up through the roof’s entrance, which made Mikuru even more nervous.

  One thing led to another, and Mikuru wound up at the end of her rope. None of her attacks had affected Yuki, and as she’d backed away from the constantly advancing alien sorcerer, she was cornered against the roof’s railing.

  “Be at peace. I will carve you a fine epitaph. Be sure and do many good deeds in the afterlife, so as to store up good karma for your next life.” Yuki delivered her parting words as she thrust her wand at the waitress. “Farewell.”

  That instant, the Star Ring Whatever lit up absurdly, and there was a cheap flashing effect that flickered several times.

  “Eeeeek!”

  Mikuru clutched her head and collapsed into a fetal position.

  It wasn’t clear what kind of attack Yuki used, but evidently it was very powerful. It may have looked as though it was only causing the screen to flicker, but it was a spell potent enough to disintegrate Mikuru right down to the last atom.

  If you don’t get excited here, there’s not going to be any more opportunities for excitement, so thanks in advance.

  “Eeeek! Aaaaah!”

  Mikuru continued to cry out.

  It would be easy to get annoyed at such a totally useless heroine, but she was so cute that all was forgiven.

  And even forgiven, she was at this rate about to be erased from the story. If evil triumphed over good, the narrative would become an ironic commentary on the fact that no matter the predominant views on who should succeed, those with power would always win.

  “…”

  But of course, that is not what happened. The character who stood on the side of justice right up through the very end was not suddenly going to disappear. The hand of an unseen god would move to exterminate evil, allowing a crucial character to appear with unbelievably exquisite timing. That was the scenario the director had dreamed up.

  It goes without saying that the deus ex machina that saved Mikuru was none other than Itsuki Koizumi. I mean, of course. Who else would it be? Ther
e wasn’t enough time to suddenly introduce another character, after all.

  In a flash, Itsuki picked Mikuru up, successfully dodging Yuki’s assault. It was awfully slow, that magical ray of Yuki’s.

  “Asahina, are you all right?” said Itsuki, who then turned to face Yuki, holding out his arm. “I cannot allow you to hurt her. Yuki, please stop this.”

  Seeing Itsuki’s determined stance in front of the helpless Mikuru, Yuki looked at the cat on her shoulder as if contemplating something. Perhaps she was considering annihilating them both, if she indeed could not have Itsuki.

  But the answer came from an unexpected source.

  “There is nothing to consider. You have only to steal the boy’s will. From what I’ve heard, you have the ability to control others. Simply take control of him, then, and hide him away somewhere, then deal with the girl at your leisure.”

  Shamisen spoke, and I freaked out. I’d told him not to speak, so what the hell was he doing? No dinner for him!

  “Understood.”

  Yuki, composed as always, bopped Shamisen on the forehead with the star that tipped her wand. The cat shut his mouth. Yuki then spoke again, to nobody in particular.

  “That was ventriloquism.”

  She then raised the Star Whatever.

  “Take this, Itsuki Koizumi. Your will becomes mine.”

  A cheap special-effect thunderbolt leaped from the star.

  I’m sure it’s obvious what happened next, but I suppose I might as well relate the events of the last battle.

  To make a long story short, Itsuki’s potential power was realized. Having found himself in a desperate situation, he activated the latent potency that he never knew he had and his full abilities were unleashed. Such powers are often difficult to control, and Itsuki’s case was no different. The force of his emotion caused his incomprehensible power to reflect Yuki’s attack back on her with incredible energy.

  “… How unfortunate.”

  “Meeooow—!”

  And with that, the mysterious Yuki and Shamisen were blown off into the horizon, leaving behind terribly disappointing final words.