The Surprise of Haruhi Suzumiya

by Nagaru Tanigawa

  Somehow my instincts seemed to be getting sharper than those of the normal people around me. Whose doing was this?

  Morning and afternoon classes passed without incident, and I dozed my way through about half of my classes before I realized the chime signaling the end of school was ringing.

  After school, as she’d said she would, Haruhi went straight to Nagato’s place to take care of her, taking Asahina with her, leaving Koizumi and me alone in the clubroom. Without the three regular female members, the clubroom was a desolate place indeed. And of course not a single freshman member had appeared. I didn’t particularly mind that—honestly, I was grateful. If anybody did come with things as they were, it would be as if they’d shown up for a part-time job interview while the manager was on vacation.

  “Hm?”

  Suddenly I realized something. The simple fact was that without Haruhi there was no SOS Brigade. Nothing would be accomplished without her presence; we couldn’t even do an informational presentation. It was like a passenger train without an engine; it had no locomotive ability, and could only sit motionless on the tracks.

  As I sat there, glumly silent, Koizumi spoke up.

  “What shall we do? We’ve played all the board games out, so shall we get some exercise?” he said. The artificiality of his suggestion was totally obvious.

  “Sure, why not.” I figured some physical activity would help my mood.

  Koizumi got a cardboard box down from up on the shelf, and showed me its contents.

  Inside was the dented aluminum bat and battered baseball glove that had previously shown up when we’d played in the city baseball tournament. Haruhi had swiped them from the school’s baseball team and never bothered to give them back, obstinately keeping them here. She really was a hamster that just hoarded things in her nest. I hoped she wasn’t planning on entering another baseball tournament this year. Entering was one thing, but using a magical bat that hit only home runs two years in a row would certainly be frowned on—and for my part, I didn’t want to stand on the pitcher’s mound a second time. Give me backyard soccer any day.

  I peered in the cardboard box, but found no baseballs of any kind. Instead was a tennis ball that Haruhi had picked up somewhere. If we were playing in a courtyard, that’d definitely be safer.

  Thus Koizumi and I took the worn-out glove and shaggy fluorescent yellow tennis ball, and left the room, which seemed unlikely to host a visitor any time soon.

  The courtyard was completely free of occupants. Those students who went home after school had done so, and the art and culture clubs were in their various rooms conducting their various activities. The only thing I could hear was the clumsy trumpeting of the brass band club, almost drowning out the faint sounds of shouting that came from the athletic clubs on the field.

  None of the students who came to the courtyard to eat their lunches were around, so the only things stopping us from playing catch were the cherry trees that were planted here and there. Hardly any petals remained; green was spreading such that I was sure the basket worms would be overjoyed.

  “I’ll start, then,” said Koizumi pleasantly, then lobbed the ball to me.

  There was hardly any sound as the ball landed in my glove. It was obvious he was taking it easy. I grabbed the tennis ball and chucked it back to him, sidearm.

  “Nice throw,” said Koizumi, giving his standard hollow compliment. He tossed it back to me like an infielder catching a grounder and throwing it to first for an easy out.

  After Koizumi and I had killed some time silently tossing the ball back and forth for a while, I couldn’t help remembering the words Tachibana had said—words that I thought I’d forgotten, indeed, had wanted to forget.

  —I can’t help but respect him.

  There weren’t many people who revered the ceremonial lieutenant brigade chief of the SOS Brigade. Especially leaving out his popularity among the girls in his class owing to his looks and affability.

  “Koizumi.”

  “Yes?”

  “Uh…” I stumbled over my words, and hated myself for it. Koizumi himself was the leader of an organization of espers, and Mori, Arakawa, and the Tamaru brothers were all his subordinates? I wasn’t so naive as to just buy that. “Never mind.”

  Koizumi didn’t show a hint of suspicion at my sudden silence, and instead replied as though he was already aware of what I was going to say. “Can I ask you a question, then?” he asked back at me. “Have you ever heard the term ‘Gnosticism’?”

  “Never. I don’t know a thing about politics. I don’t even understand the difference between communism and socialism.”

  “It’s something I think you should understand. For your future reference, let’s say,” said Koizumi with a rueful grin, adding that he meant Gnosticism. “You can think of it as a philosophy, or perhaps a religion. It would be difficult for a polytheistic nation like ours to simply embrace it. Simply put, it’s considered heretical even among those who believe in a single omnipotent God. To find its origins you must go back quite a ways—while it’s thought of as heresy now, it was well established by the time Christianity was created.”

  Unfortunately I tended to sleep through social studies, so I had no idea what he was talking about, I said.

  “In that case, maybe I should give you a brief overview of Gnosticism. If you’ll allow me to summarize it, that is.”

  I had no objections, so long as he could summarize it such that a grade school kid could understand it.

  “Ancient people felt that the world was filled with wickedness. If the world had been created by an omnipotent, infallible creator, then that creator surely wouldn’t have made something so full of pointless suffering. Surely He would have created a more perfect utopia. But societal conflicts spread injustice far and wide, and the wicked rose to power and tormented the weak. Why would God create such a terrible place, and then leave it alone?”

  He probably realized his game was on the path to the bad ending, so he got bored and left, I said.

  “Quite possibly,” said Koizumi, tossing the ball straight up in the air, then catching it. “However, couldn’t we think about it this way? The world was not created by a benevolent creator, but rather by a malicious one.”

  It amounted to the same thing, didn’t it? Whether or not the carpenter was malicious, if he followed bad building plans, the building was going to be flawed. Let the courts settle the question.

  “And if God is malicious, it makes sense for Him to overlook evil acts, because He Himself is evil. But humanity is not entirely wicked. We also possess a sense of righteousness. The fact that we can recognize evil for what it is is proof that we can resist it with good. If the world were entirely evil without any good anywhere, we wouldn’t even be able to have the concept of goodness.”

  Koizumi rotated the ball around in his fingertips.

  “And so the ancients believed that the world was created by a false god, and believed that their ability to recognize that fact was the single ray of light that shone in from none other than the true God, who still existed somewhere. In other words, God doesn’t exist within the world, but watches over it from outside.”

  Well, they’d have to think so. Otherwise what would the point be?

  “Indeed. And because this tradition holds the creator of the world to be a demon, the adherents of other religions quite understandably tried to suppress it. Have you learned about the Albigensian Crusade in world history class yet?”

  I wasn’t sure, but I said I’d ask Haruhi later.

  “Incidentally, it’s reasonable to say that gnostic beliefs are broadly in accord with modern thinking. That said, human psychology has not changed appreciably since ancient times. What we can conceive of now, earlier people could as well. No matter how much our technology and precision of observation improve, the biological limits on our intelligence will not change dramatically. We’ve reached a dead end in our evolution, and not just recently either. It’s been a condition throughout human history.
”

  I felt as if he was making some logical leaps, but I wasn’t particularly adept at academic witticisms, so I stayed strategically silent. Making dumb remarks that prolonged the conversation was against my principles.

  “So, now, to put our current situation in context—”

  So all this lengthy explanation was just a preamble? How very like Koizumi.

  “Tachibana’s faction regards Suzumiya as a false god. She may well be the creator of this world. But she lack self-awareness, and they feel that lack of awareness proves their thesis, that she is not the true God. In which case, there must be a true God somewhere in which they can put their confidence. And they’ve found her. Although it’s also possible that they only think they’ve found her.”

  And that was Sasaki. My strange middle school classmate and self-proclaimed “good friend.”

  “There is also the matter of closed space,” said Koizumi as though making small talk. “Suzumiya’s closed space is filled with the will to destroy. For a creator, she’s not very interesting in creating. It’s not as though her space is going to attract any public enterprise,” he said, tossing out a bad joke before continuing. “On the other hand there’s Sasaki, whose closed spaces are, I’ve heard, very stable, almost like the steady-state theory of the universe. Apparently they’re eternally peaceful. It’s likely that more people would prefer such a world. There are no . Only quiet and tranquility.”

  I thought back. I remembered the deserted street, suffused in light. For being totally unpopulated, it gave off a soft, gentle feeling. It was a place that gave you a glimpse of peacefulness. Stressed-out students trying to find a quiet place to study for exams would probably seek permission to visit there in droves.

  “To go even further,” continued Koizumi, “if closed space like Sasaki’s kept being created, there would probably be fewer problems. That said, Suzumiya does possess a reasonable mind, and she doesn’t immediately explode just because she didn’t get her way; she’s capable of calming down. The situation is like a lit fuse. If it’s put out along the way, nothing will happen, but if we let things accumulate, the fire will reach the powder stores.”

  So she’s the Balkan Peninsula in the twentieth century, then?

  “Boom,” said Koizumi, spreading his arms. “This is how closed space is created; accelerate the process.”

  Koizumi stroked his chin, as though he were a famous detective about to present the results of his trademark deduction.

  “On the other hand, Sasaki constantly creates a fixed amount of closed space, and doesn’t allow them to run rampant. Maybe that’s their reasoning.”

  So which was the right way? Irregular releases of pent-up pressure, or a steady dribble—which was better for the most people?

  “As far as that goes, I don’t know,” said Koizumi, evading an answer while flicking the ball with his thumb. “Since I’m on Suzumiya’s side, my decision can hardly be said to be unbiased. Even if an objective decision is possible, I certainly can’t make it. I can only play out my part. I’m confident that I won’t overstep my own role. While she is technically my specialty, my vision when it comes to Suzumiya is rather clouded. I would rather leave the decision up to someone who knows both Suzumiya and Sasaki equally well.”

  Whoever could he have meant.

  “There’s one more thing I’d like to say,” said Koizumi, his words as pleasant as a spring skylark. “At this moment, the SOS Brigade enjoys the greatest unity it’s ever had. Whether it’s our alien, our time traveler from a future Earth, or a limited esper who sympathizes with Suzumiya, there are essentially no barriers between us. Our desires and goals are all the same. And at the center, there’s Suzumiya. And—”

  Koizumi paused like some stage director had told him to. With an exaggerated gesture, he finished his statement.

  “—there’s you.”

  There was no point in trying to feign ignorance, so I pointlessly punched my mitt. C’mon, lemme have it.

  “This is the problem facing everyone in the SOS Brigade. We’re all involved. Nagato and Kuyoh, Asahina and Fujiwara, my Agency and Tachibana’s faction. You and Sasaki. We’re all connected by a thread, all heading toward a single point at which, no matter how the action there resolves, there will be a conclusion. This may no longer be just your problem.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Crack jokes? Watch from the side? Try to record events as best I can for the sake of future historians?”

  “You can do whatever you like.” Koizumi rotated the ball in his hand like a pitcher trying to decide between a two-seam and a four-seam fastball. “I expect you’ll know what to do when the time comes. You may not be able to help it, honestly. You need only act according to your own will. You probably don’t have to think about it. Humans are generally capable of taking the best available action, so long as their judgment hasn’t been affected. And so far your actions have all been right. I’m half convinced the next time will turn out the same way, and half looking forward to seeing it.”

  He said all that, and seemed to be finished talking. Koizumi threw the ball again. It was a straight throw with a lot of heat on it. As I felt my glove close around it, I decided I didn’t have anything else to ask.

  It was true—.

  It wouldn’t be Koizumi, or Asahina, or Nagato. And it certainly wouldn’t be Haruhi.

  The duty of finishing this had been passed to me. It had always been that way. Usually I’d mutter it off saying something like “Oh brother,” but now probably wasn’t the time to unseal that particular line.

  I’d felt that way all along. I’d always known. Naturally I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, but I knew that I would do it. The image of a prone Nagato, along with Haruhi and Asahina’s worried faces, flickered in my brain. And here I was playing catch with Koizumi?

  This was not what I was supposed to be doing. The SOS Brigade’s operations didn’t include anything this stupid. Not so far, and not starting now.

  “Hmph.”

  I raised my arms in a proper windup, and threw the ball at Koizumi’s glove with all my strength.

  “Nice curveball,” he complimented me, though I’d been meaning to throw a fastball.

  “Ah, whatever.” However reluctantly, I could admit that it was a result that was very like me. So long as the batter was confused, right?

  Time for another pitch. Though I wasn’t sure exactly who the batter was.

  I threw my best breaking ball.

  The ball hit Koizumi’s glove with a pleasantly dry thwack.

  “If I could transform into Superman, or someone else out of American superhero comics…” I knew it was an impossible absurdity, and yet I still said it out loud. “If I just had the power to set the whole world straight in one go—if that happened, I wouldn’t be a good guy. I’d just beat up everybody I didn’t like.”

  Koizumi was about to toss the ball back to me, but froze his motion, and looked at me like a biologist in the deep jungle who’s discovered a rare organism of some kind. He chuckled with that faint smile of his. “That’s not impossible. All that needs to happen is for Suzumiya to wish for it. If she believed you had powers you were keeping hidden, and were constantly battling your enemies in secret—if you could get her to truly believe in that setting, then you really could become a superhero. I won’t withhold my assistance, but… do you really prefer that kind of battle? To defeat the alien with a punch, to scatter the plans of the time traveler with a shout? I’ll say it again, but depending on Suzumiya, that’s not impossible.”

  I didn’t even need time to think about it. That was not my role. Suddenly becoming a superhero and beating the crap out of my enemies? I mean, really—solving my problems with force?

  What was this, some kind of kid’s show from who-knew-what era? Hadn’t this kind of thing died out like thirty years ago? For something like that to happen these days, it would be conclusive proof that human culture was mired in nostalgia, and wasn’t moving forwa
rd at all. I preferred to be connected to modern narratives, thank you very much.

  After all, I was kind of a cynic, sorry to say. Old-school stereotypes like that were worth about as much to me as toilet paper.

  I caught what was either a low lob or a slow curve from Koizumi, and gave thought to the manner of just what devilish spin I would put on this tennis ball to trick the batter, before remembering the saying that a bad idea was worse than no idea at all.

  Having bored of playing catch, Koizumi and I returned to the clubroom. Unsurprisingly, no one was there. There was neither hide nor hair of anything resembling a new applicant, which I found a bit surprising. Out of so many new freshmen, you’d think at least one of them would have a gear loose upstairs, but maybe my thinking so was proof that my brain had been contaminated by Haruhi.

  There was no news from Haruhi or Asahina, who were probably living it up over at Nagato’s place. No news was good news. Haruhi doubtless still thought Nagato was simply suffering from a cold, and planned to cure her with a combination of folk remedies and sheer will. Asahina was probably helping out quite a bit, despite her wariness of Nagato—no doubt her concern for a fallen comrade would take precedence over whatever ideology she held. Future Asahina aside, this Asahina was a good person through and through. Just so long as Nurse Asahina wasn’t actually wearing a nurse outfit…

  Though we returned to the clubroom, we had about as much to do as a rookie starting pitcher who wound up getting pulled after the first inning.

  So after we finished playing catch, we put the equipment away, made sure nobody had turned the PC on, locked the room up, and put the school behind us. It was a good opportunity to go home and meditate again to summon my resolve for the task to come.

  I stopped my beloved bike at the front door, and opened the unlocked door, only to be met by the sight of my sister’s colorful shoes scattered about the entryway, along with a pair of black loafers with which I was unfamiliar. Given the size, they probably belonged to a girl. I went inside, thinking little of it other than assuming that Miyokichi was probably visiting again, and when I headed upstairs to my room and walked in, I nearly backflipped, so freaked-out was I by the sight that greeted me.