[FFML] [SHnY] The Coin - Prologue

[Michael Clark]

So this is take two. I really tried to take the critiques from earlier
to heart. It's an embarrassment to me to miss simple details. In large
thanks to Brian and Henry's feedback, and after doing some reading again
to get back into a Haruhi state of mind, this is a completely rewritten
prologue plus the first real chapter. I admit, I'm a little bit more
gunshy now. I've tried to do more research in little details that I
might not have thought consequential before. I expect I still will get a
few things wrong, however. Mostly what I'm concerned with is finding
Haruhi's voice. These first-person stories in particular are a way for
me to explore and try to understand the character, and as yet, I'm not
certain I've found a good angle on her. As Brian so rightly said, Haruhi
of the later novels is not Haruhi of the earlier stories or her anime
incarnation, either, but capturing her enthusiasm, bossiness, and warped
perspective on the one hand while also doing justice to her
thoughtfulness, genuine concern for her friends, and groundedness on the
other has proved, at least to me, a challenging task. That is something
in particular I would be grateful of feedback on.

As I said, I've included the first real chapter of this story
immediately after the prologue, as while I felt many of the criticisms
given before were justified, I want to give as complete a picture as
possible of what I'm doing. Again, the prologue is entirely rewritten in
light of the feedback given here. The first chapter is not--it was
completed at that time, but in light of the more thoughtful and less
"ridiculous" angle I'm taking, I hoped to tweak some of the scenes there
to line up better.

Lastly, as I said I'm concerned with finding the right way to present
Haruhi's voice. I certainly didn't want or intend to paint her as an
utterly unlikable character. It seems clear to me now that I went too
far in indulging her capacity for ridiculous behavior, but conversely,
I'm concerned that this version goes too far in the other direction. I
think, in this version, she is more thoughtful and therefore more human,
but it also seems to me like this Haruhi may be too dour and largely
lacking in her characteristic energy.

But let me not color the perception of this story any further. Let's try
this again--with feeling, with gusto, as Haruhi is so often wont to do.


Prologue

When there's bad weather on the horizon, people are always looking
forward to the next sunny day, to the calm that comes _after_ the storm,
but when I was younger, if there were raindrops falling or trees swaying
in the wind, you couldn't pry me away from the window.

It wasn't just the thrill of the storm.  I looked forward to clouds and
thunderbolts in a gray sky because the first sign of a tempest changes
people.  It makes them prepare or panic.  They make runs on the grocers'
and stockpile bottled water or canned corn.  The birds and the dogs in
our neighborhood grew restless long before my mother and father would.
I welcomed those storms--the chaotic days and restless nights.  Each
squall and wind gust was an expression of Mother Nature.  She was
dissatisfied with the routines and rhythms of humanity.  She sent rain
and lightning to rouse us from our stupor, to make us wake up.

That all changed, of course.  By the time I was in middle school, I had
other things on my mind, and if I wanted to go outside and look at the
stars or just breathe in the wind, a storm could be really inconvenient.
All the same, I can still recognize the signs when a storm front is
near--or I could, if I tried.  What I realized in June my second year
was that a good storm didn't excite me anymore.  I'd stopped paying
attention to the old man at the market, rubbing his joints to relieve
the pressure, the pain.  I forgot to listen for the calls of birds or
their silence when a violent squall was about to hit.  To me, a clear,
cloudless day, with but a light breeze to blow the humidity away, was
just as well.  In fact, if Mother Nature had sent a storm over North
High School while we were on lunch break that day, I think I'd have had
a harsh word or two for her.

We were on break before afternoon classes, and to the sound of coffee
cans clunking against the bottom of a chute, I took the time to digest
what'd happened in morning classes.  Of late, the teachers are really
starting to drill us for entrance exams, and that's fine.  That's
expected, even, but it feels like it's not enough.  I don't want to keep
a list of the top ten facts about the Meiji Restoration on the back of
my hand.  Tell me that it was something big and important--that when
Tokugawa stepped down and ended the shogunate for good, it was a sign.
Japan would never be the same again.  Japan would never be able to keep
to itself again.  It changed the way we live, and you can see that every
day.  Whenever you buy a pair of headphones that say _Sony_ on the side
or a car with a three-diamond ornament on the front, you see something
that goes back to that time, that wouldn't exist without that change in
how we live our lives.

I've watched all our classmates scribble down notes furiously.  I wonder
sometimes if they ever thought to do more than just copy, copy, and copy
some more.

That's something I used to think about a lot, too--that too many people
were caught up in routine.  They wake up, they go to school or work,
they come home, they touch another person or touch themselves, and they
sleep.  Then they do it all over again the next day.  Even Mother and
Father were like that, and for a while, I thought it didn't matter if I
loved them because they were mindless automatons like the rest of
humanity.  I think I've realized, over this past year, that that's not
true, either.  It's not that other people don't have the same thoughts I
do.  It's not that they don't have the vision to look to the stars and
see aliens, to look in a mirror and see through into their own souls or
others'.  They just don't have the time, or they gave up on it long
before.  They made peace with the world and accepted it, whether there
were greater things out there to look for...

Or not.

I sat at the base of a tree in the center courtyard, watching my
schoolmates pass by.  A half-dozen or so had formed a queue for the
vending machines, and I watched them.  They talked about
things--different things.  What were the chances North would make it to
Summer Koshien?  When would that voice actress get surgery for her
cancer, and would it change her voice forever?  Pretty ordinary things,
if you ask me, but I felt like I understood it.  If you're not looking
for time-travelers in your midst, chatting about baseball tournaments or
anime doesn't sound too bad.

But at that moment, I wasn't concerned with distant things like what was
on television or who scored a ninth-inning run.  The sun was shining on
me.  Its midday light cast too narrow a shadow to get away from and
still be in the open.  I was getting thirsty, and I had just enough,
after buying my lunch, to join the line for drinks and get over it
before class.

"Oh," said a girl.  "Oh no..."

In the line for soda, the little dark-haired girl--a first-year, I
guessed--shook an empty coin purse in vain.

"You don't have enough?" said her friend.

"It can't be," said the first girl.  "I had a thousand yen in here!"

"You don't think your sister took it?  For her date last night?"

"She wouldn't!"  But the first girl closed the coin purse with a _snap_.
"She must've.  How much do you have?"

The second girl held up a single coin.  "Just a hundred."

And that was a pity.  See, I had three fifty-yen coins in my hand, and I
needed them.  I mean, if I happened to flip one of them idly, if it
happened to fly out of my reach and roll at those first-years' feet,
well...

Well, you'd think they'd be smart enough to pick it up and not question
things.

"Um, _sempai_..."  The first girl bent at her knees, fingering the rim
of the silver, hollow coin.  "Did you drop this?" she asked.

"Not me," I said.

The second girl blinked.  "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, pretty sure.  Must be your lucky day, finding the extra fifty yen
you needed."

"Thank you so much!" said the first girl, bowing.  "We won't forget
this, will we, Yuka?"

"Of course," said the second.  "Thank you!"

" 'Thanks'?" I echoed.  "I didn't do anything.  Get your drink and move
on, won't you?"

The first-years looked at each other, and I guess they finally got it.
They bought a soda and moved on, but they called back as they rounded a
corner, smiling.  "Thanks again!"

I said it, didn't I?  I had no hand in it, and even if I did, so what?
If someone does you a good deed, let them be.  The real, genuine people
don't need to be thanked for it.  They don't need your gratitude.  If
they say otherwise, then they're not doing it for you.  They're doing it
for themselves, and they shouldn't be thanked anyway.  I hate that
feeling--that something you did, which _should_ be for someone
else--actually serves you instead.  I've felt that once.  I'll never
forget it.

And I wouldn't forget that, now that those two girls had gone, I was the
one fifty yen short instead.

I stepped aside and punched a sequence of buttons on my phone.  If
nothing else, I had a batch of three other visionaries, seekers of the
extraordinary and unusual like I was, and with their unquestioned
loyalty, they'd answer my call, but they weren't the ones I sent that
message to.

"Oi."  He walked up to me, a phone in his hand.  "Is this your idea of a
summons?"

Yeah, actually, though it'd have been more timely and effective if it
hadn't taken you ten minutes to answer it.

"Don't just tell me you're somewhere 'outside' next time, and I'll find
you faster," he said.  "And don't start your message with 'I need you'
and expect not to be misunderstood."

"Misunderstood how?" I asked.

He scowled but looked away.  "Well?  What is it now?  Energy beings
hiding in the sun's rays?  Sliders making portals in the walls?"

Why do you even bother coming if you're not going to be serious when you
get here?

"Because I know the dungeon master who's in charge around here," he
said, "and she would definitely have smitten me by my next turn if I
didn't answer."

Jerk.  I ignored his remarks, though, and put my first two coins--fifty
yen each--down the slot of a soda machine.  "I need to borrow something
from you," I told him.  "Consider it forgiveness of penalties in
advance."

"I'm supposed to pay you tardy penalties for events that haven't even
happened yet?"  He scratched his head, pondering.  "Actually, that'd be
about the nature of things around here, wouldn't it."

"Just hurry and lend me another fifty, will you?  I'm thirsty."

"Why?"

Why am I thirsty?  Well, I guess it all goes back to when the first
six-celled organism withered and died because it didn't know it needed
water, leaving the rest of the evolutionary chain to--

"I mean, why do you need my money?"  He pointed to the seven-segment
display on the machine.  "Looks like you're fine to me."

150.

I'd put in two fifty-yen coins, but that's not what it read.

I pushed the white plunger next to the display, and at the bottom of the
machine, two coins rattled in the return slot.  One was smaller and had
a hole in the center, with chrysanthemum raised from the metal on either
side of the gap.  The other was larger and solid, with cherry blossoms
taking up the center instead.  A fifty-yen coin, a one-hundred-yen coin.
Any child could tell the difference.  Any moron would know, by feel or
by sight, what value of coinage she had.

"Wait a minute.  You dragged me out here.  Aren't you at least going to
buy a drink?"

I could've.  You might say I _should've_, but thirst is a temporary
thing.  It comes from our flawed human bodies, which hold our minds but
don't command them.  I understood what'd been happening when I held
those coins between my fingers.  That other person there might tell me
to ignore it, to let it go and get on with my life like any normal human
being would.  What could I learn about the world from two round pieces
of copper and nickel?  Maybe nothing, I could admit, but maybe
something.

Maybe, I thought to myself, it was time to look to the sky again and be
excited when I saw a dark cloud there.

The boy beside me checked his phone and sighed.  "Well, stay if you
like, Haruhi," he said.  "I'm not going to be late."


Chapter One

So I kept the coins.  I didn't buy a drink.

By the time two o'clock arrived, I was starting to regret my decision.
I was thirsty--no, I was dying.  I was parched like the plains of
Antarctica.  Can you believe that?  That Antarctica is drier than any
other place on Earth?  You wouldn't think so, but I've always believed
the truth is strange, so I accepted it right away.

I was thirsty, though, and I wasn't going to admit it or duck out of the
classroom like it was an emergency.  Some people would undoubtedly
notice, especially if they were called _Kyon_.  I know that's stubborn,
but I won't apologize for it.  I've always believed that feelings of
thirst and hunger were just primordial, instinctive weaknesses.  Do you
know how long people have been on this earth?  Millions of years.  Who
know when they stopped being dumb animals and started thinking
intelligently.  The point is this:  people have made huge evolutionary
strides.  You'd think we'd have had enough time to grow beyond these
inconvenient things.  We should be glowing white energy beings by now,
feeding off the light of the sun or something.  Even plants can do that.
All these instinctive sensations--hunger, arousal, fatigue,
fear--they're distractions.  They don't do anything useful except keep
us alive and procreating.

We should do more than that.  We should be better than that.

It didn't matter if I went into afternoon classes thirsty or distracted.
The morning was out of the way.  This was the easy stuff.  The moment of
inertia is the mass times the square of the distance.  The torque is the
force times the distance times the sine of the angle between the two.
Easy.  I think I knew all that in middle school.  That day was no
different, so I didn't pay attention.  I don't generally have to.  When
something interesting pops up in class, I'll listen.  All this knowledge
the teachers throw at us--it can't all be useless.  But that day,
classes seemed more insipid than usual.  I looked out the window.  I
slid two reeded-edged coins across my desk, working that hour at lunch
through my mind.  I'd _misplaced_ that third fifty-yen piece of mine
that those girls picked up.  I had two left.  They were identical in
every way.

There were a few interesting possibilities--an alien invasion, for
instance.  People touch coins all the time, you know.  The aliens could
be using vending machines to surreptitiously change out the money
supply, to substitute their radioactive or drug-laced coins for our own.
It would be the first-strike in an all-out war!

"Oi," said Kyon, muttering to his desk.  "Can't you contain your
excitement back there, for the sake of people who actually have to
listen?"

Why should I?  That's what makes people boring sometimes.  They smile
and nod dutifully when they want to jump up and down and shout.  It's
dishonest.  More people should show what they really want and not be so
intimidated that they hide it.

"Suzumiya-kun!"

I sat upright.  "Yes, Teacher?"

"Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, Teacher."  Like anyone would say any different.

"Then you can tell me the limit of the sequence on the board?"

I squinted.  _2, 9/4, 64/27..._

"Euler's number," I said.

There was a gasp in the classroom.  Kyon turned all the way around in
his seat.

"What?" I said.  "It's obvious, isn't it?"

The teacher frowned, returning to lecture.  "As Suzumiya-kun says, the
answer is indeed Euler's number, _e_.  One typically sees this identity
as a limit:  as _n_ goes to infinity, the sum of 1 and 1/_n_ is raised
to the _n_th power, like so..."

Kyon shook his head, turning back around to face the board.  "Lend me
some of your casual knowledge," he muttered, "so I can make perfect
marks without paying attention."

Answer my call a little faster next time, and maybe I'll have a few
minutes to teach you something.

Teacher left me alone for the rest of his time, and I pushed the coins
back and forth across my desk again.  It was a bit early to assume there
was a full-on alien conspiracy to contaminate the Japanese monetary
supply--that I admit.  After all, I had only one coin I thought had been
changed.  You'd need at least five or seven to be reasonably sure of all
that, to rule out all the mundane, simple explanations that normal
people would assume.

By the time the final bell rang, I had a good list of the more
interesting possibilities.  Aside from an alien conspiracy, I figured
the likely candidates were these:  an unknown, undiscovered element
disrupting the vending machine mechanism, the hole in the fifty-yen coin
being used as a gateway for sliders, and... hm, I can't remember the
last one--

"Aren't you a bit too far into Haruhi-land today?"

Packing up his things, Kyon stood in front of his desk, eying me.

"Haruhi Land?" I said.  "You think we should have an SOS Brigade theme
park?"

"What?  What on earth would give you--"

"We could have a roller coaster!" I said.  "We could make a giant
Mikuru-chan ride, With the curves and loops going around her huge--"

Kyon slapped both hands over my mouth, looking over his shoulder.  "Be
serious, will you?"

I pulled his wrists away.  "I'm always serious."

"That's what frightens me most," he said.  "All right, forget the theme
park, at least for today.  What was it that had you goofing off in class
before now, hm?"

"You're interested?"

"I'm interested in getting a head start on trouble."

"And why am I trouble?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

I scowled, but I let it go.  Kyon can be that way sometimes--resistant
and stuffy.  If the SOS Brigade gazes into the precipice of the unknown,
then sometimes I think Kyon is always checking over his shoulder, making
sure he can see the ground we're standing on.  That used to irritate me
before, and sometimes, it still does.  When I came to North High, I
thought it would be full of wild and interesting people, but it wasn't.
Half our class I already knew from middle school.  The other half seemed
about the same.  It was nothing like I'd heard about, nothing like I
thought it would be, but there was this guy in front of me who had the
courage to ask questions.  Sometimes they were dumb, but he asked them
anyway, not caring if I thought he was an idiot for asking.  He gave me
the idea for the SOS Brigade, and that's why we're here today.   I
realized later that the fair thing to do would be to give Kyon his due
credit for that.

But not too much.

Besides, that day I could see that he and I weren't quite on the same
wavelength.  I told him what I thought of the coins from lunchtime, and
the first thing out of his mouth was,

"Oh, it's a glitch."

Well, no kidding it could be a glitch!  Use your imagination for a
second, won't you?

"An alien conspiracy to replace our pocket change."  He frowned.  "Hm, I
guess that's a reasonable conclusion."

Good, now you're getting it... wait, what did you just say?

"It all makes sense," he said, nodding solemnly.  "The Haruhi I know
would never be so fascinated by some simple mechanical glitch.  It's not
in her nature.  She's always looking for gremlins from neutron stars or
something like that.  She'd find something so trivial as a computer chip
making an error utterly boring.  No, aliens are the only explanation.
The extraterrestrials have conspired to make my life easier by making an
exact duplicate of you--that is, of the real Haruhi--and toning down her
proclivity for bizarre plots and ideas.  I must say, I'm very pleased
with their work."

I think I'd know if I were something as extraordinary as an alien.  Or a
clone.  Or an alien clone.

"Oh, so they programmed you to think you were Haruhi, too?  Well, maybe
it's for the best.  If you're more normal or more easily fascinated by
mundane things, perhaps it'll make all our lives easier.  After all,
with Haruhi's looks and a tweaked mindset, I must say--"

I gave him an elbow to his stomach for his trouble.

"All right, all right," he said, coughing between words.  "Are you
really serious about this, Haruhi?"

As serious as Hatoyama is prime minister.

"Hatoyama hasn't been prime minister since Kan."

That's beside the point.  Kan-san always seems like he's on edge, like
he'll punch through a table or something and scare a room full of kids.
Hatoyama should come out of retirement.

"It would never happen, not after what he did with the base on
Okina--wait, why are we still talking about this?"

You started it, correcting me.

"Hey, Kyon!" somebody called across the room.  It was one of our
classmates.  I'd seen him before.

"Yo, Kunikida."

The boy approached us, smiling.  "How are you, Suzumiya-san?  I was
impressed you figured out Teacher's problem earlier.  How did you
recognize it was a limit to Euler's number so quickly?"

"Anybody who knew anything about math could tell right away," I said.
"Didn't you?"

He and Kyon exchanged a glance.  "Anyway, I just wanted to tell both of
you: I think one of your friends is looking for you."

"One of our friends?" said Kyon.  "Who?"

"The girl with short hair?  She used to wear glasses?  Nagato-san was
it?"

"Strange.  Nagato's usually in the club room as soon as classes are
over.  What could she want now?"

"Why don't you ask her?" asked the boy.  "She's just outside, see?"

He was right.  A group of three girls left the classroom, and that's
when Kyon and I saw her.  She was standing on the far side of the
hallway, a green hardcover in her right hand.  She stared, but she was
frozen there, like a statue.  That's Yuki for you.  She can be shy at
the strangest times.

"Yuki!" I said.  "Don't stay out there; come inside!"

She didn't move.

"Yuki!" I said again.  "Can you hear me?"

"Haruhi."  Kyon picked up his bag, looking to the doorway.  "Are you
going on to the club room?"

"Of course.  We've got to have big plans to look at this--"

"All right.  I'll bring Nagato as soon as we're finished."

"Oh really?" I said.  "You and Yuki have to talk about something
privately?  Planning something special?"

"We'll be there as soon as we can," he said.

Don't just walk away like you don't hear what I'm telling you.

But he didn't hear that either.  He slung his bag over his shoulder and
trotted to the hallway, hunching over at the waist to talk in a low
voice to Yuki.  She didn't say anything--nothing I heard, anyway--but
she led him away, out of sight.

I packed my things and left.  As I turned the corner, leaving the
hallway where our classroom is, I saw Yuki and Kyon still talking--or I
guess I should say, Kyon was talking and gesturing like usual, with Yuki
facing him and only him, hardly moving at all.

It must've had to do with her family.  Kyon told me that once, though I
don't quite remember when.  Yuki lives alone, after all.  She has
problems with her family, and being such a shy, quiet girl, she doesn't
like to talk about it.  I thought for a while she might leave before
second year started--Kyon said we should raise all hell if it came to
that--but she's still here.  She's our Yuki, after all.  The brigade
wouldn't be the same without its soft-spoken bookworm character.  You
have to have that for balance.

Still, it wasn't that long ago that Yuki was so sick.  To think, not one
of her family came to help her at all!  That's not right.  I know Kyon
thought I should stay out of it unless things looked desperate, and if
that's what Yuki wants, fine, but someone should teach those people a
thing or two.  You can't leave a girl like Yuki all by herself all the
time.  She might just snap when nobody's looking.

For Yuki's sake, I hope we do as much for her as she does for us, but
she never says.  I guess if she did, she wouldn't be that quiet
character, would she?  I'm glad she's opened up to Kyon, but even Yuki
shouldn't get too many ideas.  She can't have Kyon all to herself.  He's
an important member of the brigade, too.

But he's not the only one.  Or I should say, they're not the only ones.
I crossed over the courtyard into the cultural annex.  I could already
smell the hot tea from outside the room.  I turned the knob.

"Afternoon!" I called, walking inside.

"Ah, good afternoon."  The boy at the table smiled, dealing out a hand
of six playing cards.  "As always, it's a joy to see you, Suzumiya-san."

That's Koizumi-kun, my deputy brigade chief.  Unlike Kyon and his snarky
attitude, Koizumi-kun is a calm and agreeable person.  He's a
philosopher of sorts, and because of that, he understands what we're
trying to do.  We scour the world for the extraordinary, and in that,
Koizumi-kun is my trusted right-hand man.

"Two-ten-jack."  Koizumi-kun dealt two hands:  one for himself and
another for the empty chair across from him.  The rest of the deck he
placed in-between, neatly lining up the edges.  "I'd hoped my partner
would be here by now.  Can I interest you in joining me instead?"

"No thanks.  We've got big things to do today!"

Koizumi-kun smiled again.  "As expected from our illustrious brigade
chief.  I await your plans eagerly."

See?  That's why we need Koizumi-kun around here.  The mysterious
transfer student is just as much a seeker of the unusual as I am.

"Suzumiya-san, good afternoon!"  At the far end of the table, our
resident maid poured a cup of green tea.  "It's _matcha_ today; I hope
you enjoy it!"

"Why matcha?" I asked.

"I enjoy sifting the powder.  The sieve is quaint but effective."

" 'Quaint'?"

She flinched, spilling a stream of tea on the table.  "Ah, I mean--oh
no, I'm getting it everywhere!"

That's our Mikuru-chan.  She's getting better at this--being clumsy when
it's cute.  It's taken a little time to train her, but I think she
understands her role here now.  Every organization needs someone like
her:  an irresistible character whose looks and mannerisms make men (and
some women) fall over to be near her.  That's not the only reason,
though.  It's rare that you find someone so fascinated by baseball bats
or a wooden wheel--by things that are ordinary because we've forgotten
what's special about them.

As Mikuru-chan scrambled for a dry rag, I gulped down the cup of tea and
set it on the table.  "All right," I said.  "Clean the mess,
Mikuru-chan, and then listen up!"

"Eh?"  She looked back and forth.  "Are we getting started so soon?
Kyon-kun and Nagato-san--I haven't seen either of them."

"I already saw them; they'll be late and pay the appropriate penalty.
Yuki's asking Kyon on a date or something."

Koizumi-kun's eyes widened.  He sat up, coughing, and spat out some of
his tea.

"Is that true?" asked Mikuru-chan.

"Who knows?  But that's not what we need to get started with.  Today,
the SOS Brigade has a mystery!"

"Ah, what a wonderful surprise," said Koizumi-kun.  "As you know, I'm a
fan of mysteries.  I've actually been consulting a collection of
detective stories recommended by Nagato-san, starting with Edgar Allan
Poe and his tales of C. Auguste--"

"It's not that kind of mystery," I said, "though if Koizumi-kun has a
scenario planned for summer vacation, by all means!"

"I'll endeavor to put plans in motion immediately," he said.  "I must
admit, I'm very much looking forward to an overseas venture.
Tsuruya-san's castle should provide a unique and challenging
atmosphere."  He smiled to himself.  "But perhaps that is a discussion
for another time.  I believe I've become carried away with this
digression."

"Not to worry," I said.  "The puzzle we have today concerns these!"

I slammed the coins on the table and let the two of them witness the
truth of things.

"Eh?  A hundred and fifty yen?"  Mikuru-chan picked up the fifty-yen
piece and looked through its hole.  "The aliens are defrauding us of
pocket change?"

Why does everyone keep saying that?

Koizumi-kun eyed the other, the hundred-.  He slid it off the table,
into his hand, and held it up to the light.  "Perhaps, Suzumiya-san, you
could explain to us what it is that's puzzling about these coins?"

"They used to be the same," I said.  "They were identical fifty-yen
coins before I put them in the vending machine this afternoon."

"I see.  Are you certain you made no mistake?  Or perhaps the mechanism
experienced a--hm, how should I say it--a glitch?"

_Glitch_ and _pocket change_--are they the words of the day around here?

"I didn't make any mistake," I said, "and if the machine was broken,
then everyone would've caught on and milked it dry.  There's something
unusual going on.  Maybe it's only a one-in-a-thousand chance, or maybe
only one-in-a-million, but defying the odds is what the SOS Brigade is
all about!  Am I right?"

"Of course," said Koizumi-kun.  "The brigade stands by its leader in
pursuing the unknown."

"That's the spirit!  Okay, I have a plan to investigate this.  We need
to be scientific and thorough.  We might have real, documentable
evidence of something extraordinary here!"

"That sounds like fun," said Mikuru-chan.  "I'm very interested in
seeing scientific methods in practice from this ti--I mean, this area.
How do we get started?"

"I'm glad you asked.  Koizumi-kun?"

"Yes?" he said.

"Excuse us for a few minutes."

He raised an eyebrow.  "But of course."  He took one last sip of tea,
and when he was in the hallway, I locked the door behind him.

"But, but, Suzumiya-san, I thought we didn't have to do that anymore!"

Don't be silly, Mikuru-chan.  Our resident Lolita-type mascot character
can't be restricted to just a sailor uniform or a maid outfit.  You have
to be flexible.  You have to be versatile.  You have to be able to wear
as much--or as little--as the situation requires.

That's what I love about Mikuru-chan's body.  She makes everything
between bunny girl outfits to a nun's habit look sexy.

A nun, huh?  That could be fun.  But that wasn't what I was going for.
Don't worry, Mikuru-chan.  We won't be exposing too much of your body.
I actually think one of your best outfits is one of the least revealing,
and for what I have in mind, we have to be at least a little tasteful.
What a shame that others can't enjoy your body like I do.

That made me wonder...

"Mikuru-chan," I started, "how do you feel about dressing up with me?"
I pulled gently on her uniform, exposing her shoulder.  "Is it as fun
for you as it is for me?"

She looked at me, tilting her head.  "Why does Suzumiya-san ask that
now?"

"No reason," I said.  "I just thought, you know, who would ever dress up
in bunny girl outfits or a maid costume if they were all by themselves?
You wouldn't, would you?  No one would."

"I guess that's true."  She nodded once, affirming it.  "The outfits
Suzumiya-san gives me to wear are pretty.  I like trying them out from
time to time."

There we go, Mikuru-chan!  That's the spirit!

"But I can take off my clothes slowly and by myself, too!"

Now where's the fun in that?  Honestly, you should be used to this by
now.  All right, all right, off with the skirt, off with the blouse.
Everything must go!

It didn't take long to get Mikuru-chan into the outfit we needed.  As
she dusted off her mittens, I went to the door.  "Koizumi-kun, we're
almost ready!" I called out.  "Are Kyon and Yuki back yet?"

"Unfortunately, I still seem to be alone here," he said.

That's fine.  I didn't know what was taking the two of them so long, but
we could get started without them.  All we had to do first was a little
bit of a supply run...


"Um, excuse me!"

Our destination was the square outside the train station.  Efficiency
was the thing.  The scientific method tells us that for a rare event to
be tested and probed fully, you need a huge number of trials.  That's
basic probability.  What we needed a lot of were coins--everything from
five yen a piece to five hundred would do (and maybe one yen each would
been helpful, too).  I'd thought for a moment we should knock over a
_pachinko_ parlor; that would've been fun.  We'd have needed a car or a
van of some sort.  Probably a van.  Koizumi-kun would watch the van.
Mikuru-chan and I would make a disturbance to distract the staff--this
I'll leave to the imagination--while Kyon and Yuki would hack or bust
into the machines and bag the cash.  They'd get away with Koizumi-kun,
who could explain away his presence to anyone suspicious without a
problem.  You see, that'd be efficient.  That'd be simple.  Kyon
would've shot it down in a heartbeat, I'm sure, because he has no
imagination.  Koizumi-kun might cautiously advise against it, and
Mikuru-chan would cry, hoping not to get arrested and go to jail.

That's fine.  A simpler, low-risk approach would do just as well,
especially to get Mikuru-chan outside in festive gear.

"Um, excuse me!"  She rang a bell on a stick and stood stiff as a board
in her outfit:  the red Santa suit I'd given her for Christmas with
white mittens for her hands.  "Please, the children of Bangladesh need
you!" she said, and in her other hand, she offered a red bucket.  She
trembled, looking around nervously.  "Suzumiya-san, am I doing this
right?"

"Of course!" I said.  We weren't that far away--Koizumi-kun and I, that
is.  It'd be suspicious to people if someone like Mikuru-chan were
accompanied by the two of us, so we hid behind a support pole.  That was
the safest thing.  After all, if you left Mikuru-chan by herself,
especially in that kind of outfit, she'd probably be dragged into an
alley by an unsavory old man and forced to polish his cane or something.
It's a brigade chief's duty to protect her members from things like
that.

She nodded slowly and started again.  "Please, help the people of
Bangladesh!" she cried.  "Their cities are falling to the Earth's core
from earthquakes!  Their roads are twenty meters underwater!  The fires
have turned all the trees to ash, and, um, the government has banned
them from the Facebook, too!  It's a humanitarian crisis, so please,
help them!"

A couple of business men walked by with big grins on both of their
faces.  "This is for you, little lady," one of them said, and they each
stuffed a folded banknote into the bucket.

Mikuru-chan smiled.  "Thank you very much!"  She looked to our pole.
"Suzumiya-san, that was ten thousand yen!"

And that's why the brigade needs Mikuru-chan.  See, Kyon?  This is your
punishment for being late--missing Mikuru-chan's award-winning
performance.

"And why should I be punished, hm?"

That was Kyon with Yuki.  They were standing in plain sight, drawing
Mikuru-chan's attention, so I dragged them behind the pole with us.

"You do realize that four high-school students can't possibly fit behind
a thin white pole," said Kyon.  "It's a bit impossible."

"Shh!" I said.

"And what are you making Asahina-san do?  You leave a not for us to come
to the usual place, and I find you've got Asahina-san dressed up ringing
a bell like she's in the Salvation Army?"

Exactly that.  Honestly, what took you so long?  We had to go find a
bell and bucket that were the right look and everything!

"Nagato needed a minute of my time, that's all.  So what now?  We watch
you continue to swindle people of their hard-earned money?"

They're donating to a good cause.  They just misunderstand what cause it
is.

" 'Misunderstand,' you say?"  He raised an eyebrow.  "The only thing I
misunderstand is how it got to be Christmas again."

Most kids I know welcome the chance for presents again.

"True that."  He smiled to himself, peering around our hiding pole.
Really, Kyon--are you sure you don't want to tip her yourself?

"Ah, Suzumiya-san."  Koizumi-kun waved a hand in front of my face.
"Forgive my interruption, but I think we have a situation developing."

I looked back, around the pole.  Some boys eyed Mikuru-chan like a pair
of hawks.  "Come on, pretty Santa," said one of them.  "Why don't you
come home with us, and we can unwrap your present?"

"EH?" said Mikuru-chan, eyes wide.

"Hey!" I called out, marching up to them.  "No one says improper things
to Mikuru-chan, and _no one_ touches her!"

"Says the ear fetishist," Kyon muttered.

Yuki blinked.  "What is a--"

"Never mind that!"  He looked around.  "Did I say that out loud?"

You know, you guys are really killing the moment here.  I've got these
two brats who care nothing for Mikuru-chan's dignity, and you're talking
about ear fetishes?

"Our sincerest apologies," said Koizumi-kun.  "We would very much like
to see you dismiss the rabble, Suzumiya-san."

That's more like it!

"We aren't going to be 'dismissed' or whatever so easily!" one of the
boys shot back.  "What are you doing to do to stop us?"

Take one more step, and I'll show you.

The first boy balled his fists and stepped.

CRUNCH!  A dust cloud rose, swallowing the boy and his friend whole.

"Haruhi, Asahina-san, here!"   A hand grasped my elbow and yanked me
into the clear.  Koizumi-kun too--he covered his nose and mouth with his
sleeve and guided Mikuru-chan by the shoulders to safety.  There were
pebbles sprayed out from the ground.  The boy who challenged me, who
thought he could look at Mikuru-chan, stood at the edge of a man-sized
sinkhole.

"What the hell?" said his friend.

The first boy backed away.  He rolled his ankle; he landed flat on his
ass.  With some help from his friend, he limped away.  He put his arm
over his friend's shoulder, and the other carried him.  Serves him
right.  He's at least thirty-four thousand, two hundred and seventy-six
years too early to be thinking about violating Mikuru-chan!

"As opposed to thirty-four thousand, two hundred and seventy-_seven_
years?" said Kyon.  "Or, as opposed to, say, you?"

Shut up!

"Still," said Mikuru-chan, "it's frightening to think the pavement was
so fragile underneath."

"It must be a freak phenomenon," said Koizumi-kun.  "A broken water pipe
could've leaked into the space beneath us, eroding the rocks until they
lacked the integrity to maintain the sidewalk above them.  Truly an
unfortunate calamity."

That must've been it.  Crazy, really.  To think I dared that kid to take
one more step, and he did.  He could've been killed if he'd stepped just
a few centimeters to the side.  That'll teach a brat to hit on
Mikuru-chan, I guess, but...

"Guys," I said.  "Let's go.   We can do plenty with what we've gotten so
far.  I don't think we'll get any more donations today unless we say
we're with the road bureau."

Mikuru-chan dropped her bell in the bucket, making an unholy noise and
spilling some of the loose change we'd gathered.  I helped her pick some
of it up, but that's when I saw them:  Kyon, Yuki, and Koizumi-kun.  At
the pole we'd been hiding behind, they were talking.  Yuki spoke so
softly, and Kyon and Koizumi-kun leaned in, straining to hear.  After a
while, Koizumi-kun answered her, whispering, with a serious look on his
face.

"What's this you're all up to?" I said.  "The brigade chief tolerates no
surprises unless they're good ones, in which case she'll happily
accept."

The boys jerked--hands caught in the cookie jar, I took it.  Yuki didn't
move.

"You're quite right, of course," said Koizumi-kun smoothly.  "I
apologize for being so improper.  In light of the erosion problem in
this area, Nagato-san and I were debating the problem of... oh, what was
it?  Let me see.  I seem to have forgotten the whole conversation now
that I'm distracted.  How very silly of me.  It was--"

"Turbulence in fluid flow," said Yuki.

"Oh, of course!  The solution to the Navier-Stokes equation in three
dimensions, a most puzzling problem."

"That requires you to hold your face so close to Kyon's?" I said.

He stepped back.  "Forgive me.  I gave in to temptation..."

Kyon took two steps back.

"All right," I said, "come on, let's pack it all up.  We have some
searching to do.  Mikuru-chan, let's go!"

"What about the Bangladeshi children?"

"I made all that stuff up!  Come on!"

"So they didn't get banned from the Facebook?"


We made a run on the bank with the money Mikuru-chan collected:  a grand
total of about fifteen thousand yen.  The teller gave me a cross look
when I asked him to break the bills into fifty-yen coins, but it was
Kyon who gave me the crosser look.  He eyed the bucket as we undid each
roll of coins and poured them in.

"I'm going to have to carry all these, aren't I?" he said.

Bingo!

We returned to school around five that afternoon, and that's where the
real part of the plan had to come through.  We had around three hundred
coins from our SOS donation fund.  The only reasonable thing to do was
test the vending machine:  send them all through and see when the magic
happens.

"That's ridiculous," said Kyon as we gathered in the courtyard.  "How
long is that going to take?"

How should I know?  Do I look like a human calculator to you?

"Seven hundred and ninety-two seconds to pass every coin through this
mechanism," said Yuki.

Kyon twitched.  "Nagato," he said, "was that a joke?"

"Perhaps."

That's good, Yuki, but it's not enough just to send every coin we have
through there all willy-nilly.  We have to be scientific about this!

"Your idea of science frightens me," said Kyon.

Oh shut up.

Honestly, if he just took a moment to listen, he'd see that it was a
simple plan.  If just one coin went through that machine and changed, I
wanted to know everything there was to know about what it used to look
like and what it became.  That's why all five of us would have a job to
do.  From the bucket of coins, Mikuru-chan would stand.  She'd take one
out and number it with a felt-tip marker.  She'd hand it off to
Koizumi-kun, who'd take photos front and back, and Yuki would do the
same after each coin was fed through the machine, the job of which
belonged to...

"Me," said Kyon.

Bingo again!

"And what are _you_ doing?"

Oversight, of course.  Someone has to make sure things run smoothly.

He slapped his palm to his forehead. "This is madness.  These coins may
as well be the last Greeks guarding the pass of Thermopylae.  Not one of
them is going to come out the way you think."

"There _are_ three hundred of them," said Koizumi-kun.

"That's not the point!  If the odds of this machine spitting out the
wrong coin are just one in a hundred thousand, the chance of even one of
these coins seeing anything 'interesting' are--gods, what would they
even be?"

What are you saying?  We need more coins?  I mean, we could get more.
Mikuru-chan?

"EH?" she squeaked.

Or if Mikuru-chan's frightened from all those perverted eyes watching
her, then maybe Yuki wants to dress up?

She looked to Kyon, who twitched nervously.  "You don't need my
permission..." he said.  He rubbed his forehead, letting out a heavy
sigh.  "Anyway.  Haruhi, if you're bent on this, fine.  Let's do it.
After all, Nagato said it would take only a little over ten minutes,
right?"

"The estimate was sound until Suzumiya Haruhi announced her amended
plan," said Yuki.

"And now?" asked Kyon.  "How long do you think this plan of Haruhi's
will take?"

All eyes turned to Yuki, who blinked once before her lips parted again.

"Longer," she said.

Well it _shouldn't_ take so much longer, but it did.  Mikuru-chan
smeared the black marker ink on the coins as she passed them and fell
behind, keeping Koizumi-kun and the rest of the assembly line waiting.
Yuki and Koizumi-kun's phones ran out of space to hold all six hundred
photos that were needed, but that didn't take too long to fix, as Yuki
uploaded the images from each onto some private server she had
somewhere.  Still, I'm most disappointed in Kyon.  Really, how do you
injure yourself putting coins down a slot and hitting _coin return_ over
and over?

"I'd like to see you do that three hundred times without twisting or
spraining something," he said, wringing out his fingers.

We filled the bucket back to the top again and headed back to the club
room, but already, something wasn't right.  I asked Yuki on the way up
if any coins seemed unusual coming out of the machine.

"I received only fifty-yen coins," she said.

Every one?

"Yes."

How could that be?  I knew what I'd seen.  Even if whatever happened was
rare, like a disease that only affects one person out of the seven
billion on this earth, there had to be some reason for it.  I had two
fifty-yen coins in my hand that afternoon, and one of them came back
different.  That was a fact.  I wouldn't forget it.  I didn't mistake
it.  Whatever happened then, there should've been evidence of it in
these three hundred coins we'd collected.

But there wasn't.  We unpacked our laptops and went over every image
individually.  Some of us were faster than others--Yuki flipped through
the whole set in less than ten seconds while Mikuru-chan fumbled on her
keyboard and found herself on a blue screen for half an hour--but the
conclusion was the same.  Even I... won't deny it.

We had a useless bucket of fifty-yen coins, none of which had been
affected or changed in any way.

"Well, on the bright side," said Koizumi-kun, "we have fifteen thousand
yen to spend on activities and events.  We could put the proceeds to an
end-of-term party or use it as an entrance fee into another sporting
event.  I would be delighted to dust off my athletic shoes if our
brigade chief wishes."

It was a bucket of useless metal discs.  I didn't care what we did with
it.  The sun was low in the sky, the shadows from the trees and
buildings long and growing by the second.  I stood by the window and
made the final order of the day.

"Go home, everyone," I said.  "You're all dismissed."

The chairs dragged against the floor.  "Um," Mikuru-chan began, "will we
try to get more coins tomorrow?"

I doubt it.

"Have a good evening, then, Suzumiya-san," she said.

Good night.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow," said Koizumi-kun.

Bye.

There was a quiet set of footsteps, almost inaudible.  See you later,
too, Yuki.

The door closed.  Someone was still there.

"You staying here all night?" I asked.

Kyon drummed his fingers on the table.  "Who can say."

You know what?  I don't get that guy.  Sometimes, I think I understand
him, but then he does something like this and surprises me.  I
understand myself just fine.  I still remember the events in my life
that are important to me.  I hear the crowds at Koshien cheering as a
home run ball soars into the stands, but their cries are like a lonely
child's in a vacuum--they're small.  They're meaningless.  They're
insignificant.  I see through the darkness on a muggy night in July,
four years ago, but still I can't make out that mysterious guy's face.
These are the things that have made me who I am.  They're why I search
for something bigger than myself, why I know there are mysteries in the
universe to solve.

Kyon doesn't talk that way.  Sometimes--even most of the time--I feel
like he'd rather sip tea and sit in the club room all day, letting the
world pass by.

"You're really down about this magic coin thing not working out, huh?"

You make it sound like it's totally a figment of my imagination.

"Are you going to let it go?" he asked.

"So what if I do?  You've been saying it's silly all day.  If you want
to gloat or something, do it somewhere else!"

It was getting late.  The sun fell beneath the horizon, but the sky was
still light.  Everything outside had faded to where I could just make
out Kyon's reflection in the window.  He sat back with a pensive look,
and said,

"It's unlike you to give up on something you've set your sights on so
easily."

What's that supposed to mean?

"It means the brigade supports you in whatever you choose to do," he
said.  "Asahina-san, Koizumi, Nagato..."

Yeah, and?

"Are you staying much longer?" he asked.

"Maybe."

He scooted back in his seat, rising.  "Then you have a good night, too,
brigade chief."

Night.

He turned the doorknob, stopping there.  "Oh, and Haruhi?"

"What now?"

He frowned.  "Never mind."

The door closed.

Like I said.  That guy confuses me sometimes.

I walked home alone after dark.  The brigade "supports" me, he says.
Well of course they do.  They're all interesting characters.  They're
looking for the extraordinary with me.

Honestly, I don't know why that boy is still here if he doesn't want to
be so badly.

Well, let me take that back.  I don't know why he hangs around us,
acting the way he does, but the brigade wouldn't be the same without
him, either.  It's great to have the cute, Lolita girl; the quiet
book-lover; and the mysterious transfer student, but put the three of
them together?  That's not enough.  It's not balanced.  It doesn't fit
all the way.  You need an everyman to keep them all in check--someone
who protects Mikuru-chan, who brings Yuki out her shell, who tempers
Koizumi-kun's philosophizing and digressions.

You need someone like Kyon to keep me, the brigade chief, from riding
roughshod over people so they can't fight back.  And you know what's
worse?  Just when he thinks he's won, that I won't push this "magic coin
thing" anymore, he backs off and says I should keep going for it.

To be honest, I don't really know what to say about that.  All I wanted
to do was find something really exciting in this world.  Is there time
to still do that?  Sure.  I've been this patient.  I can wait and keep
looking.  Maybe it really was a simple glitch in the mechanism.  It's
probably not the first vending machine that acted funny.  It won't be
the last.

I walked by that vending machine on the way home.  I didn't plan it that
way, but maybe my body did, or my mind, subconsciously... whatever.
Just that afternoon, at lunchtime, I'd been thinking.  I was content
with things, at least a little bit.  I could stand that there were no
storm clouds on the horizon or signs of UFOs watching.  I guess I
thought that they were still out there but they'd be found later, in
their own time.  A fritzy vending machine spitting out the wrong
coins--I'd latched on to it without really thinking at all.

I dug into my pockets.  I found the pair of coins:  the fifty and the
hundred.  I dropped the smaller, hollow one into the machine.  This
would be the end of it.  Once the machine took my money, once I guzzled
down a can of water and sugar and threw it away, there would be nothing
more to think about, nothing else to test.

I put the reeded edge of the hundred-yen coin to the slot.

And I pulled it back.  I pocketed that coin again because I realized
something:  as much as I thought about that day four years ago whenever
spring receded and the days grew hot, muggy, and long, I had nothing to
remember that Tanabata by.  Rain had washed away my chalk drawing.  I
had no photo or drawing to capture John Smith's likeness.  Though this
simple hundred-yen coin meant nothing in reality, I kept it anyway.  It
was a glimpse of something extraordinary, even if that glimpse was
false.

I pushed the return and took the fifty-yen piece back with me, too.
Kyon was right, despite his backtracking.  Come tomorrow, I thought I'd
drop the whole thing and move on.

I walked in the door to my house.  It was cool inside.  The television
was on but muted.

"I'm home," I said.

"Welcome home," said my mother, chopping onions in the kitchen.  "I
didn't think it'd take you so long, but I got started with dinner."

I made a face.

"I don't think I'll make you or your father deathly ill just by holding
a knife, see?  The tomatoes are diced over there, too.  Everything's
ready; you should be able to jump right in without any preparation."

"All right."  I slipped off my shoes.  "Let me just put my stuff away."

"Long day?" asked Mother.

"A little bit."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, Kan-san's not having a good day,
either."

Kan?  What?

"Look at the television."

I stepped into the living room.  There was no sound, but the headline at
the bottom of the screen made it clear.

"He's resigning?" I said.  "Why?"

"Apparently, he went to an elementary school today to read to some
children.  One of the kids started bothering him, and--oh, I don't know
what it is the boy said, but it made Kan-san so angry.  He made a scene
and frightened the whole class!  Can you believe it?  They have parents
all over saying he made their children cry."

Fretful Kan got angry...

"But that's not the most interesting part," said Mother.  "It seems his
old master Hatoyama-san is taking over again.  Never would've expected
that, not after the way he was shown the door."

Kan and Hatoyama.  Kyon and I were just talking about them this
afternoon.  I said that Hatoyama should be prime minister again,
regardless of the reasons he left.  I said that Kan would blow up, that
he was always on edge, that he would be liable to do something stupid,
like...

"Mother," I began, "what did Kan-san do to scare those children?"

She put down the chopping knife and glanced at the ceiling in thought.
"Why, I think he threw a fit and chopped through the table he was
sitting at."  She laughed.  "Broke it cleanly in two.  Can you believe
it?"