[FFML] [SHnY][AU] At a Glance (1/2)

[Brian Randall]

Splitting this in half.


     At a Glance

     A 'Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi' fanfiction

     Disclaimer: The novel series of Suzumiya Haruhi that began with
'The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi' is the creation of Nagaru
Tanigawa.  No disrespect is intended by the posting of this
fanfiction, as I do not own the characters or settings involved.  I'm
merely dabbling with another set of paints.

     Note: This is an AU, so it helps to be familiar with the first
novel, or the first season of the anime.
     -------------------------------

     People often reflect on the trivial-seeming thoughts that occur
to them before a change in their life, something that causes their
perspective to shift in a way they never anticipated.  Sometimes they
are specific things; belief in Santa Claus, perhaps.  Maybe a desire
for an encounter with the supernatural.

     For reasons that don't bear being explained just at this point,
my own fantasies and desires as I entered high school were different.
Naturally, I had long outgrown wishes to meet espers, super powered
martial artists, most magical girls....  Granted, I did have my
biases.  I wouldn't have minded meeting an angel, maybe a kind alien,
or a generous time traveler.

     But wishing for those things didn't get me anywhere, really, and
life continued without them.  So, as most will do, I learned to adapt.

     When I entered Kitago, my desire, more than anything else, was to
have the most normal life I could.  To make friends, to attend classes
with my fellow students....  Maybe find a girlfriend....

     Reflecting on that, it seems very simple.  Then again, isn't it
said that the most simple desires are the purest?

     Ah, well, that's probably not true at all.  It's something I say
to make it seem my wishes were more reasonable than they are.  It took
some doing, and quite a bit of unashamed begging on my part, but my
wish was granted, mostly.

     I got to go to middle school and did reasonably well.  So,
despite my mother's misgivings, I attended high school as well.

     Really, the hardest part about it was actually getting there.

     That probably sounds like a pathetic achievement, from your
perspective, and I'll grant that on the surface, it may even be that.
I don't really know enough people like myself to say that it's wrong,
either, though my personal feelings....  Well.

     These digressions aside, certain things I will never forget.  I
learn few faces, but I remember every face I learn.  The voices of my
classmates I know will echo in my ears for long years, of that I am
certain.

     However, until the day I die, I will never for a single heartbeat
forget the introduction of Suzumiya Haruhi on my first day at Kitago.

     I gave a short speech of my own, keeping it minimal, naturally,
avoiding pointing out anything about myself that would make me sound
any different from any other student.  I had already listened to the
speeches of a few others I had known from middle school, so I was
confident there was no need to explain myself.  Naturally, I didn't
rise from my seat to deliver my speech.

     This brought a few quiet murmurs, but I was certain it wouldn't
be an issue.  Our teacher, who had introduced himself as Okabe, made
an approving noise and led a quiet round of applause at the end of my
speech before calling for the next student.

     I heard her seat slide back across the floor as she rose,
slapping her palms against the desk.  "From East Middle school, I am
Suzumiya Haruhi!" she practically yelled, her voice high and firm, but
edged with frustration.  "I have no interest in regular people!  If
you are an esper, alien, slider, or time traveler, come meet me!  That
is all."

     Without turning around, I heard her seat scrape back as she sat
down heavily.

     This was our first meeting.

     ***

     At some point later, between classes, I turned halfway in my
seat, not really facing her, but obviously not facing the front of the
class.  "So," I began, maintaining my usual expression, a small
half-smile, "did you really mean that?"

     "Mean what?" she returned, crossly.  "And what's with that, not
even meeting the eyes of the person you address?"

     "No disrespect," I murmur.  "Anyway, about time travelers and aliens?"

     "Hmm," she muses very slowly.  Haruhi has a tremendous presence;
I can feel her intensity on me.  "Have I met you before somewhere?
Maybe a long time ago?"

     I think I would remember.  "You tell me?" I ask her, quirking one
corner of my mouth up in a deeper smile.

     "Humph.  So, what are you then, some kind of poser?  You know,
they don't let students here dye their hair; you may look cool now,
but they'll fix that.  Don't you know, 'the nail that sticks out gets
hammered down'?"

     I turn to face forward in my seat again.  "I've heard that
before," I say calmly.  "But they'll leave me alone."

     "Humph!" I hear her muttering under her breath a bit after that;
my hearing is exceptionally sharp.  "Who does he think he is, trying
to act all cool?  And who do you think you're really impressing with
one stupid white streak?"

     My mistake; reaching out to this oblivious girl....  Well.

     ***

     At lunch that day, Kunikida, a friend from middle school, moves
to sit next to me.  Haruhi runs off, so another student joins us for
the meal.  Taniguchi has bad enunciation, but it's not the end of the
world; I do detest people who talk with their mouths full, but what
can you really do?  I don't know that we're friends, Taniguchi and I,
but he's amiable enough, and not insulting.

     We stick together in a trio throughout the opening athletic
events.  I don't have a P.E. uniform, since I'm exempted, but Kunikida
and Taniguchi come to sit by me and study the girls as they go through
their athletic trials.  Taniguchi gleefully tells me which of the
girls he's rated the highest, and while I listen, it's really
difficult for me to appreciate all of the details he shares.

     "What about from our class?" I ask, interrupting his tirade.  "If
you're judging girls, who's ... good?"

     "Eh?  Oh," Taniguchi answers, his lecture cut short.  "Well....
You've met Suzumiya Haruhi, and while she's got top athletic skills,
grades, and what everyone will admit is a nice body....
Trouble-maker, one hundred percent, maybe more.  She's done some crazy
things, and she's bad luck.  My advice is to avoid her at any cost!"

     "Well, we're seated together by name," I reply.  "That's not
likely to change.  You're behind her, aren't you?"

     "That's exactly right!" Kunikida's hearty laugh agrees.
"Taniguchi, you're already in Kyon's debt!  She knows you, but pays
attention to him because he sits in front."

     High school dream number two: destroyed.  Ah, well, Kunikida
didn't mean any harm by it.  I'm confident by the end of the day,
everyone will refer to me by that nickname.

     Pity, really.

     "Aside from her?" I ask.

     "Ah, well....  Next, and I'll say she's the best of the lot,
Asakura Ryouko," Taniguchi continues.  "A double plus, in my book!
Ideal personality, impossibly hot body; every girl wants to be her
friend, every guy would love to date her!"

     "Obviously."

     "Oh, man, Kyon!"

     Yep, the nickname is latched onto me, now.  No escape.

     "You don't know--  Her hair is perfect, her legs are _fine_....
That rack is a pretty sweet sight for sore eyes!"

     Time for someone, no, make that anyone else's opinion.  "What do
you think, Kunikida?" I ask.

     "Mmm....  Well, I don't really know about grading girls based on
looks ... I think I know your thoughts on that."

     No need to explore that any further.  I catch something in the
distance, and I tilt my head, focusing on it.

     "Eh, there's Suzumiya being the natural-born gifted athlete,"
Taniguchi says, somewhat irritated.  "But, I dunno....  If you
_really_ want to give it a shot, Kyon, I'm told she doesn't turn
anyone down.  _Anyone_.  Her longest relationship wasn't a full week,
and her shortest lasted just five minutes!"

     I didn't ask, Taniguchi....

     "Don't do that to yourself; you already took a bullet for me by
sitting in front of her!"

     "It's funny," I remark, face in my usual fixed half-smile.  "She
doesn't seem to know?"

     "Eh!?  She can't tell?" Taniguchi gasps.  "You're kidding!  Well,
tell her--"

     "It's actually kind of nice," I interrupt him.  "I like being
treated just like anyone else.  Don't you?"

     "Er....  I can't say I agree," Taniguchi says doubtfully.  "But
it's your call.  Personally, I'd make the most of what you've got, if
you want my opinion."

     I didn't ask for it, actually.

     "Ah, sorry, Kyon," Kunikida says, his voice troubled.

     "No, no," I tell him quickly.  "I appreciate your help, Kunikida.
 Don't get the wrong idea."

     "It's decided!" Taniguchi announces.  "Kyon, realize what a
personal sacrifice I'm making for myself, here, but tomorrow I'm going
to explain your situation to Asakura Ryouko!  If she's half as nice as
she seems, I'm positive that she'll treat you well."

     And that's how my next trouble began.

     ***

     Personally, I believe that Taniguchi's 'personal sacrifice' was
an excuse for him to talk to the most likable girl in our class.  So,
even though I recalled her introduction vaguely -- she was actually
the second student to be introduced, she was introduced to me again.

     I didn't bow to her -- I never bow, really, not to anyone.  I'm a
firm believer in handshakes, even if they're a Western concept, and
most of the people around me take it in stride.  Why wouldn't they?

     She sounded friendly enough, a faint note of concern in her voice
as Taniguchi and she discussed my situation as though I wasn't there.

     Exactly what I had tried to avoid.

     "So," Taniguchi said, in the manner of one who has completed a
great task, "I leave Kyon in your care, Asakura-san!"

     "Well, I don't believe Kyon will be trouble for anyone," she
replied in a warm voice.  "You aren't a trouble-maker, are you
Kyon-kun?"

     "Not intentionally," I answer.

     "It's decided, then," she tells me.  "How do you come to school?"

     "I take the train," I answer.  "Just like almost everyone else.
I get off at the station at the bottom of the hill and take the path
of most resistance.  It's not that hard, is it?"

     "That's commendable!" she tells me.  "Okay, I'll meet you there
every morning from now on, and make sure you get to class on time.
Won't that be nice?"

     My fixed half-smile doesn't waver.  I've been told I'm just not
expressive enough, but I cant really bring myself to be concerned
about it, all things considered.  "If you like," I answer.  "Well, if
you end up becoming class representative, it'll become an imposition
for you.  Kunikida doesn't live far from me; we went to middle school
together, so with his help, I'll be fine."

     "Are you close friends, then?"

     My phone has five numbers on speed dial on it.  Those are the
only numbers I call.  One is my mother's cell.  Two is my home.  Even
though she's only ten, my sister has a cell, too, and she's number
three.  Kunikida is five, and a girl I studied with in middle school
is six.  Very simple, and I like the layout.  The top three buttons
are my family, the right side of the middle row are my friends.

     Four is an unlucky number, so that is unassigned.  That's also
why I left that girl's number on my phone; I don't want to have only
four numbers.  Realistically, though this may sound a bit sad,
Kunikida may be my only actual friend.

     Well, an honest reply is: "Kunikida is my best friend."

     "Is that so?  Well, good!  But what makes you think I'd be class
representative?"

     "You seem popular," I answer.  I can tell by her voice, though.
She has that concerned, somewhat affectionate tone that everyone
naturally gravitates towards like a mother hen.  "Hmm, that sounds
like a weak answer," I realize aloud, right after I say it.  "Let's
say I have a sense of intuition, and more than just being popular,
everyone looks up to you?"

     "Hehe, that's very kind of you, Kyon-kun," she tells me.  The
smile is in her voice.  "Still....  If I were to gain other
responsibilities....  It would be best to have more friends, wouldn't
it?"

     "Naturally," I answer her.

     "Ah, I know!  Suzumiya-san seems to need friends as well!  Why
not keep up conversations with her?  Perhaps you two could become
close!"

     I can honestly say I didn't see that coming.

     I'll admit, though.  Before Taniguchi's 'sacrifice', Haruhi had
initiated a conversation with me again that morning.  It went like
this:

     "Playing with a pocket computer before class?" she asks, poking
me in the back as she sits down.  "What kind of delinquent are you?"

     "Oh, you know," I answered her, turning halfway around and giving
my usual half-smile.  "The kind that conquers all that falls beneath
his watchful gaze.  My plans for world domination are contained in
here."

     "Real modest, aren't you?" she retorts.  "What an idiot.  Anyway,
you got special permission?"

     "It has my textbooks on it," I say, more honestly.  "Makes things simple."

     "What?  Are you kidding?"

     "I have a bad habit of losing things.  One PDA is easier to keep
track of than a collection of textbooks."

     "...right," she says, in the tone of one who believes they are
being lied to.

     I don't really know that I'd consider this exchange a strong
basis for a friendship.  I'll admit, she amuses me, more than just a
little bit.  But friends?  Doubtful.

     "I'll talk with her," I tell Ryouko.  "But I can promise nothing."

     ***

     True to her word, Ryouko is waiting for me at the train station
on the way to school every day.  We walk to the school together, even
though I always show up at least a half-hour early.

     I don't run.

     "It's a nice, bright day out today!" Ryouko tells me, some time
during our third week of class.  "Ah, the skies are clear, the leaves
are green ... I can't wait for summer uniforms!"

     Doesn't make much difference to me, really.  "It's warm," I say.

     "Aha, sorry, Kyon-kun, I just like to admire the world around us,
you know?"  She takes my elbow in one hand, pulling me closer to her
to speed up the pace a bit.  "Do you?"

     "'Summer rain; on the wall traces of; torn poem cards,'" I quote at her.

     "Ah, hmm ... Basho?"

     I nod, not turning my face.  "I like the way Basho describes
things," I add.

     "Do you write?"

     "I ... a little," I confess, nodding again.  "In middle school,
when I was studying with a friend, we would occasionally write renga."

     "Ooh!  Collaborative linked verse!?"  The amazement in Ryouko's
voice seems somehow misplaced.  "I'm a huge fan of that~!  But ... no
one ever wants to make renga with me.  Ah, let's do one now!  Shall I
go first?"

     "If you like," I agree.  "But short ones.  Maybe two haiku and
responses each?  There's only two of us, after all."

     "So, almost a rokku, then?  That's fine!" she says, pausing a
moment before she begins.  "Sun shines in clear sky; footsteps carry
over earth; today's journey starts."  She pauses again, waiting my
response.

     "Heads shy away from the sun; what gives life also can burn."
She makes a thoughtful noise at my response, and I begin the next
haiku: "There is no wind now; only echoes of winter; whispers of the
storms."

     "Spring and renewal begin; life bursts anew from the earth."  She
takes a tiny, sharp breath and holds it a moment before adding,
"Scents of ocean now; the sun touches on the sea; wind bears and is
born."

     I draw something of a blank for the next verse, and fumble a bit
for words.  It's all sun and wind....  Two seven syllable lines before
my next haiku, my response to her: "We swim through the sea of life;
like anchovies of the sun."  Ugh, that was weak.  I guess I'm a bit
rusty....  She giggles at my response anyway.  Well, here's my last
haiku, then: "Amaterasu; grace us forever with light; we fear and
adore."

     Smoothly, with no hesitation, she responds, "This is the role of
mankind; enslaved by mother nature."

     Yeah, that's not a renga I'd try and publish any time soon.  I
started out strong, but my follow-up was weak.  Her verses were good,
at least, I think.

     "We should do this every day we head to class together," she decides.

     That's the kind of thing that strikes me as adequate.  Making
poems with a soft-voiced friendly girl every day before school?
That's the treasured memory that you would hope to get out of
attending school, isn't it?

     Trust me; it never works out the way you'd expect.

     ***

     Over the following weeks, at Ryouko's insistence, if Haruhi
doesn't initiate conversations by badgering me about not conforming to
the behaviors of other students (a rich irony, that), I try and strike
up a discussion every morning.  Breaks and lunches are free; she tears
off like a demon escaping hell the second the chime rings.

     Me, I stay in my seat as long as possible.  Arrive early, leave
late, and the problem is solved.  I have developed a bladder of steel
by this point; if I were to get detention, I could tough the addition
of that out without flinching.  The one exception to this is when
everyone else changes for P.E.  The girls use our classroom, the boys
use the classroom next door, and I wait in the hall to follow Kunikida
and Taniguchi to the field.

     Today's renga with Ryouko were more failures on my part, though
her verses were strong and artistic, as usual.  She decided the
subject would be Haruhi, and her hair.  I don't really know why; I
gather that hair is important to women.  For myself, I like my hair
just long enough to slick back the critical length and ignore.

     Problem dealt with.

     Anyway, Ryouko told me the pattern of Haruhi's ever-changing
hairstyle and mentioned that I should ask Haruhi about it.  I'll
confess, this is the kind of thing I don't really understand any
adequate reason for.  Then again, with Haruhi's genius-level
obliviousness, it should be amusing, at least, to find her reaction.

     "So," I say, turning halfway to her as I hear her footsteps
coming from behind, and the characteristic thud of her flinging
herself into her seat.  "The tied off points correspond to the days of
the week?"

     "You noticed?" she asks, sounding both irritated and surprised.
"Well, yeah.  I think every day gives off a different feel."

     The only days that feel different to me are holidays and other
days I don't have school.  "It's not to attract aliens or time
travelers?"

     Immediately after that, she launches into an explanation
involving days of the week and colors.  I play with my PDA and tune
her out while pretending to nod thoughtfully.  Naturally, she doesn't
even seem to notice; I demolish the level four AI at chess.

     The level five AI absolutely murders me.

     "Ah," I tell her, when she's finally done.  "So that's how it is."

     "What, you have a problem with it?"  She sounds annoyed.

     Really, I could absolutely not care less.  "I think, if you're
trying to attract the paranormal, your hair is your slightest concern.
 Wouldn't they be more interested in your personality?"

     "...huh," she mumbles, still sounding annoyed.  I turn to face
forward in my seat again, catching more of the muttering she probably
thinks I can't hear.  "Who asked you, anyway?"  Yes, who indeed,
Haruhi?  Who indeed.

     ***

     The next day, of course, I was late to class thanks to a doctor's
appointment.  It wasn't all bad, though; I got to take a cab to school
once it was over.  Kunikida met me as I wandered down the halls,
because I arrived between periods.  "Kyon," he said in a low tone,
voice minutely awed, "I don't know what you've said to Suzumiya-san,
but she cut her hair in response to it."

     "Amazing," I reply.  "Naturally, I really don't care."

     "You should at least ask," he says doubtfully.  "Come on....
You're a bit late, but the votes haven't been tallied; you can still
decide who you want for class representative."

     "Does it seem that Asakura-san is going to win?" I ask.

     "Ah ... most likely," he answers, tone apologetic.

     Pity.  My renga haven't really been improving; she'll probably be
too busy to walk to school with me.  Well, it's not like I need her to
defeat the hill.

     "I'll vote for her, too," I decide.

     "Hehe, isn't it supposed to be anonymous?"

     "Another thing I really don't care about," I reply flippantly.  I
find my way to my desk at my leisurely pace.  The soft breathing of a
sleeping Haruhi and the anxious fidgeting of a standard Haruhi are
both absent.  As per normal, she's gone during break.

     She dashes in just before the chime, her footsteps from behind
pausing as they approach.  I can tell hers apart from anyone else's,
because the boys all weigh more, and the other girls don't walk like
they're trying to kill the floor.  She gives a quiet, annoyed,
"Humph!" and drops herself in her seat behind me.

     "So, what kept _you_?" she asks, irritated.

     I shrug.  "Council of Evil had a meeting," I tell her.  "We're
really stuck on this 'Superman' thing.  He keeps destroying all our
good doomsday devices, you know?"

     "Really," she says in a flat, icy tone.

     The teacher stumbles in, dropping notes and books with a loud
crash, apologizing loudly to the class.  Deciding we have a minute
before true order is restored, I half turn towards Haruhi, and give my
usual half-smile.  Are those two halves a whole bit of effort for her?
 Or a quarter?

     "Yeah, really -- but I found out a perfect plan to stop him.
Now, I haven't ever seen Superman myself, obviously, but I hear he's
bulletproof, right?"

     "Supposedly," she returns, grudgingly curious where I'm going with this.

     I force a full smile.  "Well, after you run out of bullets, you
throw your gun at him, right?"

     "Yeah, and he dodges it," she says, annoyed.

     "Exactly!  We just need a gun that launches other guns at him,
and he'll be so busy dodging, the world will be ours for the taking!"

     Taniguchi snickers in the seat behind Haruhi.

     "Wow, do you take classes to learn things that stupid to say?"
she asks, unable to keep a tiny trace of amusement from her tone.
That gets a snicker out of him, too.  Well, Taniguchi is nothing, if
not easily amused.

     "It's a gift," I tell her.  Actually, it's a dumb joke I found on
the internet.  I always keep a couple squared away for the hell of it.
 "Anyway, what's up with the change in hairstyle?"

     "At least you noticed," she grumbled, again at that 'you're not
supposed to hear me' volume.  I turn to face forward.  "Do I need a
reason?" she asks haughtily.  "I felt like a change!"

     And changing it every day wasn't working out?  Whatever.

     "As long as it works for you."

     "It wasn't for me," she whispers.

     Sharp hearing is a gift and a curse.

     ***

     After Ryouko became class representative, which was that day, our
seating order was reassigned.  For simplicity, pretty much everyone
but me drew lots for where they would sit.

     I have a seat in the row furthest from the doors, but at the very
front of class; quite accessible.  Well, the end of an era, right?
Take care, Haruhi, wherever you end up being assigned!

     ...I foolishly think.

     Everyone gets up and mills around to go to their new desks
simultaneously, which is great fun for me.  After I get to my new
seat, Haruhi asks me, sounding amused, "Are you always so clumsy?  Is
that why you don't have to do anything in P.E.?"

     "If you must know," I answer, not turning to face her, "I'm
actually a ninja.  My home is just small pieces of furniture and
personal items on ten meter tall bamboo poles in a pool of sharks.
This tame terrain is hard on me, since I'm fresh out of enemies, and
it'd be unfair for someone with my ninjutsu to square off against my
fellow students.  It's really for everyone else's safety!"

     "Geez," she says with a trace of amusement and a load of feigned
disdain, "if you were the dictator of an island country, you would be
Fidel Sarcastro!"

     "Ooh," I remark.  "Nice."

     I'll need to remember that one.

     "I'll slash enemies to ribbons with my razor sharp wit!"

     I can't help but laugh a little; she chuckles, too.  How odd; did
I just have a friendly moment with Haruhi?

     ***

     "So," I start, the next day, when she sits behind me, "is it true
that you'll date anyone who asks?"

     "Huh?" she returns, her voice sounding strange.  "What, you and
Asakura-san already broke up?"

     I cock my head to one side.  "Hey, class representative," I call out.

     "Yes?" Ryouko replies from the desk next to mine (also assigned,
not drawn for, surprise, surprise).

     "Were we dating?"

     "Oh, um, well, I'm quite flattered, and I'm sorry if you got that
idea, but...."  Her voice is simultaneously amused and apologetic.
"Well, I think you're a fine person and a good friend, Kyon-kun, but I
didn't think our renga meant _that_ much."

     "Aw, shucks," I reply.  "And Haruhi here just got my hopes up.  I
was all set to tell my mom and everything!"

     "We'll always have our renga!" Ryouko assures me.  "I wrote the
best ones down!"

     "Best ones?" I jibe.  "Must have been from the day I came late."

     "Now, now," she chides me.  "I have class representative work to do."

     Realistically, it's a bit of a pity, but I had no illusions.  And
speaking of pity, I wouldn't want that.

     "I'll leave you be," I tell her.  "Like you said; we'll always
have Paris, right?"

     She giggles, but otherwise doesn't respond.  Fair enough.

     "Anyway, I guess it's none of my business Haruhi, so, my bad."

     "Well, whatever you heard, it's probably all true," Haruhi
allows.  She sounds outwardly frustrated, but I get the hint of
longing in her voice as she rants, "I've dated a lot of guys, yeah,
but they're all losers!  Every single one!"

     "Oh?  Hmm, normal humans, right?"

     "Of course!  If I could find someone amazing, I'd date them --
boy or girl!  An alien, an esper....  Anything but a normal human!
Wouldn't that be more fun?"

     "Looks like it," I reply.

     "And on top of that," she continues, still ignorant of my way of
saying I don't care, "they almost always ask me out over the phone!
Isn't that kind of question best asked in person!?"

     "You know more than I do," I answer, facing forward and turning
my attention to the PDA.

     "Geez, why even ask if you ignore my answers?" she berates me.

     "I heard you," I tell her.  "I'm not ignoring you."

     "Why can't you look people in the eye when they talk with you?"
she grumbles.  "That's a key concept of communication, you know!
You're failing it so hard I'm guessing you've never had a girlfriend?"

     "Bingo," I answer.  The level five chess AI is still murdering
me.  Level four is still a joke.  Irritating, that.

     "Huh!  With your attitude, I shouldn't be surprised!"

     "Shouldn't be, you say?  That suggests that for some reason you
are.  What reason would that be?" I wonder aloud.

     "Eh....  W...well ... I'd think some girl would fall for your
'bad-boy' act," she says in irritation.  "You've got that streak in
your hair, no teacher asks you to write on the board, you get to use
that PDA instead of a textbook, I've never _once_ seen you get
cleaning duty....  You get to sit out P.E., I don't think I've ever
seen you turn in homework, and I've never even seen you _hold_ a
pencil!"

     I chuckle at her and eject my PDA's memory card, holding it up
over my head.  "Homework," I tell her, before putting it back.  "I get
memory cards from the teachers with my tests on them, too."

     "So, what, your family's some computer based conglomerate and the
school gives you preferential treatment?"  She sounds intrigued.
"That thing doesn't even have a screen!"

     "I'm really good with computers," I agree, tapping the PDA's
cordless ear-piece.  "I got my first one when I was eight."

     "Hmm...."  She's amazing to still not have figured it out.  "I
thought you just listened to mp3s all day."

     She's a legend in her own right, really.  I don't have the heart
to spell it out for her ... and, as I've said before, it is kind of
amusing.

     ***

     Another day, and this I also won't forget, I ask, "Is it true
you've joined every club?"

     "Is it true you've never joined a single club?" she retorts.
"What, are you spying on me, now?  Some crazy stalker?  Until you turn
and face me, I'm not giving you straight answers!"

     "I was in a study group in middle school," I reply, making her
settle for my half turn and half-smile.  "I can't join sports clubs.
My deadly ninjutsu, remember?  And yeah, sorry about the stalking and
spying thing ... it's just reflex, what with my mad ninja skills."

     "Humph, you couldn't just hold back?" she asks, skepticism and
amusement warring.

     "Sorry, Haruhi, I have only two speeds; walk, and kill."

     "Be serious!"

     "Well, as puppet-master, loyal Taniguchi fetches rumors at my
beck and call.  I merely sit in the shadowy corners and weave my
intricate web of lies," I tell her.

     "Really."

     "No, not really.  He also has only two speeds; blab, and drool
over girls."  Sometimes, I wish Haruhi would stay in class during
breaks and lunches.

     That might spare me Taniguchi.

     "Ugh, at least you're amusing," she sighs.  She shifts in her
seat; it slides back across the floor, and then her elbows thump
against her desk.  "All of the other clubs are boring.  I tried each
one, looking for something new and exciting.  But they're all lame,
terrible, awful....  Wastes of time!"

     "What kind of club are you even searching for?"

     "A club that involves espers, sliders ... _something_ exciting
and new!" she practically yells.  Then she _does_ yell.  "I'm trying
really, _really_ hard--"

     I cover the ear without my ear-piece, letting my half-smile slip.
 Strangely, she falls silent instantly.  "Despite whatever you may
think, my hearing is quite good," I tell her, turning away and
lowering my hand.  It's probably sharper than hers.  "We're in the
same room, so conversational volume is fine."

     "Urg...."  She grumbles.  "You think you're so great," in that
mumbling 'she thinks I can't hear' volume.  Seriously, that girl....
At a more normal volume she continues, "I'm trying really hard to find
those things!  Wouldn't _you_ like to see something amazing before
your high school life is over?"

     "I would," I answer without a whit of hesitation.  "More than you
probably guess."

     "Huh....  Really?"

     "Absolutely," I confirm.  "If a club existed that would allow me
to see such things, I would join it instantly."

     Once more in that tone that she thinks I can't hear, she says,
"I'm going to hold you to that."

     ***

     After a truly harrowing experience I never wish to repeat, by
which I mean Haruhi seizing my necktie and literally towing me ... I
don't even know where ... by some miracle I don't trip on any stairs
or otherwise die.  I honestly don't know how I lived.  And at this
point, I have no idea where I am, or how to get back.

     It was after class, so at least Haruhi isn't disrupting my life
... much.  "Ta-da~!" she cries.  "Well, well, what do you think?"

     She _still_ hasn't figured it out!?  Well, fine, then.  "I have
no idea what to make of it, or where I am," I tell her in complete,
frank honesty.

     "This is our clubroom!" she tells me, annoyed.  "Take a look
around!  It's actually the literary club room, and this girl here is
the only first year member of that club.  So!  From this day forward,
our club will meet here!  I went ahead and got the paperwork myself,
since you don't ever do anything involving paper!"

     "We have a club?" I ask, somewhat astonished.  "And, wait, who is
this first year girl?"

     "Nagato Yuki," a soft voice whispers.

     I incline my head slightly, trying to locate the speaker.

     "Anyway!" Haruhi says brightly.  "This is going to be the club
that we use to find espers, aliens, time travelers ... whatever!  This
is where we'll make it happen!"

     "And you say I joined this club?" I ask, a bit surprised.  "Has
Nagato-san?"

     "I don't mind," that same voice whispers back.

     Ah, she's in one corner of the room, opposite me.  "My mother
will be surprised," I finally decide.  "But you're positive we will
find these supernatural beings, Haruhi?"

     "Of course!  Of course!  Now, I've got things to prepare -- meet
here after school from now on, understood?"

     "No," I answer, too late, as Haruhi has run away.

     Abandoned with this strange girl I haven't really been properly
introduced to, I try and make small talk.  "What does the literary
club do?" I ask her.

     I get the impression that she studies me for a while, while it's
silent, but there's no real way to tell.  "Read," she finally answers.

     "Ah.  What are you reading at the moment?"

     The book's pages rustle as she flips through them.  A moment
later, she says in a different, more hesitant tone, "'The Fall of
Hyperion' by Dan Simmons."

     "Is it any good?"

     Her eventual response is, "Unique."

     I feel a bit sorry for her, so I decide since we seem to be alone
to be frank with her.  "I'm sorry if I bother you.  I tend to have
that effect.  I can tell Haruhi I have no interest in joining her
club, if you would prefer."

     "Stay," she says in that whispering tone, this time with no
hesitation at all.  "I do not mind."

     "If you're certain," I decide.  What's Haruhi up to, anyway?  I
hear Nagato's book close softly.  She's so silent when she moves that
her footsteps would be impossible to hear if we weren't alone in that
room.

     I'm startled when she takes my right hand in both of hers.
"Certain," she says softly.

     ***

     "You go on ahead!" Haruhi cheerfully orders me the second class
lets out the following day.

     "Oh, sure," I tell her as she runs off, vanishing into the hubbub
of the other students.  "Kunikida," I call more loudly, as I pocket my
trusty PDA, reflecting on my first victory against the dreaded level
five AI.  That puts our score at a little over six hundred to one.

     I'll need to work on that.

     "You seem lively today, Kyon-kun," he tells me as he draws near.
"Headed home?"

     "Evidently I've been drafted," I tell him, giving my half-smile
and collecting my bag.  "This school is a maze, so I wanted to ask you
for a favor."

     "Oh?  I hope you don't expect _me_ to join a club...."

     "I'm happy being a member of the Going Home club," Taniguchi
contributes from Kunikida's side.

     "Well, I need to get to the old club house, to the literary club," I say.

     There's an uncomfortable pause before Kunikida asks, "You joined
... the literary club?"

     "Haruhi's using their room," I explain.  "The student there,
Nagato Yuki, is the president of the Literary Club, but said it was
fine for Haruhi to use the room, so...."

     "Ah, alright," Kunikida says, though he still sounds hesitant.
"I can teach you the route."

     They drop me off at the door to the literary club room.  I knock
on the door as their footsteps diminish behind me.

     The door opens almost immediately.  Before she even says hello,
Nagato Yuki's small hand takes mine and leads me into the room.
There's a table in the center, so she gives me a seat there before
settling into her own chair.  The scene then becomes static and
unchanging, except for the quiet click of buttons as I play with my
PDA, and the whispering rasp of fluttering pages as she reads her
book.

     "Is this really a club?" I muse.  Nagato says nothing.  The level
five AI gets revenge for my one victory twice before I achieve a
stalemate.

     I'm feeling pretty good about that when the door opens.
"Ta-dah!" Haruhi announces.

     Then, expectant silence.  Nagato says nothing.  I don't see
anything worthy of discussion.

     "Eh?  Well?  What do you think?"

     "I think club's a bit slow when you don't bother showing up," I
answer, tapping keys.

     "Kyon!" she growls.  "Show some appreciation!"  The sound of
faint whimpering carries as the door slams shut, and the resounding
click of the lock being thrown cuts through everything else.

     "Is this a guest?" I ask.

     "There's a limit to my tolerance," Haruhi warns.

     "W...why is the door locked?  What is this place?" someone unfamiliar sobs.

     "You can behave badly in class, but I don't know a single reason
why I should let you get away with it in the club!" Haruhi snaps.
"Stand up and greet her properly!"

     I sigh and put the PDA to sleep, setting it carefully down before
I slowly rise.  Turning towards Haruhi, my half-smile fading, I say,
"You really don't get it.  That's just amazing, Haruhi."

     "Shut up!  Look, this is Asahina Mikuru!"

     "Waaaaah~!  D...don't touch me there!"

     "Fascinating," I drawl.  "Is she joining our club?"

     "Of course!  Check it out -- cute, loli face, enormous breasts --
they're _huge_!  Bigger than mine!  I'm almost jealous!  And, hmm,
down here--"

     Then Asahina releases a shrill cry and a yelp.  The next thing I
know, I'm stumbling backwards over the chair with the weight of
another body forcing me down.  My back is pressed against the tile
heavily; my breath is knocked out.  My head strikes the floor, and
something amazing happens.

     When I can breathe again, someone clinging to my chest and
shivering, while sobbing apologies, the first thing I manage to say
is, "I hit my head."

     "N...not my fault!" Haruhi protests hotly from above me, her
voice a mixture of concern and anger.  "Mikuru!  You shouldn't jump
around so carelessly like that!"

     "I see stars," I add.

     Brilliant streaks of light, anyway, leading in all directions.
They're blazing, and every single sound causes a dozen new lines to
shoot about, smearing my perceptions.  Oddly enough, the pointless
lights make it difficult to hear.

     I'm aware of Asahina sobbing repeated apologies, still, before
she cuts off with a sharp gasp as realization sets in.  Notice that,
Haruhi?

     _She_ gets it.

     It's amazing to me that Haruhi still doesn't.

     Haruhi's voice is an indistinct grumbling buzz, before Asahina's
soft weight is unceremoniously lifted off me with a protesting yelp.
"_Anyway_," Haruhi says angrily, "we're going to get a computer for
our club.  You say you're good with those, right?"

     I don't move from where I am on the floor.  "Yeah," I answer.  "Sure."

     "Good!"

     The door unlocks, opens, and slams shut with a thudding reverberation.

     The quiet one's voice, when it finally comes, is so soft that no
trails of light accompany it.  "She is unaware," Nagato remarks.

     "I know," I reply.  "Isn't that actually kind of amazing, though?"

     After a pause, Nagato rises from her seat, soft steps padding to
just short of my head.  She crouches down, and her fingertips trace
across my forehead.  "Astounding," she finally judges, before shifting
to one side and pulling me slowly upright.  After a minute or two,
she's gotten my still-wobbly self back into my seat, and pressed the
ear-piece that had gotten knocked loose into my hands.

     She hovers at one elbow a minute longer, so I thank her and ask,
"Can you get the USB blue-tooth adapter from my bag?  If Haruhi brings
in a computer, I'll need that to use it worth a damn."

     There's a pause before, "Understood."

     While she goes through my bag almost silently, I tinker with my
PDA, preparing a new profile to interface with the system Haruhi seems
to think we'll be getting.

     I hear a commotion in the next room over, but dismiss it,
focusing on my project; it does help dull the pain in my head.  Just
as I'm finished, the door opens, Haruhi crowing in triumph as an
unfamiliar male voice moans in defeat.

     I pretend to ignore them while eavesdropping.  This fails
spectacularly when I'm nearly knocked out of my seat again, the
somewhat familiar soft sensation of Asahina collapsing into me as she
sobs.

     What the hell just happened?

     "Haruhi," I say slowly, unused to people clinging onto me while they weep.

     She immediately breaks off berating the boy who is setting up the
computer.  "What?" she asks in annoyance.

     I spend a moment trying to sort things out, then finally decide,
"Asahina-san and I are leaving early.  We'll talk tomorrow."

     "Wha--  But--  Why?" she sputters indignantly.  "We're just
getting _started_!"

     "I think it's quite obvious that Asahina-san is done," I tell
her.  I put my PDA in my pocket, then hesitate.  She is still
half-clinging to me, though she's settled down a bit, subdued to a
hiccuping whimper.

     "Fine!" Haruhi snaps, sounding unreasonably hurt, considering the
situation.  "Run away, then!"

     "I don't run," I tell her, grateful that Nagato put my bag back
precisely where I left it.  "Didn't I say we'd talk tomorrow?"

     Though, what the hell I'm supposed to _say_ is unclear at this
point.  Asahina's situation seems to demand more of my attention in
any case.

     She starts, releasing me when I try to rise, but conveniently,
immediately grabs my arm.  Thanks to that, it's surprisingly little
trouble getting to the shoe lockers.  She drops me off in front of my
own, and shortly after that, we're outside of the school.

     "U...umm," she whimpers.  "I'm ... s...sorry to ... lean on you like this."

     "I really don't mind being leaned on," I assure her.  "I know I
miss ... well, a lot, really.  So if I can make up for that in some
way by being someone convenient to lean -- or land -- on, then I feel
more like I've done something of use."

     "O...oh," she breathes.

     "I head to the train station at the bottom of the hill," I
explain to her.  "Do you mind going with me a bit while we talk?"

     "T...that's fine!" she agrees, her voice still quavering
slightly.  "U...um....  I...if this doesn't seem too strange to say,
it's that w...we ... probably shouldn't become too close."

     Naturally, when a soft, nice-smelling girl gets surprisingly
physical with you, this is what you should expect to hear.

     "Wouldn't want to make your boyfriend jealous," I answer with a brief sigh.

     "Eh!" Asahina squeaks in alarm, before giggling -- which gives me
an ... interesting sensation when my arm is being squeezed against her
chest.  "I don't have a....  Ah....  N...no, it's not for that...."

     "Alright.  You're not the first nice girl to tell me that we
should be just friends," I say, not bothering to pretend a smile.  So,
along with Ryouko, Asahina can join the list that certain girl from
middle school started.

     Whatever; she was crying earlier, so I can put her ahead of my
own self-pity.

     "Ah, um....  Y...yes, I should like us to be friends," Asahina
agrees, sounding strangely uncertain.  "B...but...."

     "Never mind us," I tell her.  "Or me at all; I'm just nobody.
What did Haruhi do that had you so upset?"

     "T...that...."  She trails off; my arm is grabbed tighter.

     I don't think she's very good at this not being 'too close' thing.

     I'm not going to start complaining right away.

     After a quiet moment she determines, "I....  I'd rather not say.
Um ... t...this is the train station...."

     The familiar tones of an arriving train sound, as the recorded
voice blares out a notification.

     "Tomorrow, then," I sigh, as she releases my arm.

     "Yes," she says, her voice steadying slightly.  "W...with
Kyon-kun there, I can keep going, too!"

     I don't get this girl at all; she may be more confusing to me than Haruhi.

     ***

     "You're a fast mover," Haruhi grumbles from behind me in class.

     I rouse myself from my contemplation of the chess game I was
playing on my PDA.  This is our morning exchange, immediately
following the first real 'day' of her club.  I can't beat the level
five AI without more focus than Haruhi will allow when she's present.
It's kind of a pity, really.

     Or maybe I should look at it as a challenge?

     "Ninja training, like I said," I remind her, not turning to face her.

     "Idiot," she grumbles, in that voice she thinks I can't hear.
Hmm, no more amusement?  What's she got to be upset about?

     More loudly, she says, "So -- I don't think I'm going to allow
dating between club members!  And she's a year above you anyway!"

     "What's this?" Ryouko muses from the side, seeming drawn into the
conversation.  "Kyon-kun ... are you dating an older woman?"  She
sounds scandalized, but also amused.

     "No ... but it seems that the list of girls won't be dating me
was increased again," I answer.  Realizing that this sounds a bit too
self-depreciating, I quip, "Then again, when you live a life like mine
-- well, it's dangerous for girls to get close, so it's not like it
doesn't make sense!"

     "Why do you have to make everything a joke?" Haruhi grumbles.

     I ask her, "Why does everything have to be so serious?"

     "Joking around is fine, but not when it gets in the way of
getting things done!" Haruhi snaps.  "So, can't you be just a _bit_
serious?"

     I turn around in my chair halfway, turning my face towards her.
No half-smile this time.  "If you make Asahina-san cry again, I won't
spend another minute in your club," I tell her.

     The whole room seems strangely silent at that for some reason.

     After a pause, when she doesn't answer, I add, "I'd really rather
spend my time joking around."

     "W...whatever," Haruhi sputters, before muttering under her
breath -- this time genuinely too quietly for me to hear.

     I turn back to the only half-way facing her pose I usually stick
with.  "You still want something done with your computer, hmm?"

     "Yeah," Haruhi allows cautiously.  A moment later, she catches
the implications and huffs a sigh.  "_Fine_," she growls.  "J...just
... don't get all touchy-feelie with your girlfriend during club
meetings!"

     "Which girlfriend?" I wonder.  Ryouko giggles, and I add, "I mean
... a player like me, evidently I've got tons of 'em.  Ryouko-chan and
I are between relationships at the moment, but it could be her."

     "I'll let that joke pass once," the class representative
chuckles.  "Suzumiya-san -- don't tease Kyon-kun like that, and maybe
he won't tease you back."

     "So you and Mikuru..." Haruhi begins.

     I wonder if Haruhi is just slow to pick up everything.

     "Asahina-san and I aren't dating," I explain to her patiently.
"So don't worry about _that_ driving someone from your club in tears."

     Haruhi makes a strained noise, then spits a quiet curse at me
before her chair slams to the floor and her feet pound away as she
leaves -- nearly knocking over a protesting Okabe in her flight.

     That seems like a bit of an overreaction.

     "What was that about?" I wonder to Ryouko.

     "Sensei is here," she answers in a whisper, before her chair
slides back and she rises, calling the class to attention.

     I sigh; it's not like I could chase after Haruhi, anyway....

     ***

     At lunch, I'm joined by my two friends once more.  "So!"
Taniguchi begins, taking Haruhi's usual place.  "That was an
interesting show this morning!"

     "Taniguchi," Kunikida reproves mildly.

     I attempt to ignore them both and just eat my lunch.

     "Okay -- but seriously ... how did you do that?  I've never seen
Suzumiya look so scared of anything in her life!" Taniguchi explains
with his mouth full.

     I don't really even know what I _did_, though.

     "Accidentally unleashed one of my ninja powers," I say in an
apologetic tone.  "You know, the one that makes someone face the
visage of a terrible demon in their own mind?  Well, I guess her
imagination was just powerful enough to backlash like that.  Happens
sometimes."

     "Hmm," Kunikida noises, his longstanding reply to my evasions.

     "Well," Taniguchi decides, changing the subject, "did you catch
the game last night?"

     "I caught a recording after I finished my homework," I allow.  "I
don't think the Hanshin Tigers are taking anything impressive home
this year."

     Kunikida snorts, and then the rest of the discussion is pleasant
divergence, going over player stats.

     Still....

     Why would Haruhi be so worked up over a simple snide remark?
It's not like I haven't shared dozens -- if not more -- with her
before.

     ***

[End Part 1]

-- 
Brian Randall
--
I write fanfiction. Too much of it. You can read it here, thanks to a
kind grant from the Larry F foundation:
http://www.florestica.com/brandall/
--
Together. Allegiance or death. BIGFIRE!
--
Haiku of my lament:

Forgive my spelling,
my U.S. education,
is the source of blame.