The Wavering of Haruhi Suzumiya

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  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  First released in Japan in 2003, The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya quickly established itself as a publishing phenomenon, drawing much of its inspiration from Japanese pop culture and Japanese comics in particular. With this foundation, the original publication of each book in the Haruhi series included several black-and-white spot illustrations as well as a four-page color insert—all of which are faithfully reproduced here to preserve the authenticity of the first-ever English edition.

  LIVE ALIVE

  The year I started high school.

  Now that I think about it, a lot happened that year—the year that the meteorological anomaly named Haruhi Suzumiya began to unleash its fury upon North High—in fact, so much happened that trying to remember it all is sort of a pain, and if I really head back into the albums of my memory, the various episodes carved thereon would be enough to make your head spin, if I do say so myself, and yet I’d like to relate one of them now.

  The heat of summer continued to coil over the archipelago; the calendar claimed it was autumn, but it was hot enough that I began to harbor suspicions that someone somewhere had thrown a wrench into the works of some terrible weather-control weapon.

  It was the day of the school festival.

  A certain reliably insane director/producer’s mess of a movie, complete with special effects that played havoc with the CHR of the cast and crew, had come all the way from said director’s declaration of intent to complete it solely thanks to my efforts. Today was the premiere of The Adventures of Mikuru Asahina Episode 00, and though I wasn’t sure whether it was a movie or simply a promo reel for Asahina, it was probably being met with rave reviews at the moment in the A/V room.

  I say “probably” because, having absolutely no desire to be further associated with a film whose absurdity challenged the borders of surrealism, I’d decided to disassociate myself from it completely after handing over the DV tape to the guys in the film society.

  Fortunately, as brigade chief, Haruhi was even more fired up than normal when it came to negotiating the public-relations arrangements, so she had taken the initiative.

  While the students and faculty of North High were beginning to get used to Haruhi’s activities, it wouldn’t have killed her to consider the idle parents and other festivalgoers before donning a certain bunny girl costume from the previous spring, but at least her promotional efforts did allow Asahina, Nagato, and Koizumi to participate in their classes’ activities, which, unlike class 1-5 (which included Haruhi and me), actually involved some kind of effort.

  Now I felt as though the skies had cleared, and I was as calm as the mirrorlike surface of a serene pool. With the completion of the digital editing of the film, my work was done, and shaking my slightly sleep-deprived head, I had time to maybe walk by Nagato’s fortune-telling booth or snicker at Koizumi’s play. North High might well have been a shabby public school with a shabby festival to match, but still, a festival was a festival and they didn’t happen every day, so it would be nice to enjoy the mood.

  Plus, there was one duty I had to fulfill, which took the form of the scrap of paper I had clasped in my hand.

  It went without saying that said scrap was a coupon good for a discount at Asahina’s class activity—which was a yakisoba café.

  When even the cheapest tea became heavenly ambrosia when prepared by Asahina, surely yakisoba prepared by her hand would be finer than the finest Chinese kitchen could prepare—more than enough to raise the anticipation gauge in my mind to stomach-growling levels. As I ascended the school’s staircase, it felt more like I was flying up on winged shoes.

  But just as I crested the stairs and felt as though heaven’s gate lay just before me, the voice of a fellow traveler doused my mood in lukewarm water.

  “Man, they could’ve at least let us eat for free.”

  Who could be the owner of such an ungrateful tongue? None but my classmate Taniguchi. I had invited him along only out of guilt from the way he’d had to jump into the pond during our location shoot, and he should’ve been grateful to get that much. What more did he want?

  “I had to dive into a pond! And I wasn’t getting paid! By the way, nobody invited me to a screening. Don’t tell me my scene got cut. Thirty percent off yakisoba ain’t enough reward for getting wet like that.”

  Enough of your grumbling! Asahina went out of her way to give us these coupons. And she was the one who hadn’t been fairly compensated for her work in that movie. It was enough to make me want to call up the Academy and get them to give her an Oscar.

  “If you don’t like it, don’t come. Just get lost already,” I said.

  “Aw, c’mon, Taniguchi. We were just going to wander around and eat stuff anyway, right? We should be thankful for the company,” said his companion.

  It was another classmate, Kunikida, who had a model-student face that was somehow different from Koizumi’s.

  He continued. “Plus, if we go with Kyon, we might get something extra. A bigger serving of cabbage, maybe. That’d be worth it, right, Taniguchi?”

  “I guess.”

  Taniguchi readily agreed.

  “But that depends on the flavor. Hey, Kyon—Asahina’s not doing the actual cooking, is she?”

  Now that he mentioned it, I seemed to recall that she’d said she was in charge of table service—but what did it matter? I gave him a questioning look.

  “Oh, I was just thinking she’s probably a lousy cook. Like, I could imagine her putting in sugar instead of salt or something.”

  Nobody gave Asahina any credit—not Haruhi, not this guy either. I didn’t care how much of a cartoon maid character she looked like; people that clumsy only exist in the realm of the imagination. All she might worry about would be misplacing her time machine and if she really was a time traveler, though even that was doubtful.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” said Kunikida. “I’ve been hearing rumors that it’s a cosplay café. The waitress costume from the movie and that bunny girl outfit from before were crazy enough, but I wonder what she’ll be wearing now.”

  “Seriously.”

  Taniguchi nodded heartily—neither of them had grown as accustomed as I had to seeing Asahina in her maid outfit. I had to spare them some pity.

  As we crested the stairs and entered the hallway, I imagined the scene. Speaking of waitresses, my brain had already been tainted by the image of her wearing that sexual harassment–inspiring waitress costume in the movie, so what could be better for cleansing both eyes and mind than the sight of her elegantly bringing us our yakisoba wearing a proper waitress outfit? I’d always felt Haruhi’s tastes were too gaudy. She had the ironclad nerve to stand at the school entrance dressed as a bunny girl, which might have suited her perfectly, but if she thought everyone possessed such nerve, she was sadly mistaken.

  Asahina wearing a waitress uniform handmade for her by her class…

  On this matter, I had no choice but to agree with Taniguchi. I was very much looking forward to seeing it. Oh, yes.

  Green rubber sheets had been laid down to cover the floor of the school hallways, like some sort of cheap red carpet.
Normally, inside shoes were required inside the school, but out of consideration for visitors, outside shoes were allowed for the two days of the festival. There was quite a variety of people walking around too. The art and culture clubs all had presentations set up, and many attendees seemed to be related to the members. The festival was also a place for neighborhood residents to kill some time. It was also pretty common for students to invite their former middle school classmates who’d wound up going to different high schools. This made it the year’s only chance to make a pass at the students from the girls’ school at the bottom of the hill. It wasn’t just guys like Taniguchi who were looking for love.

  There in the hall where anything besides a North High uniform would stick out, the three of us forged ahead like sardines swimming toward bait as we navigated the second-year students’ classroom displays, finally stopping between the Whac-A-Mole game room and the one doing balloon animals.

  The mouthwatering scent of frying wafted out, and there was a sign that proclaimed YAKISOBA CAFÉ ACORN. The line that snaked out of it was longer than for any other classroom. But that wasn’t what first jumped out at us.

  “Hey! Kyon and his pals! Over here! Welcome, welcome!”

  It was a voice and smile totally unmistakable, even from ten meters away. Save Haruhi when she’s thought of something annoying, I know only one person who can smile that brightly.

  “A table for three, then? Welcome!”

  It was Tsuruya—and dressed as a waitress, to boot.

  Standing in front of a desk placed outside the classroom entrance, she seemed to be in charge of selling tickets. And probably attracting customers, come to think of it.

  “Hey, whaddya think of my getup? Looks pretty schweet, eh?”

  Tsuruya moved agilely along the line toward us.

  “It sure does.”

  I kept a pointlessly low profile as I gazed at Tsuruya.

  I’d been so occupied with my visions of Waitress Action Asahina that I’d totally forgotten that Tsuruya was in the same class. Taking in the sight of this long-haired upperclassman, Taniguchi and Kunikida looked like fishermen who’d caught a trout, only to find a bass attached to its tail. And who could blame them? I didn’t know who’d designed the outfit, but evidently there was a master dressmaker in Tsuruya’s class. It had a different look than the outfit Asahina had been made to wear for the movie; neither too gaudy nor too plain, it gave the wearer an elegance without being distracting, working with her natural charm to bring it to a maximum; it deserved a Costume of the Year award, surely.

  The point is, the effect was enough to make me resort to abstract terms like this. And if that’s what seeing Tsuruya did, a glance at Asahina would no doubt render me immediately unconscious.

  “Business looks good,” I said.

  “Ha ha ha! Yeah, they’re really biting!”

  Tsuruya lifted the hem of her skirt slightly and, ignoring the glares of the rest of the line, continued.

  “It’s terrible yakisoba made from the cheapest ingredients, but look at how many people there are! I can’t stop laughing!”

  Her laugh seemed genuinely happy. It wasn’t hard to figure out why the line out the front door was composed entirely of guys. Looking at Tsuruya’s smile made even me feel strangely pleasant. I suppose it’s true that men are the more easily wiled sex.

  We took our place at the end of the line, and Tsuruya directed her smile at us free of charge as she spoke.

  “Pay up front, if you please! We’ve got yakisoba and water on the menu—the noodles are three hundred yen, but you can down all the water you want for free!”

  Upon seeing my coupon, she added, “Hmm, so there are three of you, right? We’ll say five hundred yen for the lot of you! Big discount!”

  She put the coins we gave her in her pocket and then shoved three yakisoba tickets into my hands.

  “Alrighty then, just wait a teensy bit! Your turn’ll be up in no time!” she said, then returned to her place behind the desk at the classroom’s entrance. Once she disappeared at the head of the line, Kunikida spoke.

  “She’s got energy, that’s for sure. You’d think she’d get tired, being like that all the time.”

  Kunikida sounded impressed as he spoke. Taniguchi lowered his voice and added this:

  “Kyon, I’ve been wondering about this for a while—what’s with her? Is she in your and Haruhi’s gang or what?”

  “Nope.”

  Tsuruya wasn’t in the club. Just like Taniguchi and Kunikida, she’s a special guest we bring in when we’re short on numbers. And yet somehow, she keeps turning up.

  Tsuruya’s notion of “no time” turned out to be about half an hour. After waiting for thirty minutes, we finally made it to the front of the line and were allowed to enter the room. Incidentally, the line behind us grew constantly longer, and it was all guys—unbelievable. Though I suppose we could hardly complain. After all, we were in the line too.

  Half of the classroom was devoted to cooking, while the other half had tables for seating customers. Several hot plates sizzled away, cooking piles of yakisoba. Some white-aproned girls manned the hot plates, while others chopped away at ingredients with cooking knives, and suddenly I wondered where all the boys in this class had gone.

  Later, I heard from Tsuruya that the poor boys had been drafted into running errands for the girls—going to get ingredients they were running low on or fetching water and rinsing vegetables. Alas, there was nothing to be done. The Age of Aquarius was truly nigh.

  Tsuruya showed us to our table.

  “Okay, just sit right there at that table. Hey! Three waters over here!”

  A charming reply came in response to Tsuruya’s call.

  “Coming right up! Oh, welcome!”

  Surely I needn’t mention who the perfect waitress was who now came, bearing a tray with three cups of water on it.

  After she finished placing the three cups of water on our table, she clasped the tray in both hands and bowed politely.

  “Welcome, and thank you for coming to our shop!” she said with a beatific smile. “Kyon, and your, er—the extras from the…”

  My two companions reacted instantly.

  “Taniguchi!”

  “Kunikida!”

  “Hee hee. I’m Mikuru Asahina.”

  I could see why there was a handwritten sign dangling from the ceiling that said PLEASE REFRAIN FROM TAKING PHOTOGRAPHS. If they were to allow pictures, there’d be no avoiding a minor stampede.

  That’s just how lovely Asahina was. Unsurprisingly, my consciousness went winging away to some far-off place, and surely no more words are necessary to describe her charm. To see her and Tsuruya both wearing the outfit that itself rated a Best Costume Design award, well—it’s hard to imagine a finer sight. Heaven must be a place where such views are commonplace.

  Asahina held the tray under one arm as she tore the yakisoba tickets in half, leaving the stubs on our table.

  “Please wait just a moment,” she said.

  She hurried back to the kitchen, monopolizing the gazes of all the boys in the room.

  Tsuruya smiled and explained.

  “Mikuru’s taking tickets, clearing plates, and serving water. That’s all we let her do! Can’t have our main attraction tripping and spilling yakisoba everywhere, after all!”

  Wise words, Tsuruya.

  A different second-year waitress brought us our food. In exchange for giving extra cabbage, they seemed to have skimped on the meat, and as to whether or not the food was good, well—it tasted like normal yakisoba sauce. Asahina was kept very busy as she jumped robinlike from table to table, putting out paper cups of water and tearing tickets, and it was all she could do to stop by our table once to provide refills of not particularly cold water. Tsuruya shuttled between the classroom and the shop front, smiling all the while, and I felt a bit uncomfortable staying for much longer.

  So after finishing our yakisoba in about five minutes, we left, putting the place behind us
, though we didn’t feel particularly full, nor did we have anywhere else to go.

  “So, what next?” It was Kunikida who’d asked. “I kind of want to see the film that Kyon and his friends made. Plus, I need to see how I look in it. What about you, Taniguchi?”

  “I’ve got no interest in seeing that thing,” said Taniguchi flatly, taking a festival schedule pamphlet out of his uniform’s pocket. “That yakisoba wasn’t nearly enough. My plan is to head over to the science club’s barbecue party, but before that…” He grinned. “This is a rare and golden opportunity—for picking up some chicks! The trick is to go for girls wearing street clothes. Surely we can spot a group of three all walking together. Chat ’em up a little, and my experience indicates that they’re surprisingly likely to go along with whatever you say.”

  What experience? What good is the experience of a guy whose success rate is just about zero? I shook my head immediately.

  “Forget it. You guys go on without me.”

  “Hmph.”

  Taniguchi smiled unpleasantly, and Kunikida nodded with a self-satisfied smile, which grated on me, but I couldn’t find a retort. It wasn’t that I was afraid I’d be spotted by somebody inconvenient if we started hitting on girls, it was just, uh… just because.

  “Fine by me. That’s just the kind of guy you are. No, don’t bother with excuses. I guess that’s friendship for you.”

  Taniguchi sighed dramatically, and Kunikida spoke up to mollify him.

  “Actually, Taniguchi—I think I’ll pass on the girls too. Sorry, but if you have any luck on your own, could you introduce her friend to me? That’s friendship for you, after all,” he said, sidestepping the issue. “See you later, okay?”

  Kunikida walked briskly away. As Taniguchi stood there staring like an idiot, I decided to follow Kunikida’s example.

  “See you later, Taniguchi. You can tell me tonight about your success rate—that is, if you succeed at all.”

  So, where to go next?

  If I went back to the clubroom, there’d either be nobody there or I would bump into Haruhi, and if we wound up walking around the school together, no doubt she would do something insane that would destroy my reputation, so my feet naturally took me in another direction. If she had kept conducting her PR campaign at the front gate in that bunny girl outfit, someone might have stopped her by now, and she could well be sulking all alone in the clubroom. Please, just let me do something else today! My mom and sister were coming the next day, and I could just imagine Haruhi crashing the proceedings.