The Wavering of Haruhi Suzumiya Page 7

  Feeling it a bit keenly, I put a question to Nakagawa.

  “So you remembered that I was walking with Nagato…”

  It was a little hard to say.

  “So, um, did it occur to you that we might not just be friends? That we might, like, be dating?”

  “Not even a little bit,” answered Nakagawa without a moment’s hesitation. “You’re into stranger girls. Like back in junior high… I forget what her name was, but you’re not still going out with that one girl?”

  There was plenty wrong with the idea that Nagato herself wasn’t weird, but that was beside the point—this guy seemed to have the wrong idea. I remembered Kunikida being similarly mistaken. That girl was just a friend, and I hadn’t seen her since graduating junior high. This was the first time I’d thought of her in a while. I considered whether I should send her a New Year’s card.

  I started to feel like I was just digging myself in deeper, so I changed the subject.

  “So, what do you want me to tell her? You want to ask her out? Do you just want me to give you her number?”

  “No.”

  Nakagawa’s response was serious.

  “As I am now, I am not worthy to show my face before her. There’s just too much disparity. So that’s why—”

  He paused for effect.

  “—I want you to tell her to wait.”

  “To wait for what?” I asked.

  “To wait for me to come for her. Don’t you see? Right now, I’m just a high school student with no value in society at all.”

  Sure, I thought, but I’m the same way.

  “So it’s just no good. Listen, Kyon. I’m going to throw myself into study, starting now. No—I already have. I’ll go straight into a national university.”

  It was good to have goals.

  “I’m going to study economics. I’ll keep working hard, and when I graduate I’ll be at the top of my class. And when I start looking for jobs, I’m not going to go into a government or corporate job, but a smaller company instead.”

  He was laying out a blueprint with no idea whether it was realistic or just a pipe dream. If a demon overheard him, he’d probably die laughing.

  “But I won’t be satisfied with being a member of the proletariat for long. In three years—no, two years—I’ll have gotten the expertise I need to start my own business.”

  Nobody’s going to stop you, so go right ahead, I thought. If I haven’t gotten my act together by then, I’d want him to hire me.

  “I’ll get my company moving in five… no, make that three years, getting listed in the second section of the Tokyo Stock Exchange, with yearly profit growth of at least ten percent—and that’s gross profit, I mean.”

  His spiel was getting harder to follow. But, undaunted, he continued.

  “By that time, I’ll be able to take a breath. My preparations will be ready, you see.”

  “What preparations?”

  “My preparations to receive Nagato.”

  I was as silent as a deep-sea shellfish as Nakagawa’s words battered me like ocean waves.

  “Two years until I graduate from high school, and four years in college. Then two years of on-the-job training, followed by the three years it’ll take me to open my company and get it publicly traded, so that’s eleven years total. No, let’s round it out to an even ten. In ten years I’ll be a worthwhile member of society, so—”

  “Are you completely stupid?”

  I think you’ll understand why I said this. What girl would possibly just sit there and wait for a decade? And for a guy she’d never even met? To be asked to wait for ten years for some guy she’d never even met to come and propose to her, and then just sit there and do it, well—no human could do that. Unfortunately, Nagato wasn’t human.

  I clicked my tongue.

  “I’m serious.”

  He really sounded serious too.

  “I’ll stake my life on it. I mean it.”

  If words could cut, his were slicing right through the telephone wires.

  How was I going to talk him out of it?

  “Listen, Nakagawa…”

  I thought about Nagato’s slender form as she sat alone, reading.

  “… This is just my perspective, but Nagato’s actually pretty popular with the guys. It’s kind of a problem for her, really. You’ve got a pretty good eye for girls, I’ll say that. But the chance that Nagato’s gonna stay single for ten years is about zero.”

  It was a total bluff. I didn’t have a clue what would happen in ten years—not even to myself.

  “And besides, something this important should be told to her in person. I’m not wild about it, but I’ll introduce you. It’s winter vacation, so I’m sure she can spare an hour or so.”

  “I can’t do it.”

  Nakagawa’s voice was suddenly quiet.

  “I can’t do it right now. I’d faint as soon as I saw her face. Actually, I caught a glimpse of her from a distance the other day. It was at the supermarket by the train station… and I just happened to see her from behind, and that was all it took to freeze me in my tracks. Meeting her in person, I just… I couldn’t do it!”

  Man, his brain had a bad case of love fever. It was serious, too, if he’d already made his ten-year plan under its influence. I wish there was something to do, but the only cure would be hearing her say “I’m sorry” as she ran away from him on the day he finally worked up the strength to blurt it out.

  But if he was so far gone as to tell all this stuff to a guy he barely knew over the phone, I was terrified of what he might say next. I already had one person like that to worry about—Haruhi—and now Nagato had gone and made the problem worse.

  What a pain. I sighed loud enough that he’d be able to hear it.

  “Fine. Just tell me again what you want me to say to her.”

  “Thank you, Kyon.”

  Nakagawa sounded genuinely grateful.

  “We’ll definitely invite you to the wedding. I’ll ask you to give a speech—the first speech too. I’ll never forget you. If you want, there will always be a position for you at the company I’m going to start.”

  “Whatever, just tell me what you want me to say.”

  I listened to the excessively hasty Nakagawa while balancing the receiver on my shoulder as I looked around for a piece of loose-leaf paper to write on.

  Just after noon the next day, I silently walked up the hill to North High. As the elevation rose, the white vapor of my breath became more visible. If you want to know why I was going to school in the middle of vacation, it’s because the SOS Brigade was holding its regular meeting.

  Today we’d also be doing a thorough cleaning of the clubroom. Although Asahina the maid would diligently sweep the floor, in accordance with the law that says that entropy always increases, a constant influx of stuff coming into the room had disrupted its order. The main sources of this chaos were Haruhi, who would swipe anything that her eye fell upon; Koizumi, who kept bringing in new board games; Nagato, who was constantly tearing through thick books; and Asahina, who was devoted to brewing the perfect cup of tea—basically, everybody but me. Left alone, the clubroom would turn into a disaster area. I’d finally proposed that everyone should take their stuff back to their homes, although Asahina’s costume rack would be spared.

  “Ugh, what a pain.”

  It went without saying that the lack of spring in my step was due to the unwanted piece of paper in my blazer pocket.

  I’d written down Nakagawa’s declaration of love for Nagato verbatim. It was so ridiculous that I’d wanted to chuck my pencil across the room any number of times. Only veteran seducers would be able to say such absurd things with a straight face. “Wait ten years for me?” What was this, some kind of joke?

  As I walked into the breeze coming off the hill, the familiar school grounds came into view.

  I arrived at the clubroom building an hour ahead of the time Haruhi had set for the meeting.

  It wasn’t because of the
SOS Brigade rule that the last person to arrive for a meeting had to treat everyone else. That rule applied only to after-school activities.

  The previous day, Nakagawa had said this:

  “You can’t just hand over the note. You’d just be a notetaker, then. She might not even read it. You’ve got to read it out loud in front of her, and with the same passion I just used in telling it to you.”

  It was an unreasonable request. I had no reason, nor was I simpleton enough, to just do as he said, but I was just enough of a believer in the goodness of humanity to be slightly moved by his entreaties. So to do it, I needed to get Nagato alone, with nobody else around. If I showed up an hour early, I was sure nobody besides Nagato would be there, and Nagato would definitely be there—she was the most reliable alien-built android I knew, after all.

  After a perfunctory knock on the door was met by silence, I opened it.

  “Hey.”

  Did that sound too forced? I scolded myself and tried again.

  “Hey, Nagato. I figured you’d be here.”

  There in the tranquil midwinter air that filled the room, Nagato sat quietly in a chair, as still and cold as though she were a life-size doll. The title of the book she was reading sounded like the name of a disease.

  “…”

  She regarded me expressionlessly, raising her hand to her temple briefly, then lowering it.

  It was the same movement she would have used to adjust her glasses, except she didn’t wear them anymore. I was the one who’d told her she looked better without them, and she was the one who’d left them off. So what was that just now? Had her habit from a few months ago returned?

  “Nobody else is here yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  Nagato answered concisely, then returned her gaze to the densely typeset pages of her book. I wondered if she considered blank spots a waste of space.

  I awkwardly made my way toward the window, letting my eyes drift from the clubroom building down to the courtyard below. It was winter vacation, and there was hardly anybody on campus. All I could hear through the drafty window was the faint chanting of one of the more cold-resistant sports clubs.

  Standing there, I turned to face Nagato. She looked the way she always did—the same porcelain features and lack of expression.

  Now that I thought about it, we’d been short a glasses girl for some time. Haruhi would probably make a play to fill the spot again sooner or later.

  I thought about such pointless things as I fumbled for the folded piece of loose-leaf in my pocket, then pulled it out.

  “Nagato, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What is it?”

  Nagato moved a finger to turn a page. I took a deep breath.

  “There’s this idiot who’s obsessed with you, and as his agent I’m going to tell you what he told me. So how about it? Will you listen?”

  If she said no, I’d planned to tear up the paper and throw it away right on the spot, but Nagato looked silently up at me. Despite the icy color of her eyes, when they looked at me they seemed to have a warmth that could melt snow—had my explanation been that good?

  “…”

  Nagato stared at me, her lips closed. Her gaze was like a surgeon peering at a patient.

  “I see,” she said, watching me unflinchingly. She seemed to be waiting for me, so I helplessly unfolded the paper with Nakagawa’s confession on it and started to read.

  “My Dearest Miss Yuki Nagato, though I could not help myself, please forgive me for conveying my thoughts to you in this way. In truth, from the very first day I saw you—”

  Nagato looked at me and listened. It was I who felt weirder and weirder as I read. The more I spat out Nakagawa’s declaration of love, the dizzier I felt, as the stupidity of it all reached a crescendo. What was I doing? Was I crazy?

  The final stage of Nakagawa’s life plan, as I read it out, involved a leisurely lifestyle in a nice house in the suburbs, with two kids and one white West Highland terrier. Nagato silently watched me as I read. A keen sense of the absurdity of what I was doing rose up within me.

  It was stupid.

  I stopped my emotionless reading. If I had to read any more of this nonsense, I’d go crazy. I’d never reach any kind of understanding with Nakagawa. There could be no relationship with anyone who possessed a mind capable of putting forth such oppressive lines. No wonder we were never close friends in junior high. He’d fallen in love at first sight, let it stew for half a year, then suddenly had a messenger deliver an insane love confession—he was beyond help.

  “Yeah, so, it goes on like that for a while, but you get the point, right?”

  To which Nagato replied, “Understood,” and nodded.

  Seriously?

  I looked at her, and she looked at me.

  Time passed quietly, as though the very word “silence” had sprouted wings and was flying around us.

  “…”

  Nagato tilted her head just slightly but took no other action, simply fixing me in her gaze. So, uh, what now? Was I supposed to say something?

  As I was riffling through my vocabulary for a response—

  “Message received.”

  Her gaze never wavered.

  “But I cannot comply.” Her voice was as calm as always. “There is no guarantee that I will remain autonomous for the next ten years,” she said, then closed her mouth. Her expression did not change. Her eyes did not move away from me.

  “Yeah…”

  I looked away first, pretending to shake my head just to look away from those deep, dark eyes that threatened to suck me in.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Ten years is too long for anyone.”

  There were other problems with the confession besides the length of time, but for the time being I was relieved. As to where this sense of relief came from, the short version is that I didn’t care if it was Nakagawa or not—I didn’t want to see Nagato walking around with some other guy. I can’t deny that the image of the way Nagato looked back when Haruhi disappeared had stuck with me. It wasn’t that Nakagawa was a bad guy—he was actually okay—it’s just that I couldn’t forget Nagato’s distressed face as she pulled softly on my sleeve.

  “Sorry, Nagato.”

  I crumpled up the loose-leaf slip.

  “This is really my fault. I shouldn’t have so faithfully written down all that stuff. I should’ve just told Nakagawa ‘no’ when he called me. Just forget all about this. I’ll give that moron a good talking-to. He’s not really the type to turn into a stalker, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  Of course, if Asahina were to get a boyfriend, I’d probably wind up stalking him.

  Wait—Ah, so that’s how it was.

  I realized what the hazy feeling in my chest was.

  To put it bluntly, I didn’t like the idea of some other guy getting between Asahina and me or Nagato and me. It just bothered me—hence my relief. I guess I was pretty transparent.

  What about Haruhi? I didn’t have to worry about her. She rejected any guy who got close to her. If there were some kind of natural disaster and Haruhi actually started going out with someone, she wouldn’t be constantly looking for aliens and time travelers, would be nice to Earth, and would make things easier for Koizumi too.

  And the craziness I seemed to be constantly getting tangled up in would come to an end too, surely. Perhaps that day would actually come, but it definitely wasn’t here yet.

  I opened the window. The sharp winter chill cut through the indoor air, which had been warmed by our body heat. I wound up and chucked the crumpled-up ball of paper as far out the window as I could.

  The ball caught the wind and traced a steep arc down. It soon fell in the grassy area beside the covered path that led to the clubroom. I imagined it’d be blown along the ground, winding up in one of the gutters that ran along the school buildings, and eventually decompose along with the rotting leaves.

  How wrong I was.

  “Oh, shi—”


  Just then, a person walking down the covered path to the clubroom changed direction and made for the grassy area. She looked up and glared at me as though I’d tossed a cigarette butt, then strode over and picked up the paper I’d just tossed.

  “Hey, stop! Don’t look at that!”

  Ignoring my protests, she picked up the trash that no one had asked her to pick up and, uncrumpling the paper, began to read.

  “…”

  Nagato continued to regard me wordlessly.

  I know it’s sudden, but let’s put on our thinking caps.

  Question 1: What was written on that paper?

  Answer: A confession of love for Nagato.

  Question 2: In whose handwriting was it written?

  Answer: Mine.

  Question 3: What would happen if some uninformed third party read it?

  Answer: They would probably get the wrong idea.

  Question 4: What if Haruhi read it?

  Answer: I don’t even want to think about that.

  Thus did Haruhi Suzumiya scan the paper intently for a few minutes, eventually looking back up to me sharply, then for some reason grinning unpleasantly.

  … That cinched it. Today was not my day.

  Just ten seconds later, she had already burst into the clubroom with ferocious speed and seized me by the collar.

  “What the hell are you thinking? Are you an idiot? I’m gonna set you straight this instant—jump out the window! Now!” she shouted with a grin. That grin looked pretty forced, but if you converted the force with which she dragged me to the open window, it’d be enough to power a heater all day. She didn’t let up even a little as I frantically tried to think of the words I could use to explain the situation.

  “No, look, this is—there’s this guy I knew from junior high named Nakagawa, and he—”

  “What, you’re gonna try to make this someone else’s fault? You wrote this, didn’t you?”

  Haruhi dragged me along, then stared right in my face from maybe ten centimeters away, her eyes large and clear.